Tell Me Again
DISCLAIMER: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC and thank you RTD for helping to bring him back. This is an exercise of love and no money is being made from it.
DW
The Doctor set the TARDIS into flight with no real destination in mind, he just wanted the old familiar hum of her engines to try and distract him from the day’s events.
Clara was off, safe doing whatever it was that humans did when they weren’t gallivanting about the universe with him. Teaching, or something, whatever it was it had required a change of clothes. At least he thought she had changed her clothes, maybe Clara had asked him to change his clothes.
The Doctor looked down, what exactly was wrong with what he was wearing? Dashing, yet understated. Black suited everything, didn’t it? Well apart from weddings . . . well apart from Oleginian weddings where everyone wore knee length black sacks over their heads and no one really knew which four were the happy newlyweds. The Doctor shoved his hands into pockets, revealing the red lining of his coat. He rather liked the lining, that dash of colour. Red was a good colour, wasn’t it? No, that was not the right question, what was the right question? The Doctor frowned and rocked back on his heels. No, was red a good colour for a good man. Didn’t red mean dangerous, can a man be dangerous and still a good person?
There, there is was again, was the Doctor still a good man? What did it say about you when the one person you hoped knew you best in the universe had told him she didn’t really know? Of course the Doctor had asked for an honest and brutal answer, should he have been all that surprised when he received one? Pulling his right hand out of his pocket the Doctor rested it on the TARDIS console. New body, new personality, it shouldn’t surprise him that Clara didn’t know, not when he was still working it out himself.
The Doctor barely noticed when the time rotor stopped turning, he just paced clockwise about the console, fingers tracing each and every lever and button of the TARDIS refamiliarising himself with his beloved machine.
‘What’s with the Mister Frowny Face?’
The Doctor spun about and glared at Clara, who was standing just inside the TARDIS door. ‘How’d you get in here?’
Clara held out her hand revealing something small and shiny. ‘Got a key, remember?’
The Doctor threw his arms wide, declaring, ‘This is my home, the least you should do is knock first. I could have been doing anything.’
Clara strode up the steps to the console. ‘I did knock.’
The Doctor dropped his hands to his sides. ‘Well I didn’t hear you.’
‘Not my problem,’ Clara noticed that the Doctor was staring at the hand that was clutching the TARDIS key. ‘Do,’ she glanced uncertainly back at him, ‘do you want it back?’
The Doctor waved the thought away. ‘No, you’ve earned it.’
‘Good.’ Clara nodded and put the key back in her jeans pocket. ‘Now, why the face?’
‘Face, what face?’ The Doctor turned and stared down at the console. ‘This is my normal face.’ He heard Clara sigh behind him.
‘It is isn’t it?’ she said.
Turning he looked at his friend. ‘You don’t like it, do you?’
‘No, no,’ she hurried to reassure him. ‘It’s growing on me.’
‘Yeah,’ the Doctor turned forwards again, ‘me too.’
Clara moved to stand next to the Doctor. ‘Still worried whether or not you’re a good man?’
The Doctor pushed himself away from the console and turned to Clara. ‘How’d you know I was here?’
Frowning Clara waved vaguely back at the door. ‘You appeared in the cupboard.’
‘And you just happened to be waiting in the cupboard at the time?’ The Doctor looked back at the console. Had he subconsciously set the co-ordinates for Earth or had the TARDIS taken him to the one place she thought he needed to be?
‘No.’ Clara gave a dismissive snort and folded her arms. ‘Of course not, I have a job you know?’
‘Taken on the role of cupboard monitor now, have we?’
‘Don’t be silly, I have students for that.’ Wilting a little under the Doctor’s steely glare, Clara began fiddling with her hair. ‘Fine, if you must know I check the cupboard several times a day, just in case.’
‘In case of what?’
Clara unwound a strand of hair from her finger and placed her hands on her hips. ‘In case of you, can’t have you gallivanting about, it’s against school policy.’
The Doctor straightened up and raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m mentioned in the school policy?’
Clara snorted. ‘If they knew you existed you would be, god knows what ideas you might put in students heads. And don’t change the subject; you’re still worried aren’t you? I thought we’d settled all this last week.’
Last week? It had been only a few hours from the Doctor’s perspective. ‘Rusty said I was a good Dalek.’
‘No offence, but Rusty was a bit damaged, remember?’
‘When he looked inside me he saw hatred.’
‘You once thought they blew up your planet and killed all your people, you’ve been fighting them,’ Clara waved her arms about trying to think of an adequate timescale, ‘forever, I’m not surprised you’re a little angry.’
‘I think it’s a bit more than angry.’
‘Everyone dislikes something, Doctor; it’s the way we are.’
The Doctor folded his arms. ‘Oh and what do you dislike so much, Clara Oswald?’
