Scattered Thoughts From Across the Cosmos

by CJ-1021

Part of "3 Doctors 9 Companions" series / Discarded drafts, excerpts, short short stories and long short stories, one-shots, drabbles and other pieces of flotsam and jetsam that just don't quite fit within any of my other fics - but they're still as good as they can be!

18. Clarenny Rewrites 720-794

AN: So, while doing my AO3 reuploads, I decided to do the one thing I said I wouldn't and rewrite chapters. Specifically, all the Clarenny chapters - yes, ALL of the Clarenny chapters. Don't view this as overwriting the existing FFN continuity, but just an alternate continuity. I'm uploading them here too because I thought people would be interested and because Jenny is being characterised more consistently. This also gave me the opportunity to remove all of the tasteless jokes at the expense of Danny Pink. Finally, I also edited things so that instead of Jenny bragging to everybody that she's slept with Other Clara, it's Jack who reveals what she's been up to; Jenny now never betrays Clara's confidence or boasts.

These rewrites are for Chapters: 720, 722, 727, 746, 760, 782, 783, 784, 792, 793, and 794.

---

Only the second half of this first chapter, 720, has been rewritten and reposted.

DAY 97

720: Imagine Me & You

Jenny

"The Twelfth Doctor asked me to finally fix their TARDIS tomorrow," said Jack, sitting down next to Jenny in Nerve Centre with a fresh plate of toast. She was cradling a very large mug of tea with camomile and vanilla between her hands, the third one she'd got through since they'd returned home, but she nearly choked when Jack had dropped that bomb.

"What do you mean? They're leaving? Tomorrow?"

"Unless we can't clear out the hive," said Jack. They both knew what that meant. "Are you ready to concede our little wager?"

"I won't be conceding anything," Jenny muttered. "I've got plenty of time."

"Sure. You've got twenty-four hours, if that."

"Exactly."

"Well?" he prompted.

"Well, what?"

"She's right over there."

Beta Clara was on the other table, eating a dinner of cereal. Sad.

"You're the one who started this feud, with the Victorian," said Jack.

"And you're the one who escalated it, with Eyeball. But, I'm going to win. You'll see. Who needs twenty-four hours when I can do it all in five minutes?"

He gasped, "Five whole minutes? Sounds like a great time." She glared at him. "I'm waiting. Waiting for you to admit that you're wrong."

"I won't be doing that," Jenny stood, "Because I'm not."

She picked up her tea and the fresh plate of toast Jack had made for himself, ignoring him calling after her, and dropped into the seat at Clara's side. It wasn't like it was hard to find somewhere to sit when the entire table was empty; she was a pariah on their TARDIS. Jenny slid the plate of toast towards her.

"Thought you might want something hot," said Jenny. "Well, warm."

"Toast laced with laxatives, I assume?" said Clara.

"Not at all. Jack just made it for himself, and I've nicked it, for your benefit." Jack was already making himself even more toast behind her.

"…Right." Clara ate another spoonful of cereal, eyeing the toast very sceptically. To prove to her there was nothing wrong with it, Jenny picked up a slice and bit down.

"It's good, it's got real butter," she said, chewing.

"What're you up to?" asked Clara, seeing right through her.

"I've got some information to pass along."

"Which is what?"

"Apparently, Martha fancies you. Or, Other You."

Clara just raised an eyebrow, "Is that all?"

"You don't think it's interesting?"

"Not really."

"She's married."

"So are you."

"To a man."

"So are you."

"But I don't fancy you," said Jenny.

"Mm. That's why you're bringing me toast, is it?" said Clara, finally picking up a slice, biting into it, her eyes not leaving Jenny's the whole time. They were so dark Jenny thought they might swallow her up. "I've been warned that you'll try to shag me while I'm here. That was the first thing anybody told me."

"Just want to get to you before Martha does, that's all. She was waiting outside Other You's room for ages yesterday to 'ask her out'."

"And that's news? You've all got quite sad lives, haven't you?" she said. She was smiling, but Jenny was a little stung. "Maybe Martha's bi and she doesn't want to tell anybody because you're all mental. Maybe she's always been bi and it's just never come up." Jenny didn't say anything. "Did you tell anybody you're not straight until it came up?"

"I don't really think of my sexuality that way," said Jenny, defensive.

Clara sighed, "I think it's fine. It's normal to have crushes on other people no matter how in love with each other a couple is. And I don't see how embarrassing her about it will help. God knows, I've been constantly embarrassed since I got here." She finished her toast. Jenny was going to have to change her strategy if this was going to work. Could she try being honest?

"Alright, you win."

"Win what?"

"I fancy you."

"Congratulations, so do a lot of people – including Martha, I hear," said Clara, eating another spoon of cereal. Very mushy cornflakes.

"You're actually quite arrogant, are you?"

"Mm," Clara grinned at her, "It's one of my charms." Jenny said nothing. "Is it working?"

"You think you're charming me?"

Clara crossed her arms and leaned on the table, eyes on Jenny.

"What do you want?" she asked outright. "Did you come over here to persuade me to have sex with you?"

"Yeah, I did, actually," Jenny admitted, feeling caught out. This wasn't going how she'd planned.

"And, why should I?"

"I've got this bet going."

"Oh, that's nice."

"If I can't sleep with you before you leave, Jack's going to shave my head," she explained. Clara narrowed her eyes, then looked at Jack over Jenny's shoulder, buttering his bread.

"High stakes, then? And what if you win – or, more accurately, what if I knowingly help you to win?" Clara asked.

"He's going to make a vow of chastity and stick to it for a fortnight."

"So, you're going to cheat on him, with the reward being that he won't cheat on you?" said Clara.

"I suppose."

"Doesn't sound very healthy, when you put it that way," said Clara. "Even if you're both aware of everything. Are you non-monogamous, or aren't you?" That was a much bigger question than Jenny was willing to answer, and Clara sensed that she'd maybe pushed too far. "Will you be upset if you have to shave your head?"

"Quite. I've never cut it short myself." It had been shorn off before, but not by choice.

"Okay," Clara leant towards her, "You are very hot, Jenny. And I do like blondes, and their hair, especially." Boldly, she reached over and twirled a few strands of Jenny's hair around her finger. "This is very soft. It'd be a shame to get rid of it."

"It really would," said Jenny quietly.

"If you're sure, then, it's all alright with me."

"Is that all it takes? I just have to ask you?" said Jenny.

"Two nights ago, you were coming into the bathroom to shower when I was just leaving. You'd been working out, or something, and you were in a sports bra," said Clara. "I saw your abs. I've been daydreaming about them." Jenny laughed; she hadn't noticed Beta Clara ogling her.

"I'll crack an egg on them for you, if you like?" said Jenny. "They're rock solid."

But then Clara went and put another dampener on everything. "The only thing, is… I know you've had a difficult day." Jenny clenched her jaw.

"My whole life's been difficult, this is no different," she said. "Anyway, that Frir… it didn't dig deeply enough to really bother me. Maybe this week, Xenomorphs are my worst nightmare, but not the rest of the time. I'm glad it was lazy."

"Then… okay," Clara agreed. "I'll go along with this for you. And also because I know I'll regret it forever if I miss my chance."

"Great. I'll meet you in your bedroom in a few, for some very, very meaningless fun. Once I've finished my tea."

"Sure," Clara smiled, blushing a little. "I'll see you there."

---

Rewritten January 2024

DAY 98

722: Say Yes

Jenny

"I can't believe you've had your own bathroom this whole time," said Jenny loudly so that Beta Clara would hear her over the roar of her electric toothbrush.

Jenny was being nosey and looking around her room, a bland guest room the TARDIS had conjured days ago, but there was little of interest. Clothes, some makeup, spare dressing for Clara's nose – still broken. Jenny examined it in her silver, robotic hand, turning a tube of lipstick around because she rather liked the colour and wanted to see what it was. She heard Clara spit into the sink.

"You're supposed to rinse the brush, you know," said Jenny when Clara returned.

"How do you mean?"

"Rinse it. So that it doesn't get caked in horrible, old toothpaste."

"It's just a loan toothbrush," she shrugged. "Why are you looking at my lipstick?"

"I like the colour," she said.

"I don't think it would suit you – no offence," said Clara. "We have different complexions." Jenny put the lipstick down. "It's not a full bathroom, anyway. There's no bath or shower, just the bog and the sink."

"That's better than most of us have at the moment."

"All because the TARDIS wants revenge for the Tenth Doctor spunking on a shower curtain? Seems strange to me. It's not the hardest thing in the world to clean."

"Alright, well, the next time one of the Doctors ejaculates on something, how about we get you round to deal with it?" said Jenny. Did they have to talk about this?

"What've you come back for, anyway?" asked Clara, changing the subject. Jenny had left late the previous night to shower undisturbed and then gone through her usual, nightly exercises while Clara slept. None of the Doctors had noticed she'd built herself a gym.

"I suppose I was still thinking about you, while I did my sets on the rowing machine," said Jenny.

"Doesn't a distraction like that ruin your form?" asked Clara wryly, crossing her arms and leaning on the wall.

"Maybe. I can feel a bit of a knot in my back."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah. You could always take a look?"

Clara was still smiling – Jenny growing increasingly enamoured by her dimples – but she narrowed her eyes. "I thought this was a one-off?"

"Well, I-"

Someone knocked on the door and interrupted them. Surely, they couldn't have sorted out the Xenomorphs already? That was exactly why she'd made her way back into Beta Clara's room, to catch her before the infestation had been dealt with.

"Hold that thought," said Clara, touching Jenny's arm lightly on her way past to answer the door. Should Jenny find somewhere to hide?

"What if it's the Doctor?" she whispered, "Your Doctor."

"I doubt that," Clara copied her whisper mockingly, "He never knocks." Jenny glared at her. "You'll be fine, just hang on."

They were both surprised to see Martha Jones on the other side of Beta Clara's door that morning, Martha who began to speak but then glimpsed Jenny – trying and failing to look nonchalant, leaning on the chest of drawers – and became lost for words.

"I, um…"

"Jenny was just…" Clara began. "Well, I don't know, she hasn't gotten around to telling me what she's doing."

"Right…" Martha kept looking between them. "Are you two shagging? Bloody hell. Has this been going on the whole time? Is that why you didn't ask us to take you home?"

"No; I'm keeping an eye on the Doctor. Making sure none of you kills him. And, again, no; it's not going on, it happened once, and it was last night. I don't think anybody's really supposed to know about it."

"Fine," Martha shook her head. "I'm not all that interested."

"You know they're spreading rumours about you, by the way?" said Clara.

"Don't tell her about that!" said Jenny.

"I just think someone should tell her what massive arseholes you're all being," Clara ignored her. "They're all gossiping about, um – they think you fancy me. Or Other Me. One of us." Jenny was glaring at her, but Clara didn't look to see.

"Nothing's private here, is it?" Martha said.

"No, I don't think so," said Clara.

"I don't see why it matters. We're all adults, and I'm married. Mickey thinks it's hilarious, but otherwise… well, I'm not here to talk about that. They just sent me to tell you that they're about to leave to deal with your TARDIS – and now it looks like I know why they were so insistent I do it," she complained.

"She's very easy, if you do decide you want to shag her," said Jenny, an act of petty revenge.

"I won't," said Martha, "Thanks. I'd better go and finish my breakfast."

"Sure. Thanks for letting me know," said Clara.

"Don't mention it," Martha grumbled, walking away towards Nerve Centre. Clara shut the bedroom door.

"I don't think any of you are being all that nice to her," said Clara. "She's been very good about my broken nose."

"Was that alright last night?" asked Jenny. "I thought you might have knocked it when you were, you know."

"I did, but I pushed through the pain. It's fine now," said Clara. "What were you saying before she turned up?"

"I just have a proposition," said Jenny, still leaning on the chest of drawers. Then she thought she must look silly, so she stood up straight again, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands.

"And what's that?" asked Clara, going to sit on the edge of the bed in front of Jenny. "I'm not going to date you."

"Nothing as messy as that."

"Then, what?"

"…Are you going to make me say it?"

"Yes."

"I think we should exchange phone numbers. Just in case of, erm…"

"Of what? If you've got another inane rumour about somebody you want to share?" Clara challenged.

"Last night was fun, is what I'm trying to say. It was very fun – the most fun I've had in… in a long time," she said. Years, probably. Perhaps decades. "If you're amenable, then, I'd like to do it again."

"You want me as a booty call?"

"If that's how you want to describe it."

"Interesting."

"Give me one good reason why not."

"We live in different universes," said Clara.

"Two good reasons."

"Because your dad is my best friend."

"Three good reasons."

"I'm the same person as your stepmother."

"Alright, alright. Four."

"You're married. And we've got one hell of an age gap, don't you think? How old are you again?"

"Two-hundred-and-eight."

"Uh-huh. And what are you going to do if I say yes? Boast about it to everybody you live with?"

"No. I won't tell them anything. I wouldn't have told them about last night, either, but you're the one who answered the door to Martha just now," Jenny reminded her, sitting down by her side. "Come on. We'll have a good time, you know it."

"Will we?" asked Clara.

Then, Jenny took a chance. She leant in and kissed Clara, for the first time since last night. Then she kissed her again, and a third time, just to be sure, and Clara didn't hesitate whatsoever to kiss her back. She still had toothpaste on her teeth.

"You want to," Jenny breathed, "Admit it."

"…Okay." Clara picked up her phone from where she'd left it on the bed. "I'll take your number, but you're not having mine."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm the one setting boundaries," said Clara. She grew very serious. "It's difficult, because… it wasn't that long ago." Only briefly did Jenny wonder what she meant, but then Clara handed over her phone, open on the contacts screen. Danny's name was still there, near the top. "I don't know if I'll call you, honestly. I don't know if it'll be good for me. But I'll take your number, just in case."

Jenny added herself to Clara's phone, hoping that they'd actually be able to make calls when Clara was back in her home universe. And hoping that Clara wanted to.

"That's fine with me," Jenny smiled and gave it back. "Sounds like you might still have a few hours until they're done with your TARDIS, though."

"Maybe let's leave it for now?" said Clara sheepishly.

"Are you throwing me out?"

She bit her lip, "I might be."

Jenny sighed but gave in. "I know when I'm beaten. Do ring, though, when you feel up to it. And if you don't, then… maybe ring anyway? Let me know?"

"You want me to ring you to tell you I don't want to shag you?"

"No, I've just… I've enjoyed talking to you. It's good to hear an outside voice – someone who lives in the real world."

