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nehswritesstuffs · 3 years

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Whouffle Week 2021 - Day 1

I’m a lurker on a Discord server that is having an open fan event to celebrate the Doctor and Clara Oswald. Despite not actually interacting for a while (long story), I decided to throw my hat into the creative ring and write along with the prompts!

1121 words; I kept on trying to think of a different way to fill this prompt, but I couldn’t get Maaya Sakamoto/Yoko Kanno’s song Gravity out of my head every time I went to write something, so surprise my friends it’s a Wolf’s fcking Rain AU that no one asked for including myself because I’m a useless weeb who will never recover (basically: post-apocolyptic endless winter in what is sort of anime not-Russian city-states… because that made sense to Studio Bones back in the early 2000s); not a true AU but it’s close-ish

Prompt One: Gravity/Reunion

It was bloody cold, with wind whipping about errant snowflakes with enough force to hurt through her jacket and trousers. Clara pulled the motorbike up to the building and parked; with any luck, this would be the last of the towns she’d need to look in. She didn’t take off her goggles, gloves, or helmet until she was inside the establishment, feeling the heavy stares of the other patrons as she sat down at the bar.

“What are you after?” the man behind the bar asked.

“In the grand scheme of things? I’m looking for someone.”

He nodded. “How about in the immediate?”

“Whatever’ll help with the cold.”

The bartender nodded and poured her a beer—it was tepid and tasted pissy, but it indeed warmed her as it went down. She could feel the stare of another man sitting at the far end of the bar and attempted to ignore him.

“Who are you looking for?”

Well, shit—he engaged.

“He’s tall, with pale skin, greying hair, blue eyes, and a Scottish accent,” she replied curtly. “You haven’t seen anyone around like that, have you?”

“Possibly,” he said. There was tension in the air as he moved closer to her; he clearly had more than one pint of the house piss in him already and she kept herself alert because of it. “There was a man wandering around here the other day, asking something about wolves—sound familiar?”

“Wolves…?”

“Science is alright, but it hasn’t brought back wolves, no matter what it’s done the past two-hundred years,” the man said. “Are you really searching for a man who is searching for fairy stories?”

“I might.”

“What is he to you?”

“More than you’ll ever fathom.”

The drunk man nodded, expression nearly sagely. “Must be amazing sex if that’s the case.”

Clara didn’t bother to respond, instead attempting to continue choking down her drink. A plate of food appeared in front of her as well, the barman placing it in front of her without being asked. She hesitated for a moment before beginning to eat—it was the most delicious plate of dumplings and cabbage she’d ever eaten, and she wondered if it was the alternate timeline, or simply the fact her stomach was growling fiercely.

“I heard the man you’re looking for might’ve headed towards the foothills chasing those dreams,” the drunk man said. “It’s a long road to follow, if you’re willing.”

“More than,” she replied around her dumplings.

“I can bring you there,” he offered.

“No.”

“It’s dangerous out in those parts.”

“Why so? You just said there’s no wolves.” She could hear a couple snickers in the background—other patrons who were observing the interaction.

“Wolves were never the only danger around here.”

“I think I’ll take my chances.”

Before the drunk man could say anything else, another patron stepped between them, placing a physical barrier between them. “Lay off it Sergei—she’s not having any.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” the drunk man snarled. “You know I’m the best guide around here.”

“When you’re sober, and you were last that two weeks ago if my memory’s still valid.” The new patron turned back to Clara and gave her a kind smile. A flag went up in the back of her mind, though it was not red in color. She took note, but did not let her own face betray her, as she knew there was little room for error in this dimension… timeline… whatever it was. “I can take you, if you’d rather. We can also get you a map if that’s the case; it’s up to you.”

She considered it and nodded, knowing there was something interesting about the young man in front of her. “Let’s cut a deal for both. While Sergei sobers up, you bring me part of the way, but leave me with a map. None of you need to be chasing down the irritating stick insect when he’s my problem.”

“Then let’s going soon,” the young man said. “Name’s Fuwa.”

“Clara.”

Once the beer and dumplings were paid for, Clara brought Fuwa out with her to where her bike was parked and both hopped on, getting ready to head off. She tried not to react when Fuwa placed his hands on her shoulders, because it was not a set of human hands, but rather large paws that rested on her. Speeding off, she did not stop until she was hours past being out of sight of the town, letting Fuwa off first so he could stretch.

“You’re a wolf,” she said, getting directly to the point. “How?”

“You catch on quickly,” Fuwa smirked. “It was the paws, huh?”

“You also remind me of a protective puppy,” she said. He shrugged at that, unable to refute the claim. “Why do they think you’re extinct?”

“Easier that way, which given how hard life is for a wolf, it’s difficult to describe how it was beforehand,” he shrugged. “So this guy you’re looking for; he’s important to you, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe we can travel together while we’re looking for what we’re after.”

“...oh? What are you looking for…?”

“Paradise.”

“...Paradise…? Where is that?”

Fuwa opened his mouth to answer when a loud growl cut him off. He and Clara looked to see wolves—large and snarling—and they both tensed. Fuwa got between Clara and the pack of five and barked defensively, letting them know that he was not going to back down without a fight.

“Clara…?!”

Out from behind the trees, the Doctor popped out and ran past the wolves, enveloping Clara in a tight hug that caught her and their audience by surprise. He then held her at arm’s length and blushed sheepishly.

“Still not used to it?”

“...in all the right ways.” She looked over to the wolves to see that they appeared as humans, the lot of them standing about not knowing precisely what to think of the two newcomers. “I think we found one part of the mystery, Fuwa.”

“The protective pup?” he snickered. He sniffed the air and then frowned. “Excuse me, but that’s no pup.”

“We look the same age,” the Doctor insisted.

“You’re older than anything on the planet,” Fuwa stated. He looked at the other wolves that had been with the Doctor and then back at the Time Lord. “Why are you with them?”

“We figured out we have something in common,” the Doctor said. “We’re both looking for Paradise.”

“What is that?” Clara asked. “Why are you all looking for this place?”

“It’s a wolf’s dream,” one of the other wolves said.

“It’s our birthright,” another said.

“It’s where the TARDIS is,” the Doctor theorized, “and we need to get out of here.”

#WhouffleWeek2021 #Whouffle Week #Whouffaldi #Clara Oswald #Twelfth Doctor #because you know I just want excuses to write Whouffaldi yo #Clara's Diner #Doctor Who #fan fiction #I apologize for nothing #Wolf's Rain #kinda

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gnougnouss · 3 years

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what do u do when u can’t talk to the love of your life ? You give anonymous love letter to his younger self of course !

#i am sorry i had like #0 idea for this lmao #Whouffle Week #whouffle week 2021 #doctor who #my art #this is the 8th doctor btw #i just love him ok

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sheliesshattered · 4 years

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Time And Relative Dimension

Clara/Twelve post-Flatline AU. Part 5 of the on-going s8 AU series For As Long As We Get, but can be read as a stand-alone. 6300 words, Twelfth Doctor POV. Emotional hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, newlyweds navigating married life. A late entry for Whouffle Week 2020 for the prompt: dancing. Available on AO3 under the same title and username.

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Time And Relative Dimension

“Right,” Clara sighed as she stood in the open doorway of the TARDIS. “I need to— to look at my lesson plans for the week, and do some laundry in a machine I know won’t try to ‘improve’ my clothes as it washes them.”

The Doctor looked up from the controls he was fiddling with on the console, his mind full of a nascent idea for a modification to the TARDIS that he suspected was probably more trouble than it was worth. “So you said this morning,” he replied, confused. “That’s why we came back to your flat.”

“Right,” she said again, sounding tired. “I’m also going to have a shower, I think. Given... all that.” She gestured vaguely, evidently referring to the hours they’d just spent in Bristol and their encounter with the Boneless.

“Take your time,” he shrugged, most of his attention on the navigation system. Landing in Bristol had been entirely unintentional, and while he’d long since stopped questioning the TARDIS when she decided his presence was needed somewhere other than where he’d aimed for, it might be useful if the console could at least warn him that their destination had changed. Maybe if he rerouted the nav computer...

