Keep Your Head Down - 1/2
Keep Your Head Down
Clara, Twelve/Clara, 1531 Words, Angst, PG-13, Chapters 1/2
She follows him, tired as she is, because she can’t quite let them go.
truth be told i've tried my best
but somewhere along the way
i got caught up in all there was to offer
and the cost was so much more than i could bear
The heat washes over her and is oppressive as she tugs her bag higher over her shoulder, sighing silently as she steps inside her flat. Tossing her keys onto the hall table, she kicks off her shoes as she makes her way to the kitchen.
She had spent the whole day trapped in a school room without a whisper of a breeze and now that the sun was starting to set, she ventures onto the tiny back patio (she calls it a patio but it’s really nothing more than a square of cement but its hers) with a glass of wine. Even with the heat pressing against her, she enjoys the peace.
For a moment.
“There’s nothing to do in your kitchen.”
Clara turns to stare back at the Doctor, watching his lips curl into a pout.
“Haven’t you broken enough of my appliances? I still haven’t gotten a replacement toaster from you, despite your numerous promises. How long have you been here?”
“No money. You didn’t leave any.” The Doctor pushes gently at the door, forcing Clara to shift forward to allow him entrance onto the patio. He is successful at ignoring her protests and questions. He sits down next to her forcing her to budge over. “Hey!” She protests, but doesn't really push.
The Doctor ignores her protests. “Good, now that you’re home we can go have some fun. I’m bored. ” She only rolls her eyes, turning to face him. “You have a time machine. How is that even possible? Just pop ahead to when I’m free and we can be off.”
He turns and stares at her thoughtfully, “Well and good, but you’re never free. Always busy, swanning off to this and that. It’s quite annoying.” He is careful to not sit too close to her, trying to keep the annoyance out of his face and voice. They sit shoulder to shoulder, staring at the colors streaking across the sky, the silence between them quiet and heavy. She doesn’t know how to respond. Her life has gotten complicated these past few months and in truth, she feels like she is living a double life. She wants to blame him, tell him that it’s his fault for changing the dynamic of their relationship. I never said it was your mistake. Her breath still catches when she thinks too much on it.
“It really is lovely at this time of night. I feel like I never get to see this.” Clara spoke softly, cutting through the silence.
The Doctor turns to look at her, hand coming up to ghost against her hair, stopping himself before he touches it. “I like when you wear your hair down.”
Clara smiles at him, “Yeah, you notice? Half the time I am not sure you even see me.”
He raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t answer. Instead, he stands, extending his hand down to her. She reaches up and lets him help her up. But he drops her hand as quickly as he is able, brushing his against the leg of his pants. Clara pretends she doesn’t see.
She follows him, tired as she is, because she can’t quite let them go.
*
She thinks about leaving sometimes.
Actually, she thinks about leaving almost every day. Telling the Doctor that she can’t do this anymore. The double life, the secrets, and now the lies. It’s starting to become the first thing she thinks about in the morning and the very last thought she has before drifting off into oblivion at night. She knows that it might be easier to just stop, because it hurts to hold on and she knows it will hurt so much more to let go.
She doesn’t leave because he is hers and she is his. He scowls and avoids, this thinking Doctor of hers but he is still hers. She knows he pushes at her, wanting her to have another life but sometimes she thinks he sees her as the prize; the one to win by being better, faster, and smarter than all the others. His vanity is still at play and sometimes she wonders if it’s enough. Is it jealousy that has him popping into her flat more often than not or is it sheer competitiveness that drives him? What happens to her when he wins?
Time to go, time to go. It echoes in her mind, every time she sees him (which is less and less frequently) but she knows she’s stronger than that.
At least, she wants to be.
*
It rained the day they ended.
Rain so hard you could see the slant as it worked its way down from the clouds and dropped to the ground with a distinct plop and ricochet. The rain was fast, furious in its intensity and Clara thought it was simply a reflection of the day she had been having. She turns her face up to the sky through the windows of her flat, hoping that the onslaught doesn't signify anything more than what it was. Rain.
She turns to watch the Doctor pacing up and down her hallway at a dizzying pace. She places her fingers against her temple, willing the throbbing to stop. “Look at all the time we’re wasting! We could have been gone and back by now.” His voice cracks through her head like whip and Clara winces.
“I told you, I can’t.” She sighes. “Honestly, I am not feeling all that great.” He stops his endless pacing and pauses in front of her. “Are you ok?” concern evident on his face.
“No, I just said I wasn’t.”
“But it’s Wednesday.” His voice is petulant and Clara wants to smack him.
“Still not ok.”
“So you’re…not…coming?” The Doctor stares at her, dragging out the sentence.