"Nothing in my life seems like the real world these days."

"Yeah…" said Jenny. "I know the feeling. That's why you should ring me regardless. It'd be nice."

"I'll see," said Clara, but she sounded genuine. That satisfied Jenny, who stood.

"I'll get out of your hair, then."

"And I'm glad to have saved yours."

"It's been fun."

"I think you said that already."

"Well, I mean it," Jenny opened the door.

Clara went pink, "Alright."

"Goodbye, then. For now."

"Yeah," she laughed slightly as Jenny slowly shut the door behind her, "For now."

---

Rewritten February 2024

DAY 98

727: Secret Diary of a Clara

Adam

Freeing the Beta TARDIS of the Xenomorph scourge had been a success, to everybody's relief. Even though the Twelfth Doctor had done his best at ruining their entire plan by tagging along in secret – until their motion detectors picked him up and Martha accidentally set his coat on fire, leaving Adam Mitchell to put it out – they'd managed it. The TARDIS would quickly recover from the acid blood and the remnants of the hive, sucking everything into the Eye of Harmony and erasing it from existence.

Hours later, Adam was in Nerve Centre cradling a mug of hot chocolate, trying to ignore that his injured ankle was playing up again after he'd suffered myriad slips and misfortunes in the belly of Twelve's extensively cultivated Xenomorph hive. He was wearing a brace and two socks for support, but still, it throbbed. There were no Claras there, nor Oswin, just Adam sitting at a table with Jack for company. Rose, Amy, and Donna were in there, too, but people didn't tend to speak to Adam. There was an empty seat between them, and promptly, Jenny dropped into it with a fresh, fruit salad she'd been making.

"I haven't seen you all day," said Jack quietly. "Or last night."

"I've been around. Gym." She popped a melon cube into her mouth.

"Uh-huh. Should I get the electric razor out?"

Adam felt like a gooseberry. He didn't want to be there to overhear which body parts Jack and Jenny shaved for each other.

Jenny didn't answer right away, instead clearing her throat, thinking. "No."

"It went well, then?"

"I'm not gonna kiss and tell." Who had she been kissing and refusing to tell about? "But I won't be shaving my head, and you won't be sleeping with anybody else for a fortnight."

"Just me? I thought it was a mutual vow of chastity," said Jack.

"I never said that."

"You're seeing her again, then?"

"That's my business," said Jenny. Uh-oh. If Jenny had slept with someone they didn't live with, who wasn't there anymore… she must have finally persuaded Beta Clara. Alpha Clara wouldn't be happy about that – and nor would Oswin. "That's all I'll say, though. Don't go spreading rumours."

"But spreading rumours is the main thing we do here," said Jack.

"Yeah, and maybe it shouldn't be."

"Enjoy yourself, then."

"I will. Now, I have fruit to eat. I need the energy because I'm going to the pool to swim laps later."

"You're not saving it for anything else? If I'm only allowed to spend my nights with you-"

"Oh, did you want tips on your swimming form? You're welcome to practice the butterfly with me, but I have a personal best I need to beat," said Jenny, rejecting him easily. "Hey," Adam jumped out of his skin when Jenny leant towards him. "Don't tell anybody what you heard, alright? Don't tell Oswin."

"I can't just not tell Oswin-"

"Do you want me to sprain your other ankle for you?"

"…No, thank you, Jenny."

"Good. Not a word."

"I'm, uh, gonna go see if Oswin's back, actually, so I can tell her all about my day, up to and not including this conversation," said Adam, extricating himself from the table with the Harknesses. Being stuck with them was a waking nightmare. He flinched when he put weight on his ankle but shuffled out of Nerve Centre and into the console room.

In there he found Thirteen, which presumably meant Oswin was around somewhere, too.

"What's happening, baby boy?" she said when she saw him, messing around with the console.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Sorry! I forget, you're not a 'baby boy' type of guy. Allow me to rephrase. What's happening, baby girl?"

"I was just looking for Oswin," said Adam. "Did you two get back okay?"

"Sure, sure. Okay as can be. She's in her lab; have at her."

"Yeah, thanks, I'll do that…"

"Something got your goose?"

"I'm not sure I should-"

"Lemme guess; I'm good at this. I imagine you've just heard a rumour about a certain doppelganger. Am I close?"

"You might be."

"Do you want some advice?"

"If you're offering." Was she going to tell him something about the future?

"Forget about it. It'll all work itself out, eventually," she smiled at him, and he noticed she had surprisingly sharp canines. "But don't tell anyone. I know you think Oswin ought to know, but nobody 'needs' to know the details of other people's personal lives."

"You know, though."

"Secrets rarely stay that way," she shrugged. "But don't let them come out because of you, Mitchell. You're a good boy."

"Yeah, thanks… Oswin's upstairs, you said?"

"You betcha."

"Cool." He was already tired of people who weren't Oswin, and walked gingerly up the stairs, trying not to put too much weight on his bad foot.

"Why not borrow one of her spare walking sticks?" the Doctor called after him.

"She doesn't use a walking stick."

"Right, right. That was someone else I was thinking of."

He shook his head, making up his mind to forget everything he'd heard in the last fifteen minutes, and found Oswin in her laboratory hunched over her laptop.

"Hello," he said. "Do you want to be alone, or can I come in? I really need to escape the other room – it's all gossip again."

"You can come in," she looked up from the screen and managed to smile at him. "I'll show you something. C'mere." He didn't need asking twice, walking over – slowly – and pulling out a lab stool next to her. "Is your ankle okay?"

"Might've twisted it again today, dealing with the aliens. And yes, I'm wearing the brace and the compression socks," he said when she opened her mouth. She closed it again.

"I found something that could help you today, actually," she said, picking an object off the lab table. To his great surprise, it was a walking stick. Old and a little battered, but a walking stick. Was that what the Doctor meant?

"I think I'm okay for the time being," he said, getting a feeling like déjà vu. Not his own déjà vu, though. "You keep it, maybe you'll need it."

"Yeah, maybe I'll sprain my good ankle, too," she said. "I could go back and find one of my old recovery wheelchairs. Look at this, though." She took out her phone and showed him a picture of her, smiling one of the widest smiles he'd ever seen, holding a baby. "This is my nephew, Nalyt. I got to meet him for the first time today."

"That's great," he said, sliding the stool nearer. "I'm glad something good came from today, then."

"Lots of good things came from today. I'll never have to speak to my mother again, that's phenomenal. He's eight months old. I offered to babysit – we'll see if they let me, or if they think I'm too unstable to be trusted."

"You saw all your brothers, then?"

"No. Jatt wasn't there, didn't show up – I wish I'd had the choice not to show up. Dret… I didn't speak to him. The other three were good, though. Even Zalur. But Flek, god… here's gossip for you. She's engaged – to Eyeball." Adam stared at her. "Yeah, I know."

"And are you okay with that? It's weird, right?"

"Well, it's getting less weird by the day, living with all these clones. I take it by the fact you're not dead that you sorted everything out with their TARDIS?"

"Yes. They're officially gone, both of them."

"Finally. But, yes, to get back to Flek, I suppose I have to be okay with it. Eyeball hates me, though."

"Probably because her fiancée isn't over you. Hence why she's gotten engaged to someone who looks just like you."

"It's all a mess," she shook her head, returning to her laptop. "I don't want to be involved."

"Do you think you should tell Clara?"

"Clara has a thousand Echoes, and if she starts trying to pry into the personal lives of every single one of them, I'll put her out of her misery myself. I'm sure she's too busy shagging to care. Although, apparently I do need to tell her about the lightsabers since he obviously hasn't. That'll be fun. I'm not gonna do it now, though."

"Are you Turing testing Helix again?" asked Adam, peering at the code on her laptop.

"Yes. Still failing."

"…Do you need any help? One computer genius to another." She looked up at him and smiled.

"Okay. But you'd better think of some really tricky questions."

"Why not just ask the questions from Blade Runner?"

"Because I'm testing whether he's a replicant, not whether he's a lesbian," she said.

"I really do love you."

"Because I can quote one of the most popular, critically acclaimed movies ever made?" He shrugged. "God, you must really love all those nerds you plan your little conventions with, too." He laughed.

"Come on, shift over. I'll get to the bottom of Helix's sentience or die trying."

"I don't think it's worth dying over, but, sure. Go for it." She kissed his cheek, and he got to work, his hot chocolate now completely cold.

---

Rewritten January 2024

DAY 100

746: Another Girl Another Planet

Jenny

Perched on a silver yoga ball, Jenny flipped through a history book she'd found buried in the TARDIS's library. The Doctor had a rather neglected non-fiction section, and she'd been making liberal use of it when none of them had been around to catch her. She was gripped by a long chapter detailing the British Army giving aid to colonial, French forces in Southeast Asia after the Second World War when her phone started to ring. She'd left it on the bed behind her. She'd prefer not to have a phone at all, but that had proven very impractical. The number calling her was unknown.

"Hello?" she took the chance and answered it.

"Yeah, hi, it's me." Clara. Beta Clara.

"Hi yourself," said Jenny. "What's up?"

"Are you busy?"

"I'm just reading."

"Oh, really? Anything good?"

"A big tome about the Vietnam War," said Jenny, getting to her feet. With the phone cradled on her shoulder, she found the bookmark and slid it between the pages. "Nothing too involved, but I haven't got anything else to do. I'm grounded, apparently."

"You're… sorry – grounded?"

"Apparently," she repeated. "They've found out about you. Not happy about our liaison."

"But you're a Time Lord. How can they ground you?"

"With a teleporter strapped to my wrist that brings me back inside if I try to leave the TARDIS," she explained. "No sonic screwdriver to get it off. Confiscated. Outrageous, really."

"You don't sound that annoyed."

"I've got my own spaceship. It's a bit of a rust bucket I've recently re-salvaged from the tundra, but it'll do for getting around," said Jenny. Quietly, she added, "They're all idiots. They don't know a thing about me."

Phone in one hand, she perused the contents of her bedroom. The bed was a complete mess – neither she nor Jack ever bothered to make it – as were most other things. Clothes all over the place and then stacks upon stacks of Jenny's knick-knacks. Two centuries' worth. She picked up an old baseball bat; it had been signed by Smiling Stan when Jenny had gone all the way to Wrigley Park for one of the 1935 World Series games; it was a real treasure of hers, but she didn't look after it properly. Her old, vintage fiddle was suffering the same fate next to it on the dresser.

"Which wrist is it on? Your thingy?" asked Clara.

"The right."

"Isn't that the robot one?"

"It isn't detachable. But, yes, I can get around all their countermeasures if you want me to come over," she said. "Just have to make sure they don't notice I'm gone. They're dead against this whole thing."

"Yeah, well, it is kind of weird," said Clara.

"Why are you calling me, then?"

"Because you're ridiculously hot and, well, I don't care about all that," she admitted. "Yes, I'd like you to come over, and yes, it's for sex." Jenny smiled and put the baseball bat back down, toying with the idea of getting the rest of the Chicago Cubs to sign it. But she didn't think she could betray the Clovers like that.

"Well…" She thought. Her ship was a junker she'd practically rebuilt after getting the scrap back from Tungtrun, so it couldn't be relied upon for accuracy. But she might be able to synchronise it with the TARDIS so that she could come back without anybody noticing. It was worth a try, in any case. If she was caught and they took the ship away, she'd just have to cut through her shackle with a circular saw (carefully). "I think I can swing it."

"You don't have to if you don't-"

"I want to," Jenny cut her off. "I like that you called me. I wasn't sure you would."

"I'm not gonna pass up the chance to repeat some of the best sex I've ever had, am I?" Clara joked.

"I suppose not. When do you want me? Do you still live in that flat?"

"Yeah," said Clara, and then she gave Jenny a time and a date in late September 2015.

"Great," said Jenny. "I'll be right there."

---

The intercom on Clara's building door wasn't working properly, and she couldn't buzz Jenny in. With no sonic, this left Jenny outside in the rain on a surprisingly chilly September evening, waiting for Clara to come all the way down in the lift to let her in properly.

"You could've warned me the weather is appalling," said Jenny huffily when Clara finally appeared, holding the door open.

"It's England, it usually is," said Clara. "You got here alright, then?"

"Time travel allowing, I should be able to get back just a few minutes after I left, so nobody knows I'm gone," she said. "So, it's unlikely to spread around."

"Yeah… no offence," Clara began, leading her to the old lift, "but everyone on your TARDIS is completely insane. Why do they even care who you sleep with?"

"You are my stepmother in another universe, which I imagine makes the entire thing slightly more interesting."

"Interesting to a bunch of sad cases, maybe," said Clara, pressing the button for the fifth floor. "I didn't know you read, though."

"Doesn't everyone?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"It's just non-fiction," said Jenny, "Science and history. I like your hair, by the way." Clara had cut it shorter than it had been when Jenny had last seen her, and shorter than Alpha Clara's.

"Thanks. The Doctor didn't notice anything different, obviously." She sighed. "It's been a day."

"What happened?" asked Jenny. The lift rumbled.

"Daleks, the Master, et cetera," she said. "I'm not sure I want to talk about it."

"That's fine."

"It's just – he's been gone for months. Disappeared on me. And then Missy shows up with this…" Clara shook her head. "Never mind. You're not interested."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, why would you be?"

Jenny frowned, "Why wouldn't I?" They were at an impasse. Clara didn't know what to say. The lift dinged and they stepped out. "Did you say months, though?"

"Nine of them."

"Wow."

"Why? How long has it-"

"Two days."

"And you still came?" asked Clara, "Even just two days later?"

Jenny shrugged, "I've got a lot of energy needs getting rid of." Clara held open the door into her small flat, which looked different to when Jenny had last been there, weeks ago now. It was far messier, with dishes piling up and stacks of takeaway boxes.

"Sorry it's not, um… I would've tidied, but I didn't think you'd actually turn up. Or even answer the phone."

Jenny smiled at her and noticed Clara's eyes trailing down to her mouth, "I don't mind. And of course I'll answer the phone; this arrangement was my idea. I always follow through. Are you back at work, then? You were having time off when I last saw you. And your nose looks good; you can't tell it was broken."

"Thanks. And I am back, yeah. But do you want to hear about work, though? Have you even had a job?" she joked, but Jenny didn't answer. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"I'm not gonna leave, don't worry," Jenny smiled again, still peering at all the childhood photographs Clara had hanging in her living room. "I've had jobs."