“Just don’t—” Clara’s voice broke in a way that he associated with five-foot-one and crying, but when he glanced back at her, her expression was carefully blank, her gaze fixed in the middle distance. “Don’t leave,” she went on, steadier. “Stay where I can find you.”

He had thought that much was obvious, but she seemed to be waiting for an answer, so he said, “Yes, boss.”

She nodded once and stepped out into her flat, leaving the TARDIS doors open. It was a habit he didn’t usually engage in, leaving the doors open for anything other than coming and going — the TARDIS was safer with the real-time envelope sealed, and picked up fewer stray cats that way — but as with most things, exceptions could be made for Clara. For whatever reason, she wanted to know where he was, wanted assurances that the TARDIS wouldn’t leave without her, and keeping the doors open seemed like a simple way of achieving that.

For a time the Doctor lost himself in his tinkering, letting his thoughts wander as he began and then abandoned several different improvements to the settings and readouts. He heard the shower start and the water shut off a while later, heard Clara moving quietly around the sitting room just beyond the TARDIS doors, papers rustling and books closing. It was comforting in a way he hadn’t expected, the small connection of sound, knowing that his Clara was just outside, engaged in her own projects while he pursued his.

He had never considered himself someone who enjoyed domestic life. He’d raised a family on Gallifrey, yes, but it was so long ago now that it felt like a dream, half-forgotten upon waking. Since then his relationships had been anything but domestic, and he’d spent so many centuries running from everything boring and ordinary that he had never thought he could want anything else. There was always more of the universe to see, more to experience, people to save and civilisations to discover, and he had never been particularly adept at staying in one place.

In many ways, Clara was a perfect match for him in that, as in so much else. After the Orient Express, they had hidden away in the TARDIS for a few days, but eventually the universe had called to them, and as often as not it was Clara leading the way out into the unknown. She was as insatiable as he was, despite her need for more sleep and frequent meals, and it had only been the realisation that they had been travelling nonstop for nearly a month that had finally convinced them to wrap up their honeymoon trip and find their way back to Earth, back to the normal life she’d left behind when they’d run off to get married.

But even in the midst of their extended honeymoon, one adventure flowing into the next, they had discovered a rhythm to their life together that hadn’t been there before, a pattern to their days and an ease with each other, existing in a dimension that belonged entirely to them. He shouldn’t have been surprised, then, to find that it continued here, unchanged whether set against the wonders of the universe or the mundanity of Clara’s flat. He still didn’t crave domesticity, would still rather skip over the boring days than experience time in a straight line. But with Clara there weren’t any boring days. Just quiet, sweet in-between days where being with her was enough.

Too quiet, the Doctor realised, pausing with his hand half outstretched for the sonic screwdriver. The soft noises from the sitting room had stopped. No more slide of paper against paper or creak of sofa cushions. He held his breath, listening for any sounds from the flat outside, but was greeted with absolute silence.

Concerned, he got up from his workbench and went to the TARDIS doors and looked out. Clara’s school papers were still spread across the coffee table, but there was no sign of Clara herself. He stepped into the sitting room, frowning, and listened more intently. It hardly seemed likely that she would have left the flat without telling him, especially after asking that he not leave, either. Maybe she had just slipped into the bedroom for something? Gone to make herself tea?

Ah, there it was, the distant clink of dishes drifting down the hallway from the kitchen. He followed the sounds, anxious to see his wife again for reasons he couldn’t quite name. There was no logic behind this feeling, this worry that nagged at him for the few short seconds it took to walk down the hall and through the doorway to the kitchen. But he knew better than to dismiss that sort of gut-level instinct.

Clara was there, of course, a mixing bowl and whisk in her hands, her back towards him. The Doctor smiled at the sight of her, but his happy greeting stalled on the tip of his tongue when he caught another quiet noise in the stillness of the flat: a sniffle, wet and broken sounding.

“Clara?” he called to her, that instinctual worry ballooning into something much more fearsome.

She startled at his voice, shoulders tensing, and turned to look at him across the width of the kitchen, her eyes red-rimmed and overlarge. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, her voice rough.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “What are you doing in here?”

In one motion she swiped at the tearstains on her face and then gestured to the ingredients spread across the worktop, as though the latter would distract him from the former. “I’m making a soufflé,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the universe. Like she hadn’t clearly been hiding in the kitchen crying silently and hoping he wouldn’t notice.

Despite everything that had changed over the last weeks, he was still uncertain of what to do with five-foot-one and crying, unsure of how to comfort Clara when confronted with unexplained tears. But her obvious deflection only made it clear to him that the one thing he couldn’t do was leave her to cry alone. There had been points in their relationship when maybe he wouldn’t have called it out, when he might have allowed her to hide behind an excuse like that. But they were far beyond that, now.

“Is there usually this much crying involved in making a soufflé?” he asked, trying to keep his voice gentle despite his growing worry.

She huffed out an annoyed, tear-thick sigh and turned her attention back to aggressively whisking the batter in the mixing bowl. “It’s called stress baking, Doctor,” she said after a moment, not looking at him.

“I can see that. I’m just not sure I understand why.”

Clara sighed again. “Could you just—”

“No,” he said firmly, knowing what she was about to say. “No, I will not leave you alone in here to cry into your soufflé. Rule two: we don’t walk away from each other. So tell me what’s going on.”

He watched her in profile as she looked up at the ceiling, clenching her jaw and blinking back tears, and that instinctual worry snagged in his chest, growing ever larger. Whatever this was it seemed serious, and there wasn’t a chance in hell that he was going to abandon her to deal with it on her own.

“Honestly, Clara,” he pressed when she didn’t reply, “I’m not going anywhere, so you might as well tell me.”

“I was nearly widowed today!” she snapped in response, gaze back her on mixing bowl, her vehemence surprising him. “In Bristol, of all places! When the TARDIS was on the tracks, and that train came and I couldn’t hear you anymore, I thought—” She cut herself off with a sharp shake of her head as tears filled her eyes again, channelling her emotions instead into stirring the soufflé batter with more force than necessary.

Oh. He hadn’t given any thought to how that must have looked from her perspective. It had been a tense moment on his end, completely out of power, stranded with a train bearing down on him. He had only barely managed to put the TARDIS into siege mode with a fraction of a second to spare. And even then, his situation had still been dire, stuck inside the shrinking ship, life support failing, and no way to communicate with Clara. “You thought I’d—”

“It’s rule one!” she interrupted him, whisk scraping harshly against the mixing bowl in the stillness of the kitchen. “Rule one is no dying! Regenerating would be bad enough, but something like that? Could you have even regenerated through it?” she demanded.

He blinked at her mutely, finally beginning to understand the source of her tears. In the rush of defeating their two-dimensional enemy, he hadn’t wanted to consider how narrowly they had avoided disaster, but thinking about it now, he knew she was right. If her gamble with harnessing the power of the Boneless hadn’t paid off, or if she hadn’t been so quick and clever in thinking of it, those might well have been his final moments.

There in the midst of it, he hadn’t been able to face that reality, and had allowed himself only the vaguest of goodbyes to Clara, unsure if she could even hear him. But in retrospect the moment stood out vividly, a tipping point that could have just as easily gone the other way. And he had done that to her, to his Clara, frightened her and nearly abandoned her for good. There was no choice he would have made differently, no clue they had missed that would have allowed them to solve the mystery earlier and avoid the danger entirely, but he still felt the weight of the guilt of having put her through that.

“For as long as we get,” she went on, her tone sharp. “That’s what we agreed on. I just thought it would be longer than four weeks.”

Her words spurred him into action, and without pausing to second-guess himself, the Doctor crossed the kitchen towards her in a few long strides and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Clara. Clara,” he said, stilling her frantic motion with the whisk, curling his chin over her shoulder and holding her close. “It is longer than four weeks,” he said gently. “We’re still here. Both of us. We’re alright. We get longer than four weeks.”

For a moment it seemed as though she would argue the point, but then she sagged against him, leaving the mixing bowl on the worktop and leaning back against his chest. She took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly. “I know. I know, it’s just— If I’d lost you today, I don’t know what I would have done,” she said, tears still thick in her voice.

