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Clara Oswald could not stop grinning. It felt so good to be back in the TARDIS again! She’d never thought she’d feel the buzz of energy or the surge of life that emanated from the central control console. It was like a high!
She turned around the look at the Doctor, who was walking around the control console slowly, tapping buttons and flipping switches. God, how she’d missed this incredible man!
“Where are we going?” she asked, her eyes wide with excitement.
“It’s a surprise, Clara Oswald. A Christmas surprise,” the Doctor replied. Even though she’d been travelling with this incarnation of the Doctor for almost a year now, she still had trouble getting used to his Scottish accent. The Doctor that she had known, the Eleventh Doctor, had been young and British, with an admiration of bowties and tweed jackets; this one was middle aged and Scottish with long, curly grey hair and favored looking like a magician.
“Doctor, I’m in my nightie and dressing gown,” Clara pointed out, arms out wide.
“Pop up to the TARDIS wardrobe and pick something out, you’ve done it before.” His eyes twinkled mischievously.
“But what do I wear? You have to give me some clue. Jeans and a sweater? Frock? Bathing suit?” She gasped. “Are we going to the beach? Please tell me we’re going to be a beach. It’s freezing outside.”
“No. Somewhere far, far better.”
“Just a little hint?” Clara sidled up the Doctor and hugged him.
“Aaah,” he groaned, his face scrunching up in disgust. This incarnation of the Doctor was still not very fond of hugs.
“I’ll hug you until you tell me, so you’d better just spill.”
“All right, all right.”
“Thank you.” Clara released him. “So…?”
“Pick out something appropriate for the 18th century.”
“Gotcha.”
Clara hurried up the stairs, and followed the serpentine corridors of the TARDIS until she came to the familiar oaken doors that led to the wardrobe. She ran her hand over the wooden door and felt the life within. “I’m back,” she whispered.
She threw open the doors and set to work finding a proper outfit to wear for the 18th century.

About twenty minutes later, Clara came back into the main control room. She was wearing a pink gown with flowers spiraling up and down it. Around the neck and bosom, white cloth crossed over and made an apron effect over the front of the gown. Clara’s dark hair was piled up high on her head, with ringlets cascading down toward her collarbone.
“How do I look?” she asked lightly, clenching and unclenching her hands nervously.
The Doctor glanced up at her. “You look fine, Clara. Are you ready? Time’s wasting.”
“We have a time machine,” Clara pointed out. “Time’s never wasting.”
The Doctor decided not to argue with her. She was an English teacher, after all.
Clara approached the TARDIS doors. “Are you coming?” she asked, pushing the door open.
“I’m right behind you.”
Clara stepped out of the TARDIS and into a grassy meadow. The sun was shining down brightly on her, no snow to be seen. Thank God!
The Doctor came out behind her and shut the TARDIS doors, locking them quickly. “I have to say, this is a step up from your time, Clara. The air is fresher and there aren’t mobiles attached to everyone’s ears.”
“Where are we?” Clara asked, grinning excitedly.
“England.”
“Yes, but when? What year?”
“1798.”
“What happens in 1798?”
“It’s your Christmas surprise, Clara. I can’t just spoil everything. You’ll have to wait and see.”
“Can you at least tell me where we are?”
“Hampshire.”
“Hamphire? That’s where….” Clara’s face lit up. “Jane Austen lived here!”
The Doctor smiled. “I know she’s your favorite author.”
“I’m going to meet Jane Austen!?” Clara squealed. “This is too much! I thought meeting Robin Hood was great, this definitely tops that!”
They walked toward a cottage that loomed over in the distance. “So little of her life is known,” Clara gushed as they walked. “Did you know that of the 3,000 letters she wrote in her lifetime, only about 160 still remain? “
“She’s a very private person,” the Doctor explained. “She’s not the celebrities of your time. Clara, your Kardashians and Taylor Swifts with their Facebooks and Instagrams.”
“I’d hardly call the Kardashians celebrities. I prefer to think of them as…”
The Doctor clapped a hand over Clara’s mouth. “This is all wrong,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“This isn’t Hampshire.”
“How can you tell?”
“I’ve visited Jane Austen enough times to know her house in Hampshire. This isn’t it.”
“Then where are we?”
A woman with dark hair and a slight frame dropped out of the tree above them. Clara gasped and her heart leapt into her throat. The Doctor merely rolled his eyes. “Still up to your pranks, I see, Jane.”
“You know me, Doctor. I love a good laugh.” The woman chuckled and turned to Clara. “I’m so sorry for scaring you, love. I’m well known for my pranks.”
“It’s all right, it’s just….You’re her…”
“I’m she,” Jane countered.
“You’re Jane Austen!”
“I am.”
“I’m a huge fan!”
“I’m sorry? You’re a what?” Jane knit her brows.
“I’m a fan of your work, you know? A fanatic.”
“ Oh, how lovely.” Jane smiled warmly. “It’s nice to meet a….a fan.”
“Your biggest fan!” Clara grabbed Jane’s hand and squeezed them. “I’ve read everything you published. I wrote my thesis on Pride and Prejudice.”
“Are you a scholar?”
“I’m a teacher.”
“And they make you go to school for that?”
“Clara’s from 2014, Jane,” the Doctor cut in. “Things are very different in her time.”
“Doctor.” Jane kissed him on the cheek. “You look as lovely as ever, old friend.”
“You, too.”
“You recognize him?” Clara asked.
“I have seen pictures of all of his faces. A woman named River Song showed them to me. She had such lovely hair. She kissed very well.”
“Okay.” Clara laughed in disbelief. “This is incredible!”
“I’ll say. The Doctor has never brought such a beautiful friend with him.” Jane winked.
“Thanks.” Clara blushed a deep scarlet red.
“So, where are we?” the Doctor asked, letting Clara off the hook. “I put in the coordinates for Hampshire, but this definitely isn’t it.”
“We’re in Chawton. Mother, Cassandra, and I are staying at Edward’s cottage. It’s lovely. I write every day. It’s so much better than Bath. I couldn’t even get a sentence out in that dreadful place. But enough about that, let’s go say hello to Mother and Cassandra, they’ve missed you terribly.”
Jane turned around and led the way back to the cottage. Clara fell into step with the Doctor. “So, how come you never told me that you and Jane Austen were best mates?”
“It never came up,” the Doctor replied with a shrug.
“Oh, really, it never came up? Not all those times I told you how much I loved Jane Austen? Never?”
“Stop dawdling you two,” Jane called back to them.