“No, not.” Clara closes her eyes, listening to the sounds of the Tardis as it leaves.
It is weeks before the Doctor returns.
*
Sometimes Clara wonders how it came to this. The more she pulls, the more he pushes. She gives, he takes. This is what they have become. When did it become such a struggle? The simple things became so complex and she spends too much of her time wondering what he is doing, and how he is feeling. Gone is the easy flow of their relationship and she misses him even more.
She can’t begin to count all the times that she’d tried to push through his defenses, clawed away at them, only to be met with more layers. The hand that was ignored, the wary way he watched her, in case she moved too close. She kept waiting, hoping that he would see beneath all that pain that lurks. What was one more day if it meant having one more moment? She has started gathering all the moments together and clinging to them, hoping that they would change what she had become. Clara hopes that these moments would complete them if she could hold onto enough of them.
Clara thinks she can hold on just a little bit longer, stay the ebbing tide that is on its way to totally consuming her. But she’s so tired and she is sure, so sure, that this is the right time. When did she become so consumed with leaving? How can she even contemplate it? Could she even consider it?
One day you meet the Doctor. And of course, it's the best day ever. It's just the best day of your life. Because, because he's brilliant, and he's funny, and mad, and best of all, he really needs you. The trick is, don't fall in love. I do that trick quite a lot, sometimes twice a day. And once you start running, you start to forget, slowly. After a while, you just stop asking.
Don’t fall in love.
Too late.
*
It’s a Wednesday when they meet again.
She sighs when she hears the sound of the Tardis in her bedroom and moves from the kitchen to greet him. He doesn’t come out, so she pushes on the door and enters the Tardis slowly. She sees him leaning against the console and feels a rush of pleasure stream through her. She knows now that there is no way she could leave, the past few weeks had been needed but unbearable. She approaches him cautiously, wanting nothing more than to fling herself against him and welcome him back.
He looks at her, his gaze steady. “It’s Wednesday, are you free?”
“Where have you been?” She can avoid as easily.
“You’ve been busy, thought I would give you space.” He turns to look down at the console. “Or did I misunderstand?”
Her voice is quiet, full of apology. “I’m free. Where are we going?”
He won’t admit it but he missed her terribly, he hates Wednesdays almost as much as he craves them. The hours are endless and he misses having her with him. Planning was never something he was overly good at. Things were going to change.
“On a trip!”
Clara, Twelve/Clara, 1531 Words, Angst, PG-13, Chapters 1/2
She follows him, tired as she is, because she can’t quite let them go.
truth be told i've tried my best
but somewhere along the way
i got caught up in all there was to offer
and the cost was so much more than i could bear
The heat washes over her and is oppressive as she tugs her bag higher over her shoulder, sighing silently as she steps inside her flat. Tossing her keys onto the hall table, she kicks off her shoes as she makes her way to the kitchen.
She had spent the whole day trapped in a school room without a whisper of a breeze and now that the sun was starting to set, she ventures onto the tiny back patio (she calls it a patio but it’s really nothing more than a square of cement but its hers) with a glass of wine. Even with the heat pressing against her, she enjoys the peace.
For a moment.
“There’s nothing to do in your kitchen.”
Clara turns to stare back at the Doctor, watching his lips curl into a pout.
“Haven’t you broken enough of my appliances? I still haven’t gotten a replacement toaster from you, despite your numerous promises. How long have you been here?”
“No money. You didn’t leave any.” The Doctor pushes gently at the door, forcing Clara to shift forward to allow him entrance onto the patio. He is successful at ignoring her protests and questions. He sits down next to her forcing her to budge over. “Hey!” She protests, but doesn't really push.
The Doctor ignores her protests. “Good, now that you’re home we can go have some fun. I’m bored. ” She only rolls her eyes, turning to face him. “You have a time machine. How is that even possible? Just pop ahead to when I’m free and we can be off.”
He turns and stares at her thoughtfully, “Well and good, but you’re never free. Always busy, swanning off to this and that. It’s quite annoying.” He is careful to not sit too close to her, trying to keep the annoyance out of his face and voice. They sit shoulder to shoulder, staring at the colors streaking across the sky, the silence between them quiet and heavy. She doesn’t know how to respond. Her life has gotten complicated these past few months and in truth, she feels like she is living a double life. She wants to blame him, tell him that it’s his fault for changing the dynamic of their relationship. I never said it was your mistake. Her breath still catches when she thinks too much on it.
“It really is lovely at this time of night. I feel like I never get to see this.” Clara spoke softly, cutting through the silence.
The Doctor turns to look at her, hand coming up to ghost against her hair, stopping himself before he touches it. “I like when you wear your hair down.”
