Run You Clever Boy. And Remember Me.

She decided to go with her instincts, and managed to take the right root, ending up just outside the console room. But she paused before she went in; she was pretty sure that her face was still red. It felt dry. She raised a hand, and rubbed her hand over her cheek, before shaking her head, and taking a breath, and entering.

She lifted her head and grinned when she saw Clara by the console. She had kept herself quiet this time. “Hello,” she said, straightening up and swinging the monitor around for Clara to look at. “A hilltop in the France country side, no people, not even any animals of any sort, around 1887 I believe. A perfect place for stargazing.”

Speaking of The TARDIS, at least she knew why she had disliked her.

Maybe that'll change.

And there, she began crying.

It was painful. Possibly even more painful than actually dying — her emotions. It crept up inside of her, a sob, that was filled with all the emotions that were apparent. She kept herself quiet, only managing to turn fully to face down on the bed. She sunk back to lean on her knees, on the floor. She stayed that for what seemed to be a long time, and by the end of it, she had an even bigger headache.

Clara turned, and stood, wiping her face, and crossing to the bathroom, once again, splashing her face with cold water. Then, she did what she said to The Doctor. And took a shower. Letting the hot water run over her back and calm her. Which it helped. The sudden realisation, and the sudden emotion that had came out of her… it left her shaking. But now, the water calmed her. 

Once she had stepped out of the shower, she dried her face, particularly worried for any red marks that had been overdue in disappearing. She didn’t want The Doctor to know. She didn’t want to know that she had been crying, that it suddenly hurt more than she had let on. But Clara can be a good actor. Ever since she was a kid, she had been a good liar. And with so many lives that she had lived, it was hard not to be good at acting.

Her own story was here. And that’s all she wanted to be, in the end.

The Doctor stopped walking and decided she had been here long enough, turning around and leaving the vast room and back into the corridor, turning and walking the opposite way she had come before being in the library.

It felt like she was avoiding Clara, somehow. She wasn’t quite sure, but it just felt that way. Though she knew the young woman needed time, that she needed to process everything and relax.

She made her way to the console room now and sat in one of the chairs, coffee now lukewarm in its cup. With a sigh, she set it down on the floor, her hands now free to run through her hair.

She decided to go with her instincts, and managed to take the right root, ending up just outside the console room. But she paused before she went in; she was pretty sure that her face was still red. It felt dry. She raised a hand, and rubbed her hand over her cheek, before shaking her head, and taking a breath, and entering.

River—