‘”Coming!” Clara replied. She turned to the Doctor. “We’ll discuss this later.”
At the cottage, they were greeted by a woman who looked to be about 70, and a girl who looked a lot like Jane. “Mother, Cassandra, this is my friend…” Jane turned to her.
“Clara. Clara Oswald,” Clara supplied.
“Delighted to meet you,” Jane’s mother, also Cassandra, said.
“The pleasure is mine.” Clara did a little curtsy.
Both women burst into delighted laughter.
Jane cleared her throat. “And, of course, you remember my friend, the Doctor.”
Jane’s mother’s eyes went wide and she gasped. “Oh, Doctor!” she cried. “You’re finally my age!”
“I’m still older than you,” the Doctor pointed out. “I’m over 900 years old.”
“Oh, posh!” Jane’s mother leaned in and pressed her lips against the Doctor’s. “Although, I did like being a, oh, what do they call it, oh, yes, a cougar!” She laughed naughtily.
“This is mental,” Clara muttered under her breath. She had met Jane Austen, her hero for most of her life, and here was Jane’s mother, with her tongue down the Doctor’s throat. “This is wrong.”
“What is?” Jane asked.
“You shouldn’t know about the Doctor, or…or time travel. Your mother shouldn’t know what a cougar is! There must be some kind of break in time or something….things are happening that should never have happened…”
Jane put her hand on Clara’s shoulder. “Walk with me?” she asked.
“Um, okay.”
They walked off toward the meadow again, silent until they were out of earshot from the others.
“I know this must be quite a lot to wrap your head around,” Jane began.
“I should be saying that to you,” Clara said, chuckling.
“I first met the Doctor when I was a young girl. I was doubting myself as a writer, I had lost all direction. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I..I considered ending it.”
“You were gonna kill yourself?”
“Yes,” Jane replied unashamedly.
“But, you’d have robbed the world of such a great gift!”
“That’s what the Doctor said when he appeared to me that night, fresh from his TARDIS. He was different then, northerner, black jacket, big ears.”
“I think I’ve seen him….”
“But meeting the Doctor, it changed my life. It inspired me to keep writing, to give what I could to the world, to better it.”
“Sounds about right,” Clara conceded.
“And he saved my family from a nest of Zygons. “
“Ugly buggers, aren’t they?”
“Completely.”
The two girls laughed, and Jane moved closer to Clara. “Are you trying to kiss me?” Clara asked.
“Maybe.” Jane chuckled. She leaned in again…and smacked Clara on the shoulder. “You’re it!”
Jane ran off in a cloud of high, pealing laughter. Clara groaned and chased after her.
They ran through the meadow, the high grass, stopping them from going too fast. “You’re too slow!” Jane taunted, changing direction and hopping over a fallen log.
“You know the terrain better,” Clara pointed out, sliding over the log.
Suddenly, up ahead, Jane fell forward and went silent. Clara stopped dead in her tracks. “Jane? Are you okay? Jane?” Clara’s heart started hammering in her chest. Was Jane all right?
She pushed her way through the grass slowly, so as not to step on Jane when she found her.
“Jane? Jane, answer me!”
Clara came across Jane lying prostrate on the ground. She dropped to her knees and rolled Jane over. Her eyes were closed. Clara checked her chest, it wasn’t rising or falling. Her CPR training kicked in, and she put her mouth over Jane’s.
Clara was just about to pass air into Jane’s lungs, when she felt fingers in her hair. She pulled back and screamed.
Jane sat up and laughed. “I got you good!” she choked out, laughing gregariously.
“That was not funny!” Clara panted. “I thought you were dead!”
“What did I tell you? I love a good prank.” Jane’s eyes twinkled naughtily. She pulled Clara in and kissed her furiously.
Clara stiffened with shock, but Jane was a good kisser, and she found herself kissing back, leaning into Jane.
When the kiss broke, Clara chewed her lip. “That was…”
“Incredible!” Jane finished, grinning. “I just knew you’d be a consummate kisser.”
“That was the best kiss I’ve ever had,” Clara admitted.
“Why, thank you.” Jane shuffled her feet. “For the longest time I thought that no one would ever love me…”
“Love you…?” Clara asked.
“I know you have to go home to your time, Clara, but I feel this strange connection to you.”
“I do, too.”
“And it’s queer, because we just met…”
“But it’s so strong,” Clara added.
“You came to me at the right time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not getting any younger, Clara.”
“What year is this, by the way?”
“1811.”
Clara knew that Jane Austen died on 18 July, 1817. Six years from now. She also knew from history that Jane Austen never married, never had children. It broke her heart as this realization sunk in. “I just lost someone important to me,” she whispered.
“Who?” Jane asked.
“His name was Danny Pink. I loved him. I love him so, so much.”
“What happened to him? War?”
“No.” Clara sighed. “He got hit by a car.”
“I’ve heard of those. Dreadful things.”
“Yeah.”
A tear spilled down Clara’s cheek. Jane reached up and wiped it away. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s okay. He told me I was only allowed to miss him for five minutes a day…then the rest of the time I’m supposed to just get the hell on with it.”
“He must have loved you very much…”
“He did. And I loved him.”
Clara cleared her throat. “Enough with the melancholy, it’s boring. I’m meeting my hero; not my executioner.” She smiled. “Can I say what an honor it is to meet you, Jane Austen? You have inspired me for many, many years.”
“Well, thank you, Clara, it’s touching to know that I’ve inspired such a strong woman.”
“It was my mum who made me strong. When I was little, she’d read to me every night from one of your books. Sense and Sensibility was the first one. That’s where I got my passion for teaching English. I wanted to relive the joy I felt at discovering the classics for the first time. I always wanted to write something that would inspire the way that you inspired me.”
“Perhaps you will.” Jane squeezed Clara’s hand.
“Maybe. Who knows? It’s a dangerous life I lead.”
“Life is not worth living if you don’t take risks.”
“Good point. You’re a genius, you know that?”
Jane smiled warmly. “Let’s go back to the house. It’s getting dark.”
“Okay.”
Hand in hand, they made their way back to the cottage.

The Doctor was ready to leave when they got back. “Please, Clara, I can’t take anymore of this! She keeps touching me!”
Clara couldn’t help but laugh. “If you say so, Doctor.” She turned to Jane. “Oh, Jane Austen, it was such a pleasure meeting you.”
“The pleasure was all mine.” Jane brushed her lips against Clara’s. “To remember me by,” she explained.