‘Well,’ Clara thought furiously for an example, ‘bullies, of course . . . um, public transport, oh, broccoli, can’t stand broccoli and country music. I mean really it’s all about losing your girlfriend or your dog and then your car breaks down or something like that.’
The Doctor shook his head. ‘I don’t think we’re on the same wavelength, Clara, not even close.’
‘Alright,’ Clara thumped her fist on the console. ‘Losing someone you love,’ she glanced down and then back at the Doctor, ‘like my mum, I really hated that.’ She ended the sentence in a whisper.
The Doctor’s fingers twitched, he wanted to reach out and comfort his friend, but he wasn’t sure he was that person anymore. ‘You’re getting a little closer but I still don’t think you’ll ever get near to what I’m feeling. I don’t think your species is capable.’
‘Oh no?’ Clara raised an eyebrow, ‘You been paying attention to the news lately, what about this ISIS lot? What about World War 2, Auschwitz, Pol Pot and the Killing Fields? I think we’re pretty capable of a lot of bad things, and oh my god I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you.’
‘Yes, it does seem to have taken a strange turn.’
‘Think of it like Yin and Yang,’ Clara tried to explain as she watched the Doctor take out a cloth from his pocket and begin to polish the console, ‘everyone’s got both good and bad in them, right?’
The Doctor glanced over at Clara before returning to his polishing. ‘Not sure where this is going but okay.’
‘Well the trick is not to let the bad outbalance the good.’
‘Yes, but how do you do that?’ The Doctor waved his cloth at Clara.
Turning her back to the Doctor, Clara thought about how she could help explain. Spinning in place she pointed towards her friend. ‘When you see someone getting bullied what do you do?’
‘Stop the bully.’
Clara took a step towards the Doctor. ‘And if someone is hurt?’
‘Help them, of course.’
She took another step closer. ‘And if something or someone is broken?’
‘Fix it.’ The Doctor shook his head. ‘Everyone does that.’
Clara smiled and shook her head. ‘Not everyone, but you do because you’re the Doctor. You fix things, make things better. You do good.’
The Doctor backed away from Clara and turned his attention to furiously rubbing the monitor. ‘But is it enough?’
Clara sighed, two thousand years old and he still sometimes acted just like the teenagers in her classroom. ‘You know what I think?’
The Doctor stopped polishing but refused to look at her. ‘What?’
‘I think you think too much.’
Turning his head the Doctor frowned at Clara.
‘Worrying about being bad just means you’re not,’ she explained. ‘Bad people don’t care what anyone else thinks, they just do bad things. But good people, they worry all the time “does this hurt someone else? Is this the right thing to do?” Your worrying proves to me that deep down you’re a good person. So stop worrying,’ Clara shook her head, ‘No keep worrying, but stop worrying that you’re not a good person.’
The Doctor dropped his cloth on the console and straightened up. ‘You know you said “worry” six times in a row just then?’
Clara rubbed her lower lip before nodding. ‘Yeah, got a bit carried away there didn’t I? Don’t suppose it helped at all?’
‘Well,’ he stepped away from the console, ‘it didn’t not help.’
Clara frowned at the Doctor’s words. ‘Two negatives make a positive right?’
‘And two Wrights make a plane fly . . . with a little help.’
‘Wait, you helped the Wright Brothers?’ Clara grinned at the idea. ‘Of course you did, you couldn’t help yourself could you?’
A small smile flickered across the Doctor’s face. ‘Well, I had to do something, their initial design was appalling.’
Clara grinned, glad to see her friend in a better mood. ‘Good my work here is done.’ She opened her arms wide. ‘Come here.’
‘What?’ the Doctor pointed at Clara’s outstretched hands. ‘What are you doing?’
‘You know,’ she wiggled her fingers at him. ‘Now come here.’
‘No,’ the Doctor protested even as he found himself slowly walking towards her. ‘We’ve had this discussion, I’m certain we’ve had this discussion. Not a huggy person, remember?’
‘Still not getting a vote.’ Clara said as she wrapped her arms about the Doctor.
The Doctor stood stiffly with his arms straight at his sides as Clara pressed the side of her head against his chest. ‘Is this supposed to make me feel better?’
‘Yes,’ came back Clara’s muffled reply.
The Doctor looked up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t think its working.’
Clara looked up at the Doctor briefly before lowering her head again. ‘You know hugging is a two person thing.’
‘Oh.’ The Doctor moved his left hand and tentatively patted Clara several times on the back.
Sighing Clara pressed her head harder against the Doctor’s jacket. ‘I’ve missed this.’
The Doctor’s hand stopped moving and he closed his eyes. Somewhere during his current regeneration he had forgotten how tactile the human species was, always needing to touch and be touched. It was one of the many things he loved about them, so unlike his own people. Bow-Tie and Sandshoes had especially taken advantage of this, embracing complete strangers given half a chance. Come to think of it even the most reluctant of his past selves had enjoyed the occasional hug; had he really changed that much?
