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Stars in a Bottle Fandom: Doctor Who Pairing: Eleven x Clara Length: 4,000 words Warnings: None Also on Ao3

Keeping the Doctor still is like trying to catch stars in a bottle, Clara thinks. He’s something that just can’t be contained, his energy spilling over, electric and crackling and begging to be back in the sky.

Which is a bit of a problem, considering he and Clara are currently stuck in a sub, miles and miles down under the sea. (A follow up to the Series 7 episode, Cold War, which ends with the Doctor and Clara being trapped on a submarine until they reach the TARDIS at the South Pole.)

Clara stands atop a surfaced submarine, surrounded by a sea of half-sunken icebergs. There’s snow flurries fluttering softly in the air like white feathers and wind whipping against her pale blue party dress, and up in the sky, there’s a silver Ice Warrior spaceship, flying away.

But never mind that. Clara’s more interested in why, when the Doctor promised her Vegas, the TARDIS dumped them onto a sinking submarine and then disappeared, like some sort of twisted version of ding-dong-ditch. “Where’s the TARDIS? You never explained,” Clara asks him now, and the Doctor glances at her a bit shiftily, before edging away as if he’s afraid of a scolding.

“I’ve been tinkering, adjusting some settings. I’m allowed,” he tells her, adding on that last sentence a bit defensively when Clara raises an eyebrow.

“What did you do?”

“I reset the HADS.” Clara stares at him blankly. She has no idea what the HADS is, other than she’s pretty sure - no, scratch that - definitely sure he shouldn’t have been tinkering with it in the first place.

“The Hostile Action Displacement System,” he explains. “If the TARDIS thinks it’s under attack, it relocates. Which is why the TARDIS is now at...”

The Doctor’s next words come out in a low, half-mumble under his breath, like maybe if he says them quietly enough, Clara can’t hear him, and if she can’t hear him, then she can’t be mad at him.

His plan’s not working.

“Doctor,” Clara says, “where’s the TARDIS?”

”She’s at the pole.”

“Right. Not far, then.”

He wrinkles his nose, “The South Pole.”

“Ah.”

“Yes.”

“I see now.”

“You do, don’t you?”

And with that, the Doctor turns, and just like he’s simply using a deep sea Uber, he stares at the submarine captain and asks, “Can we have a lift?”

Clara sits in her small submarine cabin and sighs, rubbing her temple and closing her eyes.

By all accounts, the Doctor was handling being stuck on the sub better when its lights were flashing bright red and there was an Ice Warrior who wanted them all dead. That, at least, was dangerous, and dangerous was exciting, so dangerous was something the Doctor could handle. Boredom, he could not.

He’d already created a “disco” setting for the warning lights, invented a rather ominous looking tea kettle out of bits from a broken welding iron, and tried to increase the sub’s speed by something called “a klavnic knot.” All this eventually led to the Captain suggesting that the Doctor retire to his cabin indefinitely or be shot through the head.

The Doctor‘d had to think about it for a long minute.

But now he‘s here with her, in this too-grey, too-small of a room, and the both of them sit side-by-side on the hard edge of the narrow, metal bunk, and stare straight ahead at the windowless wall.

“You promised me Vegas,” Clara says.

“I know.” A beat, and then, “This isn’t Vegas.”

”Trust me,” the Doctor says, glowering at the wall, “I know.”

Clara laughs and then shudders, suddenly chilled. The pretty, filmy but flimsy fabric of her vintage dress she’d picked out seems like a bad choice, in hindsight, and Clara frowns ruefully as she distinctly remembers coming across a forest-green, fur-lined parka while in the TARDIS wardrobe and tossing it aside.

Why, oh, why, had she done that?

(Well, probably because she thought she was going to be partying in Vegas, and one simply did not wear parkas when one went partying in Vegas.)