“I’m never gonna forget you,” Clara promised. “I’ll see you again, yeah?”
“If I’m lucky.”
The Doctor started back to the TARDIS and with one last look back at Jane, Clara joined him.

Back in the TARDIS, the Doctor punched in the coordinates for Clara’s flat. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked.
“It was exactly what I needed, thank you, Doctor.”
“You’re welcome, Clara Oswald. Thank you.”
“What for?”
“For looking after me; for giving me a reason to go on.”
Clara felt the hot sting of tears. “I’m gonna go before you make me cry.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before walking out of the TARDIS.

A couple of months later, Clara and the Doctor were back in the TARDIS. Clara leaned against the console, and sighed. “And I thought Missy was bad last time,” she said.
“You should know better than to trust her,” the Doctor replied, rolling eyes. “I’ve known her…him….longer than you.”
“What else could I do? You weren’t here and she had stopped all the planes. UNIT called me, cos you wouldn’t answer your phone.”
“I was meditating.”
“About that, Doctor….the confession dial….did you really think you were going to die?”
“I could die at anytime, Clara. That’s the price you pay when you do what I do.”
“It’s worth it, though.”
“I like to think so.”
Clara stretched. “Do you think we could go visit Jane Austen again?”
“Again?”
“Yeah. She was fun. I miss her.”
“Got on well, did you?” The Doctor waggled his prominent eyebrows.
“Shut up. We care about each other.”
“No judgment. After Jack and River I’ve learned to just keep mum.”
“So, can we?”
The Doctor sighed. “Very quickly. Then it’s back to school for you, Miss Oswald.”
“I did kind of walk out in the middle of class,” Clara mused.
The TARDIS engines roared to life and Clara closed her eyes, letting the sound fill her. It shot through her veins, lighting her blood afire. She loved adventure, could never get enough. It would be a cold day in Hell before she gave that up again.
The TARDIS grew quiet, and Clara hurried through the doors. This time the TARDIS was parked right outside Jane’s cottage.
Before Clara could say anything, Jane was in the doorway, waving excitedly. “Clara!” she called.
“Hey, Jane!” Clara ran to her and engulfed her in a bear hug. “I’ve missed you!”
“I have missed you, too,” Jane breathed into her ear.
Jane pulled back and Clara got a good look at her. Last time, she had been thin, but looked healthy, full of life; now Jane looked gaunt, her cheeks sallow and hollow. The light that had glowed so brightly from her eyes, was dulled to faint flicker.
“What’s wrong?” Clara asked, concern setting in. She remembered that Jane Austen had fallen ill with bovine tuberculosis, at least that’s what the historians said. The illness was linked to drinking unpasteurized milk.
“I’ve just been…been feeling ill.” Jane started coughing uncontrollably, her whole body wracked with the fit.
“And you haven’t gotten treatment?” Clara demanded.
“I’m fine, really. It’s just a cold. I’ve been far too busy writing and keeping the house up. I just finished a new one. It’s called Emma.”
“I’ve read it,” Clara said. “But your health…”
“Ah, never mind that. You’re here, let’s catch up. How have you been?”
“Well, I’d say. The Doctor and I just got back from Skaro.”
“Ah, yes, the Daleks. Dreadful creatures.”
“You know them?”
“I’ve met them a time or two. The Doctor took me in the TARDIS a few times.”
“And he never told me,” Clara said under her breath. “It was…quite an adventure. I hid inside an empty Dalek shell…almost got killed.”
“Sounds exhilarating.”
Clara laughed heartily. “It was. It’s such a rush. I love it.”
“Speaking of the Doctor, where is he?”
“In the TARDIS…he’s in a hurry to get me back home. I just wanted to pop in for a quick visit.”
“I am glad you did, love. You always brighten my day.”
“You brighten mine, too.” Clara’s face flushed puce. “Look after your health, though.”
“Yes, yes. I’m fine, dear. Won’t you come in? Perhaps I could read you some of Emma? That’s how I do it, you know. As I write, I read it aloud to Mother and Cassandra, see what they think of it.”
“As tempting as that sounds, I really need to get back home. I left in the middle of class to help UNIT with something, lucky I didn’t get sacked.”
“A good thing, indeed.” Jane leaned in and gave her a hug. This time, Clara could feel her bones protruding through her skin. Jane had lost a lot of weight. “Take care of yourself, Clara Oswald.”
“You, too, Jane Austen. Write me a whopper.”
Jane smiled. “Oh, I will.”
Clara waved. “I’ll see you soon, then.”
“I sincerely hope so.”
“Okay. By the way, what year is it?”
“1816.”
Just a matter of months before Jane would succumb to her tuberculosis. “A great year,” Clara encouraged.
Clara got back into the TARDIS and her smile fell. “Doctor…”
“Oh, Clara, don’t tell me you’ve decided to stay and marry Jane Austen. You don’t need to give up our life and your job just to get married….”
“Doctor, shut up. I am not marrying Jane Austen.”
“Good. You can’t change history.”
“She was sick, Doctor. Seriously. She hasn’t got much time left. “
The Doctor’s face grew grim. “Oh, Clara….”
“No, I’m not going to ask you to change anything. I just want to understand why. Why won’t she get looked at?”
“Even if she did, Clara, they didn’t have a cure for tuberculosis in the 19th century.”
“I know.” Clara sighed. “Take me home, now?”
“Sure.”
The TARDIS lit up, the central column started rising and falling steadily.
“Are you going to be okay?” the Doctor asked.
“I’ll be fine. I’m going to have a glass of wine and read Emma.”
“Sounds fun.”
The TARDIS console grew still and Clara paused in the doorway. “Maybe we can go to the future next time?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Clara got out of the TARDIS and hurried into here flat. Closing the door behind her, she went into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of wine, and went and sat on her couch. She grabbed Emma from her small bookshelf, and cracked it open.

Clara could hear the TARDIS materializing outside her flat. She looked at herself in the mirror very quickly. She looked good. She was wearing a powder blue sweater, black jeans, and black boots with white soles. Under the sweater she wore a white dress shirt, the collar hinged over the neckline of her sweater.
She flew down the several flights of stairs to the ground floor, and out the door, where the TARDIS stood, a welcome sight. “Where to today, Doctor?” Clara asked, skipping up the walkway to the center console.
“I thought maybe we could go see Jane Austen,” the Doctor said casually.
“Jane?” Clara breathed.
“You promised her last time that you’d be back soon.”
“Bloody TARDIS monitor.”
“You should go see her again, Clara.”
