Chapter Text
INTRO
"Everything has a beginning. A starting place. A point of origin."
The soft sound of chalk dragging along the board echoed coldly through the control room as he scratched words out of pure white dust onto a blanket of black. With a short clack of his boot on the metal grate, he stepped back, eying it carefully,
"And with that beginning," he continued, miles-wide eyebrows knitted together in thought, "So, must also come an end."
He placed his hands behind his back, chalk still poised between his fingertips as he paced the console floor,
"Take a bullet from a gun. Explosive at the start, it seeks a destination when the trigger is pulled. It has a path, a course...a destiny. And when it finds it," he smacked the tip of the chalk against the board and let it fall from his grasp, "It stops."
"But what of a circle? Unlike the line a bullet travels, it has no clear point of origin and no clear end. A circle is eternal," he said, taking up another piece of chalk in hand and drawing said circle on the board, "You can only tell where it starts when you draw it out for yourself and it ends at it's beginning. Like a clock..."
He began to write numbers in the circle, a storm brewing in his eyes,
"Every hour on the hour, the clock strikes twelve. One hour ends and another begins. And so it goes, on and on and on into eternity. But did the last hour really end at all? Did a new one ever really begin?"
Stepping over to the console, he flipped a few knobs, and the TARDIS hummed to life, sending him hurtling through the time vortex,
"And then, there's the universe. One Big Bang and it comes alive. An explosive flash creates life across galaxies, and this new found life begins the long and winding journey toward the end of time itself."
"Question," he began pacing again, peering deeply into the monitor as the ship set sight on Earth,
"What do we know about the start of the universe? Of her numerous complexities? Answer: There are many theories...and they all seem to point to that one Big Bang!"
He tore across the floor, back to the chalk board and wiped it clean, beginning another doodle,
"But what caused it? What force could be behind such an explosion, could breathe fire into the ice cold emptiness of space? Who was the trigger man? Could it have even been a man? Perhaps it was a woman? Maybe a God? Perhaps there was no trigger man at all and perhaps the universe just popped into existence like a cork from a champagne bottle...?"
He straightened, swallowing hard as he gazed at what he had written. It was two words, two simple, ordinary words that when put together, sent a flush and a fluttering through his hearts,
"Or maybe it was just a wolf...so lonely in the vastness of space with no moon to howl at....so it created it's own company?"
A loud siren drew him from his ramblings and he turned, frowning as he approached the monitor. Pulling it toward him in a quick motion, he narrowed his eyes at what he saw and frowned,
"No. No, stop that. That's annoying," he smacked it a few times, and stood back, waiting for the image to change. It didn't, "Why are you doing that!? What's wrong with you!?"
He frowned as he watched the screen intently, shaking his head as the map continued to glitch and fragment. Smacking the monitor again, his eyes widened as it came back up and he quickly dashed around the console. Flicking switches and pulling knobs, he guided her faster through the swirling vortex, soon coming to a halt. He then ran to the monitor. The map had not changed. Eyes wide, he turned and rushed to the doors, throwing them open. The wind struck him abruptly as he leaned out, turning his gaze to the vast, churning space of ocean below. He swallowed hard,
"That's not possible..."
~ø~
A strong wind chilled through her as it blew through the cemetery, freezing her bones, making her shiver. Kneeling down, Clara Oswald set the bouquet down at the foot of a headstone and sat back, tucking a section of unruly hair behind her ear,
"Happy New Year."
She smiled to herself as she was met with the chirping of birds and with a sigh, she hugged her knees and shook her head,
"Christmas was bonkers. Too much figgy pudding. Gave me nightmares. And indigestion...not a fan of indigestion. Or nightmares, for that matter."
A laugh escaped her. She almost felt silly doing this, talking to a slab of granite. It wasn't like he could hear her. He wasn't there. Not anymore, not like he could have been, like she should have been, when he still was. Instead, she had been telling lies, travelling with the Doctor when she'd told him she'd end it.