Goose bumps blossom down her arms, so Clara crosses them, folding them against her chest, trying to keep warm, and then, to her surprise, she sees the Doctor’s stopped watching the wall and is looking at her now instead, frowning in that worried way of his that makes his eyes look ten-thousand-years-old.

“What?” she asks, but instead of replying, he moves, standing and slipping his arms out of the sleeves of his long, deep purple coat, and then he leans down, gently draping it over Clara’s shoulders, and she feels the warm weight of his hands lingering along her arms just for a moment as he does. “Better?” he asks.

His coat is much too big and far too long for someone as short as she is, and Clara’s overcome with the sensation that she’s a caterpillar, bundled up inside of a fabric cocoon. The ends of the coat sleeves go beyond the tips of her fingers, and the hem of it falls past her heels to brush against the floor, but the tweed is soothing and soft and wraps her in warmth, and Clara thinks she’s never worn anything cozier in her life.

”Better,” Clara agrees, as she snuggles down deeper inside. “Thank you, but don’t you need it?”

The Doctor makes a harrumphing, dismissive sort of noise, as if Clara’s made another silly suggestion again, like he did that one time she compared time streams to strawberry jam. “‘Course I don’t.”

Clara’s eyes sweep over him, taking in his woven waistcoat and white shirtsleeves. She doesn’t see how he can possibly stand it, how he’s dealing so easily with the freezing, icy air, when just the idea of giving up the coat makes her shudder again, a full body one that travels all the way down to the tips of her toes, and the Doctor reaches out to take her hand in his. “Like ice,” he murmurs, closing his other hand over hers and rubbing it, briskly but gently, trying to get some heat back into it. “Humans. Your lot has such terribly inconvenient body temperatures. Wouldn’t last a day picnicking in the Arctic without protection.”

“Who would do a thing like that, anyway?”

“The abominable snowmen, for one. Oh, they’ve got such good inner temperature, Clara, they can frolic on the ice floes for days without catching a cold. I should take you to meet their clan. Well,“ he pauses there, rethinking that. “They’ve got good temperatures, but not so much good tempers. So, on second thought, no, maybe we won’t visit them after all.”

Clara hums in agreement, listening as the Doctor continues to talk about this and that and then change his mind all within the time it takes for her to inhale, and when he’s done, she asks, “How are you not cold?” “Ah,” he says, and she can already hear so much smugness packed into the one tiny word. “Time Lord biology. I’m perfectly adaptable to both lower and higher temperatures. Gallifreyan bodies,” he informs her, “are far superior to human bodies’.”

“Seriously? Superior?”

”In every possible way.”

“How do you explain that chin, then?”

He huffs at her, and then clucks, muttering something indignantly under his breath that sounds like a mixture of ungrateful minx and shut up.

But he doesn’t let go of her hand.

Right now he’s a moving blur of long, tangled limbs as he flaps his hands and talks and plans, his mind already far beyond the confines of the sub.

“We can still go to Vegas,” he tells Clara. ”Vegas in nineteen-eighty-nine, in fact. Neon lights against the night sky. Firework shows and fireball drinks, dance floors and disco balls, and everywhere you go, people hoping for a little thing called luck.”

He plops down beside her suddenly, slinging his arm over her shoulders, “Or, alternatively, Vegas in three-thousand-thirteen, when anti-gravs are all the rage, and the Vegas strip levitates. Gives a whole new meaning to walking on air. Or, an alternative to the alternative: we don’t choose a Vegas, we choose both Vegases. Well, same Vegas, different points in time. But the question is, Clara Oswald, which one first?” Clara tilts back to peer up at him, and she feels his arm adjust around her, letting her lean back, but not letting her go.

“I think,“ she says, trying to contain a smile, “that we’d better get off the sub first.”

He huffs, “Practical spoilsport.”

Later, Clara catches the Doctor attempting to slip out the door.

“Doctor,” Clara says warningly, still wrapped up in his coat, nearly tripping on its hem as she rises to stop him, ”didn’t the Captain put you on cabin arrest?”