“I don’t want to lose her!” Clara exclaimed, running a hand through her hair. “I lost Danny, isn’t that enough?”
“We lose people, Clara,” the Doctor said, quietly. “It’s a fact of life.”
“I suppose. What would you do if you ever lost me?” Clara asked.
The Doctor stood ramrod straight. Darkness washed over his features like a screen. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
“It’s a possibility, isn’t it?”
“Anything is possible. Why are we talking about this? We’re going to see Jane Austen.”
“Fine.” Clara crossed her arms over her chest.
When the TARDIS had arrived, she got out and saw that they were right outside of a yellow house. “Where are we?” she asked.
“Winchester,” the Doctor poked his head out of the door.
Not waiting for the Doctor, she went up to the door and knocked.
A few seconds later, a woman answered the door, and Clara gasped. It looked like Jane, but significantly older, her face lined with worry. “Cassandra?”
“Clara,” Cassandra replied. “Good of you to come.”
“Come?” Her heart froze in her chest. “Jane’s not…?”
“She hasn’t got long. She’s been bedridden for days.”
Clara choked back a sob. “Has she been asking for me?”
“Every day. I think she’s been holding out, waiting to see you one last time.”
Clara’s vision blurred as tears rained down her cheeks. She nodded simply and followed Cassandra inside, the Doctor close behind them.
Jane was in a bedroom in the back, looking even thinner than she had when Clara had seen her last. Her face was skull-like, the bones clearly visible in her cheeks. Her skin was almost gray. Her hair hung in lank strands around her.
“Clara?” Jane’s voice was barely a whisper.
“I’m here,” Clara said, her voice heavy with emotion. She sat beside Jane and raised her hand to her lips, kissing it softly.
“You look radiant,” Jane complimented.
“So do you.”
“Liar.” Jane’s lips tugged up into a gruesome smile.
“Did you finish it?” Clara asked. “That novel you were going to write for me?”
“I did. It’s…it’s in the drawer there.”
Clara reached into the drawer and drew out a manuscript. The cover read, The Elliots.
“I can’t find an appropriate title. I hope I find one before I publish it.
Clara knew that the manuscript would not be published until December 1817. Jane died on 18 July, 1817.
“Persuasion, maybe?” Clara suggested.
Jane smiled again, her face a perfect death mask. “Oh, Clara, you really are a bloody genius, you know that?”
“Nah. You’re the genius.”
“I’ve been working on something else, too, I’ve had to stop for the time being. I’m too tired to even get out of bed these days. I suppose if I sleep enough, I’ll feel better.”
“Maybe,” Clara lied.
“It’s called The Brothers. I got eleven chapters in before I got too tired.”
Clara knew that The Brothers would not be published until 1925, and the title would be changed to Sanditon.
“Sounds like another great one.”
“I hope so. I do so want to be remembered, Clara.”
“Of course you will be. I’ll never forget you.”
“I didn’t think you would.”
Clara set the manuscript down and took Jane’s frail hand in hers again. “What day is it?” she asked.
“18 July, 1817,” Cassandra supplied.
Clara burst into tears again, hiding her face from Jane. The Doctor squeezed her shoulder comfortingly.
“Why do you cry, my love?” Jane rasped, her voice getting weaker with every sentence.
“I just…miss you so much.” Clara couldn’t bring herself to tell Jane the truth.
“You’re here now, that’s what matters.”
“Of course.”
They sat for a long while, just enjoying each other’s company. Jane continued to grow weaker and weaker, her eyes fighting to stay open. Clara looked at the Doctor and he nodded. It was almost time.
“Maybe you should get some rest,” Clara suggested, gently.
“I don’t….want to miss you,” Jane croaked.
“You won’t miss me,” Clara replied. “I’ll stay here, I promise.”
“Til the end?”
Clara swallowed. Jane knew was dying? “Yes,” she said.
Jane closed her eyes and her breathing grew shallow. “You were the light of my life, Clara Oswald.”
“You have always been the light of mine,” Clara assured her. She kissed Jane’s hand again.
Jane closed her eyes, and her chest stopped rising and falling. Clara kissed her gently on the forehead and stood up. There were no tears now.
She turned to Cassandra, who was wiping tears from eyes with a kerchief. “Make sure that Persuasion gets published.” It wasn’t a question, it was an order.
“I will,” Cassandra promised.
“Keep The Brothers, too, though, Sanditon sounds a bit better.”
“Okay.”
Clara looked back and looked at Jane. She was at peace now. “Goodbye, Jane,” she whispered.
The Doctor grabbed her shoulders and led her back through the house. Clara wasn’t even aware of her legs moving.
Once back in the TARDIS, the Doctor handed her a cup of tea. “Drink it,” he ordered. Clara didn’t even argue.
It was silent for a long time. Finally, Clara finished her tea and slammed the cup down. “Why would you show me that?” she demanded, cheeks burning hot with anger.
“I needed you to see the consequences…”
“What consequences? Of life? I’m well aware of those, thank you.”
“Of this life,” the Doctor iterated.
“I don’t care!” Clara shouted. “I am in it. A hundred percent.”
“Even though you’ll get hurt?”
“It’s nice to feel something again! I can’t shut down, Doctor. I can’t. If I gave this up, that’s what I’d be doing. I need this rush, it’s what I live for.”
“You’re getting a little reckless.”
“I don’t care. It makes me feel alive!”
“Some day, you may not be alive!” The Doctor exclaimed, his face a snarl of anger.
“Well, then, that’ll be my choice, won’t it?”
The Doctor exhaled sharply. “Clara…”
“No. I’m done talking about this. What you and I have…it’s fun. Let’s just have fun, okay?”
The Doctor stared into Clara’s tear streaked face. “Okay,” he relented.
“So..where are we off to?”
The Doctor scrunched his face up pensively. “How about….the second most beautiful garden in all of time and space?”
“Why not the first?” Clara challenged.
“Been there, not too beautiful, to be honest. Unless you want to see the Judas tree and man-eating Venus Fly Traps.”
“I’ll pass. I should probably change my shirt. This'll stain before I know it.”
“Second best it is.” The Doctor started flipping switches on the TARDIS console.
“Thank you,” Clara said, walking past the Doctor.
“For what?”
“For giving me this life. It really is incredible.”
“You’re very welcome, Clara Oswald.”