"Really? Like what?" Clara seemed genuinely interested, and Jenny was struck. Nobody on the TARDIS had ever asked her about her life. Not even Jack was that bothered.

"I'm an accountant," said Jenny.

Clara laughed, "Excuse me? You're joking." Jenny came over and leaned on the kitchen counter next to her. She was already boiling the kettle without asking Jenny whether she wanted a drink – which, she did.

"Nope."

"An accountant for who? Doing what?"

"This and that, nothing too interesting," Jenny lied. "And I was in the army for a long time, in the future. The Homeworld Alliance."

"I thought you stepped away from all that? The Doctor persuaded you?"

"Have you been quizzing him about me?" asked Jenny wryly.

"Well… the TARDIS has files," Clara shifted uneasily under Jenny's gaze.

"The military can be a community where you don't have one," said Jenny. "But, I deserted. A long time ago, now. How is work, though? Are you at the same school?"

"Coal Hill? Yeah."

"Even though…?" Jenny prompted. Clara waited for her to say what she really meant. "It must be hard, that's all."

"It is," Clara admitted, "But they're good kids. And work's the reason I thought about calling, actually. Other than the fact I had a bad day and thought seeing you might make me feel better." Jenny had another responsibility, then: cheer her up. "I was trying to persuade them to let me do an assembly for Bisexual Awareness Week, but, no dice."

"It's a bit of a niche sexuality, really, isn't it?" said Jenny. "I'm not sure it actually exists."

Clara gave her a look, and Jenny grinned. "Funny."

"I just don't think I've ever met one. A bisexual."

"Really."

"Mm. You might have to prove to me that they exist."

"And how would I do that?" asked Clara.

"Come over here."

"What about the kettle?"

"Forget about the kettle," Jenny said in a whisper. Clara didn't need telling twice. She crossed the very small kitchen that adjoined the living room and was about to kiss her again, as she'd been invited to do, but they were interrupted; Clara's stomach rumbled very loudly, and she froze. Jenny could only laugh. "Was that you?"

"I… bollocks. I don't think I've remembered to eat all day."

"And your first priority, upon getting home, was inviting me over to have sex with you, instead of having dinner?" asked Jenny, leaning away from Clara as Clara tried to close the distance between them.

"I haven't got anything in. I might have some beans left, maybe I could microwave them in the tin…"

"Is that what you usually eat? Beans?"

"When I need to cook," Clara shrugged.

"Cook? That's not cooking. And you shouldn't put the tin in there, put them in a bowl."

"How am I supposed to remember to do that?" said Clara.

"It's the only thing you need to remember."

"No, I also need to remember to get the beans, and open the tin – sometimes, I forget to open the tin," she admitted. Jenny stared at her. "What?"

"Surely, you've got something?" Jenny slid away from her and went to open the fridge. She found very little of value in there. Juice cartons past the sell-by date and rather a lot of good milk and cream, but food? There was one egg on the top shelf. "How long has that egg been there?"

"That one? I don't know. Four months?"

"Right…" Terrified, Jenny lifted open the only other item of food, a very soggy pizza box, and found its contents covered in mould. She dropped the cardboard back down. "This seems like an emergency."

"Nah," said Clara, wrapping her arms around Jenny from behind, "You can go days without eating." Jenny shut the fridge and turned around, gently taking Clara's face in her hands, both the organic and the synthetic one.

"If you think I'm gonna let you pleasure me on an empty stomach, you're absolutely wrong," she said softly, and then she let Clara go and stepped away.

"If I have to choose between food and sex, I'm going to pick sex, every time," said Clara.

"You're not choosing at all," said Jenny, amused. "Is there anything in the cupboards?"

"Just my hangover eggs."

"…Excuse me?"

"You know, you drink a raw egg before bed. Stops you from getting a hangover." Jenny stared at her. To prove herself, Clara lifted open the breadbin and pulled out an egg carton; there was bread in there, too, to Jenny's relief. Jenny couldn't work out why she had eggs in both the fridge and the breadbin, though.

"Do you just eat this bread on its own, then? Is spreading butter too complicated, as well?"

Clara glared at her and then pointed at something, "There's butter in the butter dish."

"You've got a butter dish? But you can't use a microwave?" asked Jenny. Clara said nothing. "That's fine, though. How about a fried egg sandwich?"

"Jenny. I didn't ask you here so that you'd cook for me."

"And yet, I'm still going to," she said, taking off her jacket – an old bomber jacket she'd nicked from an Alliance starship pilot aeons ago – and quickly washing her hands. To her even greater surprise, Clara produced a minuscule bottle of vegetable oil from another of her sparse cupboards, and Jenny got to work heating up a frying pan. "I'm amazed you have a frying pan at all."

"It was a present, from my dad, when I went to uni. He got me loads of stuff, told me I'd have to finally learn to cook if I was living on my own," she said. "I spent most of my money on takeaway and crisps. I still do spend most of my money on takeaway and crisps."

"That's depressing," said Jenny.

"Do you do more than just fry eggs, then?" Clara watched her as she cracked two eggs into the frying pan with one hand – the left hand. She didn't have as much dexterity with the right hand yet. She'd completely lost the ability to play the violin.

"I learnt to cook in Venice," said Jenny. "And a little in New Orleans. Clam chowder, that's my favourite. And there's this gumbo, it's got – well, I can't tell you what's in it. That's a secret. But it's good." Clara was staring at her. "What?"

"You know how to cook properly? Not just little bits?"

"I worked in a restaurant for a long time. Another of my real jobs. Don't tell that to anybody, though; nobody knows."

"Then, why tell me?"

"Because you asked."

"I…" Clara began, watching the eggs sizzle while Jenny buttered the bread. Jenny looked up at her. "I didn't think you'd want to talk to me."

"How do you mean?"

"I thought you'd just come here and stay for an hour or two, then leave. We don't have to talk," said Clara.

"Maybe I want to talk to you – we can be friends, can't we? This is meant to be a friends with benefits arrangement. If you want sex with no communication, why not go out on the pull again? Isn't that what you were doing before?"

"…You're right," Clara admitted. "I don't want it with no communication."

"Then, here I am, ready to cook for you and talk to you and sleep with you to your heart's content," said Jenny. "Where are your plates?"

"I'll get them."

In silence, Jenny finished frying the two sandwiches, sliding the eggs onto the bread, popping the runny yolks pre-emptively to stop them from bursting later. She waited eagerly for Clara to bite down and taste the sandwich though.

"God," she said, mouth full, "How did you do that with my terrible eggs and terrible butter? This is one of the best sandwiches I've ever had."

Jenny smiled, "I love cooking. It's my favourite thing to do. Eating is a close second."

"What's third?" asked Clara. Jenny saw the look in her eyes, dark and seductive, even though she had a bit of egg yolk on her lip.

"We'll worry about that once you've finished your sandwich," she said. "I should probably let you know something, though. I don't want you to get the wrong idea."

"What? You're actually straight and this is all just a flight of fancy?"

"No. I'm a bottom." Clara was quiet. "I mean, that's what I prefer. I'll do other stuff, but-"

"Then why didn't you tell me that when we had sex the first time?" asked Clara. "If there are things you would've enjoyed more than-"

"Because," Jenny went on, "I didn't realise I'd want to do it a second time. I didn't think you'd be that good, honestly."

"Oh, thanks."

"But, obviously, you are that good, because I'm here now. I can be in charge every once in a while, it's fine," she said. "But if you also prefer-"

"I'll switch quite happily," said Clara. "Because I'm bisexual."

"I don't think that's what that means."

"Of course that's what it means, it means you'll top and bottom. Two different things. Bi-sexual." Jenny laughed. "You should've told me before. But it's fine. You can make it up to me."

"Oh, absolutely."

"You're lucky I'm so bossy. At least, people tell me I'm bossy. I'm not sure."

"Ask me how bossy I think you are in a few hours, and I'll let you know my honest thoughts," said Jenny.

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise."

---

Clara's bedroom was just as messy as the rest of her flat. She had clothes tossed over her dressing table and its enormous mirror, stacks of hair products and make-up on every surface, and plenty of paperbacks all with bookmarks sticking out of them. But much to Jenny's amusement, she kept all of her sex toys clean and neat in a purpose-bought case under the bed.

It was, remarkably, even better the second time around. Lasted for much longer, too; Clara told her she was very glad it was a Saturday night, and she didn't have to get up for school in the morning.

But Jenny was still smiling when Clara finally rolled away from her and kept smiling to herself the entire time Clara was in her bathroom, swiftly washing the many pieces of paraphernalia they'd used in a very hectic and heated two hours. When she returned, still nude, she perched on the edge of the bed and Jenny sat up behind her, leaning over her shoulder to watch her rearrange the contents of the sex box.

She kissed Clara's shoulder, and then asked, "What else have you got in there?"

"Oh, all sorts. Anything you could want. Plenty of condoms, too – although, I haven't had to use one of those in a while," said Clara.

"Why not? Trying to get pregnant? I'm afraid I can't help you with that."

"No. I just haven't slept with anyone in a few months."

"Really? How many months is a 'few'?"

"…Nine," said Clara.

"Does that… sorry, you mean me?"

"I might."

"Why not call sooner, then?" asked Jenny softly. "What have you been doing for nine months? Working yourself into a frenzy?" Clara didn't answer right away. She finished putting things away and then got back into bed, shoving Jenny to the other side with her elbow.

"What it was, is that… well, the day of all that nonsense with the xenomorphs, the Doctor was in here persuading me to get my life back on track. It had all gone a bit off the rails. Then I spent a fortnight with you lot, and all that noise and chaos, and when I got back home, I wanted some peace and quiet. And he was right, anyway, about it all getting unhealthy. Not that it's inherently unhealthy to sleep with lots of people, but it was getting a bit… unsafe. Too much alcohol, too many strangers. And then there was you. And you're not a stranger, and I wasn't drunk at all."

"No sex in nine months, though?" asked Jenny.

"It's not that long. I've read a lot of books in that time."

"And then you call me today."

Clara turned to her and spoke candidly, "It was a really hard day. And you've made it better. That's all I wanted."

"Okay."

At that, there was a loud thunderclap outside. Neither of them had noticed the storm getting worse and wind whipping around the block, but it was now ferocious.

"Do you know what would make my day better?" asked Jenny.

"Haven't I done enough for your day already?" Clara joked. "But go on. Tell me."

"I only sleep once a week, or so. And, well, I was meant to be going to sleep tonight."

"So?"

"Can I stay here?"

"I don't know if that's proper etiquette for a fuckbuddy," said Clara.

"I just want a break from the TARDIS. From them prying into everything. It's peaceful here, even with the weather. And maybe I'll run to the shop in the morning, get something to make breakfast."

"I think you're blurring some lines," said Clara quietly. "I don't want this to get complicated."

"It's already complicated; breakfast isn't going to change that." Clara looked at her for a long while, thinking it all through, and she eventually cracked a small smile.

"Alright. You can stay in the bed, spend the night."

"Oh, I meant the sofa, I-"

"Well, I've already offered the bed, so, you can stay in the bed," said Clara firmly.

"But then you'll be on the sofa, and it's your flat."

"…No, Jenny, we can share the bed," said Clara. "It's a double, it's fine, there's plenty of space." Jenny sank into the pillows. She hadn't been expecting Clara to let her stay at all, thought she'd be chucked out into the rainstorm before midnight. "But I'll warn you now; if the Doctor turns up, I'm going to make you hide in the wardrobe – and then pretend you're a peeping tom if you get caught."

Jenny laughed again. "That's fine. I've been accused of worse."

"As long as we understand each other."

"We do," said Jenny, curling up under the sheets. It was very warm in there. Clara sighed. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just wishing I hadn't quit smoking."

"Why?"

"Because I could really go for a cigarette right now."

---

Rewritten January 2024

DAY 102

760: Another Girl Another Planet II

Jenny

"Are we alright?" Jack asked her. No, was the answer she wanted to give. No, they weren't. No, they never had been. No, they never would be. Because sleeping together once and suddenly being identified as 'Captain Jack's Girlfriend' from then on was exactly what she wanted from her life, was exactly the story she wanted to colour her long-overdue reunion with the Doctor (never mind that the Doctors rarely involved themselves with her).

Her casual fling had mutated into a hollow marriage of interminable, torturous length. But it had been so easy in the beginning. Now, over three months on, and it was anything but. Every day it got harder to put a smile on her face and pretend things were fine. But she still did it.

"Why wouldn't we be?"

He frowned. He knew as well as she did what was going on. They were both just waiting for the other to blink first. Well, Jenny wasn't going to blink. It hadn't been her idea and, therefore, it wasn't her mistake. So, she smiled.

"You sure?"

"Sure, I'm sure."

"Uh-huh." Did he really care, though, about what was going on with her? She couldn't say. He crossed his arms. "I'll just be in the next room, then."

"Great."

"Why don't we go out later, though? Dinner. On me."

"How will that work? I'm grounded."

"Well, I'll be escorting you, of course," he grinned, but it wasn't charming.

"Like a babysitter?"

"No, like-"

"I'll see. I'll be in the gym; I've got things to do."

"Sometimes, I feel like you're more married to that gym than you are to me." Again, he joked, and again, she couldn't quite bring herself to laugh.

They went their separate ways, Jack into Nerve Centre to gossip with the others, and Jenny out through the Bedroom Circle and towards the nondescript door her private gym was hidden behind.

She had everything she needed in there. A highwire, a treadmill, plenty of weights, a boxing ring outfitted with hologram fighters, a similarly designed fencing arena, and the thing she was most interested in that night, a dip station with a pull-up bar on the top. Jenny could do pull-ups until the cows came home, but she didn't get the chance.

Just as she set her things down, her phone started ringing. For the better part of a week, only one person had called her on the phone, and when she checked the small, monochrome screen, she saw that this streak hadn't been broken. Beta Clara.

The pull-ups could wait.

"Hello," she answered.

"Yeah, hi," said Clara. There was no time for pleasantries, though; she jumped straight in. "Listen. The other night, you said we could be friends."

"I did."

"Do you fancy providing me with some friendly, moral support?"

"Moral support?"

"I can't promise it'll lead to sex. But I need some company for a while, and… I thought of you."

"How enigmatic," said Jenny, smiling to herself.

"Are you busy?"

"No, just in the gym, trying to take my mind off things."

"Oh?" said Clara. She must have heard something in Jenny's tone, because then she asked, "Everything okay?"

"I…" Jenny paused. "Who knows. Maybe I'll tell you about it. What's the date? When do you want me?"