It was her fault it was over, because she couldn't give it up. No matter how hard she tried, she had always gone back to him. There was a thrill in the adventure like nothing she had ever felt before, an adrenaline in her veins, addicting, kept her coming back. And because of that, she had lost him. Because she couldn't give it up. She just couldn't say no.
Wiping her eyes of tears, she rose to her feet and rubbed her arms for warmth as she felt a shiver pass over her,
"I'm sorry, Danny. I'm so sorry," she began, her voice cracking in shame, "You deserved better. Better than me, anyway."
Turning away from the tombstone, she shoved her hands in her pockets and began the slow, lonely walk back to her apartment.
As she reached her door, she unlocked it and smiled, finding herself met with the adorably fluffy face of a ginger cat. She giggled as she stepped inside and closed her door, plucking it off the ground with a grin as she walked to the kitchen,
"Hey, Lola! How's my baby?"
The cat rubbed on her hands and face as she carried it to the kitchen, and setting it on the ground, she opened the refrigerator to grab a can of food.
She sighed as she pulled out the last can of food and turned to the feline, scowling slightly,
"Looks like we're down to the Purina."
The cat cried at her and she shook her head,
"I know, I know, you're so picky. But the store was out of Iams! Purina was the cheapest alternative, which is a shame, cause I'm more of a Fancy Feast girl, myself."
She paused briefly at the phrase and giggled, shaking her head as she opened it and scooped some out onto Lola's dish,
"Huh....haven't thought about that in a long time."
With a sigh, she set the dish on the floor and patted the cat on the head,
"Just be glad it's not dog food....and that I didn't cook it for you. Stuff's like death warmed over."
Rising up, she went to the cabinet for a cup and put a kettle on for tea. It was true, she hadn't thought about those adventures for a long time, over a year to be exact. She'd almost forgotten all about it, running about the desert hunting down Cybermen and stopping Mr. Clever from taking over Battery City. She giggled. That had been the name hadn't it, Battery City? She couldn't quite remember.
Grabbing a tea bag, she took the now screaming kettle off the burner and poured some water into her cup. A smile struck her. The image of a young man with hair red as fire came to her mind and she leaned on the counter, fiddling with the bag in her cup.
Party Poison.
Thinking about him was strange. It made her heart flutter and race in excitement, felt like the sun was hitting her face as it peeked through storm clouds for the first time in ages. And it ached, oh, did it ache, and she knew why. Because like everything else in her life, like everyone else in her life... he was gone.
Guilt set in as she fixed her tea and wandered out to the living room, Lola at her heels as she walked to the sofa and sat down. The little cat hopped up beside her, purring and cooing, and she smiled, rubbing it's chin with a sigh,
"At least I've got you, ey?"
Reaching over to the table, she grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. An old movie was on, in black and white and she found herself smiling. She and Danny used to watch old movies with the TV on mute.
He wasn't here now, though, so she set the remote down and leaned back against the cushions to watch with full sound. It was just starting. Her heart stalled as the title screen rolled. It was a picture of a wreath, with the words 'Selznick International Presents: I'll Be Seeing You' with a chorus of voices seeing the old tune overtop a swelling orchestra. She swallowed hard.
"It was nice to meet you, Party Poison."
A flutter of butterflies flitted about in her stomach as she remembered how gently he'd kissed her hand.
"Nice meeting you, too...Soufflé Girl."
Setting her cup down on the table beside her, she rose and headed to her bedroom. She stopped at the dresser and hesitantly pulled open the third drawer from the top. She pushed aside her neatly folded clothes to find a sullied, blue handkerchief tucked in a perfect square at the bottom of the drawer. Taking it out, she unfolded it carefully and let it lay flat in her hand.
"That rain out there is more acid than water," she remembered him saying as he'd wrapped it around her palm.
"Thank you," she'd replied. The stunned look on his face after she'd said it was worth noting. Had he never been thanked before? Or had he even been seeing her at all?
