Chapter Text
1. Your disturbing love life
As Clara came back to her TARDIS, her thoughts were still swimming in the glow of her date with Alarra. They had not kissed yet - too soon, but, darn, she had high hopes. The connection… Clara felt her heart bolting in joy – at least, metaphorically.
Her romantic musings came to a halt the moment she stepped inside the console room. Me sat sprawled on the captain’s chair with her boots propped on the edge of the console. She was lazily flipping through one of Clara’s leather-bound notebooks, her face a mask of disinterest that Clara knew better than to take at face value.
“Late night, Little Miss Perfect?” Me drawled, not looking up. “Or are we calling it early morning now? Must’ve been some date.”
Clara smiled, slipping off her coat and draping it over a nearby railing. “Good evening to you, Me. My date was fine, thanks. What brings you here?”
Me snapped the notebook shut and finally looked at her, smirking. “Oh, I was just curious. You were practically skipping on your way back. I figured I’d get the scoop before you turned into a lovestruck insomniac and started journaling about your shiny new girlfriend. What’s her name again? Copy-Clara? Oceanic Oswald?”
Clara smirked, shaking her head as she moved to the console, absently flipping a switch that caused Me’s chair to rotate ninety degrees. “It’s Alarra. And she’s brilliant. What does it matter to you?”
Me swiveled the chair back, her grin widening. “Oh not much. I’m thrilled for you. Truly. It’s not every day you find a soulmate in your own reflection. Must make shopping for gifts easier. One mirror, two bows.”
Clara was mostly unphased by Me's causticity, but intrigued. The immortal sounded quite relentless about this. That was the third time in just as many days - what was her real concern, hiding behind that surface hostility for her autophilia? Clara didn’t really mind: she had heard all sorts of judgements upon her; and Me’s teasing really didn’t smell of contempt, but more of friendly humour. In fact, her creativity was fun and somewhat flattering. However, her insistence seemed to hide some deeper personal wound. And Clara's sense of responsibility had her wondering.
“I thought you didn’t want to be disturbed with my ‘disgusting’ love life?”
“Disturbing, it is. Honestly, Clara, I have lived thousands of years, I have seen countless perversions - some of which, quite revolting. In fact, my own sex life is inherently twisted, stuck with my teenager’s face and my extreme experience, trust me, it gets quite weird, quite fast. But this ? Come on, you have to admit, it’s more than bizarre. As kinks go, I’ve never seen anything so… strange. What does it say about you?”
Clara shrugged. “Duno. That I’m confident? That I’m aware of my own charm?”
She could feel Me had something on her chest, but she was still putting forward her caustic jabs and this accusation of kinkiness. Not that it was unfounded, but it was doubtful it would lead to her opening up about her deeper issues. How could she guide Me into unloading her burden?
2. Everybody loves you!
The TARDIS interjected with a few dings and a gentle hum, the ambient light in the room brightening slightly as if to highlight Clara.
Me turned to the console with an aggravated look, and an accusatory finger. “Oh, you, don’t start. I know you’re all partial about Little Miss Perfect, like you fancy her or something. In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t started playing violins every time she walks through the door.”
The TARDIS lights dimmed, a faint tone sounding that suspiciously resembled the opening notes of a love ballad.
Clara stifled a laugh. “I think she likes Alarra.”
Me sighed loudly, standing and spreading her arms in emphatic gestures. “Of course she does! Because everyone likes you, Clara. Even me, in spite of my better judgement. And now you’ve even found someone who’s basically the living embodiment of how much the universe adores you!”
Clara raised a quizzical brow. Where was Me going with this?
The immortal explained: “You have this crazy, impossible kink - and, really, it’s kinda gross, and very unique - and by a strange stretch of reality, you find a way to satisfy it. Don’t you ever tire of the blessed karma?”
Clara looked at her, deep and earnest. “I know I’m lucky, if that’s your question. I also know my meeting her is not a coincidence. Our landing here was calculated by the TARDIS - and I know it’s a gift, so indeed, I'm feeling the love. And I suspect you knew about the plan, and maybe you even had something to do with it. Didn’t you?”
Me gave a dismissive gesture. “Like I would tell you! But, come on! You have everything, everyone loves you, hell, if I were into girls, I’d… still not date you, your righteousness is insufferable — but still, you could have almost anyone. And of all the faces in the galaxy, you have to choose your own! No-one does that! Why, Clara?”
Clara sighed. Honestly, she didn’t know.
Except maybe for the sex she had with herself… but that specifically was the ‘kink’ that Me questioned.
“I honestly don’t know,” she answered.
3. Irony, hypocrisy, and selfishness
Me appreciated the genuinity. “Anyway, you have to know, it’s deeply ironic. Kinky, and ironic. Little Miss Perfect, having a thing for herself! I always suspected you had to be twisted in some way! And this? This is priceless. And it really proves my point.”