With his cheek pressed to hers, the Doctor caught what seemed to be the second half of that sentence, a fragment of a thought ricocheting through Clara’s mind, unspoken: I don’t know what I would have told them.

“Told who what?” he asked without thinking.

She tensed in the circle of his arms, turning her head and pulling away just enough to break skin contact. “Doctor,” she hissed, holding herself rigid.

Startled, he released her and stepped back, only just realising what he’d done. “Sorry,” he said in a low voice, shaking his head even though she still had her back towards him, her arms now braced against the edge of the worktop. “I forget, sometimes,” he said, “that you haven’t had any training in this sort of telepathic contact, that you don’t know how to shield your thoughts from me. I shouldn’t have—” He cut himself off, shaking his head again. “Sorry.”

Clara pushed to standing and swiped at the tears on her face. “You just surprised me is all,” she said levelly, turning to him. “I’m still not used to all, all that. Not used to being quite so transparent to you.”

He watched her for a long moment, wondering if she really didn’t know how much he still struggled to read her at times, even with their newfound telepathy. “I could show you how to guard your mind,” he offered, “how to block me out.”

She glanced up at him and shook her head, looking away again. “That is the last thing I want. It’s an adjustment, is all. And I won’t adjust to it if I just construct new walls to hide behind. No more hiding, no more lying, that’s what we agreed, after all.”

“You’re still entitled to some privacy, Clara.”

“I don’t want privacy from you,” she insisted. “Truly, I don’t. I want to share my life with you — my thoughts, my plans, my hopes and worries, all of it. Not just the good things, but the bad, too. And I am trying, Doctor. It’s like I have to relearn everything now, I spent so long forcing myself to hide how I feel about you.”

“Since I told you I wasn’t your boyfriend,” he said, not quite a question.

“Since long before that,” she said seriously, looking up at him and holding his gaze. “Emma Grayling said something to me, when we were investigating Caliburn House, that made me realise how obvious I was about my feelings for you.”

“You’d known me barely a month at that point,” he said, scowling in confusion.

Clara raised an eyebrow at him. “And exactly how long did it take you?” She smiled a little and shook her head, saving him from having to pinpoint the answer to that question. “If something had happened to you today,” she went on, looking away and crossing her arms over her chest, clearly struggling with the words, “I don’t know what I would have told everyone else in my life. The people I work with, my dad and my gran, everyone I know. How I would have explained my grief to them. As far as they’re concerned, I just broke up with Danny a week ago. They don’t even know who you are, not really, not in the ways that count.”

“You want to tell them,” the Doctor said. “About me. About us.”

She sighed and considered it. “I should probably figure out a way to tell my family some version of the truth,” she said, finding his gaze again. “But everyone else? No, I don’t particularly want to tell them. They’re not entitled to this part of my life, I shouldn’t have to justify myself to them. But today just made it clear that...” She seemed to weigh her words for a moment, then said, “It made the disconnect between the two sides of my life starkly obvious. This morning when we decided to come back to Earth, I had every intention of teaching for a week before joining you in the TARDIS again. Now I don’t know if I could stand it, being away from you for that long, and you out there on your own, getting into who knows what sort of trouble without me.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “I’m not going to leave you here, Clara,” he said. “If you’re staying, I’m staying.”

“But— but you hate staying in one place!” she objected, shocked. “You always have, and it only seems to have gotten worse since you regenerated.”

“It’s not just about me,” he shrugged. “The idea is to build a life together, yes? Well, part of your life is here, so part of my life is here, too. If you want to stay for a week to teach, we’ll stay.”

“You would do that for me?” she asked, voice wavering.

“Clara, the far more dangerous question at this point is what I wouldn’t do for you. Staying in London for a week at a time doesn’t even come close to making the list.”

She gazed up at him, her eyes large, tears beginning to form.

“Don’t, with the eyes,” he told her, trying to head off another round of crying. “How do you do that with the eyes? It’s like they inflate!”

“Shush, shut up,” she said, shaking her head and crossing the kitchen towards him. She rose up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, but rather than the kiss he expected, she pressed her forehead to his.

I love you, he heard her voice say in his mind, the words coming through with such clarity that he was certain she was intentionally projecting them. But behind the words, he could feel the depth of her emotion as well, layered and complex in ways those small syllables could never encapsulate.

Every good day, every bad day, he told her, backing it up with his feelings for her as well.

She took a shaky breath into their shared space. “What do we think this one counts as?” she asked quietly. “Good day or bad day?”

“Well, we saved a lot of people,” the Doctor replied, “and neither of us died, so I think we have to mark it down as a good day. The murder of your soufflé notwithstanding.”

Clara huffed out a small laugh, still tear-tinged but sounding lighter than before. “You’re right, I’m afraid my attempt at gently folding in the meringue didn’t quite go to plan.”

“Yes, well, that’s par for the course when it comes to your soufflés. It’s always something — burned or mangled or just deflated.”

She leaned back to look at him. “Someday I am going to make you a perfect soufflé, and then you are going to have to take back every unkind thing you’ve ever said about my baking.”

“And when that day comes I will,” he said with a grin.

“Can’t you just sonic it or something?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at the abandoned mixing bowl, not moving away from him.

“The sonic doesn’t do soufflés, Clara.”

She shot him a cheeky look. “Well, maybe it ought to do.”

Smiling at her fondly, the Doctor leaned in to kiss her, letting his love for her seep through his skin and into hers. He could feel the open door between their minds, the connection that had sprung into existence when she had accepted his marriage proposal, but kept himself carefully on his side of the line, not wanting to overwhelm her again. Clara, it seemed, had other ideas, her consciousness barrelling through that door to meet his as she curled her fingers into the short hair over his collar and deepened the kiss.

It was still new to him as well, having Clara in his mind after so many years alone. He welcomed her in, wordlessly communicating all the joy he felt at her presence. The weeks since their wedding had been the happiest of his life, not because of the places they’d visited or the people they’d saved, but because of her. Because of Clara, and this little universe that existed only between the two of them, a dimension all its own.

When they broke apart for air, Clara settled back onto her heels, letting her hands slide down to rest over his hearts. “We get longer than four weeks,” she said, repeating his earlier words, “but it has been a wonderful four weeks, hasn’t it?”

“The next four will be wonderful, too. Even if we spend the whole time here in London, doing boring things like murdering soufflés and teaching English literature to pudding brains.” He leaned down to press a light kiss to the end of her nose. “Our life doesn’t have to be all outwitting killer mummies and defeating invasions of two-dimensional beings. We can take the time for quiet days together, too.”

Clara gazed up at him for a moment. “I have an idea,” she said, smoothing her hands up to his shoulders and back down to his hearts. “Something that will put today solidly in the good category.”

He raised his eyebrows at her in question, wondering if she was thinking what he was thinking — if she was also calculating how long it would take them to get to their bedroom on the TARDIS, or if they ought to make use of her flat’s bedroom instead.

“Not that,” she replied, laughing, “but I like where your mind is at, hold that thought for later. No, I was thinking...” She trailed off as she reached into the interior pocket of his coat and found it empty. Frowning slightly, she slid her hands into the exterior ones instead, rummaging through the contents of the bigger-on-the-inside pockets, clearly searching for something.

“Where’s the sonic?” she finally asked, up to her elbows in his coat pockets.

“I left it in the TARDIS,” the Doctor said, looking down at her with amusement.

She huffed out a sigh, withdrawing her arms. “Amendment to the rule about keeping your mobile on you: keep the sonic on you, too,” she said, as she turned and left the kitchen.

He trailed after her, down the hall, into the sitting room, and through the open doors of the TARDIS. “What do you need it for?”

“Easiest way to find the song I want,” she replied obliquely as she located the sonic on his workbench.

“Song?” he asked, blinking at her in confusion.

She gave him a playful look as she brushed past on her way to the TARDIS doors. “Mmhmm.”

“Do you not just have it on your mobile, like a normal person?” he said, following behind her. “Or have you still not figured out how to use iPlayer?”

“Nah,” she said, shaking her head. “Besides, this way is much more fun.”