"The eleventh of October, about quarter past seven. In the evening."

"Uh-huh. Have you had dinner?"

"I've got some Pringles." Jenny laughed.

"You're incorrigible. I'll be right there."

---

She was right there, after she'd made a little stop at the corner shop nearest to Clara's flat to get something to eat that was more filling than a tube of Pringles. The buzzer had since been fixed, so she was able to get all the way upstairs and knock on Clara's front door without needing to wait in the rain since, of course, it was raining yet again.

"Hey, there," said Jenny when Clara answered the door. Clara spotted the plastic carrier bag she was holding.

"What's that?"

"Supplies," said Jenny. "Can I come in?"

"Wait, wait," said Clara when Jenny walked past her and headed straight for the kitchen in that tiny flat. "You're not my personal chef. An egg sandwich on a whim, fine, but you can't start bringing ingredients."

"Alright, I'll throw it all out and we can just ration your Pringles. How does that sound?" said Jenny. Clara glared at her. "You said this wasn't about sex, anyway; it's moral support."

"Well, yeah, but I can't talk to you if you're off in the kitchen," said Clara.

"Who says? I'm making burgers," said Jenny. "I had a few pounds of ground meat hidden in the fridge, and I thought I'd make use of it while it's still good. But I had to stop and get some other things."

"We don't measure things in 'pounds' here," said Clara.

"I grew up in America," said Jenny.

"Did you?"

"Mm. Let's not talk about that, though. What did you call me over here for? Not to help you work?" She nodded at the dining table, covered in workbooks and pieces of paper defaced with bad handwriting.

"I'm marking," said Clara. "I thought it might help if I persuaded you to sit here while I did it."

"How so?"

"Well, you'll be my reward, for finishing it all."

"Are you sexually objectifying me?" asked Jenny, smirking.

"Only a bit," said Clara, not feeling bad at all. Jenny very much enjoyed how bad Clara didn't feel. "You don't even know if I like burgers."

"Don't be silly. Everybody likes burgers."

"Where did you get the ground beef from?" asked Clara.

"It's pork, actually, ground pork. From a wild boar."

"And where did you get that from?"

"I killed it myself."

"You… sorry, you hunted an animal?"

"For food," said Jenny. But Clara looked horrified. "What? They're not endangered. I've used the whole pig for this or that."

"Yeah, but… hunting, Jenny."

"And I suppose, raising it on a farm and then shooting it in the head is somehow more ethical?" she countered. "You're not a vegetarian. That I know of." And then she hesitated and felt embarrassed. "Wait. Are you a vegetarian? Because, I can just make another egg sandwich, if-"

"I'm not," Clara put her out of her misery. "I suppose it's not worse, if… if you don't do it recreationally."

"No, I couldn't kill something for fun," said Jenny. "It's good to know where all your food comes from, though."

"That's what you do at night, then? Go out hunting?"

"I do the gym, I go fishing, I do a lot of cooking at night when nobody's in there to bother me," she shrugged. "I don't think any of them even know I cook. Just Jack, and he's…"

"What?" Clara prompted quietly. Jenny didn't answer, though.

"I'm gonna put this in the fridge." She picked up her bag of tricks and stashed it, pleased to see that Clara had thrown the pizza box away. She also had a pack of strawberries. "Gosh, you're eating fruit. I'm impressed."

"I do eat fruit," Clara defended herself, "I have it at work, keep it in the staff room fridge."

"Yeah, and I definitely believe you," said Jenny, shutting the door. Clara sat back down at the dining table, surrounded by her books and pens, and Jenny joined her at the opposite side. "Why do you need me here to do your marking?"

"It's just… I don't know. Since the Doctor came back, actually living my life seems to have gotten harder," she sighed. "Everything's pulling me away, and I can't get my head into the right place to actually sit and do this."

"And I'm going to help with that?"

"As long as you don't ask me to drop everything and run off with you to travel through time and space, you're not going to hurt." Clara flipped open another exercise book. "Have you seen An Inspector Calls?"

"No. What's it about?"

"It's a play. A ghost visits this house, a ghost of the future, and picks this family's life apart until they reveal they're all culpable in the suicide of a woman, Eva Smith. Then, at the end, the phone rings, and it's the police, saying that Eva's just died, and they're going to send an inspector around to interview everybody," said Clara. "The implication is that they're going to relive it forever until they admit that they all did something to push this poor woman over the edge. But they could just pick up the phone and call her. Beg her not to do it. And they never do."

"…You're teaching this to children?" asked Jenny.

"It's good, British literature," said Clara. "He was northern, actually, the playwright – Priestley. From Yorkshire, though; not Lancashire. People disagree, anyway, about it repeating. That's just what I think. They'd rather have it be that the Inspector arrives, embarrasses them all, and then leaves them to face a public disgrace. But why should that girl have to die just to teach rich people a lesson? Maybe there's an alternate timeline or universe where she doesn't."

"…I'm not sure I'm the best person to talk about this with," said Jenny. "I don't really enjoy fiction." Clara looked up from the passages of text she was marking to stare at her.

"You don't… you don't enjoy fiction? Any fiction?"

"It never holds my interest," said Jenny.

"How is that possible?"

"It isn't real, that's all. I read history and engineering manuals. Things that I could apply in real life."

"But fiction is real life; it's thoughts and feelings and culture and society – love and death – everything right and wrong in the world reflected back at us," said Clara.

"Maybe I'll come around to it eventually," said Jenny to placate her; she didn't think this would happen, but she could never say never. "You might persuade me." Clara shook her head.

"You're bizarre."

"I'm an alien, don't I have a license to be bizarre?" said Jenny. Clara laughed a little.

"God. I can't believe you said you don't like fiction. And I also can't believe that I'm going to forgive you for it."

"Explain it to me, then," said Jenny. "The play. Think out loud while you do your marking."

"But you're not interested."

"I'm interested in helping you. You can shout it all through while I make your dinner," said Jenny, getting back up. "Do you like blue cheese, by the way?"

"…What if I told you I've never had blue cheese?" said Clara.

"How old are you, again?"

Clara gave her a flat look, "I'm twenty-eight."

"Hm. You're older than I thought. That makes it much sadder that you've never had blue cheese. We'll change that, though. You'll like it – it's tangy."

"If you say so."

By some miracle, Jenny loitering in the flat did help Clara get through her block and finish marking the children's practice essays. She blasted through the few that remained in the time it took for Jenny to cook and assemble her burgers. Each had two, thin patties with a hefty tablespoon of crumbly Stilton sandwiched between them, topped with lettuce, fresh tomato, gherkins, and mustard.

"Maybe next time I'll make everything from scratch," said Jenny when she'd plated everything up. "The Doctor's started pickling things. Thirteen, I mean."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I've seen the jars hidden in the cupboards, with labels on them."

"Maybe she'll let you have some?" Clara suggested. "This is perfect, by the way. Maybe the best burger I've ever had. You really can't keep cooking for me like this."

"If you don't let me cook for you, you're depriving me of one of life's greatest pleasures," said Jenny, "Is that what you want? Me to be deprived of one of life's greatest pleasures?"

"I suppose not."

"There you are, then."

"What's going on, anyway?" asked Clara. "You said you might tell me about it, before you came over."

"I don't know," said Jenny, guarded. "Honestly, it's about Jack. It's up to you if you want to hear about it."

"Does he want you to stop coming round here?" asked Clara.

"I don't think so."

"You don't 'think' so?"

"I told him I might be seeing you again, after the first time," said Jenny. "Do you know what he said?"

"What?"

"He just shrugged. He shrugged, and he told me to enjoy myself. He doesn't care at all where I am or what I'm doing or who I'm with."

"Right. And that's… that's not what you want?" asked Clara carefully.

"I just want a reaction. He asked me to marry him, and now we're supposed to be… and he doesn't care. I don't even have a ring – not an engagement ring, not a wedding ring. He proposed with a Hula Hoop."

"What flavour?" asked Clara.

"What flavour? I tell you that my husband proposed with a potato chip, and you ask me what flavour?"

"We call them 'crisps.'"

"It was just original," Jenny answered. "The red ones."

"That's a poor show. I'd have at least popped for something a bit fancier; they once did these limited edition, sour cream and chive ones," said Clara. Jenny shook her head.

"It's the principle of it."

"I know," said Clara softly, "I'm just messing with you. But can't you talk to him? You could always go to pick one out together."

"I don't want to. I think some days that if he never spoke to me again, I might be better off," said Jenny, and that was true. One of the rare true things she ever told anyone. "I think he just did it all so he could say he married the Doctor's daughter – that he seduced me right under my dad's nose. As if my dad cares."

"He must care a bit, to have grounded you," Clara pointed out.

"He did that because I shagged his wife, if you'll remember."

"Yes, I seem to have rather vivid memories of the shagging of the Doctor's wife you're talking about." Jenny smiled ever-so-slightly but then got an unpleasant thought.

"That's not why you're doing all this, is it? So that you can go around telling people you've slept with me?"

"Yes," Clara nodded. "You've seen right through me. Every day, I rub it in the Doctor's face that I'm screwing his daughter behind his back, and he can't do anything about it."

"Are you joking?"

"Obviously, I'm joking," said Clara, nudging Jenny playfully with her foot under the table. "He's my best friend, I'm not gonna tell him about this."

"If he's your best friend, why do it at all?" asked Jenny.

"I don't know. You're hot? You're good in bed? You keep cooking for me and asking how my day's been?" said Clara.

"Is that all it takes?"

"There are people in actual relationships who don't get all of those things. You in your relationship, as a prime example," said Clara. "So, yeah, that's all it takes. But how did it all happen, really? You and Jack?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," said Jenny. Clara was waiting patiently, still battling through her enormous burger, so Jenny went on. "He was the only one of them who talked to me. There we were, alone in the kitchen, two people who barely sleep, and… He asked me what I've been doing for two hundred years. Said he'd heard a few stories about the Doctor's daughter. I said I didn't want to talk about it, and he's never asked since."

"Do you want to talk about it now?" asked Clara.

"Not really."

"Well, maybe he knows that? Maybe he's trying to respect you."

Jenny, who'd already finished, crossed her arms and leant back in the chair, narrowing her eyes at Clara.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"How do you mean?"

"You're trying to play marriage counsellor to me and Jack. Why? When you've got such a vested interest in things not going well with him?"

"Well, it… you seem sad," said Clara. "If it'd make you happier to patch things up with him, then, I can't stand in the way of that, can I? That'd be selfish."

Jenny relaxed, then sighed. "It's nice of you to think of me like that."

"I think about you a lot. I'm getting very good at it."

"Really?"

"Mm."

Jenny had had enough of talking about Jack and the Doctor. And she'd had enough of plays and cooking dinner. She slid the dining chair along the floor, ignoring how Clara flinched at the sound of the scraping, until they were right next to each other.

Very quietly, she asked, "What do you think about? Specifically."

Clara took the invitation. "I suppose I mostly think about how much more I'd like you if you were pinned against my bedroom wall."

"That can be arranged. I can go in there and get ready in about a minute."

"I'll be the only one getting you 'ready'," said Clara. "But, I'm still eating."

"You're really gonna torture me like this?"

"Yes," said Clara smugly.

"God. I'll just sit here, then."

"You do that." She chewed very slowly, on purpose, watching Jenny the whole time. "Do you ever think that, burgers, they kind of look like vaginas, don't they? If you put them on their side."

Jenny blinked. "Why would you say that to me?"

"It's true," said Clara.

"That's horrible."

"In what way? I like burgers, I like vaginas," she was indifferent. "I think it's nice."

"Suddenly, you sound like Oswin."

"I'd've thought you'd enjoy that, since you fancy her," said Clara.

"I don't fancy her – much. She's got a boyfriend, and they seem to be very obsessed with each other."

"Yeah, Adam's a bit… I'm not too sure what she sees in him, is that bad? I feel like I should know, since, supposedly, we're the same person. He acts like a bit of a prick, honestly." Jenny laughed. "Then again, you're all like that; I think you're bad influences on each other."

"You might be right," Jenny admitted. "That's why I like coming to see you."

"That's the only reason you like coming to see me?" said Clara, wiping her hands on a sheet of kitchen roll. She'd finished eating.

"Maybe if I really think about it, I can come up with some others. But nothing springs to mind." Jenny leant towards her again, but Clara didn't close the distance. She remained tantalising close, looking at Jenny's lips.

"Tell me something," she asked quietly.

"Anything."

"You said to me, ages ago, that you don't think of your sexuality in 'that way' when I asked about you not being straight. What did you mean?"

"I suppose I just don't like labels – they seem pointless. I know I like humans, why bother dividing that even more into something arbitrary?"

"Okay. It's just that, when you said that, I thought… maybe you're not actually that into women."

"So… you thought that I'm so petty, that I'd engage in a semi-clandestine affair with another woman, even though I'm not attracted to them, out of spite?" asked Jenny incredulously.

"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds-"

Jenny kissed her. She could smell Clara's candy-coloured shower gel and taste gherkins and blue cheese; it wasn't a combination that should work, but in that moment, it was intoxicating.

Jenny pulled away ever-so-slightly, "I'm definitely into women. You don't have to worry about that."

"If that's true, why did you stop kissing me?" said Clara, unable to resist bringing them back together.

The way they kept falling into bed was becoming a habit for Jenny, but she didn't know yet if it was a habit she should break. Her head told her that nothing good could come of continuing to be involved with Clara Oswald, even if it was purely physical; and yet, she couldn't help but listen to her hearts.

---

Rewritten February 2024

DAY 104

782: Date Night XIII / Another Girl Another Planet III

Clara

"Where are you two off, then?" Oswin cut off Clara and Eleven, catching them on their way to the console room. Had she been waiting for them in the Bedroom Circle?

"We've been invited out to dinner," said Clara, approaching and hugging her, completely against her will. "Thank you for not letting me get impregnated by aliens."

"Is that all I get? A hug? What about sex, Clara?" said Oswin.

"We have enough sex," Clara let her go. Eleven cleared his throat behind her. "Oh, lighten up, will you? You've just spent about three hours moaning about my eating habits."

"I think it was nearer to three minutes, Clara," he said curtly.

"Who're you having dinner with? Is it Martha? Have you convinced her and Mickey to start a polycule with you?"

"No," said Clara. "We've convinced Craig and Sophie to start a polycule with us."

"How thrilling."

"They just want him, really. I'm only invited out of politeness."