Clara smiled and squeezed the Doctor’s hand. Sure, the life they led was dangerous. Extremely dangerous, but at the end of the day, Clara wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Description
Clara Oswald could not stop grinning. It felt so good to be back in the TARDIS again! She’d never thought she’d feel the buzz of energy or the surge of life that emanated from the central control console. It was like a high!
She turned around the look at the Doctor, who was walking around the control console slowly, tapping buttons and flipping switches. God, how she’d missed this incredible man!
“Where are we going?” she asked, her eyes wide with excitement.
“It’s a surprise, Clara Oswald. A Christmas surprise,” the Doctor replied. Even though she’d been travelling with this incarnation of the Doctor for almost a year now, she still had trouble getting used to his Scottish accent. The Doctor that she had known, the Eleventh Doctor, had been young and British, with an admiration of bowties and tweed jackets; this one was middle aged and Scottish with long, curly grey hair and favored looking like a magician.
“Doctor, I’m in my nightie and dressing gown,” Clara pointed out, arms out wide.
“Pop up to the TARDIS wardrobe and pick something out, you’ve done it before.” His eyes twinkled mischievously.
“But what do I wear? You have to give me some clue. Jeans and a sweater? Frock? Bathing suit?” She gasped. “Are we going to the beach? Please tell me we’re going to be a beach. It’s freezing outside.”
“No. Somewhere far, far better.”
“Just a little hint?” Clara sidled up the Doctor and hugged him.
“Aaah,” he groaned, his face scrunching up in disgust. This incarnation of the Doctor was still not very fond of hugs.
“I’ll hug you until you tell me, so you’d better just spill.”
“All right, all right.”
“Thank you.” Clara released him. “So…?”
“Pick out something appropriate for the 18th century.”
“Gotcha.”
Clara hurried up the stairs, and followed the serpentine corridors of the TARDIS until she came to the familiar oaken doors that led to the wardrobe. She ran her hand over the wooden door and felt the life within. “I’m back,” she whispered.
She threw open the doors and set to work finding a proper outfit to wear for the 18th century.

About twenty minutes later, Clara came back into the main control room. She was wearing a pink gown with flowers spiraling up and down it. Around the neck and bosom, white cloth crossed over and made an apron effect over the front of the gown. Clara’s dark hair was piled up high on her head, with ringlets cascading down toward her collarbone.
“How do I look?” she asked lightly, clenching and unclenching her hands nervously.
The Doctor glanced up at her. “You look fine, Clara. Are you ready? Time’s wasting.”
“We have a time machine,” Clara pointed out. “Time’s never wasting.”
The Doctor decided not to argue with her. She was an English teacher, after all.
Clara approached the TARDIS doors. “Are you coming?” she asked, pushing the door open.
“I’m right behind you.”
Clara stepped out of the TARDIS and into a grassy meadow. The sun was shining down brightly on her, no snow to be seen. Thank God!
The Doctor came out behind her and shut the TARDIS doors, locking them quickly. “I have to say, this is a step up from your time, Clara. The air is fresher and there aren’t mobiles attached to everyone’s ears.”
“Where are we?” Clara asked, grinning excitedly.
“England.”
“Yes, but when? What year?”
“1798.”
“What happens in 1798?”
“It’s your Christmas surprise, Clara. I can’t just spoil everything. You’ll have to wait and see.”
“Can you at least tell me where we are?”
“Hampshire.”
“Hamphire? That’s where….” Clara’s face lit up. “Jane Austen lived here!”
The Doctor smiled. “I know she’s your favorite author.”
“I’m going to meet Jane Austen!?” Clara squealed. “This is too much! I thought meeting Robin Hood was great, this definitely tops that!”
They walked toward a cottage that loomed over in the distance. “So little of her life is known,” Clara gushed as they walked. “Did you know that of the 3,000 letters she wrote in her lifetime, only about 160 still remain? “
“She’s a very private person,” the Doctor explained. “She’s not the celebrities of your time. Clara, your Kardashians and Taylor Swifts with their Facebooks and Instagrams.”
“I’d hardly call the Kardashians celebrities. I prefer to think of them as…”
The Doctor clapped a hand over Clara’s mouth. “This is all wrong,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“This isn’t Hampshire.”
“How can you tell?”
“I’ve visited Jane Austen enough times to know her house in Hampshire. This isn’t it.”
“Then where are we?”
A woman with dark hair and a slight frame dropped out of the tree above them. Clara gasped and her heart leapt into her throat. The Doctor merely rolled his eyes. “Still up to your pranks, I see, Jane.”
“You know me, Doctor. I love a good laugh.” The woman chuckled and turned to Clara. “I’m so sorry for scaring you, love. I’m well known for my pranks.”
“It’s all right, it’s just….You’re her…”
“I’m she,” Jane countered.
“You’re Jane Austen!”
“I am.”
“I’m a huge fan!”
“I’m sorry? You’re a what?” Jane knit her brows.
“I’m a fan of your work, you know? A fanatic.”
“ Oh, how lovely.” Jane smiled warmly. “It’s nice to meet a….a fan.”
“Your biggest fan!” Clara grabbed Jane’s hand and squeezed them. “I’ve read everything you published. I wrote my thesis on Pride and Prejudice.”
“Are you a scholar?”
“I’m a teacher.”
“And they make you go to school for that?”
“Clara’s from 2014, Jane,” the Doctor cut in. “Things are very different in her time.”
“Doctor.” Jane kissed him on the cheek. “You look as lovely as ever, old friend.”
“You, too.”
“You recognize him?” Clara asked.
“I have seen pictures of all of his faces. A woman named River Song showed them to me. She had such lovely hair. She kissed very well.”
“Okay.” Clara laughed in disbelief. “This is incredible!”
“I’ll say. The Doctor has never brought such a beautiful friend with him.” Jane winked.
“Thanks.” Clara blushed a deep scarlet red.
“So, where are we?” the Doctor asked, letting Clara off the hook. “I put in the coordinates for Hampshire, but this definitely isn’t it.”
“We’re in Chawton. Mother, Cassandra, and I are staying at Edward’s cottage. It’s lovely. I write every day. It’s so much better than Bath. I couldn’t even get a sentence out in that dreadful place. But enough about that, let’s go say hello to Mother and Cassandra, they’ve missed you terribly.”
Jane turned around and led the way back to the cottage. Clara fell into step with the Doctor. “So, how come you never told me that you and Jane Austen were best mates?”
“It never came up,” the Doctor replied with a shrug.
“Oh, really, it never came up? Not all those times I told you how much I loved Jane Austen? Never?”
“Stop dawdling you two,” Jane called back to them.