The Doctor lingered in the open doorway and watched as Clara crossed her sitting room. “What exactly are you up to?” he asked.

She paused next to the wide bookshelf on the far wall, fiddling with the sonic. “Come dance with me,” she said, smiling at him over her shoulder.

“What?”

“I wanted to dance with you on the Orient Express, the day we got married,” she explained, still trying to find the right sonic setting. “There was that band doing covers of old Earth songs, and it was our honeymoon, and I wanted to dance with you. But then there was dinner, and champagne, and our private sleeping quarters...”

“And a killer mummy, and an AI with dubious moral ethics,” he added.

She laughed lightly. “Exactly. And I never did get the chance to dance with you. So—” She pointed the sonic at the radio on her bookshelf, which crackled to life and began to play something that felt like the 1940s, though he couldn’t quite place the song. Resting the sonic on the shelf beside the radio, she turned back to him. “Dance with me,” she said again, holding one hand out to him in invitation.

With his gaze fixed on Clara’s outstretched hand, the Doctor felt the moment draw out long, milliseconds stretching into millennia. So many of their adventures had begun this way, Clara beckoning him forward into the unknown, reaching her hand out to meet his. He could sense their future stretching away ahead of them, the as-yet unnumbered days that their life together would span, strung together by this one simple gesture, timeless in its simplicity but heavy with meaning. How many times had she offered him her hand, in all the days they had spent together? How many more times would she stand exactly like this, in all the days to come?

For one instant he hung there, suspended in the space between two heartbeats, and then he felt himself tilt forward, felt his body answering Clara’s call with the only response he could ever give her. It was the only truth that mattered, his hand in hers and the universe waiting to unfold before them. The birth of a star, or the death of a civilisation, or the quiet music echoing off the walls of Clara’s flat — it didn’t matter, so long as she was by his side.

Hold hands. That's what you're meant to do, he remembered telling Emma Grayling and Professor Palmer, that day at Caliburn House. Keep doing that and don't let go. That's the secret. Had he already been in love with Clara then, he wondered? Did he know that day that he had found the only hand he would ever want to hold again?

Time dilated, contracted, and his feet carried him across the short distance to Clara, the connection between their minds sparking to life as he slid his hand around hers. She smiled up at him and settled her other hand on his shoulder as his found the small of her back through instinct or some long-buried memory.

“I’m not sure I remember how to do this,” he told her, voice low.

“You’ll figure it out,” Clara replied confidently. She looked up at him, holding his gaze. “We will figure it out. The same way we do everything: together.”

He sighed. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is easy, Doctor. It’s just me and you, no one to impress. All we have to do is sway a bit,” she said, gently urging him into motion, as the radio continued to croon in the background. “And maybe shuffle in a little circle here — mind the coffee table.”

“Yes, boss,” he said, following her lead, careful not to step on her bare toes with his boots.

“See? Easy as that,” Clara said as they fell into a slow rhythm in time with the music. She leaned into him, resting her head on his chest, and he held her closer in response.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“For what?”

“For not leaving me to cry on my own, earlier.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m pretty sure that’s part of the deal.”

“I wasn’t certain it would be part of the deal, with you,” she murmured. “But I’m glad it is.”

He hesitated then said in a similar tone, “I’m still not sure I’m any good at this.”

“Dancing?”

“Marriage. You said you feel like you have to relearn everything now — it’s the same for me. You are the furthest thing from transparent to me, Clara, and I haven’t the faintest idea how to handle any of this, really. I can promise I won’t leave you to cry on your own, but for everything else... We may just have to be patient with each other.”

“And figure it out together,” Clara added.

He smiled fondly, knowing the feeling would pass through his skin and into hers, even though she couldn’t see his face. “Exactly.”

They fell quiet for a time, swaying in slow circles in the small space between the bookshelf and the TARDIS. The song started again, but neither commented on it, content to lean into each other and let time pass around them unchecked. Little by little, the lyrics of the song filtered into the Doctor’s consciousness, repeated phrases catching his attention. He felt like he’d heard it before, the words tugging at a memory he couldn’t quite identify.

It’s still the same old story, A fight for love and glory, A case of do or die.

“What is this song?” he finally asked.

“It’s from Casablanca,” Clara said, humming a few bars along with the radio.

“Right,” he said, the memory crystalising in his mind. One of their Wednesdays together, early on, when Clara had insisted he park the TARDIS and stay with her rather than take her out on adventure. They had sat side by side on the Maitland’s sofa and watched the old black and white film, while Artie and Angie were asleep upstairs. “That’s one of the ones you like, isn’t it?”

She nodded against his chest. “It’s been one of my favourites since I was little. My mum introduced me to it. I love that movie, but I always wished—” She stopped, chuckling to herself, and he couldn’t quite make sense of the fragmented thoughts that flitted through her mind before she spoke again. “I always wished that Ilsa had been brave enough to choose Rick instead of Victor, at the end,” she went on, looking up at him. “Brave enough to see through Rick’s lies and choose the life she really wanted. And what do you know? When it came time for me to make my choice, I was brave enough.”

“...To be clear, I’m Rick in this scenario?”

Clara laughed quietly and rested her head against his chest again. “Yes, Doctor.”

He was silent a long moment, thinking on the comparison, on the sort of lies he might have been willing to tell Clara to keep her safe, and the lies he had told her to keep her at arm’s length. How easily he could have lost her, just as Rick lost Isla, if Clara hadn’t been brave enough to insist on the life she really wanted, and demand he do the same. How narrowly they had avoided tragedy to arrive at this moment.

“I’m afraid Casablanca is a bit too ingrained in Earth culture, both in this century and for the next few thousand years, to go back and change the ending now,” he told Clara. “But we could visit the set while they’re filming, if you like. Maybe get you cast as an extra, even.”

“Hmm, tempting,” she replied, pressing closer to him as they continued to sway to the music. “But only if you do it with me. Seems like the sort of thing that would be more fun together.”

He made a face. “Not sure I’m the acting type.”

“Oh, nothing huge, no lines or anything. Just us in the background of a shot inside Rick’s Café Américain. And then, as long as Casablanca survives, there will be a little bit of us on film. A little bit of evidence that we were here.” She looked up at him, something grave in her expression. “That we claimed this time as ours.”

For as long as we get, he heard in her voice, the open acknowledgement that however long they had together, it would always be too short. He wasn’t any more prepared to face it now than he had been earlier in the day, so he sidestepped her implication and said instead, “It might raise some questions, if anyone who knows you were to notice.”

Clara snorted derisively. “That’s assuming I’m even—” She stopped herself mid sentence, holding his gaze. He could feel the second half of that thought bubbling away under her skin, but carefully held himself back, offering her the privacy she had objected to earlier. She seemed to come to some sort of decision, then slowly and deliberately said, “That’s assuming I’m even still around for them to question.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

“I’ve been thinking about it the last few weeks and I...” She hesitated, chewing on her lower lip. “I don’t want to keep coming back here.”

“Where?”

“Earth. London, my ‘normal’ life. I don’t want to waste the days I have with you on trivial things.”

“Clara, what we did today wasn’t trivial. You saved a lot of people. Might have stopped an invasion of our entire dimension.”

“I know, you’re right. And if the TARDIS thinks there’s trouble in twenty-first century London, or Bristol, or wherever, then I’m fine with stopping by. But I don’t want to have two lives anymore.” She swallowed nervously then said in a rush, “I’m going to resign from Coal Hill at the end of the term, just before Christmas.”

He peered down at her, trying to understand what she was saying without relying on their telepathy to hear her thoughts. “But you love teaching,” he pointed out.

Clara shook her head. “I love literature, and helping people, and I’m good with children. Becoming a teacher was a calculated choice, back when I thought I needed to create a life of my own separate from you. But I don’t need that life now, Doctor. I don’t want it.”

“You don’t have to do this for me, or because you think I can’t stay in one place.”

“I’m not doing it for you, daft old man,” she said, smiling at him fondly. “It’s not that I think I owe you this or that you’re demanding it of me. I’m choosing this because I want to spend this time with you. Because we only get so much time, and I don’t want to waste it on planning lessons or marking papers or trying to explain my life to small-minded people.”