"You can have plenty of fun being a voyeur; don't let anybody tell you otherwise. But whereabouts do they live?"

Clara frowned. "Not a clue."

"Colchester," said the Doctor.

"Colchester?" asked Oswin.

"In Essex."

"Right." She stopped, thinking, and then sighed. "That's no good to me. Just leave, have fun in Colchester."

"We will," said the Doctor. "It was the capital of Roman Britain."

"And will the Romans be there?"

"Well, no, it-"

"Then I'm not interested. Goodbye." Oswin vanished into her room.

"What was all that about?" asked the Doctor.

"God knows. Let's just go; she'll be fine." And they left, a bottle of expensive wine in hand to deliver to the Owens.

---

Jenny

The spaceship was no more. The oxygen filter was well and truly dead, making it unusable unless she wanted to climb inside in a full spacesuit. She could replace it, but it would require the part to be sourced; she couldn't cobble something together on a whim. She sat on the cockpit's tiny floor to get at the filter, but it had ruptured the last time she'd gone to visit Beta Clara; those jaunts through the void chasing radiation traces were not what it had been built for, her Messaline escape shuttle. Maybe she'd repair it one day – it would be a shame to scrap it after such a long time – but, with a brand-new spaceship on the horizon, it wasn't urgent.

Still fiddling with the dispensary controls, Jenny didn't check her phone screen when it started ringing next to her. She answered absently, trying to tape up a faulty wire with one hand.

"Hello?" she said. She really should have disconnected and isolated the wire before touching it, but needs must.

"I'm really not used to ringing Time Lords and having them actually pick up the phone." Beta Clara.

"Clara! Hi!" Jenny sat up and then banged her head on the panel above her, almost swearing. At least she hadn't electrocuted herself on the dodgy wire.

"What was that? Are you okay?" asked Clara.

"Fine," said Jenny, shuffling out of the ship and rubbing her head. "Doing some repairs, banged my head."

"Shit. Maybe you shouldn't've answered the phone, then."

"I'll be okay."

"Are you busy?" asked Clara. "Although, obviously, if you don't want to see me because I've just injured you, that would make sense."

"You didn't injure me," said Jenny, smiling a little. "I'm not busy. But my spaceship's completely broken. Oswin's building me a new one, but I don't think it'll be ready anytime soon."

"Won't it travel through time?"

"Sure, why don't you give me the date you want me, and I'll just wait here for weeks until that's done and then time travel back to you," said Jenny dryly. "No, I'll… I'm not busy, and I'm sure I can work out a way to see you without the ship. It's just…"

"What?"

"Well, my wristband – Oswin deactivated it. But now the TARDIS zaps me if I try to pilot it anywhere, so somebody else has to. And I don't think any of them approve of this enough to do that. Maybe my mother would…"

"What about your mother?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know you fancy her."

"I don't!"

"You definitely do. But she doesn't seem to mind about you and me. I don't know where she is, though…"

"Alright, well, if you do find someone, I have an offer you might find exciting. Or you might find extremely weird."

"Exciting or weird? You'd better let me hear it."

"I'm off for the holidays. Today's Monday, the twenty-sixth of October. Five in the evening. I've finished all my marking for the week, so, now I've got until next Monday, and not a lot to do."

"Hold on. You're inviting me over for a whole week?"

"Thereabouts, if you like."

"If it's a whole week at stake – a whole week away from the TARDIS – I'm sure I can blackmail somebody into flying me to see you. Just give me a few minutes, and I'll text you if I can work it out. Okay?"

That was how she ended up knocking on Oswin's bedroom door wearing her very best smile, the same one that worked every single time on Clara. Oswin opened it, saw the look on her face, and grimaced.

"Hello," said Jenny.

"What do you want?"

"Would you like to do me a favour?"

"Not particularly. I've spent more than enough time with you today."

"Well, that's the great thing about this favour, is that it means I won't even be here. I can't bother you at all."

"I already turned off the silly bracelet," said Oswin.

"Yeah, I know, but the console zaps me," said Jenny. Oswin laughed at her, and Jenny glared. "Please. You just have to fly me down."

"I don't want to."

"Why?"

"I can't be bothered! I'm in the middle of something."

"Come on, Oswin! Please. I'll owe you."

"Owe me what?" said Oswin, arms crossed.

"Erm… I'll find a way to collect the resources for more Miracle Medicine. That way, you don't have to leave the ship – you barely have to leave your room."

"Except for right now, to drop you off. Why can't you just sneak out with somebody else when they fly the ship?"

"I-"

"Ugh, get in here," Oswin dragged her into the bedroom by her arm.

"Just because I'm sleeping with her, doesn't mean I want to sleep with you, too," said Jenny.

"A, you definitely do want to sleep with me. B, that's not why I brought you in here; be quiet." Jenny obeyed as Oswin shut the door, standing outside. Straining her ears to listen, Jenny heard the beginnings of a conversation with Alpha Clara and Eleven, something about them going out for dinner.

And then Oswin asked them where they were going. Colchester. Could she sneak out with them and make her way to Clara's? She'd only lived in England once, a very long time ago, and had spent most of her time in Plymouth. She wasn't sure she knew exactly where Colchester was in relation to Clara's flat.

"Right," said Oswin from the other side. "That's no good to me. Just leave, have fun in Colchester." Jenny listened to them go, and then Oswin came back. "They're going to Colchester if you want to follow them. The train to London is about an hour."

"Please, will you fly me?" asked Jenny again. She knew Oswin fancied her, so why were her usual manipulation tactics not working? Should she try subtly flexing?

Oswin sighed, "I wasn't going to, but I've suddenly had a very strange feeling come over me that maybe I ought to."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I think that somewhere out there, there might be an alternate timeline where Craig Owens doesn't live in Colchester anymore, and maybe he's moved to a part of London conveniently located relative to your pit stop, which means that you could have followed those two out there while they were meeting Craig and arranged a liaison dangereuse with your sidepiece. Maybe you could've gotten her to pick you up on the back of her anti-gravity motorbike and ride away.

"But it looks like we're in the universe where they do still live in Colchester, in which case, I'm bored of all this now, so I'm just going to drop you off after they leave and force you to make good on your promise about the Miracle Medicine. Does that work?"

It did work. After Jenny had hugged her to within an inch of her life – which she pretended she didn't enjoy, even though Jenny knew otherwise – Oswin did drop her off, expertly piloting the TARDIS down to the green stretch of common ground near Beta Clara's block of flats.

To her great surprise, Clara was in the entrance hall of the block to meet her. Jenny beamed and, on a whim, wrapped her arms around her and picked her up, spinning her around once before setting her, carefully, back down in the grimy entrance to her London estate. The TARDIS thrummed and disappeared behind her.

"Hey," said Jenny.

"What was that for?" asked Clara, unable to fight the smile that crept onto her face.

"Just felt like it. Putting all the exercise I do to good use. Why are you down here, though?"

"I thought that… Alright. Don't be…" Clara began.

"Don't be what?"

"I'm not asking you on a date."

"Okay?"

"But I've had a recommendation from someone at work about this new Thai place, and I'm really craving Thai tonight. I thought you might come with me – platonically. And, yes, we can have sex afterwards – also platonically," said Clara.

"I'd love to. But you didn't have to come down; I've got a bag to put upstairs," said Jenny, indicating the rucksack she had slung over one shoulder, very hastily packed. "If I'm staying for a week, I thought I'd better bring some stuff. I can't borrow all your clothes."

"You're returning my leather jacket, then? Which I see you're still wearing," Clara tugged on the sleeve. "Be careful with that. I don't want it covered in blood and guts; I know the kinds of places you end up."

"I am being careful," said Jenny, pressing the button for the lift. "I don't have any money to pay for dinner, by the way. I could take some from a cashpoint, but I still haven't got my screwdriver back. Don't know where they've hidden it…"

"I'll pay; I wasn't expecting you to carry cash. And can't you just go get a new one from wherever those things come from?"

"The Doctor has the TARDIS make them, and the TARDIS doesn't like me at the moment. But I don't want a new screwdriver, I want my screwdriver. I've had it for a long time."

"How long?"

"About a hundred and twenty years."

"And you don't want to get a new one?" said Clara.

"It's sentimental! It's my sentimental, sonic screwdriver, Clara!" said Jenny, but Clara just laughed at her. She pouted.

"I know you don't like hearing it, but you are a lot like him."

"You're right," said Jenny, cooling off. "I don't like hearing it."

"I didn't mean anything by it. Sorry." Clara touched her arm and gave her a sad smile. The lift doors glided open. "Let's put your stuff down, go get some huge curries, and not talk about our parents. Okay?"

Immediately, Jenny forgave her. "Okay."

---

Rewritten March 2024

783: Another Girl Another Planet IV

Jenny

A shaft of warm sunlight poured onto Jenny from Clara's bedroom window. Clara had opened the curtains when she'd gotten up an hour ago to try and entice Jenny out of bed, but it hadn't worked.

"Cafetiere's full, if you want anything," said Clara, leaning against the doorframe and watching her with a steaming mug in her hands.

"If you could bring me a coffee, that would be great," said Jenny, stretching in the sun.

"No. You have to get out of bed and get it yourself."

"Why don't you just get back into bed?" said Jenny.

Clara sighed. "I told you. My legs are very sore – burning thighs."

"You just have to do more squats. That's my secret."

"That's not going to help me right now, though, is it?" said Clara. "Come on. You promised you'd help me build that bookshelf today. It's been sitting there in the box for ages."

"I feel like you can build a bookshelf on your own. And, as we already established, I'm currently sans screwdriver."

"You're sans sonic screwdriver. I've got a normal screwdriver – which you won't need, anyway, because I think it just requires a hammer."

"And you need me to do that?"

"You're so strong, with your big arms, doing all your push-ups. How can such a petite, dainty woman like me possibly be expected to do all that hammering?" said Clara, giving Jenny the most pathetic, pleading look she could muster. She sipped her coffee again. "Mm, this is delicious. Wouldn't it be nice if you could have a cup, too?"

"You're laying it on very thick."

"Is it working? Will you get up?"

Jenny groaned very loudly and buried her head in the pillow.

"Fine. Fine. I'm getting up." She dragged herself to her feet, completely nude as she had refused Clara's offer of pyjamas. Clara didn't even try to hide that she was ogling Jenny, taking another drink of coffee. Jenny tried to ignore her, stretching again.

"There's, um," Clara began, then cleared her throat.

"What?"

"There's a second toothbrush, in the bathroom."

"Oh."

"I just thought, you're staying for a while. And you stay regularly anyway and keep using mine, so…"

"That's thoughtful," Jenny straightened back up and smiled at her. "How much was it?"

"Dunno. About fifty pence?"

"Gosh. I'd better stay here even more then, so that you get your money's worth."

"Oh, absolutely."

"I'm gonna shower."

"Sure." On her way out of the bedroom, she leant in to kiss Clara, but Clara recoiled. "Sorry. I meant it about the toothbrush."

"You're weak," Jenny whispered.

"If it was just after, fine – but it's been lingering all night," said Clara. Jenny didn't leave her space, though; she stayed near, not moving on just yet. "I'm not kissing you. I can resist for the twenty minutes it'll take you to clean up."

"Really? Can you?" Jenny lowered her voice and put a soft hand – her organic hand – on Clara's inner thigh, threatening to trail it up further and further. Clara leant back against the doorframe.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Jenny narrowed her eyes, and then gave in. She released Clara and finally left the bedroom, heading around the corner into the bathroom to jump right into the shower. "That was very sexy, but you still smell dreadful!" Clara called after her. She laughed and shut the door.

Things were a little different in the bathroom. Not only was there a second toothbrush, but an extra towel on one of the small shelves; twice as much shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel as there should be – even a second shower puff. Clara was preparing for having company very often, and Jenny… She thought it would bother her. But all it meant was that Clara was thinking about her when she wasn't there. More, it meant Clara wanted her to be there. When was the last time Jack had done anything like that for her?

There was a patch of mildew growing above the tiny window. Maybe there was a way to reinsulate the frame and fix that for Clara. She kept thinking about this while she showered, scrubbing Clara Oswald from her skin knowing that she was going to be corrupted again in a matter of hours, and feeling more and more like she didn't mind that corruption at all.

When she got out, dry save for her hair and wearing clean lounge clothes – an old t-shirt of hers, and pyjama bottoms borrowed from Clara – there was a fresh cup of coffee waiting for her on the dining table. Clara was reading a book, Lady Chatterley's Lover.

"You're not teaching that to the kids, are you?" asked Jenny, sliding into the seat next to her and picking up her mug.

"No. It's a bit much, even for the sixth formers," said Clara. "I'm re-reading it for myself, over the holidays."

"A married woman having an illicit, sexual affair," said Jenny.

"I thought you don't read fiction?"

"I don't. I remember hearing about it when it was published, though."

"In the sixties?"

"Yeah. It was all Britain, but the stories reached Germany. There was some demand for copies and a lot of unofficial translations circulating," said Jenny.

"What were you doing in Germany in the nineteen sixties?"

"Living there," she said with a shrug, and nothing more. Clara studied her briefly but didn't ask any follow-up questions – which was good, because Jenny wouldn't have answered. "Is it just as heinous as everybody says?"

"In general, or to a degenerate like me?" said Clara. "It was ahead of its time, sure. Maybe Lawrence's best."

"You're a degenerate now, are you?" said Jenny.

"I'm having a same-sex affair with a married woman; what's more degenerate than that?"

"I could think of a few things. There's some rear action in that book, isn't there?"

"…Possibly."

"The married woman you're having an affair with might have some opinions about that," said Jenny. Clara stared at her, but as soon as she opened her mouth to reply – hopefully to tell Jenny that she was very willing to entertain these desires later on – the intercom buzzed. Clara frowned.

"Hold that thought." She got up and looked at the little screen, then swore under her breath. "For god's… Adrian! I forgot you were coming over," she said into the plastic handset. "I'll just buzz you in. It's number sixty-three." She slammed the handset down, thinking hard, then turned to Jenny and beamed at her in a very concerning way.

"What's going on?" said Jenny.

"Okay! Don't be alarmed, but can you pretend to be my girlfriend?"

"Can I what?"

"It's Adrian from work. He's in my department, he fancies me, I keep trying to let him down gently, he's not taking the hint, and now he's here to get a book that was 'accidentally' left in my bag before the holidays – a book he, apparently, needs desperately to do his lesson plans," Clara talked very fast, so fast that Jenny struggled to keep up. "It's been a year since Danny died, nearly, and he's been being respectful, but I really think that this situation would be massively helped if I had a girlfriend so that I can send a very clear sign that I'm not interested."