‘”Coming!” Clara replied. She turned to the Doctor. “We’ll discuss this later.”
At the cottage, they were greeted by a woman who looked to be about 70, and a girl who looked a lot like Jane. “Mother, Cassandra, this is my friend…” Jane turned to her.
“Clara. Clara Oswald,” Clara supplied.
“Delighted to meet you,” Jane’s mother, also Cassandra, said.
“The pleasure is mine.” Clara did a little curtsy.
Both women burst into delighted laughter.
Jane cleared her throat. “And, of course, you remember my friend, the Doctor.”
Jane’s mother’s eyes went wide and she gasped. “Oh, Doctor!” she cried. “You’re finally my age!”
“I’m still older than you,” the Doctor pointed out. “I’m over 900 years old.”
“Oh, posh!” Jane’s mother leaned in and pressed her lips against the Doctor’s. “Although, I did like being a, oh, what do they call it, oh, yes, a cougar!” She laughed naughtily.
“This is mental,” Clara muttered under her breath. She had met Jane Austen, her hero for most of her life, and here was Jane’s mother, with her tongue down the Doctor’s throat. “This is wrong.”
“What is?” Jane asked.
“You shouldn’t know about the Doctor, or…or time travel. Your mother shouldn’t know what a cougar is! There must be some kind of break in time or something….things are happening that should never have happened…”
Jane put her hand on Clara’s shoulder. “Walk with me?” she asked.
“Um, okay.”
They walked off toward the meadow again, silent until they were out of earshot from the others.
“I know this must be quite a lot to wrap your head around,” Jane began.
“I should be saying that to you,” Clara said, chuckling.
“I first met the Doctor when I was a young girl. I was doubting myself as a writer, I had lost all direction. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I..I considered ending it.”
“You were gonna kill yourself?”
“Yes,” Jane replied unashamedly.
“But, you’d have robbed the world of such a great gift!”
“That’s what the Doctor said when he appeared to me that night, fresh from his TARDIS. He was different then, northerner, black jacket, big ears.”
“I think I’ve seen him….”
“But meeting the Doctor, it changed my life. It inspired me to keep writing, to give what I could to the world, to better it.”
“Sounds about right,” Clara conceded.
“And he saved my family from a nest of Zygons. “
“Ugly buggers, aren’t they?”
“Completely.”
The two girls laughed, and Jane moved closer to Clara. “Are you trying to kiss me?” Clara asked.
“Maybe.” Jane chuckled. She leaned in again…and smacked Clara on the shoulder. “You’re it!”
Jane ran off in a cloud of high, pealing laughter. Clara groaned and chased after her.
They ran through the meadow, the high grass, stopping them from going too fast. “You’re too slow!” Jane taunted, changing direction and hopping over a fallen log.
“You know the terrain better,” Clara pointed out, sliding over the log.
Suddenly, up ahead, Jane fell forward and went silent. Clara stopped dead in her tracks. “Jane? Are you okay? Jane?” Clara’s heart started hammering in her chest. Was Jane all right?
She pushed her way through the grass slowly, so as not to step on Jane when she found her.
“Jane? Jane, answer me!”
Clara came across Jane lying prostrate on the ground. She dropped to her knees and rolled Jane over. Her eyes were closed. Clara checked her chest, it wasn’t rising or falling. Her CPR training kicked in, and she put her mouth over Jane’s.
Clara was just about to pass air into Jane’s lungs, when she felt fingers in her hair. She pulled back and screamed.
Jane sat up and laughed. “I got you good!” she choked out, laughing gregariously.
“That was not funny!” Clara panted. “I thought you were dead!”
“What did I tell you? I love a good prank.” Jane’s eyes twinkled naughtily. She pulled Clara in and kissed her furiously.
Clara stiffened with shock, but Jane was a good kisser, and she found herself kissing back, leaning into Jane.
When the kiss broke, Clara chewed her lip. “That was…”
“Incredible!” Jane finished, grinning. “I just knew you’d be a consummate kisser.”
“That was the best kiss I’ve ever had,” Clara admitted.
“Why, thank you.” Jane shuffled her feet. “For the longest time I thought that no one would ever love me…”
“Love you…?” Clara asked.
“I know you have to go home to your time, Clara, but I feel this strange connection to you.”
“I do, too.”
“And it’s queer, because we just met…”
“But it’s so strong,” Clara added.
“You came to me at the right time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not getting any younger, Clara.”
“What year is this, by the way?”
“1811.”
Clara knew that Jane Austen died on 18 July, 1817. Six years from now. She also knew from history that Jane Austen never married, never had children. It broke her heart as this realization sunk in. “I just lost someone important to me,” she whispered.
“Who?” Jane asked.
“His name was Danny Pink. I loved him. I love him so, so much.”
“What happened to him? War?”
“No.” Clara sighed. “He got hit by a car.”
“I’ve heard of those. Dreadful things.”
“Yeah.”
A tear spilled down Clara’s cheek. Jane reached up and wiped it away. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s okay. He told me I was only allowed to miss him for five minutes a day…then the rest of the time I’m supposed to just get the hell on with it.”
“He must have loved you very much…”
“He did. And I loved him.”
Clara cleared her throat. “Enough with the melancholy, it’s boring. I’m meeting my hero; not my executioner.” She smiled. “Can I say what an honor it is to meet you, Jane Austen? You have inspired me for many, many years.”
“Well, thank you, Clara, it’s touching to know that I’ve inspired such a strong woman.”
“It was my mum who made me strong. When I was little, she’d read to me every night from one of your books. Sense and Sensibility was the first one. That’s where I got my passion for teaching English. I wanted to relive the joy I felt at discovering the classics for the first time. I always wanted to write something that would inspire the way that you inspired me.”
“Perhaps you will.” Jane squeezed Clara’s hand.
“Maybe. Who knows? It’s a dangerous life I lead.”
“Life is not worth living if you don’t take risks.”
“Good point. You’re a genius, you know that?”
Jane smiled warmly. “Let’s go back to the house. It’s getting dark.”
“Okay.”
Hand in hand, they made their way back to the cottage.

The Doctor was ready to leave when they got back. “Please, Clara, I can’t take anymore of this! She keeps touching me!”
Clara couldn’t help but laugh. “If you say so, Doctor.” She turned to Jane. “Oh, Jane Austen, it was such a pleasure meeting you.”
“The pleasure was all mine.” Jane brushed her lips against Clara’s. “To remember me by,” she explained.