“You’re certain about this?”

“I wasn’t this morning, I thought I’d try a week back before I decided, but even just being here, looking at my lesson plans, after the morning we had... I don’t want to keep doing this. I don’t want to spend my days away from you, or force you to stay in London for a week at a time so I can teach. I want to get in the TARDIS and just go.”

“And cut all ties to your life on Earth?” he asked in disbelief, raising his eyebrows at her.

“When I told you on the moon that my future isn’t here on Earth, I meant it, Doctor. I’ve only grown more certain of that since we got married. I belong out there with you. I want to build our life together in the TARDIS, going wherever the whim takes us — wherever she thinks we’re needed.”

“But... your friends, your dad and your gran?”

“Like I said, I’ll find some version of the truth to tell them. And it’s not like we can’t stop by from time to time, come ‘round for dinner or something.” She looked up at him, a thoughtful line creasing her brow. “Do you do that? Do you come ‘round to people’s houses for dinner?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I do that?”

“I don't know. I thought you might find it boring.”

“Is it boring?”

She laughed. “I can’t imagine anything ever being boring when you’re involved.”

From the direction of the kitchen, there came a distant trilling, half obscured by the music playing through the radio. The Doctor cocked his head to one side, listening for the sound again. “Is that your mobile ringing?” he asked. “What happened to rule seven: keep your mobile on you?”

“Whoever it is can wait,” Clara said firmly. “Everyone I care to talk to at the moment is right here.” Through their telepathic link, he felt her mood shift, plummeting like a missed step at the bottom of a staircase. “Doctor... Do you not want me to live on the TARDIS full time?” she asked before he could wonder at the direction of her thoughts.

“Are you kidding me?” he replied, his reaction too immediate to find kinder words. “You’re the one who always insisted on only travelling on Wednesdays! Of course I want you to live on the TARDIS with me!”

A smile broke across her face, relief and joy that echoed back through the door between their minds.

“Clara, this last month together — our life could be like that always. But only if that’s what you want, too. Evenings like this,” he looked around her little sitting room, her school papers spread across the coffee table, the TARDIS settled snugly into one corner. “This can be part of our life, too. There aren’t any boring days when I’m with you, Clara. If you want to stay and teach, that won’t be boring, either.”

“I know what I want, Doctor. And I know now how to be brave enough to step up and take it. I want that life in the TARDIS with you, and I don’t want to waste any more time here than I have to.”

He watched her for a long moment, trying to gauge her emotions without intruding into her mind. “I just want you to be sure,” he said finally. “I don’t want you to have any regrets. I know what happened today scared you, but we don’t have to rush into this. You can take all the time you need.”

Clara drew in a deep breath and nodded. “There’s a month left until the end of term, and I have a few commitments I made weeks ago that I should keep. But after that?” She paused to consider, her gaze turning inward. “I’m ready to leave this behind, and build a life with you,” she said, looking up at him. “Just the two of us in the TARDIS, for however long we have together.”

Pausing their slow shuffled circles, the Doctor raised her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “For however long.”

#Whouffaldi #Twelve/Clara #Clara Oswald/Twelfth Doctor #Clara and the Doctor #Whouffle Week #Doctor Who #Doctor Who fanfic #Time And Relative Dimension #For As Long As We Get #available on AO3 under the same title and username #please comment and reblog!#my fanfic #my writing #AUs #Clara Oswald #Twelfth Doctor #so very married #in this case literally

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vanweezer · 2 years

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a couple who cosplays together stays together

#im not the BIGGEST whouffle enjoyer but OH MY GODDDD WHOUFFLE #breezy & i have the same sonic screwdriver of course everyone has that sonic screwdriver but this is very special to me #dallon weekes #breezy weekes #i was gonna add the dallon as freddy fazbear to this line up but onesies dont count as cosplay to me at least #thats more for easy accessible comfort/fashion than the absolute insanity/art that is cosplay #dallon #breezy #brallon #the brobecks

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spaceslayer · 3 years

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see you next wednesday

#dwedit #doctor who #eleventh doctor #clara oswald #matt smith #jenna coleman #whouffleedit #whouffle #gif #here have this thing i made like a week ago #while i'm finishing setting up my new pc

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gallifreyan-heart · 3 years

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Whouffle Week 2021 - Day 2 Prompt: Fireworks

They finally went back to look for Clara's sunglasses, but this time...

A surprise kiss at midnight.

#whouffleweek2021 #whouffle week 2021 #whouffaldi #twelve x clara #dw fanfic #dw edit #doctor who fanart #dw fanart #the doctor and clara #new year's kiss #fireworks #photomanip #first kiss #surprise #Happy New Year Clara Oswald

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timeandspacenovelist · 3 years

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You Must Remember This

Rating: G Chapters: 1/1

Summary: After an accidental trip to Sheffield in 2019, Clara finds herself meeting a rather odd woman in a café, but their meeting reveals some truths that Clara isn't quite ready for...

Notes : So...this is my first...and only Whouffle Week piece, for the Reunion prompt. I wanted to make a special one that I knew would be great. Seeing as this was the event that got me into this section of the fandom proper, I hope you do enjoy my ode to the Doctor and Clara and have a good time reading it. You might laugh, cry, maybe both. I just hope you have fun :)

Also find this story at :

Archive Of Our Own

The wind blew cold as Clara blew hard into her gloves for warmth. The day was freezing, much different to the trip from Egypt that she had just come from. Cleopatra was such a delight, though she should have told her to maybe watch herself around those Romans. She took out her phone to check exactly when and where she was, her Tardis’ scanner not allowing her that information. When she had opened her Tardis’ doors earlier to check, she had gotten a strong breeze in her face, letting her know the weather at least, which wasn’t ideal when she was still in her Egyptian outfit. Needless to say, she put on her winter parka, sweater, trousers, and gloves right away.

Still, her Tardis had given her phone some kind of update that allowed it to tell her the time period and location she was currently in. She was glad for that, at least. The phone lit up and gave her the information she required.

Sheffield, December 18th, 2019

A week before Christmas, lovely. Granted, she already figured out it was Christmas by the obvious amount of decorations all over the place and that one song playing over a loudspeaker somewhere. What was it called again? She couldn’t remember, though she remembered hearing it that one time in that base with that girl, Shona. The year was what she wanted the most, though. 2019. Interesting time. Not much had happened in this year that she could recall, but she knew it was four years on from her death. It was a bit of a morbid thing to keep in her memories, but it was her last time as a proper human, so she felt it was warranted. Time traveling usually discouraged ideas like that, attachment to certain periods, but that wasn’t what Clara wanted. As she almost found out the hard way, life was nothing without your memories. They defined who you were, the person you’re meant to be.

“These have been the best years of my life, and they are mine. Tomorrow is promised to no one, Doctor, but I insist upon my past. I am entitled to that. It’s mine.”

That’s what she told him before it happened, before everything changed. So from that moment on, she felt an urge and was on a mission to keep track of all her memories. All that happened before, that was happening now and all that was going to happen, logging them in her brain or writing them down, creating some grand story of her life. If memories were indeed where stories went when they were forgotten, then she’d have a tale as long as time itself.

And what of him? It never changed for her. The pain never stopped flowing throughout her body. How do you get over that? Giving up the man you loved, watching him forget who you are and everything he knew about you. Watching him stare at you with as much interest as he’d have with a stranger. Of course, she tried to. Tried to run away from the pain as best she could. Went off on as many adventures as she could, seeing the stars, meeting copious amounts of people.

There were… some ones that stood out. Ones more special than all the rest. They had come with interesting potential lives, each offering a different opportunity that seemed amazing. But no matter how hard he or she would try, they weren’t him. She could see their hearts break as she would break the news to them and watched them leave solemnly, hoping that they themselves would find that special one, one day. So after centuries of travel, lots of different companions and friends, she was alone now. Her own companion. Singular. Unattached.

Still, that was something else to worry about for another time. Now that she was here, she needed local knowledge. She sighted a newspaper stand across the road from her, quickly moving towards it to get what she desired.