"Maybe if you're really nice to Rita down the hall-"

"Jenny," Clara put her hands together, begging. "Please. You don't even have to put on an act – you're already here to sleep with me and build my shelves. That's exactly what you'd do if you were my girlfriend."

"What do I get out of this, though?" Jenny crossed her arms.

"Well, what do you want? He'll be here in a minute," she floundered.

"I think I just said what I wanted."

Clara clenched her jaw, deliberating, and then gave up. "Alright, fine; I will do you up the bum, later, if you pretend to be my girlfriend, right now. But you're cleaning up any mess."

"There won't be a mess, I know how to prep," said Jenny. "That's a deal, though. Do you want to shake on it?"

"Not particularly." She looked at the door, listening out. But then she had a thought. "…Are you telling me you have a prostate? Is there something up there, something alien?"

"It just-"

Adrian knocked on the door, and Clara jumped out of her skin.

"I suppose that's an ixnay on the conversation about the alienyay ostatepray?"

"Please don't speak to me in Pig Latin, it's not attractive," said Clara. Jenny shrugged and returned to her coffee, as Clara opened the door. "Hi, Adrian!" she said brightly. Jenny nearly spat her coffee out; she was looking at a weirdo with floppy, dark hair wearing tweed and a bowtie. Spooky. "Come in, come in. Sorry about the mess, I haven't tidied." She had tidied, she'd tidied for Jenny.

"It looks fine to me," said Adrian. He spotted Jenny. "Oh, you have a guest? You should have said – I'd have come back another day. I was just passing."

"Jenny's just, uh…" Clara indicated Jenny vaguely. "She's here a lot. She's actually, um-"

"I'm her girlfriend," said Jenny, putting Clara out of her misery. "It's still new, she's not used to it."

"Yes," Clara nodded. "Absolutely. Just not used to the idea of Jenny being my girlfriend. That's what it is."

"Oh, right," Adrian looked between them. "Well, congratulations, ladies."

"Are you congratulating us on being gay?" asked Jenny.

"No! On your new relationship."

"Right," said Jenny, eyeing him. He shifted his weight between his feet. While Clara rifled around for this lost book, Jenny picked an apple out of the fruit bowl on the table – a fruit bowl she had never seen before until arriving two nights ago – and took a huge bite out of it. "School holidays, then?" She chewed. "Do you have a lot on?"

"I've got a date today, actually. I was just on my way over. We're going on a river tour, around the Thames."

"Won't that be quite smelly?"

"It'll be… Well, if you think it's a bad idea, where did you two go? You must have had a first date."

"Mm, I think we went straight to bed, if I recall correctly," said Jenny.

"Maybe if the river tour goes well, I can say the same thing." His joke didn't really land, but he wasn't striking Jenny as being all that enamoured with Clara. "How long have you two been-"

"A while," said Jenny.

"Not long," said Clara.

"I mean that it feels like it's been a while," said Jenny quickly. "Because of how well we know each other already."

"Yeah," Clara agreed, still searching.

"How did you meet? You haven't said anything about a new partner at work," said Adrian.

"You know how it is," said Clara. "I just want her all to myself at the moment."

"Aw," Jenny grinned at her, then turned back to Adrian. "We met through mutual friends, nothing too interesting. It was a big surprise that we hit it off so well, and here we are." That wasn't a lie. "Now I'm building her shelves and making her breakfast; she's buying me toothbrushes and letting me borrow all her clothes." None of that was a lie, either.

"That sounds nice," said Adrian. It was nice.

"Here we are," said Clara. "Your heavily annotated copy of Romeo and Juliet." Jenny got a glimpse of it, full of post-its and bookmarks. No doubt it was just as invaluable as he said.

"Thank god you have it – you're a lifesaver," he took it. "I've really no idea how it got into your bag."

"Yeah, it's a mystery," said Clara, unconvinced.

"I'd better go, then; I don't want to be late for Kiki. She's meeting me by the river. I just hope she looks like her pictures."

"I'm sure it'll be great," said Jenny. "But, boy, am I glad to have been taken off the market by this one."

"Just be yourself," said Clara. "And have fun. Dates are about having fun, really." He nodded and was about to leave, Clara opening the door for him and everything, when he spoke to Jenny again.

"You look familiar." She looked familiar because he'd seen her at Coal Hill High last autumn causing mischief with her housemates.

"I live around here," she said. "You've probably just seen me around. According to Clara, I'm memorable." Behind Adrian's back, Clara glared at her. "Better be getting to Kiki, though – you don't want her to think you've stood her up."

"Good call. I'll see you next week, Clara." On his way out, he whispered to her, "She's very pretty. I hope it works out." Clara watched him step into the lift, making sure he was definitely gone, before she shut the door, sliding the chain across and sighing deeply.

"I was convincing, then?" said Jenny, halfway through her apple.

"Hopefully."

"I don't think he fancies you," said Jenny. "Seems like he genuinely needed his copy of that play back, if he wrote in it so much. Maybe it did just fall into your bag."

"It's that hard for you to believe that someone might fancy me?"

"I fancy you; so, no, it's not hard to believe. I just don't think he does." Clara sat back down at the table. "Do you know who else fancies you?"

"If you say Martha-"

"Yeah, Martha. Alpha Clara snogged her the other day."

"And how did that come about?"

"Something farcical involving alien aphrodisiacs and brainwashing. Other You got some really nasty burns from her, though. Hopefully, that's the end of it."

"Great. Because I was so invested." She tapped her knuckles on the table.

"Hey," Jenny reached out and took her hand to stop her. "What's going on?"

"Nothing much. My life's falling apart."

"Is it?"

"It's… it's getting harder to leave the TARDIS. Home – everything I call home – keeps getting blurry around the edges in my head."

"Maybe we're swapping."

"In what way?"

"Because it's getting harder for me to stay." Clara said nothing else, didn't let Jenny in anymore. But did Jenny want to be let in? "I'd better get started on this bookshelf, hadn't I? Getting something new can help change your perspective. I'm getting a new spaceship; did I tell you?" She stood, leaving her coffee and her apple core on the table.

"No."

"Oswin's building one for me."

"How romantic."

"It's not like that. She just needs a project. She's, um… She tried to kill herself a few days ago."

"What? That's horrible, god – is she okay? Is everybody okay?"

"I hope so," said Jenny, ripping open the cardboard, flat-pack box that the shelf was in. "I wasn't there. It was the Tenth Doctor, actually, talked her down."

"Why did she do it?"

"She tried to rig a bomb, on Io, to take out these Daleks – and take herself with it," said Jenny. "I didn't know that she was… I suppose I – all of us – thought she was joking, all this time. She's not well."

"Yeah…" Clara looked off into space.

"I shouldn't have brought it up."

"It's okay, it's… Let me do the instructions, give you a hand. It'll be quicker if we do it together."

"Sure," Jenny flashed her a smile, trying to hide her regret at having brought up Oswin and her most recent episode. "It says you need two people on the box, anyway." Clara didn't say anything. She took the instructions from Jenny and flipped them open. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm always alright. Now, let me count the dowels and nails and arrange everything into groups…"

---

Rewritten March 2024

784: Another Girl Another Planet V

Jenny

Saturday, 31st of October 2015

"You didn't want to go trick-or-treating, then?" said Jenny, looking out of the window in the living room and seeing small groups of kids and teenagers traipsing around the common green, heading into the blocks to try their luck and braving the foul weather. The building was being lashed with wind and rain, explosive thunderclaps interrupting them every few minutes.

"I'm almost twenty-nine; no, I don't want to go trick-or-treating," said Clara. "I can just buy my own sweets, which I have done, if you could be bothered to notice."

"Ouch," said Jenny, but Clara was joking. She'd just set a large, green bowl adorned with spider web decals on the coffee table, full of sweets. "What have you got in there?"

"Most of a box of Celebrations, some Starburst, some Quality Streets. Drumsticks, obviously."

"Drumsticks?"

"They're lollies, made of, um… actually, I'm not sure. But they're chewy and they taste of bubblegum. Here." Clara handed her one. She unwrapped it, smelled it, and then popped it in her mouth.

"I've never been that into lollipops," she said, though it tasted fine.

"Lollipops were one of the only reasons I managed to quit smoking," said Clara, copying her and opening her own Drumstick. "Something to do with my hands and mouth to stop me from opening a new pack."

"If only you'd known me back then. I can think of lots of ways to keep your hands and mouth occupied."

"I can't have sex with you every time I want a cigarette. That would be a dozen times a day."

"I'm willing to make that sacrifice," said Jenny.

Clara rolled her eyes, "Even I can't do it that much."

"You don't know until you try! We should give it a go. You've still got tomorrow off, haven't you? Could be a fun challenge."

"But I've already quit smoking, so it would be pointless, wouldn't it?" said Clara. "I've got laundry to do tomorrow, anyway. We should watch a film, though. It's Halloween, that's what you do." A flash of lightning, and momentarily the thunderclap rolled over them.

"I don't know. All they do on the TARDIS is lounge around and watch TV – that is, when they're not in mortal peril. And it's always reality TV. Depressing."

"I said a film, not reality television," said Clara. "Come on. I'm doing Dracula with the sixth formers next term, as part of their Victorian literature module. Need to refresh my memory by watching Winona Ryder get ravaged. You're not doing to deny me Winona Ryder, are you?"

"Who's that?" said Jenny.

"Okay, well, now we're definitely watching it," said Clara, indicating the sofa. Jenny didn't argue with her anymore and sat. "You'll like Dracula."

"I don't watch films. I've seen The Godfather, that's it."

"It's the same director, both Coppola," said Clara.

"We'll see."

"Well, if you go into it expecting not to like it-"

"I said, we'll see. That's more than most people get," said Jenny. "Usually, I'd just leave the room."

"Do you ever think that you're too stubborn?"

"At a certain age, you stop wanting to just do what other people want you to. What's the point?" said Jenny.

"The point is that it's nice. It's nice to do things for people – with people."

"I know that – that's not what I'm saying."

"What are you saying, then?" asked Clara. Lolly in her mouth and feet on the coffee table, she held Jenny's gaze. Her eyes were almost black in the dim lighting, with only a corner lamp and the television turned on.

"I've lived a long time, and I live on my own terms now. Nobody makes me do anything."

"You getting married was on your own terms, then?" said Clara, which cut right through everything Jenny had just said.

"…I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't wanted to at the time," was all she said. Quiet. Clara picked up the TV remote and changed the channel, preparing for Dracula to make its late-night appearance on Film4. "What do you really have to say?"

"Excuse me?"

"About Jack. You just – you say things, and then you don't follow through."

"I don't know if it's my place to follow through. I don't think I should say anything about it at all," said Clara. "Just forget it."

"No, I don't want to forget it."

"And I don't want to fight with you."

"We're not fighting."

"Look, it," Clara began, then stopped, trying to get her thoughts in order. "I don't understand it, that's all. You're not happy with him, obviously. You come here, you don't speak about him – not that I want to speak about him – you tell me time and time again that you don't even want to go home, and you're so…"

"So what?"

"You're putting on an act, all the time. Do none of them see through it? Nobody else? You're here with me, and you're always somewhere else, and first, I thought you were thinking about him. But you're not. I don't have a clue what you're thinking. Maybe you're not thinking at all – maybe that's what you want, maybe that's why you come here and try to do everything you can to avoid talking to me."

"Avoid talking to you? I'm the one who asked you, just now, what you're really thinking," Jenny countered her, sitting up properly, ignoring the television.

"Why stay with him?" Clara crossed her arms. "Why?"

"Are you asking me to break up with him?"

"No, of course not. I just think that you should… if you're so intent on doing things on your own terms, why not prioritise your own happiness, instead of settling for whatever this waking nightmare is?" said Clara.

"You'd say all this to me? You're not scared I'll get up and storm out of here, never speak to you again?"

"I'm very scared you'll do that, actually. But you should be happy. You deserve to be happy. I don't care who you spend time with – if it's what you want, you can storm out of here and never speak to me again. But do it for yourself."

Jenny stared at her.

"Look," Clara went on. "We're friends. If you can't tell your friends that they're in a toxic relationship, what can you tell them?" Jenny said nothing. "I'm waiting for you to storm out, then." At that, she stood.

"…I'm gonna put the kettle on. Do you want another cup of tea?"

Before Clara could answer, there was another flash of lighting, and then all the lights and the television went out. A few seconds later a cacophonous thunderclap rumbled in the sky, making Clara jump. The lights did not come back on.

"Power cut. Bollocks." Clara got up to look through the window and saw that all the other blocks were dark. "Power station must be offline. That's great."

"We could go out and try to fix it? It can't be that hard."

"It's the National Grid's job to fix it, let them do it," said Clara. She sighed. "What are we going to do now?"

"I guess we'll just keep picking apart my personal life and scrutinising it under a microscope, won't we?" said Jenny, crossing her arms. "Only now, we're doing it without a fresh pot of tea."

"Jenny, we don't have to talk about anything you don't want to," Clara softened. "But we probably do have to talk about something. Ooh, or we could play a board game? I think you can play Monopoly with two people. Or Go Fish?"

"I'll trounce you at any board game you pull out, it's pointless," said Jenny.

"How can that be? Half of them are random chance."

"No, they're not. There are ways."

"Ways?"

"Yes."

"You cheat, you mean? At cards, not-"

"On my husband? Yes. I'm great at poker. That's why I've been banned from every casino I've ever visited. They just don't get it – it's part of the game. It's how you win."

"Fine, then. No board games. But it's going to get cold if they don't fix the power soon. We could read a book? I'll read it aloud."

"By candlelight? You'll hurt your eyes. No; if it's a story you want, I've got stories," said Jenny. "I've got a very scary story, actually. Not Dracula, but a good one."

"From the girl who hates fiction."

"This is a true story – about day ninety-four. Our secret day."

"The one nobody's allowed to know about? You're going to tell me?"

"Yeah. You just have to promise not to tell the Eleventh Doctor, since it's all in his future."

"Okay, I promise," said Clara. "Just let me go and get the duvet off the bed, in case the power cut lasts so long that it starts to freeze in here."

When she came back with the entire duvet bundled in her arms and spread it out on the sofa, Jenny expected to take up the chair nearby.

"Why are you just standing there?" said Clara.