Clara smiles at him, “Yeah, you notice? Half the time I am not sure you even see me.”
He raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t answer. Instead, he stands, extending his hand down to her. She reaches up and lets him help her up. But he drops her hand as quickly as he is able, brushing his against the leg of his pants. Clara pretends she doesn’t see.
She follows him, tired as she is, because she can’t quite let them go.
*
She thinks about leaving sometimes.
Actually, she thinks about leaving almost every day. Telling the Doctor that she can’t do this anymore. The double life, the secrets, and now the lies. It’s starting to become the first thing she thinks about in the morning and the very last thought she has before drifting off into oblivion at night. She knows that it might be easier to just stop, because it hurts to hold on and she knows it will hurt so much more to let go.
She doesn’t leave because he is hers and she is his. He scowls and avoids, this thinking Doctor of hers but he is still hers. She knows he pushes at her, wanting her to have another life but sometimes she thinks he sees her as the prize; the one to win by being better, faster, and smarter than all the others. His vanity is still at play and sometimes she wonders if it’s enough. Is it jealousy that has him popping into her flat more often than not or is it sheer competitiveness that drives him? What happens to her when he wins?
Time to go, time to go. It echoes in her mind, every time she sees him (which is less and less frequently) but she knows she’s stronger than that.
At least, she wants to be.
*
It rained the day they ended.
Rain so hard you could see the slant as it worked its way down from the clouds and dropped to the ground with a distinct plop and ricochet. The rain was fast, furious in its intensity and Clara thought it was simply a reflection of the day she had been having. She turns her face up to the sky through the windows of her flat, hoping that the onslaught doesn't signify anything more than what it was. Rain.
She turns to watch the Doctor pacing up and down her hallway at a dizzying pace. She places her fingers against her temple, willing the throbbing to stop. “Look at all the time we’re wasting! We could have been gone and back by now.” His voice cracks through her head like whip and Clara winces.
“I told you, I can’t.” She sighes. “Honestly, I am not feeling all that great.” He stops his endless pacing and pauses in front of her. “Are you ok?” concern evident on his face.
“No, I just said I wasn’t.”
“But it’s Wednesday.” His voice is petulant and Clara wants to smack him.
“Still not ok.”
“So you’re…not…coming?” The Doctor stares at her, dragging out the sentence.
“No, not.” Clara closes her eyes, listening to the sounds of the Tardis as it leaves.
It is weeks before the Doctor returns.
*
Sometimes Clara wonders how it came to this. The more she pulls, the more he pushes. She gives, he takes. This is what they have become. When did it become such a struggle? The simple things became so complex and she spends too much of her time wondering what he is doing, and how he is feeling. Gone is the easy flow of their relationship and she misses him even more.
She can’t begin to count all the times that she’d tried to push through his defenses, clawed away at them, only to be met with more layers. The hand that was ignored, the wary way he watched her, in case she moved too close. She kept waiting, hoping that he would see beneath all that pain that lurks. What was one more day if it meant having one more moment? She has started gathering all the moments together and clinging to them, hoping that they would change what she had become. Clara hopes that these moments would complete them if she could hold onto enough of them.
Clara thinks she can hold on just a little bit longer, stay the ebbing tide that is on its way to totally consuming her. But she’s so tired and she is sure, so sure, that this is the right time. When did she become so consumed with leaving? How can she even contemplate it? Could she even consider it?
One day you meet the Doctor. And of course, it's the best day ever. It's just the best day of your life. Because, because he's brilliant, and he's funny, and mad, and best of all, he really needs you. The trick is, don't fall in love. I do that trick quite a lot, sometimes twice a day. And once you start running, you start to forget, slowly. After a while, you just stop asking.
Don’t fall in love.
Too late.
*
It’s a Wednesday when they meet again.
She sighs when she hears the sound of the Tardis in her bedroom and moves from the kitchen to greet him. He doesn’t come out, so she pushes on the door and enters the Tardis slowly. She sees him leaning against the console and feels a rush of pleasure stream through her. She knows now that there is no way she could leave, the past few weeks had been needed but unbearable. She approaches him cautiously, wanting nothing more than to fling herself against him and welcome him back.
He looks at her, his gaze steady. “It’s Wednesday, are you free?”
“Where have you been?” She can avoid as easily.
“You’ve been busy, thought I would give you space.” He turns to look down at the console. “Or did I misunderstand?”
Her voice is quiet, full of apology. “I’m free. Where are we going?”
He won’t admit it but he missed her terribly, he hates Wednesdays almost as much as he craves them. The hours are endless and he misses having her with him. Planning was never something he was overly good at. Things were going to change.
“On a trip!”