The woman at the stand flashed her a warm smile as she greeted her, which helped take her mind off her previous worries at least.

“Pretty chilly day, ain’t it, my dear?” the older woman said, her choice of attire not too dissimilar from Clara’s.

“You could say that again. It’s absolutely freezing. How much for one?” Clara asked her, as she took the money out of her purse to pay her.

“£3, miss. You just have to get used to it, honestly. Been selling papers here for 20 years now.”

“Well, I’m not quite from around here. Blackpool girl.”

“Now, what are you doing all the way here, then?”

“My...car took a wrong turn, I think. GPS, you know. She.. I mean, they can be more trouble than they’re worth sometimes.”

“Oh, aye. I get you. I remember using ATMOS back in the day. Once that stuff with the smoke happened, I swore it off. Never used a GPS since.” The seller said as she exchanged the paper for the money.

“Thanks for the paper.” Clara said as she walked off.

“No problem, love.”

But Clara turned back slightly, before she could make her way away from the stand. “You wouldn’t happen to know a good café nearby, would you?”

“There’s one right up the road, at the end of the street. Called Millie’s. You won’t miss it.”

“Thanks!” Clara shouted as she waved towards the seller, going off to Millie’s. Now that she knew when and where she was, and had gained local knowledge, it was time to get something in her stomach. She had refused the large buffet from Cleopatra, so she was a bit hungry. Plus, it was quite cold, and she needed something hot to drink.

_____________________________________________________________

The trek to Millie’s wasn’t that long, but it gave her an opportunity to take in more of the sights and absorb where she was. The place was bustling with activity and excitement, people leaving their Christmas shopping until the last moments, desperate to get that perfect gift for their significant other or family member or friend. She had missed that feeling while traveling on her Tardis, if she was honest. There was no need to rush when you could take all the time you need to get what you want and land right before the big day. She soon sighted the café, a cozy and warm feeling coming over her as she saw it.

It was a small place, but it was designed well. The walls painted red and white with a modest sign on top of, “Millie’s”, painted the colour blue. It inspired comfort as soon as you saw it, which was a plus in her book. Now, all that was left to see if the interior matched its exterior.

As she was about to enter the building, however, she felt a hand upon her own, but it moved away as quick as it arrived. She looked up and saw a blond woman next to her. Her mouth moved as if to say something before her eyes widened briefly, almost as if something with Clara had gotten her attention. It didn’t last long, however, as they snapped back to normal pretty quickly. There was a short awkward silence between the two, neither not knowing what to do at the moment. Clara, being the one who was technically there first, took the initiative.

“You go first.“

“Thanks.”

The woman then scuttled inside as Clara followed closely behind, briefly staring at her hand. Something had felt.. different. There was some kind of sensation that was unexplainable for her. She knew her somehow, or maybe will know her in the future. Time travel was so confusing sometimes, even for her.

“People talk about premonition as if it’s something strange. It’s not. It’s just remembering in the wrong direction.”

Another word of advice from the Doctor, something she had an idea came in handy here. She had never seen that woman before, yet there was something so familiar about her. If it was that, then she shouldn’t pry into who she was. In time, she’ll find out. She always did. But that didn’t mean she still wasn’t intrigued.

The line contained three people ahead of them, as more packed in behind them as they got closer to the front. Eventually it was the blond woman’s turn to order, so Clara thought about what she wanted to order in the meantime, the cafe’s soft music providing her with ample relaxation as well.

♫ You must remember this. A kiss is still a kiss. A sigh is just a sigh. The fundamental things apply. As time goes by. ♫

“Hi, welcome to Millie’s. What can I get you?” the cashier asked her.

“One coffee please. Black, 12 sugars.”

The cashier and the rest of the people in line looked at her quizzically, as if she had grown three heads or had no head. Clara, however, was unfazed. It wasn’t the weirdest coffee order she had heard, far from it. Frankly, at this point in her life, that sounded quite normal to her. He was always quite fond of combinations like that. At least someone else in the universe shared his choices.

“What? I like my coffee strong.” The blond woman retorted, perplexed at the stares she currently received.

The cashier, however, just rolled with the punches and put in the order. “Ok... That will be £2.95.”

The woman rummaged in her pockets, but her face quickly turned to concern. She was searching around in there, but nothing was coming out. She seemed to think that doing it more would probably yield something, but she continually came to no avail. The garnering of stares from the others in line didn’t quite help the situation.

“Ah haha, seems I may have misplaced my wallet. Forgive me.” the woman said with a nervous smile and a blush.

But that didn’t seem to faze the cashier, who simply looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “That’s very unfortunate. You’re still gonna have to pay for your coffee.”

Clara was beginning to feel second hand embarrassment for her now. She could tell the woman was genuinely confused about what to do next. She seemed flustered, looking back at the cashier and then the rest of the line. But as her eyes briefly landed on Clara, she could see the signs of a call for help. Being who she was, she couldn’t resist.

“Babe, come on, did you forget again?” Clara said, as she put her arm around the woman, increasing the intimacy between them.

“I.. uhh...” the woman stuttered, not knowing what was going on.

“I’m paying for both of us today, remember?” Clara told her, winking. The sparkle in the woman's eyes showed she knew exactly what was going on now, and so she quickly got on board.

“Ohhh, yes! I forgot. Sorry. I do that sometimes.”

The cashier looked unimpressed, but still just went along with it. She didn’t get paid enough to care, really. “And you’ll be having, miss?”

“One hot chocolate, please.” Clara ordered, her hot drink sorted for the day.

“That will be £6.35 in total.”

“Come on honey, let’s go find a table to sit at while we wait.” Clara told the blond as she paid the cashier. She unconsciously intertwined her hands with the woman as she pulled her away from the counter, finally letting the others get their turn.

“Of course..... sweetie.” was all the other woman could respond, now swept up in this fib.

Clara directed her to a table sufficiently away from everyone else. She had some questions for this lady, and she’d rather the rest of the café not stare at them while they waited for their orders. Not that she had much choice in the matter, but the woman seemed to gleefully go along with the plan, putting up no fuss as she was pulled.

_____________________________________________________________

Pretending to be someone’s girlfriend in order to get them out of trouble for not being able to pay for a coffee, wasn’t exactly what was on Clara’s agenda today, but she simply rolled with it. That was all she could do. It had become a staple of her life at this point. Normally, she wouldn’t have bothered, but there was something different about this woman. Had it been anyone else, she would have maybe had a big cringe at it, but she’d have lived without intervening. But something drew her to the blond. Maybe it was those big sad eyes she gave her, green and helpless. Maybe it was just the Christmas spirit getting into her. She didn’t know, but she could figure that out when this was done. Now, all she needed was to wait for her order and she’d be gone.

It was during this thought process in her mind, that the woman decided it was a good time to introduce herself. Luckily, Clara managed to grasp what she was saying, catching herself after her thoughts were interrupted.

“Hey, thanks for that. I’m... Jane.” The woman said, offering her hand for a handshake, which Clara accepted.

“Clara. No problem. Just trying to help out. Just one thing though.”

Jane unconsciously drew closer, eager to hear what Clara wanted to say. She would soon regret that, as Clara gave her a punch in the shoulder. The stifled groan of pain and confused look gave Jane’s side of the story of the exchange.

“What was that for?!”

“That was for being an idiot and not having any money to pay the cashier.”

Jane’s eyes darted away from Clara’s, unable to look at her. “I told you guys, I misplaced my wallet.”

“What? That story? It didn’t even fool the cashier. You think it’s gonna fool me?”

“Because your story about us being girlfriends was soooo believable.”

“You’re right. You’d never get a woman like me.” Clara told her with a teasing smirk.

Jane’s eyes widened, and her mouth was agape. She nearly went to protest Clara’s teasing assertions, but she kept her mouth shut, folding her arms and sulking instead. Clara could only giggle as she saw it, but it struck a chord in her. Was she doing what she thought she was doing? Was she… flirting with this woman? No, she couldn’t be. This was just her being funny. She’d know if she was flirting. Wouldn’t she? But she couldn’t not admit that the woman was definitely attractive at least, and she seemed fun. But it wasn’t meant to be. She instinctively rubbed her forearm for a reminder of that.