"I-"

"You're an idiot sometimes," Clara lifted the duvet and invited Jenny to sit down next to her. "Is it getting cold already?"

"I'm warm enough for both of us," said Jenny, putting an arm around her. "Now. My story."

"Yes. I'm very much looking forward to hearing this."

"Alright, well. It was just the five of us that day, the Time Lords – me and all four of my parents."

"Terrifying."

"Exactly. It was a dark and stormy night-"

"Are you taking this seriously?"

"Yes. It was a dark and stormy night, much like today – and it was Halloween. Halloween 2001, with a huge, full moon in the sky…"

---

Rewritten March 2024

DAY 105

792: Misery Business

Jenny

"Please, give my condolences to Adam Mitchell for the tragic loss of his Lamborghini and his Hummer," said Jenny, utterly disinterested in the recap of the day Donna and Rose were giving her. Apparently, she'd missed another encounter with Christina de Souza, but she was more interested in the cup of tea she'd nearly finished.

"Well, that's not all that happened today," said Donna.

"Isn't it?" said Jenny. "What else did?"

"We… we also got some milk."

"Great." Jenny polished off the tea and stood.

"Where are you going?" asked Donna. Jenny frowned.

"Into a different room? I'm not interested in being debriefed that thoroughly about you all finding an assassin; they're not exactly rare."

"But, which room? Specifically?" said Donna.

"What's going on?" asked Jenny, looking between her and Rose. "Is there something on my face?"

"No," said Rose.

"I was just wondering," Donna went on, "What's it like having a robot hand?"

"Cold," said Jenny.

"Is it hard to warm it up, when…?" Rose began.

"When what?"

"Never mind."

"Right," Jenny shook her head. She headed to the sink to rinse out her mug and leave it for later, ignoring the way she was being stared at. She was used to being a curiosity, and it was pointless arguing; better to just leave.

Before she could, the door into the console room slid open and Oswin emerged with a boxful of guns – much to Jenny's surprise.

"Here. Weapons. Now, you can all stop bothering me."

"You've made people guns?" asked Jenny, approaching as they all dove into the box like they were fighting over finding their favourites in a box of chocolates.

"Stun guns. Distinctly non-lethal, built-in scanner to calibrate the charge to whatever you point at it," said Oswin. To prove her point, she aimed a brightly coloured sidearm directly at Rose, and a light on it glowed green. She then turned it on Jenny to demonstrate, but Jenny grabbed the muzzle and snatched it from her hands.

"I don't care if they're non-lethal. Not pointing guns at people – loaded or not – is the first rule of firearm safety," she said, dropping it back into the box. "Give a group of Brits a box of guns and they have no idea what to do."

"We've been trained by Torchwood," said Mickey.

"Then remember it," said Jenny. "Enjoy your guns."

"Where are you going?" Donna asked when she tried to leave.

"Elsewhere."

"No, but-"

"Look, what's going on? Why are you trying to keep me here?" Jenny turned on her. Silence fell among the TARDIS crew. "I don't want to be around any of you at the moment. Okay?" They tried to argue with her some more, but she disengaged and finally escaped Nerve Centre.

It was only when she opened the door into her bedroom that everything clicked into place. Jack hadn't been in Nerve Centre to get a coveted, new gun, which was unlike him if he knew they were on the way. No, he was in bed, trapped in a tangle of somebody else's limbs, shining with sweat, and making noises she was much too familiar with. Upon entering, Jenny flicked the light on and saw them both. Everybody looked uglier in bright lights, and in that moment, Jack was the most hideous person Jenny had ever seen.

"I should have guessed," she said, watching Captain Jack Harkness and Lady Christina de Souza fall apart under her scrutiny. There he was, sleeping with somebody else. "Weren't you supposed to stay faithful for two weeks? By my count, it's only been eight days."

"Is that two weeks for you, or two weeks for me?" said Jack, getting to his feet and holding a pillow to preserve his modesty, while Christina had dragged the sheets around herself and retreated to the opposite side of the room.

"This is your wife, then?" said Christina.

"Allegedly," said Jenny.

"You're one to talk," said Jack.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, please. We went to the Maldovarium this morning, and guess who was there? The Twelfth Doctor and company." Clara? He'd run into Clara? And she'd told him what they'd been up to?

"What did she say?" asked Jenny quietly.

"Give me some credit. She didn't need to say anything; it was obvious."

"I told you; it wasn't a mutual-"

"It's double standards, Jenny," Jack cut her off. "How did you do it? Sneak off the ship? All those times you told me you were in the gym, is that where you've been? With her?"

"I, uh, didn't think I was getting into a situation like this, for the record," said Christina. "He said it was a more open arrangement. More modern."

"If you think it's 'modern', you're kidding yourself," said Jenny. "But he was lying. And, fine, maybe it has been over two weeks for me. Maybe it's nice to be with someone who sees me and speaks to me and doesn't sleep with other people just to prove something – not that I know what you're trying to prove."

"You're a hypocrite," said Jack.

"And you just couldn't help yourself!"

"From the beginning, you knew that monogamy-"

"Don't use that as an excuse to behave badly, god – it's not like you ever communicate. It's not like you say, hey, Jenny, I'd like to explore my options with other people-"

"You didn't do that, either!"

"You didn't do it, first!"

"That's what it's come down to? You didn't start it, I started it?"

"You did start it! All of it! From the beginning, you approached me, and I've had an appalling three months with you! You're the one who cheated on me first, with Eyeball! And when I look back on it all, I can't come up with anything positive!"

"That's not true. The sex-"

"The sex is fine. I've had better. I've been having better this entire time that I haven't gone anywhere near you," said Jenny, wounding him in one of the few ways she knew how to do permanent damage. He stared at her. "Yeah, you heard me right; Clara Oswald, a twenty-something, is better in bed than you, who's been tupping everyone you can see for over a thousand years."

"This is just a fad, Jenny. It's just daddy issues."

"She's my stepmother, so how would it be daddy issues?" Jenny countered.

"I should probably leave…" said Christina, starting to pick up her clothes.

"It's all about him!" Jack shouted. "The whole time! Sleeping with me was all about him, marrying me was all about him, and this affair you've been having is also – oh, yeah – all about him."

"I didn't tell him! You did! I never would have, because I promised her-"

"Why do your promises to her mean so much more than the promises to me!?"

"Do you know what, I'm done with this. I don't actually have to stay here and do this, I don't have to listen to you, I don't have to watch her get dressed." She indicated Christina.

"Running away again?" said Jack.

"You think I'm the hypocrite!? Look at yourself in the mirror, why don't you!"

"How can I do that, when you took down all the mirrors weeks ago? I'm not the one who struggles to look myself in the eye, Jenny." She didn't retort, not immediately. Christina kept trying to get dressed.

"There's no point autopsying this. It's done, it's over."

"Great. I'm finally free."

"And now you can act like it! Except, wait, you already were! Have fun with him," she told Christina. "Just know, it won't mean anything to him, because nothing ever does." She turned on her heels and left, knowing that everybody on the TARDIS would soon know what had happened because Rory would have been able to hear every word from Nerve Centre.

But that was it. If she had a ring, she'd have taken it off and thrown it at him. But the lack of a ring alone was emblematic of what an astonishing waste of time this 'relationship' had been.

She waited until she reached the gym, her sanctuary on the ship, before taking out her phone, hands trembling, and calling the only person in the world she wanted to talk to. It was sad that that person didn't belong to this world at all.

The dial tone hummed for longer than usual, and Jenny got a sinking feeling. What if Clara didn't answer? What if she did, but Jenny couldn't find a way off the ship? What if she was still out with the Doctor right now and Jenny was going to be stuck on the TARDIS indefinitely – what if Clara had decided she never wanted to answer the phone to Jenny again?

The line clicked.

"Hi…" said Clara, then she sniffed. "Sorry, it took me a while to get to my phone."

"Are you okay?" Had she been crying?

"Caught a cold," said Clara, very hoarse. "Nose is blocked."

"Can I come over?" asked Jenny.

"I don't know… I feel really rough."

"Who's looking after you? Is there anyone to cut up fruit for you or make your teas?" said Jenny.

"I'm not gonna be good company."

"You're always good company."

"…Is something wrong?"

"Yes, actually. Something is. Something important." Again, she asked, "Can I come over?"

"Okay. If you bring me some oranges."

Jenny nearly smiled. "Of course." Clara gave her the date and the time – the fifth of November, seven o'clock – and she hung up the phone, but didn't move. She couldn't move, not an inch.

Somebody cleared their throat behind her, and she jumped. Jack, coming back for another round, having put his clothes back on and wanting to really draw a line under the marriage they'd been pretending to enjoy for over three months.

She was wrong, though. It was Thirteen.

"Hello," she said.

"Nobody knows about this gym," said Jenny.

"I do." Jenny clenched her jaw but still didn't move. "D'you need a lift anywhere? We could go out for pie, celebrate your divorce?"

"Divorce? God. Is that what that was?" said Jenny. The Doctor shrugged. "Tell me something."

"What?"

"Is that it? I'm not going to go running back to him, am I?"

"You haven't yet," said the Doctor. "I wish I could tell you more, Blue, but… Events need to happen in the way that they always happen." Jenny nodded. "Come on. I know a shortcut back to the console room; we can dodge them and their speculating. I'll drop you off."

"Drop me off where?"

"Clara's."

"How do you know? Did you just hear it all now?"

"No, Jenny. I know because I care about you, and you tell me things about your life. Difficult to imagine at the moment, but…" She jerked her head to indicate that Jenny should follow her.

"You're not angry," said Jenny. "Why aren't you angry?"

"You're my daughter. If you're happy, I'm happy." When she put it like that, everything that felt so messy cleared up. Maybe it was that simple.

---

Rewritten March 2024

793: Another Girl Another Planet VI

Jenny

Thursday, 5th of November 2015

Thirteen had given Jenny her screwdriver back and taken the contraption off her wrist. It was a relief to finally be unencumbered and to be able to let herself into Clara's building and flat without breaking the door down. It was good to have the screwdriver back in her hand, and she opened and closed the door behind her as quietly as she could.

"Clara? It's just me," Jenny called. A groan drifted towards her from the sofa. She peered over the back and found Clara, grey and sweaty, curled up underneath a blanket. Jenny walked around to the front and crouched down so that they were level. "Hello."

"Hi," Clara groaned. Jenny held up a bag of oranges she'd brought, having nipped to the shop when the Doctor dropped her off.

"Do you want me to peel one of these for you?" she asked with a smile.

"Yes, please."

"Okay."

Without another word, Jenny peeled and separated an orange in the kitchen, leaving the others on the counter and dropping the wedges into a bowl. When she returned to the sofa, she brought one of the dining chairs with her, sitting right next to Clara and holding the bowl for her so she could keep eating while lying down.

"Fifth of November, then?" said Jenny. "Four whole days you've been without me."

"And when did you last see me?" asked Clara, struggling to talk but chewing on an orange slice Jenny had handed to her.

"Yesterday."

"How am I not driving you mad?"

"You're just not trying hard enough." Clara laughed, but this turned into a cough. Jenny passed her a fresh tissue. "Do you have any cough medicine?"

"I've already taken some," said Clara. "Barely works for colds, though. You just have to get through them."

"I wouldn't know, I've never had one," said Jenny. "But I've known other humans who have had them."

"You're not real."

"How do you work that out?"

"You can't just turn up at my flat, bringing me oranges and telling me you've never been ill."

"I've been ill," said Jenny. "I've been bitten by rattlesnakes, that makes me ill for a few days."

"Aren't rattlesnake bites fatal?"

"For humans they can be. But I'm not human; I'm sturdy. The venom just wears me down for a while," said Jenny.

"This is what I mean. You're not real."

"Do you want a cup of tea?" said Jenny, brushing some hair out of Clara's face. She just about nodded. Again, Jenny vanished to do this for her, and Clara kept munching on orange slices. "You should have a shower," said Jenny from the kitchen. "You'll feel better."

"My head's killing me. If I stand up, I'll faint," said Clara.

"Where's the Doctor?" asked Jenny.

"He'll turn up sooner or later. You can still hide from him in the wardrobe," said Clara. Hiding in the wardrobe. That was what Clara thought of her.

Jenny returned to her chair after a few minutes and set the hot tea down on the coffee table. She'd made herself a cup, too; she needed it.

"Do I smell?" asked Clara.

"Yes."

Clara pouted. "Maybe I should shower…"

"Did you go to work today?"

Clara yawned and nodded.

"I really shouldn't have done," she said. "I probably spread it to dozens of people. I'll take tomorrow off. Hopefully, better by Monday."

"Sounds like a good plan," said Jenny.

In her jacket, her phone started to buzz. She took it out and saw Donna's name, as well as a few texts, already, from various people. All trying to check if she was okay. She declined the call and then switched her phone off completely, leaving it on Clara's table.

"What's wrong?" said Clara. "You said it was important." Jenny didn't really hear her, looking out of the window. Clara reached up and touched her leg. "Hey. I said, what's wrong?"

"I broke up with Jack. About half an hour ago. Walked in on him in our bed with Christina de Souza."

"I'm sorry, Jenny."

"What are you sorry for? Weren't you the one who told me I should leave him?"

"I told you that you deserve to be happy. But I'm also sorry because I think it might be my fault."

"He did say he ran into you. In the Maldovarium."

"We were there on business. He told me to say hello to you. I don't know how he worked it out, but I didn't say anything. The Doctor didn't twig."

Jenny sipped her tea, thinking. "I won't hold it against you. It probably just expedited something that needed to happen. You're right, I wasn't happy. I haven't been happy for over a hundred years, but being with him certainly wasn't helping."

"A hundred years? That's a long time."

"Yeah, it is." She knew Clara wanted her to tell her why, but she couldn't. Even after a century, it wasn't something she was able to put into words. "Thank you, though. For being something nicer than what I had with him."

"I still don't understand why you were with him in the first place. Fine, he's hot and outrageously charismatic and heroic and funny and…" Clara saw the look Jenny was giving her. She cleared her throat. "But, other than that, were you ever a good match?"

"It was just fun at the beginning. That's all. It should never have been anything more."

"Fun like we're fun?" said Clara.

"No. I don't think I've ever even had a real conversation with him. This, now, is a real conversation."

"Is it? You're still somewhere else."

"I'm always somewhere else. I mean it, though; him and I, we should've never gone steady. It should have been a one-off – if that. Probably not even worth the one-off, in hindsight." To her surprise, Clara laughed. "What?"