“I’m never gonna forget you,” Clara promised. “I’ll see you again, yeah?”
“If I’m lucky.”
The Doctor started back to the TARDIS and with one last look back at Jane, Clara joined him.

Back in the TARDIS, the Doctor punched in the coordinates for Clara’s flat. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked.
“It was exactly what I needed, thank you, Doctor.”
“You’re welcome, Clara Oswald. Thank you.”
“What for?”
“For looking after me; for giving me a reason to go on.”
Clara felt the hot sting of tears. “I’m gonna go before you make me cry.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before walking out of the TARDIS.

A couple of months later, Clara and the Doctor were back in the TARDIS. Clara leaned against the console, and sighed. “And I thought Missy was bad last time,” she said.
“You should know better than to trust her,” the Doctor replied, rolling eyes. “I’ve known her…him….longer than you.”
“What else could I do? You weren’t here and she had stopped all the planes. UNIT called me, cos you wouldn’t answer your phone.”
“I was meditating.”
“About that, Doctor….the confession dial….did you really think you were going to die?”
“I could die at anytime, Clara. That’s the price you pay when you do what I do.”
“It’s worth it, though.”
“I like to think so.”
Clara stretched. “Do you think we could go visit Jane Austen again?”
“Again?”
“Yeah. She was fun. I miss her.”
“Got on well, did you?” The Doctor waggled his prominent eyebrows.
“Shut up. We care about each other.”
“No judgment. After Jack and River I’ve learned to just keep mum.”
“So, can we?”
The Doctor sighed. “Very quickly. Then it’s back to school for you, Miss Oswald.”
“I did kind of walk out in the middle of class,” Clara mused.
The TARDIS engines roared to life and Clara closed her eyes, letting the sound fill her. It shot through her veins, lighting her blood afire. She loved adventure, could never get enough. It would be a cold day in Hell before she gave that up again.
The TARDIS grew quiet, and Clara hurried through the doors. This time the TARDIS was parked right outside Jane’s cottage.
Before Clara could say anything, Jane was in the doorway, waving excitedly. “Clara!” she called.
“Hey, Jane!” Clara ran to her and engulfed her in a bear hug. “I’ve missed you!”
“I have missed you, too,” Jane breathed into her ear.
Jane pulled back and Clara got a good look at her. Last time, she had been thin, but looked healthy, full of life; now Jane looked gaunt, her cheeks sallow and hollow. The light that had glowed so brightly from her eyes, was dulled to faint flicker.
“What’s wrong?” Clara asked, concern setting in. She remembered that Jane Austen had fallen ill with bovine tuberculosis, at least that’s what the historians said. The illness was linked to drinking unpasteurized milk.
“I’ve just been…been feeling ill.” Jane started coughing uncontrollably, her whole body wracked with the fit.
“And you haven’t gotten treatment?” Clara demanded.
“I’m fine, really. It’s just a cold. I’ve been far too busy writing and keeping the house up. I just finished a new one. It’s called Emma.”
“I’ve read it,” Clara said. “But your health…”
“Ah, never mind that. You’re here, let’s catch up. How have you been?”
“Well, I’d say. The Doctor and I just got back from Skaro.”
“Ah, yes, the Daleks. Dreadful creatures.”
“You know them?”
“I’ve met them a time or two. The Doctor took me in the TARDIS a few times.”
“And he never told me,” Clara said under her breath. “It was…quite an adventure. I hid inside an empty Dalek shell…almost got killed.”
“Sounds exhilarating.”
Clara laughed heartily. “It was. It’s such a rush. I love it.”
“Speaking of the Doctor, where is he?”
“In the TARDIS…he’s in a hurry to get me back home. I just wanted to pop in for a quick visit.”
“I am glad you did, love. You always brighten my day.”
“You brighten mine, too.” Clara’s face flushed puce. “Look after your health, though.”
“Yes, yes. I’m fine, dear. Won’t you come in? Perhaps I could read you some of Emma? That’s how I do it, you know. As I write, I read it aloud to Mother and Cassandra, see what they think of it.”
“As tempting as that sounds, I really need to get back home. I left in the middle of class to help UNIT with something, lucky I didn’t get sacked.”
“A good thing, indeed.” Jane leaned in and gave her a hug. This time, Clara could feel her bones protruding through her skin. Jane had lost a lot of weight. “Take care of yourself, Clara Oswald.”
“You, too, Jane Austen. Write me a whopper.”
Jane smiled. “Oh, I will.”
Clara waved. “I’ll see you soon, then.”
“I sincerely hope so.”
“Okay. By the way, what year is it?”
“1816.”
Just a matter of months before Jane would succumb to her tuberculosis. “A great year,” Clara encouraged.
Clara got back into the TARDIS and her smile fell. “Doctor…”
“Oh, Clara, don’t tell me you’ve decided to stay and marry Jane Austen. You don’t need to give up our life and your job just to get married….”
“Doctor, shut up. I am not marrying Jane Austen.”
“Good. You can’t change history.”
“She was sick, Doctor. Seriously. She hasn’t got much time left. “
The Doctor’s face grew grim. “Oh, Clara….”
“No, I’m not going to ask you to change anything. I just want to understand why. Why won’t she get looked at?”
“Even if she did, Clara, they didn’t have a cure for tuberculosis in the 19th century.”
“I know.” Clara sighed. “Take me home, now?”
“Sure.”
The TARDIS lit up, the central column started rising and falling steadily.
“Are you going to be okay?” the Doctor asked.
“I’ll be fine. I’m going to have a glass of wine and read Emma.”
“Sounds fun.”
The TARDIS console grew still and Clara paused in the doorway. “Maybe we can go to the future next time?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Clara got out of the TARDIS and hurried into here flat. Closing the door behind her, she went into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of wine, and went and sat on her couch. She grabbed Emma from her small bookshelf, and cracked it open.

Clara could hear the TARDIS materializing outside her flat. She looked at herself in the mirror very quickly. She looked good. She was wearing a powder blue sweater, black jeans, and black boots with white soles. Under the sweater she wore a white dress shirt, the collar hinged over the neckline of her sweater.
She flew down the several flights of stairs to the ground floor, and out the door, where the TARDIS stood, a welcome sight. “Where to today, Doctor?” Clara asked, skipping up the walkway to the center console.
“I thought maybe we could go see Jane Austen,” the Doctor said casually.
“Jane?” Clara breathed.
“You promised her last time that you’d be back soon.”
“Bloody TARDIS monitor.”
“You should go see her again, Clara.”