“But you’re right, though. Don’t think anyone bought our clever ruses.” She continued.

“Think they’ll kick us out?”

“Nah, probably just give you a bad look when you go up for the coffee and hot chocolate.”

“Why me?!”

“Hello? I paid, remember?”

“Fine. I will accept the evil gaze of the cashier.” Jane told her, mockingly, as she made out like the young lady was some kind of villain.

Clara laughed again, the second time Jane had gotten her to in a matter of moments. Upon seeing it, Jane smiled warmly, her eyes focusing on Clara and for a brief moment, not moving away from her. Jane’s hand strayed towards Clara’s, who was currently preoccupied by something on her phone. She inched forward, closer and closer, before eventually Clara looked back up. She quickly moved her hand away and looked at something else, but Clara noticed her, catching the look at the very last second.

But now, Clara felt it was time to get down to brass tacks. As much as they joked about it earlier, she wasn’t lying about not believing the wallet story. So she wanted to know the truth, and if that look was anything to go by, it wouldn’t take much for Jane to tell it to her.

“So, tell me the truth, then. What’s up with you not being able to pay the cashier?”

“I’m just not... fussed with money. It’s never been something that’s interested me.” Jane said to her with a sigh.

“But you do pay for stuff, right?....”

“Only when necessary. Usually the other times, my friends do it for me.”

The teasing smirk returned for Clara. “Does that mean I’m your friend now?”

“Girlfriend to friend in less than ten minutes. That must be some kind of record.“ Jane retorted, returning the tease.

“Funny. You’re funny. I like that.” Clara said, laughing.

“I like your laugh.” Jane responded, as her eyes now focused squarely on Clara’s.

“Thanks.” Clara said as her face turned red.

Clara’s eyes soon made contact with Jane, unable to stop herself from doing so. She was almost drawn to them, like a moth to flame. Green eyes were normally associated with jealousy, so why were these ones so difficult to escape? But any chance to take advantage of this rather poignant moment between them was stopped with the call of a familiar voice.

“Number 13!!” the cashier shouted their order, their sighs showing their disappointment at the ruined moment.

“Guess that’s you then.”

“Yep. I’ll be back before you can say, 'Where’s she got to now?”

It was another odd saying from Jane, but it struck a weird chord with her. She had heard that before. She knew it, and she had a good idea of who it was. She assumed he didn’t make up what he was saying, so it must come from somewhere else. Maybe he picked it up from somewhere and wherever that was, Jane was from. However, that was the least of her problems currently.

Because there was no doubting it now. Something was there, as much as Clara tried to hide it. She didn’t know why, or for what reason, but Jane just… got past her defenses. Sure, hanging out with historical figures and seeing all the wonders of the universe were amazing, but it had been a long time since she had just sat down and had a connection with someone, and that’s what was happening here. Jane seemed charming, witty, funny, but also there was also a vulnerable side to her, one she didn’t seem too hard pressed to hide. She put up those defenses for a reason, so why was it so easy for Jane to bypass them? Once again, she felt her forearm. No, she made a promise to herself. She’d go with no other person but him (and Jane Austen, but those were special occasions). She’d have to let this Jane down eventually, though, before it was too late.

The sound of the drinks being rested on the table alerted Clara to Jane’s reemergence as she snapped out of her memories. Jane had carefully held both drinks in her hand, almost slipping and dropping them, but kept her balance enough to rest them on the table and hand Clara’s over to her.

“Right. One hot chocolate for you and one coffee for me.”

“Thanks.”

Clara lifted the cup to her lips and took a long sip, sounding and looking refreshed when she had finished. It felt so good just to let the heat just run through her body. What she didn’t notice while taking the sip, was Jane keenly looking at her, smiling as she heard the “ahh” from Clara once she was finished.

“Did that help you feel warmer?”

“Yeah, but how did you...”

Blushes were found all over Jane’s cheeks as she was caught out and had to explain herself. “Saw you shivering a bit. Sorry, I just have a keen eye for things.”

“No, it’s ok! It’s alright. It helped a lot, thanks. “

“Oh, good!” Jane said with a sigh.

Now content with Jane’s reaction, Clara began to pull up her sleeves, exposing her forearms and also her bracelet, heat tingling through her body, allowing her to feel a little less cold. For her, it was unintentional and nothing big, but for Jane, it was anything but. Jane’s keen eye struck again as she saw it. There was an inscription on it that she couldn’t make out. As far as she was concerned, people only wore bracelets for special purposes, especially with inscriptions, so she had to know. But she didn’t want to worry Clara, so she held off on her desire. The two stayed in silence for a bit before curiosity got the better of Jane.

“That’s a pretty bracelet you got there.” Jane finally said, after finishing off her coffee.

Clara, however, instinctively covered her forearm, as her eyes narrowed slightly at Jane. This wasn’t something she was going to give up. She had almost lost it a few times recently, and she was sure that the next time might be the one. This wasn’t any ordinary bracelet. This was special. So she wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction. Any kind of interest she had in Jane was briefly put on hold, as her senses were on high alert.

But Jane, as she would find out, didn’t want that. She slowly moved her hand towards Clara’s, not moving towards the bracelet, but simply grasping her fingers and rubbing them, comforting Clara. As their eyes met again, Clara saw that Jane’s were nothing more than calm and worried. She didn’t want to scare Clara, let alone take anything from her.

“Hey, don’t worry. I won’t take it. Just thought it looked nice”

So Clara slowly removed her hand from it, revealing it in all its glory.

“It’s just... really important to me.”

“It is quite beautiful.”

“Thank you. Got it last year as a birthday present for myself. A reminder of a time gone long ago.”

“What’s that inscription on it?”

Clara flashed Jane a pretty smile, but it never reached her eyes. Showing her the bracelet was one thing, but reading out the inscription was another. Not only was it so important to her, but it also didn’t sound like the most sane thing in the world. It meant so much to her, and she understood it perfectly, and she didn’t want to scare her off now when they’ve begun to really hit it off and become comfortable with each other.

“It’s nothing. You don’t need to worry about it.”

But Jane took Clara’s hand again, this time holding it firmly, rubbing the top of it with her thumb. Jane wasn’t to know, but that was one of the most comforting things she could have done at that moment. It was something Clara had leaned on herself to comfort people (mostly the Doctor), since her mum had done it with her. Jane didn’t even have to say anything else to convince her, as the battle was already won, yet what she said and did after sealed it for Clara.

“It can’t be nothing if it was important enough to put it on the bracelet. Come on, I won’t laugh. Unless it’s meant to be funny, then I will laugh, a lot probably.” Jane told her with a goofy grin.

Clara smiled warmly and giggled, the grin catching her off-guard. So with a sigh, Clara gave into her questioning and read out the inscription. _____________________________________________________________

“Run, you clever boy and remember to never eat pears.”

The average person would be very confused, even laugh heartily at it. But not Jane. She blinked continuously as her eyes watered. She looked down; she looked away, but she never looked at Clara. Seeing how it seemed to affect her, Clara went to her immediately, gripping her hand the same way Jane had done hers. Jane almost pulled it away, but eventually left it there for Clara to comfort her.

“What’s wrong? You ok?” Clara inquired.

Jane tried again to look at her, but it continued to be difficult. Clara’s big, sad eyes (inflated to maximum capacity) were in front of her. There was no chance she could actually talk to her and look at her, so Jane just kept her head down.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m fine. It’s nothing.“

“... You’re crying.”

“Yeah, your inscription reminded me of someone I once knew, that’s all.” Jane said, wiping away her tears with a napkin, “Lost them a long time ago. ... But it’s fine. I’m better now.”

Jane showed she was ok by smiling, but it never reached her eyes, eyes that were still filled with sorrow. A sad smile. Something Clara was very familiar with.

“It’s the sad smile. It’s a smile, but you’re sad. It’s confusing. It’s like two emotions at once. It’s like you’re malfunctioning.”

“Who was he?”

“She.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. But, I can ask you the same question..”

