Actions

Work Header

A bad wolf running beside the storm

Chapter Text

1

A golden star

 

And the Doctor knew, of course he knew, always knew, that the thing was once again in his ship when Clara's eyes flickered with confusion at something behind him. It hadn't happened in a long time, maybe, just maybe if her old brain didn't fail, the first person who had that same look had been Susan when she had just arrived at the TARDIS, then she didn't have that. He looks at Jamie, then at Jo, who he perfectly remembered asking, but that she had lied to him, or maybe hadn't.

So Leela had been so smart and brilliant, but with her wild demeanor she could never have received more than two words, and how she had tried to do so, and although later she tried to test Romana to see if she could have seen anything. Because she was always incredibly insightful in both bodies, she never seemed to understand what she was talking about, she never dared to ask again, Turlough had seen something, the boy had been too easy at times, but like Jo, he had forgotten and Ace, after what happened with Fenric left the conversation entirely, because even in that body, he had always had some limits.

I never really ask, because at first, when he was young and naive, the idea of something going undetected on his TARDIS was just ridiculous.

He hadn't thought about that in later centuries, when Rory Williams-Pond had come aboard. But he ... had forgotten. How had I forgotten?

Because back then, he hadn't understood, because what had been on his ship from the start was the first thing that surprised those comrades and not the interior size of the TARDIS. Once, he may have thought they were ghosts, the treacherous thought fluttered at some point when he was alone, because even though he was alone in the TARDIS, he never felt that way.

And so the excuse that the TARDIS was alive had helped. But why had it helped?

But ... outside the familiar, warm murmur of the TARDIS in the back of his brain, which had always been with him ever since he took it, there was something else there, pushing, making room and it was terrifying, because that feeling had worsened since the face of the chin and the bow tie disappeared.

"Clara?"

Her eyes blinked and returned to him.

"Where were we?"

"He promised not to ask questions, Doctor."

True, he did, but what had caught his attention? What was it, for the sake of sanity, that caught your peers' attention so much? He knew, he remembered very clearly that his old body had sought as a vice the source of that domain after losing ... the ponds. He had said goodbye to River, and almost immediately that heat, which he knew was not the TARDIS, had comforted him.

He had searched, tired of games, for a long time before settling in 19th century London, but ... nothing, he had accomplished nothing. And that was impossible. But he wasn't sure if he had forgotten because some line needed to be discovered or if that thing really had so much power to make him forget.

And I really hoped it would come first. Because this new body was not as fun as the old one. He hadn't discovered all the facets he now had with this face, but he knew that all the anger he had had had cooled, and now he wasn't sure how far he would go to discover the mystery that had been hovering around him TARDIS as she set foot on it.

He cleared his throat, scattered his thoughts about the past, turned on his heel, ran his hands over the console, decided it was time to ask the question that had been eating him for so long: "Clara, what are you looking at? Now ? "

He had deliberately turned his back on her, but based on the almost muffled sound he made, he knew the question had taken him by surprise, and suddenly, that invading murmur manifested itself again, hitting ... no, not hitting. He was stroking her psyche, the heat was still familiar to her, but at the same time she couldn't remember where or from whom.

"I'm not ... sure what I see, doctor." Oswin had hesitated at first, but was sincere with his final confidence. He knew it.

"Describe it as best you can, Clara," he pressed, and the heat seized his shoulders, and he sought to ... calm him. I hadn't even noticed his stiff body.

Under a lever without seeing it, perhaps later she would remember which, and the engines of the TARDIS were muted, she turned again and rested her lower back on the console, looking at Clara, but Clara was looking at the site behind her. right shoulder, to the other side of the console and also to him ...

He forced both hearts to stop galloping furiously against his chest, keeping calm that he didn't feel, and only hoped the eyebrows wouldn't betray him. Because that, whatever was behind him, had to be really impressive to annoy Clara like she did.

He watched as he swallowed, as the set of muscles in his jaw moved, clenching and loosening, he heard his hunger for oxygen, but when those brown eyes stared at him with determination, he knew that his voice would not hesitate even once before speaking:

"He is bright, like a star, Doctor, completely golden and large, and I cannot see his face ... it is only a light." Well, now he had an imaginary star in his TARDIS. "Why can't you see it, Doctor?

The eyebrows furrowed, because he had somehow pushed the question away from Clara, but he ... he really had no idea how to answer, so he just left with the truth. Because sometimes telling the truth was the only plan he had.