‘Clara,’ the Doctor tapped a shoulder to get her attention. ‘I told you I wasn’t a huggy person.’ He felt Clara begin to move away and reached out with his other hand to hold her in position. ‘But I might be willing to occasionally make an exception for certain people.’
Clara went very still. ‘Really?’ she whispered into his jacket.
‘Occasionally.’
Clara’s arms tightened about the Doctor and he returned the gesture, tucking her head under his chin as he ignored her shaking shoulders. After several minutes Clara sniffed and cleared her throat before pushing the Doctor a few steps back and turning away from him. The Doctor brushed his fingers against the damp spot on his jacket and did his best to not look as Clara wiped the tears from her eyes.
‘Well,’ Clara her back still turned, cleared her throat before trying to speak again. ‘I remember you telling me about a planet with three moons.’
‘Really?’ the Doctor asked, moving to stand next to the console.
‘Yes,’ Clara turned around and if her smile seemed a little forced, the Doctor chose to ignore it. ‘I’ve lived on a planet with one moon,’ she continued, ‘and I’ve visited planets with no moons – they were a bit rubbish – and I’ve even stood on a moon and looked up in the night sky to see a planet. But I’ve never visited a planet with three moons.’
‘Your education is severely lacking.’ The Doctor announced, never taking his eyes off of her as he began to flick a switch here and push a button there.
‘Well?’ she asked, moving to stand opposite the Doctor at the console and looked at him through the time rotor.
The Doctor tilted his head slightly. ‘I thought you were teaching?’
‘I’m between classes.’
‘But it is a very long way away.’ The Doctor began pacing about, continuing to manipulate the controls.
‘Good thing I know a bloke with a time machine.’ Clara mirrored his position as he moved about, her smile more relaxed and genuine now.
‘Better ask him then.’
‘Thought I just did.’
She watched as the Doctor pulled the lever that sent the TARDIS into flight. Laughing Clara clapped her hands together and walked backwards until she was leaning against the railing. She continued to watch the Doctor potter about the instruments, smiling as he came across the cloth he had left earlier. Picking it up the Doctor frowned, as if he hadn’t seen it before. Shaking his head he just tossed it over his shoulder to land on the floor. It was Clara’s turn to shake her head; it would stay there if she didn’t pick it up.
‘So this bloke with the time machine, good looking fella is he?’ the Doctor asked.
Clara snorted and smiled before realising something. ‘Doctor, is the kitchen still where it was before?’
The Doctor stopped moving and looked up at the sudden change of subject. ‘Sorry?’
‘The kitchen,’ Clara pointed behind here where the stairs led to the rest of the TARDIS. ‘Hasn’t moved has it?’
‘Clara, we’re about to go on an adventure and you’re worried about food?’
Clara pouted. ‘I’ve only got twenty minutes left of my lunch break, between marking papers and chasing after you . . .’
The Doctor waved a dismissive hand in Clara’s direction before turning back to the console. ‘I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.’ Realising something he turned around suddenly. ‘Clara!’
Startled at the Doctor’s outburst Clara rushed back up the stairs. ‘What?!’
Speaking slowly so Clara would understand, the Doctor said, ‘In the refrigerator, third shelf down. Don’t eat the bubbling green stuff, its intelligent moss.’
‘Right.’ Clara drew the word out slowly, unsure if the Doctor was being serious or not. ‘Why do we have intelligent moss in the fridge?’
‘We were having a debate about the existence of god and things got a bit heated.’
‘Heated,’ Clara marvelled at how easily she just seemed to accept the whole concept, ‘the moss or the debate?’
The Doctor’s grin took on a rather evil twinkle. ‘Both.’
‘Right-o, I’ll just –’ Clara began walking back down the stairs.
‘If you’re not back before we land I’m starting without you.’ The Doctor called after her.
‘As if.’ Clara’s voice echoed back up the stairs.
The familiarity of the engines was a comforting background noise for the Doctor, but they didn’t seem as important as they might have been before Clara walked into the TARDIS. His future was still uncertain; the question ‘was he a good man?’ still lingered in his mind. But Clara seemed to think he was, and maybe in the end that was enough. Maybe good men could even wear red.
The Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets, thinking. Clara was a good person and she wore red, he was certain, in fact wasn’t her jacket red today? The Doctor thought back at their conversation, he was pretty sure it was red, or was it blue; on second thought maybe it had been brown. It didn’t matter, red might stand for danger but while the Doctor was wearing red it would also stand for adventure and excitement.
Warming to the idea the Doctor nodded to himself, the humans even had an appropriate saying for just such an occasion. ‘Yes,’ he said, quietly, ‘let’s paint the universe red.’