Clara looked away from Jane, a blush spread across her cheeks as she was reminded of the Doctor fully. She supposed he was bound to come up, eventually. Someone so tied to her life usually would be expected to. She just hoped she could keep her composure when talking about him, and keep the talk to a minimum. There was a reason she didn’t talk about him much, if at all. The pain would sear through her body and leave her aching for hours. Hours of wondering what if, what could have happened, what might have been? Then, she’d get up, stop feeling bad for herself and move onto the next thing. But the pain would still be there, never dealt with, never fixed. Just compartmentalized. Put away in tiny little boxes until the next time where she was forced to deal with the pain all over again.

“Just a friend, too. That’s all really.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“What?...” Clara said, her mouth slightly agape..

“No friend makes someone blush like that, and get a bracelet with an inscription.“

If Clara wasn’t already deep in her thoughts about the Doctor, she’d find it impressive how easily Jane saw right through her. She prided herself on being an excellent liar. Someone who once fooled an alien linked heartbeat for heartbeat with her. In fact, you could probably say she was too good a liar. It coming so easily to her severely complicated her relationships with Danny and this version of the Doctor early on, as well as causing herself more pain as she lied about how she felt.

If she hadn’t been such a good liar, maybe she’d be in the Tardis right now, cuddled in the Doctor’s arms, happy that she didn’t hide her feelings for him by lying, waiting for the right time that never came. But she also suspected that she might have made it obvious that she cared deeply for him, certainly as more than a friend.

“Yeah. He wasn’t just a friend. At least towards the end, he never felt like that.“ Clara said with a deep sigh.

Did you....

“Oh completely, so much. I only got to tell him once though, not in the most opportune of times either.”

“What was he like?...”

“The absolute worst and absolute best. Oh, he could get on my nerves sometimes. But... he was also so amazing. Loving, kind, honest, though it was like getting blood from a stone sometimes.” Clara said, laughing, leaving Jane to laugh too, both women unconsciously tearing up.

“He saved my life, and not in the normal sense, though he did that a lot as well. I was moving towards a life of missed opportunities and regretted chances. It would have been a great life, don’t get me wrong, but it wouldn’t have been what I wanted. He gave me a life that I’m still living to this day, one that I cherish and I never forget.”

“Sounds like a great guy.”

“He was the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.”

Before Clara could stop herself, the waterworks really turned on, and she sobbed. She couldn’t stop it now. This was just the reset. A whole new wave of sadness and regret finding its way upon her once again. This was why she didn’t think about him. It just led to more pain than it was worth. Her mind would scream for her to look for him, see him again, one last time. Even just checking up on him was hard enough. She learned her lesson from that. She was content to be a watcher over him for a while. And he’d hardly ever hear or see her. But she would always be there. She watched as he continued traveling, how he became a teacher, even that he seemed to find someone new to be with. But she eventually stopped, as the pain became too much.

She had been at a bar sometime, chilling out, watching him play his guitar, when she heard it. That song. That song he had played for her before they separated. It was a different version, but it was so unmistakable. She just couldn’t handle the pain of it. So what did she do? She got in her diner and she ran and she ran, in case all the pain ever caught up. Now, she was realizing how foolish that plan was. How despite her best attempts, every place she’d go, it would be there.

Jane moved quickly around to her, getting off her chair, and putting her arm around her.

“It’s ok. It’s alright. I’m here now.”

When she had regained enough composure and gave Jane the Ok, Jane went back to her seat.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just not thought about him this long in a while.”

“What happened between you two, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Well, I’ve already reached this far. Might as well tell you. We got separated. We went a bit too far in our love for each other and needed some time away. It happens.”

“Have you seen him since?”

“No... But that’s ok, that’s good. We have to keep moving, so as long as we both remember the love that we have for one another,… at least as long as I remember for both of us….”

“... Do you think you’ll ever see him again?”

“Maybe, can never be too sure. Don’t know how he’ll even recognize me. It’s been a long while since we’ve seen each other. But I know one thing about him, just one thing. If I ever saw him again, I would absolutely know it was him.”

Jane’s eyes watered once again. There was a lump in her throat that she tried to swallow down, but it just seemed to pain her as she did, something which Clara picked up on, taking Jane’s hand and squeezing it. After all Jane had chosen to do for her, she had no doubt in her mind she’d be there for her too. If this poor woman could suffer through her own heartbroken memories to comfort an immortal woman who was in love with an alien, the least she could do was be there for her as well.

“Hey, I’m sure you’ll see her again too.”

Jane could only nod as the tears continued to flow. The two sat in silence for a bit longer, taking some time to regain themselves, letting the sad stories take their toll. Eventually, she saw the time and realized how long she had been there with Jane. She really did enjoy the time with her, but she had to be going. If only to avoid the further pain.

Was she doing it again? Running away from it? Yes, but she wasn’t ready yet. But one day she would. She was sure of it. Not only would she finally be ready to talk about what happened with the Doctor, but maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to finally see him again as well. But that was a long way away.

“Umm, it’s about time I leave. I... have an appointment at my job pretty soon. Do you wanna split a cab or something?”

Clara had no intention of needing a cab to go anywhere, but she wanted to make sure Jane got home safe. She owed her that much.

“No, I’m fine. I might just stick around here for a while.”

“Ok. ... Guess this is goodbye then.”

“Guess it is.”

“Unless you don’t want it to be. Do you?”

“Should I?”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d want to swap numbers or something.”

Jane laughed, a mixture of sorrow and happiness. “I’m not really a phone call kind of gal. But, I hope I run into you again.”

“Me too... goodbye Jane.”

“Goodbye Clara.”

Clara walked away, focusing on whatever was coming next for her, before she was stopped by Jane once again.

“Clara!”

“Yeah?”

“I hope you find him again one day.” Jane said with a supportive smile.

“Thanks, but I don’t think that’s very likely, to be honest.“

“I wouldn’t be so sure. You never know where he could be. He might very well be closer than you think, .... Clara Oswald.”

Clara stopped dead in her tracks. Every fiber of her being just seemed to pause all at once as her eyes widened. She... she... she never told Jane her last name. She had nothing on her that said it, didn’t show off her ID, nothing. How...how did she know? She turned around, looking at the woman, who now completely befuddled her. Clara then saw a glint in the woman’s eyes, something familiar. Something impossible. But it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. There were only two people in her centuries of living that had that glint that drew her in like that. But it just made little sense. It wasn’t possible. Not after what she had done.

“Every story ever told really happened. Stories are where memories go when they’re forgotten. I just needed to... get a refresher on mine.”

Clara drew closer towards her, almost like her body was controlling her and her mind was just watching. She stared deeply into the women’s eyes, looking for something, anything, to verify what she thought she knew, what she hoped, what she desperately hoped to be true. Was it improbable? Did it potentially endanger the universe? Yes, but at this moment, she didn’t care at all. All she wanted was for what she had dreamed for at nights, to finally be a reality.

“But you’re... look at you... you... You can’t be....”

“Yeah, it is a big change. I’ll give you that. But...it’s me.” She said, as she grasped Clara’s hands, kissing them as she did so.

“I’m right here, standing in front of you. Not on the phone, not on Gallifrey. So please, just, just see me.”

Clara didn’t shout, she didn’t go ballistic, she simply wrapped her arms around her in an embrace, holding on for dear life. Not this time. She wouldn’t let him…. her go this time. She didn’t care if the Doctor had to pry her off with a crowbar; she wasn’t letting go. Not when she finally got her back.

“But..how...?”

“I’ll explain it all to you. But not here, somewhere.. familiar.”

The Doctor then produced a Tardis key, shining, shimmering in its brilliance. At least, that’s how it seemed to Clara.

“It’s not parked far away from here. Fancy a trip to the box?” the Doctor asked, with as hopeful a grin as she had had in a long time.

“More than anything I’ve ever wanted.” Clara said, matching it.

The two joined hands for the first time in centuries, before they walked out of the café, entering a new era in their relationship, one they would never forget.

#doctor who #clara oswald #thirteenth doctor #twelfth doctor #whouffaldi #soufflaker #whouffle week 2021 #fanfic #archive of our own #ao3

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