“I don’t want to lose her!” Clara exclaimed, running a hand through her hair. “I lost Danny, isn’t that enough?”
“We lose people, Clara,” the Doctor said, quietly. “It’s a fact of life.”
“I suppose. What would you do if you ever lost me?” Clara asked.
The Doctor stood ramrod straight. Darkness washed over his features like a screen. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
“It’s a possibility, isn’t it?”
“Anything is possible. Why are we talking about this? We’re going to see Jane Austen.”
“Fine.” Clara crossed her arms over her chest.
When the TARDIS had arrived, she got out and saw that they were right outside of a yellow house. “Where are we?” she asked.
“Winchester,” the Doctor poked his head out of the door.
Not waiting for the Doctor, she went up to the door and knocked.
A few seconds later, a woman answered the door, and Clara gasped. It looked like Jane, but significantly older, her face lined with worry. “Cassandra?”
“Clara,” Cassandra replied. “Good of you to come.”
“Come?” Her heart froze in her chest. “Jane’s not…?”
“She hasn’t got long. She’s been bedridden for days.”
Clara choked back a sob. “Has she been asking for me?”
“Every day. I think she’s been holding out, waiting to see you one last time.”
Clara’s vision blurred as tears rained down her cheeks. She nodded simply and followed Cassandra inside, the Doctor close behind them.
Jane was in a bedroom in the back, looking even thinner than she had when Clara had seen her last. Her face was skull-like, the bones clearly visible in her cheeks. Her skin was almost gray. Her hair hung in lank strands around her.
“Clara?” Jane’s voice was barely a whisper.
“I’m here,” Clara said, her voice heavy with emotion. She sat beside Jane and raised her hand to her lips, kissing it softly.
“You look radiant,” Jane complimented.
“So do you.”
“Liar.” Jane’s lips tugged up into a gruesome smile.
“Did you finish it?” Clara asked. “That novel you were going to write for me?”
“I did. It’s…it’s in the drawer there.”
Clara reached into the drawer and drew out a manuscript. The cover read, The Elliots.
“I can’t find an appropriate title. I hope I find one before I publish it.
Clara knew that the manuscript would not be published until December 1817. Jane died on 18 July, 1817.
“Persuasion, maybe?” Clara suggested.
Jane smiled again, her face a perfect death mask. “Oh, Clara, you really are a bloody genius, you know that?”
“Nah. You’re the genius.”
“I’ve been working on something else, too, I’ve had to stop for the time being. I’m too tired to even get out of bed these days. I suppose if I sleep enough, I’ll feel better.”
“Maybe,” Clara lied.
“It’s called The Brothers. I got eleven chapters in before I got too tired.”
Clara knew that The Brothers would not be published until 1925, and the title would be changed to Sanditon.
“Sounds like another great one.”
“I hope so. I do so want to be remembered, Clara.”
“Of course you will be. I’ll never forget you.”
“I didn’t think you would.”
Clara set the manuscript down and took Jane’s frail hand in hers again. “What day is it?” she asked.
“18 July, 1817,” Cassandra supplied.
Clara burst into tears again, hiding her face from Jane. The Doctor squeezed her shoulder comfortingly.
“Why do you cry, my love?” Jane rasped, her voice getting weaker with every sentence.
“I just…miss you so much.” Clara couldn’t bring herself to tell Jane the truth.
“You’re here now, that’s what matters.”
“Of course.”
They sat for a long while, just enjoying each other’s company. Jane continued to grow weaker and weaker, her eyes fighting to stay open. Clara looked at the Doctor and he nodded. It was almost time.
“Maybe you should get some rest,” Clara suggested, gently.
“I don’t….want to miss you,” Jane croaked.
“You won’t miss me,” Clara replied. “I’ll stay here, I promise.”
“Til the end?”
Clara swallowed. Jane knew was dying? “Yes,” she said.
Jane closed her eyes and her breathing grew shallow. “You were the light of my life, Clara Oswald.”
“You have always been the light of mine,” Clara assured her. She kissed Jane’s hand again.
Jane closed her eyes, and her chest stopped rising and falling. Clara kissed her gently on the forehead and stood up. There were no tears now.
She turned to Cassandra, who was wiping tears from eyes with a kerchief. “Make sure that Persuasion gets published.” It wasn’t a question, it was an order.
“I will,” Cassandra promised.
“Keep The Brothers, too, though, Sanditon sounds a bit better.”
“Okay.”
Clara looked back and looked at Jane. She was at peace now. “Goodbye, Jane,” she whispered.
The Doctor grabbed her shoulders and led her back through the house. Clara wasn’t even aware of her legs moving.
Once back in the TARDIS, the Doctor handed her a cup of tea. “Drink it,” he ordered. Clara didn’t even argue.
It was silent for a long time. Finally, Clara finished her tea and slammed the cup down. “Why would you show me that?” she demanded, cheeks burning hot with anger.
“I needed you to see the consequences…”
“What consequences? Of life? I’m well aware of those, thank you.”
“Of this life,” the Doctor iterated.
“I don’t care!” Clara shouted. “I am in it. A hundred percent.”
“Even though you’ll get hurt?”
“It’s nice to feel something again! I can’t shut down, Doctor. I can’t. If I gave this up, that’s what I’d be doing. I need this rush, it’s what I live for.”
“You’re getting a little reckless.”
“I don’t care. It makes me feel alive!”
“Some day, you may not be alive!” The Doctor exclaimed, his face a snarl of anger.
“Well, then, that’ll be my choice, won’t it?”
The Doctor exhaled sharply. “Clara…”
“No. I’m done talking about this. What you and I have…it’s fun. Let’s just have fun, okay?”
The Doctor stared into Clara’s tear streaked face. “Okay,” he relented.
“So..where are we off to?”
The Doctor scrunched his face up pensively. “How about….the second most beautiful garden in all of time and space?”
“Why not the first?” Clara challenged.
“Been there, not too beautiful, to be honest. Unless you want to see the Judas tree and man-eating Venus Fly Traps.”
“I’ll pass. I should probably change my shirt. This'll stain before I know it.”
“Second best it is.” The Doctor started flipping switches on the TARDIS console.
“Thank you,” Clara said, walking past the Doctor.
“For what?”
“For giving me this life. It really is incredible.”
“You’re very welcome, Clara Oswald.”
Clara smiled and squeezed the Doctor’s hand. Sure, the life they led was dangerous. Extremely dangerous, but at the end of the day, Clara wouldn’t miss it for the world.