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“Don’t speak. Don’t start. Just run. Now. Go.” The Doctor commanded, choking out the words around the lump that had risen in his throat. Run like hell, he thought, because you’ll always need to.
It had taken time. A human lifetime and a half, approximately. And there were still bits he couldn’t quite recall. Exactly what jokes made those dimples appear on her round face. How her hair smelled after a wash.
But he remembered enough.
The neural block had only been made to last a human lifespan and he had plenty of those to spare. He’d spent the most recent one teaching at a university, because there was something about the profession that called to him. When he remembered the part where she had been a teacher, he’d laughed himself sick and stayed that way for three days. Sick, that is. Not laughing. It hadn’t seemed very funny, after all.
As Bill skittered down the stairs, her memories intact, The Doctor locked himself in the Tardis.
Nardole wasn’t there, for which he was grateful. He needed to be alone when he was like this. Questions would only hurt his head (and his hearts) to answer.
He leaned over the controls, bracing himself on both arms, head ducked low. That feeling had come over him, again. As it so often did when the memories trickled in. That sharply hollow sensation in his chest, as though both hearts had vacated and gone traveling on their own. Perhaps in a Tardis shaped like an American diner. Perhaps not.
He didn’t always notice her absence, not every minute of every day. After all, he’d lost so many others before her. So many little pieces of himself, in previous lives, scattered to the wind. There’d be nothing left of him if he kept track all the time. Moments like this one though, with everything so fresh on his mind he could almost hear her laugh…
Exhaling heavily, he ran a hand over the console. His fingers sunk in blindly, mind fixating on the feel of a body much smaller than his pressed against his chest as he had once guided her hands. He followed the movements in his mind’s eye, letting the Tardis decide where he needed to go.
When the whooshing noise stopped and he knew they’d landed, he hesitated.
Did he really want to know what was on the other side of that door?
Of course he did. When had he not?
They seemed to be in a forest. Light filtered through a canopy of leaves, trees and flowering plants of varying kinds sprouted tall and proud in every direction. The floor was a canvas of petals, seed pods, and other greenery. He prodded an oddly shaped leaf with one toe, his hand braced against the doorframe.
“Where have you taken me, old girl?”
Where you needed to be, said a voice in his mind. His or the Tardis, he couldn’t be sure. It didn’t really matter.
Scanning the surroundings, he realized they were familiar, though he had rarely ventured this far out. He stumbled forward, reaching for that thread of familiarity. There was a sound of babbling water, a gentle lapping. Nothing like what he’d been running from earlier today with Bill. He ventured toward it.
Some part of him knew there’d be a path, a set of benches carved from stone, and a very small waterfall just ahead. He stopped short when he heard voices and stepped behind a tree.
“How do you even get into an argument with a tree? Let alone plan to win one?” a light female voice asked, sounding bemused.
“Very easily, in fact. It was a sentient tree. Highly intelligent genus but infuriatingly stubborn,” a male voice replied.
The woman made a noise halfway between a laugh and a scoff. “Hmm, fancy that. Surprised you two didn’t get on like a house on fire.”
“Clara, please don’t mention the ‘f’ word in a garden. Too many trees may be listening and I won’t make that mistake again.” the male voice admonished.
Clara giggled. “Well I guess that explains how the argument started, at least.”
“Oh no, that came much later. We originally disagreed about the intergalactic parliamentary decision to ratify an amendment that would allow landed gentry limited access to the water supply on neighboring planets. Well, actually we agreed on that bit but there was some fine print that -”
“Doctor?”
“Mmh?”
“Stop talking, yeah?”
A pause. “Yes boss.”
The Doctor, still hidden behind his tree, didn’t have to look to know what happened next. This memory was crystal clear, shining in his mind like a gem. Their last outing together before the Raven. Before Gallifrey. Before… before everything else that happened after.
He closed his eyes, leaning back against the mossy trunk, and took a deep, shaky breath. The air was perfumed with dozens and dozens of flowers in bloom but he found himself straining to catch a whiff of Clara’s shampoo.
No, no good. It was still lost.
He heard them beginning to move once more, an unharried stroll, a few quiet murmurs. Daring a peek, he watched their backs recede into the trees. Their arms were linked, Clara’s head resting against his shoulder. Casually comfortable and totally unaware of all that lay ahead.
For just a moment, he had the mad impulse to warn them, tell them to stay well away from Trap streets and immortal girls who rose to power a little too easily. To tell them to run away in their blue box and never look back. Timelines and rules and fixed events be damned.
But he knew the consequences better than that. It would only prolong the inevitable. The Hybrid had to be separated, one way or another.
At least he was starting to remember their final goodbye. How she'd joked about running away, sadness painting every word bittersweet. How he’d asked her to smile though her eyes were glassy with tears. And then there’d been nothing. He’d had years to say goodbye to River and only moments with Clara. It hardly seemed fair.
Whoever said time was fair? That voice in his head challenged him.
He recognized it, at last, after finally hearing it again. It was her voice, as it had been for so long. The part of her he carried with him always.
She’d never let him stand idle in the second most beautiful garden in the world, feeling sorry for himself over what he’d lost. She’d tell him to chin up and move on. She’d tell him that even with all the time in the universe, he was only wasting it if he spent it like this.
The Doctor gave a watery chuckle, swiping at his eyes. He really was terrible at being alone. It had been decades now with only Nardole - who barely counted as company. Perhaps it was time, after all. Back into that messy fray, back into the universe with a new companion by his side.
In the distance, he could hear the shouting of the natives. The trouble was starting for his past self and Clara.
Run, you clever boy, and be a Doctor.
Back in the Tardis, he hovered over the controls for just a moment before deciding where to go next. He landed only seconds after he’d left, this time by the tree just outside his office, where Bill was sure to see him.
“What changed your mind?” Bill asked him.
“Time.”
It was the only true answer he could give.