"Bev, she...she was my wife. A school teacher. You kind of remind me of her. A little..."
Biting her cheek, she shook her head. Of course he hadn't seen her, not really. Back then, she reminded everyone of someone else. The Doctor of an echo, Party Poison of his wife. The first person to ever truly see her for her had been Danny. And she'd been the only one he was looking at. Tears hit her eyes. What was she even doing? Reminiscing like this?
She had papers to grade.
With a sigh, she rose to her feet and headed back out into the other room. She marched over to the bin and stepped on the pedal, opening the lid. Her hand clenched around the handkerchief. The best thing to do was let go of it, she knew that. She couldn't hold on to it forever. Before she could pitch it in, her phone began to buzz on the kitchen counter and she sighed. Marching over to it, she groaned as the picture of a praying mantis caught her eye and she shook her head, answering it shortly,
"Doctor, not now. I'm busy--"
"Australia is missing."
She straightened, holding tight to the handkerchief as she raised an eyebrow,
"Well, that's a new one. Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure," the Doctor's voice glitched, crackling and warbling through the receiver, "I got an alert from the TARDIS. Went to the coordinates. It's nothing but ocean as far as the eye can see--!"
"Well, that is very nice and I'm sure you'll figure it out," she sighed, gazing at the cloth again.
"Don't you mean 'we'?"
"No, I mean you," she sighed, heading over to her kitchen table, "I have papers to grade."
"Oh, yes of course, because Timmy getting an 'A' on his History paper is more important than the possible, impending apocalypse that may or may not be fast approaching."
"I teach English, Doctor, not History."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, Doctor," she sat down, opening her binder, "I'm sure! I teach English! I'm an English teacher!"
"Well, perhaps you should consider a career switch?"
"And why would I want to do that?"
"Because by the time I figure out what bloody happened to Australia, the human race could very well BE history!"
Rolling her eyes, she leaned on the table and tapped her pen to the surface,
"Okay, serious now. I have to work! Whatever it is going on with Australia you can figure it out by yourself. You're a big boy!"
"But Clara--!"
"Goodbye, Doctor," she said as she pulled the phone from her ear. Swiping her finger across the screen, she dropped the call and set her phone down a ways from her.
Picking up the first sheet, she smiled and began to read it over,
"Okay, Timothy. What do you have for me?"
A scowl struck her face as she read the title,
"The After Effects of World War II and it's Impact on History?"
Shaking her head, she put the paper aside and went on to the next one,
"Wrong class, Timothy."
Her phone began buzzing again and snatching it up, she answered it with an exasperated sigh,
"Doctor, I said not tonight--!"
"Ooh, who is this Doctor? He sounds delightful."
"O-oh! Kathy, hi! How are you," Clara blushed nervously, and shook her head, "Sorry, I thought you were...erm...my doctor."
"Why, sweetie? Is something wrong?"
"What? No, no, nothing's wrong! I just...never mind. What's up?"
"Some of the girls and I are going to hit the new club that's opened in town. Thought maybe you'd wanna join?"
Clara sighed deeply and shook her head,
"Oh, I'm sorry, Kath, but I can't. I've got papers to grade."
"Well, so do we! C'mon, Oswald, live a little!"
"Kath--"
"We all know you've been having a hard time as of late since Danny passed. But you don't have to do it alone, you know! Come out with us tonight and give yourself a break! Have a good time! Just try it!"
She tapped her pen to the desk and sighed. Setting it down, she grabbed the handkerchief and gazed at it a moment. A smile flitted across her lips,
"Where?"
~ø~
The club was small and smelled strongly of beer and piss. Clara scowled as she followed her friends onto the cramped dance floor, clinging tightly to her bag as they worked their way to the middle. She grimaced as several drunkards plowed into her, shouting over the booming bass to Kathy,
"Are you sure we need to be dead centre!? I think the outer rim is fine!!"