Clara was a bit puzzled: “what point?”
“Selfishness, Clara,” Me claimed while dropping dramatically into the captain’s chair again. “That’s what rules the world. In the end, everyone is in for themselves. Even your precious Doctor, he saves people from time to time, especially the ones he cares about, but the consequences? He dodges them. At the end of the day, I believe he does it just for the kicks - and for the people he loves.”
Clara chose to not stress her disagreement, but instead, investigate the 'point'. “What does it have to do with my love life?”
Me opened her arms dramatically in triumph. “You, of course! You, Little Miss Perfect, always so compassionate, so kind, so forgiving. The most selfless hero of the galaxy. But in fact, your kink proves how much of a hypocrite you are.”
Clara's puzzlement deepened. “How come?”
Me leaned forward with a pointed look:
“Because the reason you like everyone is that the only one you truly love is yourself.”
She sat back, triumphant in the logic of her reasoning.
Clara earnestly thought about it. There was so much of that that she disagreed on… Yet, the best thing she could do was answer as truthfully as possible, not on the conclusions or beliefs, but the facts. Beginning with Me’s main argument for her sad thesis.
“I don’t know. I don’t think that’s it – the reason for my kink, I mean. I really believe that what I’m feeling for Alarra is because of her own qualities. She’s kind, brave, funny, and yes, a bit like me. OK, a lot like me. But it’s not the first time I’m in love. I had men and women alike. The resemblance here is just… coincidental. There are many people I find attractive. I’ve been crazy in love with a man once, and he was nothing like me. Big, large, grounded, very reasonable. And a woman, whom I had admired as an author since being a child. So, Alarra? I don’t think egotism is the main point there.”
Me was thoughtful. That sounded genuine. But unsatisfying.
“Maybe. But you have to admit… You always act so selfless. Always in control, always caring for others, always flawless. I always thought you had to compensate for all that perfection with some deeeeep perversion. And you do. And, as kinks go, this one? Very ironic. Very revealing, in fact. Miss ‘I Always Think Of Others First’, at the end of the day, you’re just into yourself, like the rest of us. Just…. In a different way.”
4. Imperfect and worthy of love.
Clara’s tone was deep with sincerity as she answered:
“Me, you’re right, I am like the rest of us. Just like everyone, I am not perfect. I am flawed, deeply. I know it. I have done some screwed up things, and I have failed. A lot. And sometimes, I fail myself. And sometimes, I'm selfish, too. At times, I have betrayed my ideals, my friends, everything. You can’t imagine how flawed I am. It’s just… I try to forgive. Including myself.”
Me huffed. “Yeah. Right. Forgiveness. You know what I think? I think you’re trying to avoid the fact that people are selfish, and they will screw you over. And drowning in adoration with your reflection is the perfect way to escape reality. ”
Clara looked at Me. The girl was spilling her deepest beliefs and wounds - sad and desperate as they were. Clara had to rise to the challenge and open up.
“Maybe. You know, the point you make about me loving myself? I think you’re right. I do. And the insecurity thing, too. Yes, falling for Alarra is probably tied to some insecurity I’m nursing - 'cause I know she shares a lot with me, and yeah, it's reassuring. I don’t think it’s selfishness, though, and it’s definitely not me admitting to the world being bad. It’s just… accepting myself. Accepting that whatever my faults, I am worthy of love, like everyone else . And I think that is why, yes, I can see my 'reflection', as you say, and love her for what she is.”
Me looked away, disgruntled. “Well, you’re a lucky one. Most people have a hard time looking at themselves in the mirror. They couldn’t show their feelings to their own eyes. I can't. Nobody can, except for you. Our lives are too messed up. Your kink is just proof that the universe has a soft spot for you.”
Clara put a compassionate hand on Me’s arm. “I know. And I know you had it rough, and my life has been blessed compared to yours.”
The immortal’s inner wounds were showing raw, and her face now bore the weight of her years. “Stop it, Clara. Stop being so nice and kind and understanding. Not everyone lives in your cuddly storybook world. Some of us have to scrape by without being the golden child.”
Clara’s eyes were wet with compassion for her companion’s loneliness. A tear rolled on her cheek. “I know. And I'm sorry for you. I'm here for you. And I believe you’re mistaken, not everyone is so selfish. Some of us do care. I do. One can live with such values, trusting, and opening up, and caring.”
Me scoffed bitterly. “Not long they can’t. Case in point: at barely 32, you’re dead !”
She interrupted herself, putting her hand on her mouth, her eyes wide in surprise at her own words, confused and ashamed. Too late. She had fucked up. Again. Her heart sank - Clara was hurting, and it showed in her immense, expressive eyes. Fuck .