 "I don't really know why I can't see it, that thing has always been here, Clara, few of my old companions have seen it, and outside of that ..." I glance over my shoulder at the empty space and look Clara. "I don't see anything, the TARDIS scanners have never shown me if it exists or if ..." she was interrupted by Clara.

"Oh, of course it exists, Doctor, and it's taking shape." his voice brushed the panic very lightly. He straightened up and approached her, standing right next to her.

"Do you see?" demanded. She placed her face just level with her and even though she was looking at the empty spot, she observed every change in her partner's face.

Clara took a few seconds as her face transformed, she went from a grimace of concentration to completely surprise. To him, that point was still empty, but the murmur had grown more demanding, pressing and burning in his mind, he reluctantly turned away from Clara.

Restless he moved to the control panel, his hands eager to touch the time rotor and leave. Clara's loud exhalation stopped the movements of her hands.

"A... woman." She whispered unsure, and he was about to lose him, to hit something if it wasn't for his current location. The days of hitting the TARDIS had been left in the heavy.

But only sometimes did he need a hammer.

The disbelief was coupled with his annoyance. Woman? He had expected everything, even a Dalek, minus a woman. Woman.

"What is the woman like, Clara?" it had come out as a growl, but his patience was hanging on a thin thread.

But Clara had not noticed the change in her voice, no, she was still looking at the empty spot when she replied: "She is blonde and her eyes shine, Doctor. And she is smiling at you ..." Clara blinked and turned her head, nailing her suspicious wet brown eyes on him. "She smiles at you and asks me not to tell you anything."

He lost it. He lost his temper at the moment that Clara's eyes had started to water and simply collapsed with the words and with the now familiar murmur that touched him, not on the shoulders as before, or on the head, no, on the chest, just in the middle of their two hearts.

"WHAT ARE YOU?!" she screamed into the empty space, shaking off the feeling that had caused a sudden lump in her throat. This regeneration was not out of sentimentality. Clara jumped at the scream, approached almost three long steps and grabbed her left arm with a strong grip.

"What the hell are you doing, Doctor?" He looked at her blankly.

"Something has been around who knows how long on my ship, Clara, perhaps it is not a threat, but in my years, something like that, which has even been kept hidden from the TARDIS systems, cannot be a good thing." He clenched his teeth and looked in all directions.

Clara looked at him as if she had lost her mind, and maybe she was right.

"She doesn't want to hurt you, Doctor, she just wants ..." A jump of alarm, and both the Doctor and Clara, the first with horror and the second with clear surprise like the buttons, levers, screens and absolutely everything TARDIS, including engines, came to life. One of the screens, saw the Doctor before being hit furiously in one of the chairs, showed coordinates.

She had just pushed him into a sitting position and taken control of her ship.

The TARDIS was being run by a woman, for something she hadn't been able to catalog, and for a moment she remembered an old, but very old adventure, which included the Ponds, a meteorite eating TARDIS, and the consciousness of her old machine in the body of a human; Panic assailed him, but the murmur, the invisible force pushed him toward the chair and Clara, who was still in place, her body completely immobile, looked at him helplessly.

"And you say he doesn't want to hurt!" He couldn't stop the sarcasm dripping with his stronger accent now. Clara's expression was now a complete apology and that didn't make her feel better.

"She's just stopping you from doing something ..." He didn't seem to find the words until he saw another surprise spot - empty - near him; "stupid."

Now I was exasperated and spoke to the air. "Stupid? You invisible thing! You've taken control of my ship! You're stupid!" His body pinned against the chair began to press against him, and before insulting that force again, the TARDIS landed.

In a way as subtle as if it were handled by River, but it was impossible. I knew it. Now more than ever ready to see where the thing had taken him, he got up with a furious step once he was free of the chair, and walked to the console and observed his current location on the screen.

Their hearts had stopped, their mind never blank remained in absolute nothingness. Two words were on the screen. Two words that I think I had buried with an old face centuries ago. Because that chapter of his life was supposed to be over. From the moment he said goodbye to her on December 24, 2004.

Was it really over?

Behind him, Clara sighed to have her mobility and in a whisper, as if it were a secret, she spoke: "She says that the TARDIS would never let her take control in that way unless she agreed to take you to the place that ...

"I have to go," finished Clara. And their hearts, which had begun to beat, were furious against his chest, the noise of his blood could very well make him deaf, but his mind, oh, his silly and senile mind was still swimming concentrated only in two words that flickered furiously in the screen...

 

LOBO MALO.