"Don't be such a sour puss, Oswald," Kathy called back, shooting her a wink, "The centre is where all the action is!"
"I really don't need the action," Clara replied, "In fact, I'd very much like to be not where the action is right now!"
She gasped as someone stumbled into her and a wave of booze flooded her top as they dropped their cup square on her chest. Kathy didn't seem to notice. Rolling her eyes, Clara cut her way back through the crowd and over to the bar, calling to the barkeep,
"Do you have a napkin?"
They nodded and handed her a rag as she sat down at the bar,
"Thank you!"
She quickly went to dabbing herself dry, groaning in aggravation as she glanced back out onto the dance floor. She was not in the mood for this, not for any of it. She'd turned down the Doctor because she wasn't in the mood for adventure, what made her think she would be in the mood for drunk people and dancing?
It beat being lonely, she surmised, but she wasn't technically alone. She had her cat. Straightening, she let out a heavy sigh and closed her eyes,
"Oh my God. I'm one of those people."
She slapped a hand to her head and groaned. The beat in the club slowly began shifting then and she smiled as a familiar tune pulsed over the airwaves. The enhanced voice of Dick Van Dyke began echoing across the crowd and she giggled softly, her mind drifting back to the desert.
"Chim Chim-i-ney, Chim Chim-i-ney, Chim Chim Cheree...when you're with a sweep you're in glad company..."
She smiled as the sound of his voice singing softly into her ear drowned out the DJ's booming remix and bit her lip as nostalgia washed over her. She missed him. For better or worse, she missed that red-headed lunatic and his fast car and his bad habits. She missed the excitement of speeding through the desert at 90mph, she missed the smell of the sand and the blistering hot rays of sun. She'd barely known him for a day, but somehow that didn't matter. He'd been like a drug, akin to the Doctor and the TARDIS. Something she could have easily become addicted to. Danger. That's what he was. He was danger and she didn't have the sense to stay away.
Her heart ached, again, as she remembered the security footage, showing his untimely end at the hands of that exterminator. It wasn't fair. The opportunity for one more adventure with him was extinguished before it ever ignited. She bowed her head. They would have been good mates, she thought. Not necessarily in a romantic way or a physical way even, just really good friends. Reaching in her purse, she pulled out the handkerchief and smiled. She wasn't even sure why she'd brought it with her.
"Just a reminder, I guess," she breathed, rubbing her thumb along the fabric.
"Nowhere is there a more happier crew, than them wot sings Chim Chim Cheree, Chim Cher--"
She jumped as the music cut off in a dramatic crash of static and whining and straightened in her seat. Seconds later, the bulbs of the strobes burst as a hot pink flash of light struck them and she rose from her stool, watching stunned as the patrons began fleeing. Hopping down, she ran into them, toward the centre of the action. Adventure seemed to be chasing her today. She supposed it was time to stop running. Pushing through the crowd, she heard a shout echo across the dance hall. The voice was familiar,
"All right! Everybody off the dance floor!"
The crowd screamed as another shot was fired and the disco ball came crashing down, nearly striking Kathy by the looks of it.
"So, where is she, huh? What'd you fuckers do to her?"
Clara swallowed hard. Yep. That voice was familiar all right. As she reached the front of the crowd, her eyes widened as they fell upon the visage of a young man with fiery hair. He had his back turned to her, and she could just make out the pill emblem on the back of his jacket.
"You fuckers deaf," he continued, aiming his insanely bright, yellow gun at the patrons, "I said, 'where is she!?' Where is Clara Oswald!?"
She froze as he turned fully around, their eyes meeting across the floor, and she swallowed hard. Kathy stepped up beside her, her voice a frantic whisper in her ear,
"Clara? Who is that? Do you know him??"
"Oh, Doctor," Clara clenched her teeth, mumbling softly to herself as she noticed some of the patrons whipping out their cellphones, presumably to call the authorities.
"What have you done?"