"You. 'Gone steady.' Nobody's said that for decades, and not in this country. Where… when did you learn this? You said you 'grew up' in America – but weren't you born an adult?"

"It's a long story." Would she rather tell it to Clara than keep talking about Jack? "But I spent most of my early years living in New Orleans, in the nineteen thirties."

"Does Jack know that?"

"Probably. He's seen my stuff, it's all in our room," said Jenny.

"Stuff from the thirties? Like what?" asked Clara, sipping her tea while propped up awkwardly on her elbow.

"…I've got a baseball bat. Got it signed by one of the Chicago Cubs, at the World Series one year. Very precious."

"You like baseball, then? The baseball shirts aren't for show?"

"It's the great, American pastime," said Jenny.

"And you're a great American? Why haven't you lost this accent? You sound like you were privately educated somewhere around here, but then you come out with this weird slang."

Jenny smiled at her, "I've never actually worked that out. Sometimes, when I lived there, I had to speak French, and they told me I sounded Parisian. It's something to do with the language assimilation my brain does."

"The translation matrix?"

"No, it's not a Time Lord thing, it's a cloning thing. Better communication between soldiers – no language barriers. Comes in handy."

"And what did you do? In New Orleans, for all that time? Played baseball?" asked Clara.

"No – although, I am very good at baseball. I said already. I was an accountant."

"There's something you're not telling me."

"There are a lot of things I'm not telling you," said Jenny.

"You're so serious. When we met, I thought you were lighter," said Clara. "You wrote that smut about me and Danny."

"Yeah… sorry about that."

"Jack's idea?"

"Mostly. You just get swept up in it all, the ridiculousness," Jenny leant back in the chair, tea in her hands. Clara was halfway through her orange, the bowl in Jenny's lap. "You were probably a lot lighter when we met, too."

"I don't really remember it."

"It was here. In that doorway. You thought I was selling you something."

"How long ago was that?"

"Month and a half, or thereabouts? Not including all the extra days I've spent here, sneaking away from them all," said Jenny.

"That's so hard to think about," said Clara quietly.

"What?"

"A month and a half ago, you saw Danny. It's been nearly a year for me."

"What… what happened? If you want to tell me. You don't have to talk about it." Should she have asked that? Did she have the right?

"I thought you all knew? I heard people talking about it, when I stayed."

"I want to hear it from you." Jenny had all kinds of things in her past she didn't want to talk about, but so did Clara. She hadn't considered that before.

Clara took a deep breath. "He got hit by a car, crossing the road. Didn't look both ways. I was on the phone when it happened, telling him… I told him I loved him. I told him I'd always love him, that he was it. And then he was… he was gone. Just like that." Jenny knew how she felt – nearly; Astrid was still alive. Jenny set her mug down and took Clara's hand.

"That's awful."

"I haven't dealt with it well. Hence all this carry-on with you."

"What about with the Cybermen?"

"He was one of them, in this digital afterlife. All the Master. But there was a moment, where one person could come back. One person could be returned to life."

"What happened?"

"You know he was a soldier?"

"I did."

"He was in Afghanistan. I don't know the details, but… he killed a kid. He sent that kid, that boy, back into the world, and Danny stayed behind," said Clara. Jenny would have done the same thing if it had been the boy who'd killed Emmett. Carsin, she'd found out afterwards – decades later, when she stepped into her own footprints and took him home. She'd have done the same thing for any of them. "He was a good man, even if none of your lot liked him."

"Don't listen to them. They don't like you, either, and you're… Honestly, you're my favourite person at the moment. Who cares what they think?" Another coughing fit came over Clara. "Have a shower, you'll feel better. It'll unclog your nose."

"I'm too tired."

"I promise, you'll feel better," she repeated, standing up. "I'll get everything ready, and you'll have a shower, and we can sit here for the rest of the night and talk about whatever you like."

"I'm in no mood for sex, you know," said Clara.

"I'm not here for sex. I just need a friend. Now, please; come with me and I'll have a hot water bottle ready for you when you get out." Clara gave up and put herself in Jenny's hands.

It was a slow process, but Jenny had clean clothes waiting for her and the hot water bottle done – not to mention a refill on tea – by the time Clara had showered; a lengthy ordeal. She even did a bit of tidying, clearing away the used tissues, making the bed, and putting dirty clothes in the laundry basket Clara kept by the bedroom door.

Clara's surprise when she left the bathroom to be greeted by domestic Jenny was matched by Jenny's surprise when fireworks erupted in the dark sky outside. At first, she thought the noises were something else, something dangerous, but no. Brighter than the stars, the fireworks sparkled and people, far below, cheered.

"Bonfire Night," said Clara. "Something they don't do in America."

"I've seen it before. But that was in the forties, during the war. I was in Plymouth. It didn't feel like people were celebrating as much. Plus, you know, fireworks – bad for air raids."

"The war? What did you do? Or is that something else you won't talk about?"

"There are lots of wars I don't talk about. But that one, I spent it working as a mechanic for the RAF, fixing planes here. I left America for it. It's nice, though. Nice when people all come together." Clara picked up the hot water bottle from the sofa and came up behind Jenny, looking through the window with her.

"Thank you for coming over."

"Can I stay? I'll see you through your cold, and I won't badger you for sex once."

"You can stay," said Clara. "Just stay with me, watch the fireworks, and forget about everything else." And when Clara kissed her cheek, Jenny got close to doing just that.

---

Rewritten March 2024

794: Another Girl Another Planet VII

Jenny

Friday, 6th of November 2015

Jenny didn't sleep. She stayed awake and kept an eye on Clara, who had to get up every hour to wander around and force her nose to clear and slept poorly the entire night. It was hard to see her like that. More than once, Jenny offered to go back to the TARDIS and find a way, in the future, to get Clara some real antivirals that would clear it right up. But Clara had some reservations about the mutations that could emerge from introducing complex drugs decades, or even centuries, too early. So, they were left to hunker down together and wait for it to pass.

Clara called in sick early the next morning. Jenny had thought she might try to soldier on, but no; she was sensible. She stayed in bed when Jenny slipped out to visit the pharmacy and bring back another round of medicines, not to mention stop by the corner shop and bring back things to eat. She told Clara she'd use the screwdriver for this, but Clara wouldn't let her scam the local corner shop like that. Instead, she was given Clara's debit card and told the pin, paying for everything legitimately.

For breakfast, they had porridge, with fresh milk and blueberries, and Clara perked up a little. With no school on Friday, the entire weekend stretched out ahead of her. Days to get better, with Jenny there to help. Jenny handled the washing up, too.

"I don't think the Doctor even knows how to wash up," said Clara as Jenny did this so that the oats didn't get too sticky to clean later.

"I'm much more resourceful than him. I don't have a TARDIS; I've always had to look after myself."

"What does that entail? Looking after yourself?" asked Clara. Jenny finished the washing up, left it on the rack, and then turned to study her. There was Clara, sitting at the kitchen table with a Lemsip in her hands, hot water bottle in her lap, and a blanket around her shoulders. "Why do you look at me like you're pitying me?"

"Sometimes I do pity you," Jenny admitted, pulling out the chair next to her. "But you look at me in the same way, every time I avoid one of your questions."

"Which you're doing right now."

"It's been a difficult two hundred years."

"Yes, exactly. Two hundred years. And you never talk about them, do you?" said Clara. She lifted her mug and sipped it, her nose red and running. She was beautiful. "I thought it was just me, that you didn't want to let me in. But it's everybody, isn't it?"

"No, it's not," said Jenny. "It's just everybody who's around me right now. I'll give you a summary, though. The day I was born, I died, and when I woke up, I stole a spaceship and flew away. It had a malfunction and crashed in the middle of the tundra. For two years I lived in a cave, in this smugglers port, catching and trapping animals to sell their furs and cook their meat. He doesn't know a thing about what that was like, in his palace."

"Two years down," said Clara, "Two hundred and five to go. Or," she clicked her fingers, "two hundred and six, isn't it? You had a birthday."

"Is that your mission? To find out everything about me?" said Jenny.

"What if it is? I haven't got anything else going on," said Clara, then she sniffed. Jenny passed her another tissue.

"Travelling through time and space with my father not doing it for you anymore?" said Jenny.

"Nothing feels real. Ever since Danny, nothing's felt real," said Clara. "Some days, all I do is think about him, look at old pictures."

"Is that healthy?" asked Jenny. For a second, she thought Clara might be offended by that, might believe Jenny was being accusatory. But she knew it was an honest question.

"Probably not. But there's nobody else I can talk to. He was an orphan, he grew up in care," Clara explained. "He didn't have any family. I can't go see his mum and have a cup of tea and hear stories about what he was like, I… I just have my memories, and every day I get further away, don't I?"

"I don't think so. I'm miles away from all my memories, but they're always there, posing a threat."

"A threat? That's how you think of your life?" said Clara.

"A disturbance, then." That was no better.

Clara looked at Jenny, again, full of pity, and then stared down into her yellow Lemsip for a while, breathing in the vapour to try and clear her nose.

"I was right, you know," she said after a minute. "This, us, it's a bad idea – a mistake."

"Why? Other than all the reasons you already gave me."

"We're too sad, you and me. And when we're together, it's worse."

"It's better to have someone you can be sad with than to be sad on your own," said Jenny. But she'd never said that before. For two hundred years, she had brooded alone. Clara saw the look that had flashed across her face.

"What?" she said.

"Nothing," said Jenny, forcing a smile, even though doing so was pointless because Clara saw right through it. "How are you feeling? Any better?"

"Not really. I'll need some more painkillers in a bit, for my head."

"It's a good thing I stocked up, then," said Jenny. "Got you an entire, fresh pack of ibuprofen." She pointed it the plastic carrier bag from the chemist on the coffee table. Clara glanced over, then frowned.

"What's that binder doing over there? I thought I left it on the dining table."

"That? Oh, I sorted it for you."

"Excuse me?"

"The binder. The sticky note on the front about the balance sheets, I had a look," said Jenny.

"Those are the departmental budgets, Jenny," said Clara. "I was supposed to do all of our accounts while the department head is away on maternity leave."

"Yes, I worked that much out," said Jenny. "And that's what I'm telling you. I sorted it. I did the accounts." Clara stared at her. Jenny rolled her eyes. "I'll show you." She fetched the binder and opened it for Clara, leaning down over her shoulder as she flipped through the printed-out spreadsheets. "My handwriting's not the best at the moment, but it's legible enough."

"I don't… Sorry, you're telling me you've balanced the books of my school's entire English department overnight?" said Clara.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Well, it looked urgent, and I didn't know if you'd be up for it." But still, it wasn't getting through. "Clara. I told you; I was an accountant before. I know how it works. I've run businesses."

"What kind of businesses? Schools?"

"No, no. The kinds of businesses where if I tell you too much about them, somebody might come and cut off my fingers," Jenny sat back down, leaving Clara to be amazed at how effectively she'd filled everything out.

"Everything you say and do – it's all contradictory. I mean, who are you?" Clara asked her.

"I still hope to work that out one day."

"Cutting off fingers? What was it, the mafia?" she said. She was joking, but Jenny didn't laugh immediately. "Jenny, if-"

"I can say with absolute certainty that I've never worked for the mafia." Because they were Irish. "I'd really appreciate it if you don't ask me any more questions about it, though," she said. "Anyway, that's all done. Feel free to double-check my sums."

"You're absolutely incorrigible."

"Also, this Mrs White, whoever she is, she's embezzling," said Jenny. "You're down about two hundred quid in the last three months."

"What? Is there proof?"

"Well, she gave you a handwritten receipt that says she spent it on staples. But who gets through that many staples that quickly? I looked it up, and if she's telling the truth, that's tens of thousands of them," said Jenny.

"Yeah, that's… hm. I'll have to have a word."

"I'll talk to her, if you like?"

"About irregularities in the accounts? Why? So, you can break her fingers and force her to confess?" she challenged.

"If you need me to break anybody's fingers-"

"No, Jenny. But thank you. I don't think I'd have spotted that if it was just me doing it."

"Happy to be of service."

"She'll just have spent in on braces, anyway. She's got those adult ones that go on the back of your teeth."

"Eurgh. That doesn't sound pleasant."

"Well, precisely. I quite like crooked teeth, anyway."

"Really?"

"Nothing worse than when people are just too perfect," she said, looking right at Jenny.

"Ouch. I won't make the Eton mess I was planning on doing later, in that case."

"You were going to make me an Eton mess?"

"I was going to make myself an Eton mess and let you have some," said Jenny. "It's very easy. It's only got four ingredients."

"It's not easy. It's very difficult."

"To smash a meringue and cut up strawberries?" said Jenny. "The meringues don't even need to be neat because you're going to break them. What could possibly be easier than that?" But it was Clara she was talking to, Clara who thought ketchup was an acceptable replacement for real tomato sauce on pasta. Pasta she could only ever undercook severely or reduce to mush.

"Jenny," Clara began, sitting up a little, pausing to wait for her head to stop swimming.

"Yes?"

"Do you think we're friends? Excluding all the sex."

"Of course."

"Really?"

"Why is that hard to believe?"

"I just think sometimes, about my life, and I'm not sure I have any friends other than the Doctor. I'm not sure I have anybody at all."

"That isn't true," Jenny assured her, touching her arm and squeezing fondly. "We are friends. We could never have sex again, and I'd still want to be around you. Hence why I'm here when you're sick."

"You're only here because you're hiding from your real life, though," said Clara.

"I've lived in a lot of strange places, with strange people and doing strange things. But all of it felt more 'real' than the TARDIS. A big castle without windows."

"That's what it's like. Not the castle – well, a bit – Big Brother."

"Excuse me?"

"You lot, it's like you exist in Big Brother, but more depressing because none of you are paid to be there, you could leave at any time, and you still choose to sit around and rot after filling yourselves up with everybody else's gossip," said Clara.

"I don't know what Big Brother is."

"Count yourself lucky. Never let anybody show you."

Jenny smiled, "Okay. I promise. Now, have some more painkillers, and I'll tell you a story – not a serious one, a fun one."

"Do you have fun stories?"

"Yes," Jenny stood to retrieve the painkillers. "I'll tell you about the all-time worst con artist in the galaxy, Varo Terano the Mad Butcher of Sirarko, and his fascinating business model where he tried to pass off glue as real meat. It's a doozy."

AN: I have also rewritten the entire vampire storyline and will post that here, too, when it's finished.