She apologized sheepishly. “Oh, Clara, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up. I’m such a screwup. See? I don’t deserve your friendship. I… I apologise. I just… I fucked up so hard. Again . All the more since I’m the one responsible for your… condition.”
5. Death, pain, and forgiveness.
Clara had recovered enough of her composure, and put a compassionate hand on Me’s cheek, looking deep into her eyes: “No, you’re not”, she said with passion.
“Don’t you dare. My death is mine.” She withdrew, and took a deep breath. The matter was delicate, and honesty was required.
“I don’t mean you’re exempt from guilt. What you did on trap street was messed up, and it was wrong, deeply wrong. Manipulating people, using my friend as bait, putting him in danger, all that to hand the Doctor to his enemies… That was really bad, and I hope you address it some day. But my death? That was my choice, my mistake, my responsibility. I acted according to my values, and the consequences are mine and mine alone. Don’t you dare try and take it from me.”
Me gave a sad chuckle, her shame and guilt showing. “See? Always Miss Perfect. Compassionate and forgiving, even for me, after all the ways I screwed you up.”
Clara smiled. “What can I say? I think it's worth it."
Me stared at her then, really stared, eyes sharp and tired and far too old for the face she wore.
“You always say that,” she stated seriously.
Clara tilted her head. “Say what?”
“That it’s worth it. As if the pain didn’t matter. That whatever it costs you, it’s fine.”
Clara didn’t answer immediately. Her smile softened, grew thinner. “I don’t think pain is fine,” she answered carefully.
Me snorted. “Really? You just treat it like loose change.”
Clara met her gaze. “I think about it,” she said. “All the time.”
“And?”
She hesitated —then she shrugged, light and earnest and unbearably Clara. “And you’re right. Most usually, I do it anyway.”
Me snorted. "Well, don't think I'll go the same route. We're different. I'm a realist, and the universe has never tried to make me a spoiled child. So, don't think you can drag me along on your extreme emotional journey. I don't need you to be nice to me like you always are to everyone. Especially me, who wronged you in so many ways."
Clara looked at her with sympathy. "But what if I want to?” she asked. “What if I think you're worth it ?”
6. Unbearable Clara Oswald.
Me rose again, pacing in aggravation, her voice tight with tears. “Well, then, don’t. Really, don't, Clara. Stop being so nice and so kind and so loveable. Stop being so damn perfect! Fuck! Forgiving my faults, and being generous, and being such a good friend to me. Stop it.” Her fury was such that she punched the console, which emitted a soft protest.
Still looking at Me with unadulterated kindness, Clara asked: “Why, though?”
Me turned away, crying, trying to yell through her tears. “ Because it hurts, dammit! Because I like you, moron! And I don’t want to care. You’re going to leave, like the rest. People die , Clara, and I stay . I always stay. Alone. And when I get attached… Fuck! I can’t. So, stop it.”
She couldn’t repress her sobs.
Clara’s compassion showed in her eyes, crying in unison. And seeing tears in her deep, soulful eyes, was hurting Me even more.
“Sorry,” Clara said, reaching for a comforting hug. “And I’m sorry I contributed to your current state. I know it hurts…”
Me interrupted, her voice now soft and weak. “Stop. Please stop. I’ve already said too much. Just…" She broke from the embrace, had a brief grateful glance at her friend, and dropped into the armchair again. Tears were now flowing freely down her cheeks. "My thing is being aloof and sarcastic. That’s how I cope. It's a good thing you can take it, and take it the way you do. Thanks. But I can’t show those feelings. Being like this… Being seen like this… Receiving your compassion, even when I don’t deserve it… it hurts.”
She stood up again, her tone resolute in spite of her wet cheeks and her sore throat. “So, Thank you for your friendship, but now that this stuff is off my chest and your curiosity sated, I’m getting back to mocking you. Relentlessly .”
Clara smiled warmly. “I'm looking forward to it. You’re good at it. And Alarra finds it hilarious.”
Me smirked, with a mix of warmth and bite. “See? Always perfect. But it won’t stop me. I’m going to ridicule your perversion to no end, Clara. You deserve it.”
Clara winked. “I know. And it’s OK. I’ll try to make it fun for you.”
Me gestured theatrically in mock aggravation: “OK, that’s enough, Miss Compassion. Now, go! Go write your diary entry about how perfect your life is. And remember. You just keep proving my point, by parading your perverted self-fling, and I provide the snark and sass. And, you know, this ego-sexual kink of yours? Keep at it. I officially disapprove. But it's comedy gold.”
She left in her dramatic flair, her vast coat floating behind her, and Clara looked at her from behind, her heart aching for the petite immortal. There was not much she could do, apart from providing some distraction. Some delicious distraction.