The Doctor flaps his hand, as if he can simply wave away her concern, and since he’s holding his sonic screwdriver as he does this, he sends its bright neon light flashing around the room.

“Clara, please,” he says, “it’s your day off, stop nannying.”

“Excuse me?” Clara raises an eyebrow. She’ll stop nannying when someone stops acting like a child that needs a nanny, thank you very much.

“I’ll skip out for just a mo.”

“Doctor, I think you should stay in here.”

“It’ll be fine.”

Clara eyes him skeptically, doubt written out across her face, but he ignores it.

Instead, he places his palm against the curve of her cheek, and leans forward to press a swift kiss to her forehead, his thumb brushing lightly along her cheekbone as he does.

“You worry too much,” he tells her blithely, and Clara thinks he means his words to be soothing, but they really just make her think he’s up to something shifty.

“I think I worry the proper amount,” Clara counters, but the Doctor’s already merrily slipping away, out of her grasp, closing the door behind him and heading down the corridor.

It’s not even a full fifteen minutes later when Clara hears the sound of the sonic and then something that sounds suspiciously like falling metal, followed by garbled shouting and the sharp click of a handgun’s safety being released. There’s silence for a second after that, and then Clara hears rapid, clumsy footsteps headed back toward the cabin.

The door opens, the Doctor scuttles inside, and Clara tries not to smirk as he quietly announces: “I think I should stay in here.”

# Clara sits with her chin resting on her hands, watching the Doctor, who’s holding the sonic screwdriver uncomfortably tight and flickering its green light as he stares up at the lightbulb in a way she doesn’t quite like. Before he can sonic it to be brighter or darker or turn it into a lava lamp or whatever the despairingly bored Time Lord is thinking of doing, Clara decides to distract him.

“Tell me about something,” she commands.

“Tell you about what?” he asks, and he sounds both curious and confused by her request, but he still hasn’t looked away from the light.

“A fact, a story, anything,” Clara says. “You’re a thousand years old. There must be something you can talk about. Space trivia. Urban myths. The first place that you visited. Last girl that you kissed.”

Now that catches his attention, Clara notices. At her last sentence, his head snaps down and he swivels around to stare at her in surprise.

“Oh,” Clara says, grinning now. “It was some kiss, then, was it?”

He opens his mouth and then shuts it, indignant.

“See,” Clara says smugly, “knew it was a snog box.”

“Shut up,” he finally says, and Clara notices a faint dusting of pink right across his cheeks.

“You blushed,” she says delightedly, and then she frowns, and he stares at her oddly, like she’s some sort of cipher he can’t figure out. And there’s something she can’t quite figure out either, because somewhere deep in the back of her mind, there’s a dark sense of déjà vu and a nagging notion that she’s said those words to him before.

But she couldn’t have.

She’s positive.

It isn’t possible.

Being trapped under the ocean must be doing things to her mind.

“Come on, tell me about her,” Clara says, pushing those hazy, bothersome thoughts away, and turning her attention back to the Doctor. “Where’d you meet this girl?”

“London,” he answers, and though he’s there beside her, he looks faraway. “It was snowing. There were snowmen. She -“ he pauses, looks over at Clara, down at her dress, and he looks like he’s halfway out of the past, halfway into the present, as he almost inaudibly says, “She wore a blue dress too.”

Clara listens to him carefully, watches intently, but there are too many layers in his voice and emotions flashing over his face for her to fully decipher. As soon as she sees sadness in his eyes, she catches a glimpse of wonder, and then past that there’s grief and determination and hope and, more than anything, the look of a man trying to solve something he just can’t understand.

“Was she nice, this girl?” Clara asks quietly.

He looks down at the floor, “Yes, yes she was. She was nice and brave and clever and far better than me.”

“Nah,” Clara teases. “That’s impossible, no one’s better than you.”

He looks up at her, “You’d be surprised.”

They sit in silence for a minute, and then Clara asks, “So what happened to her? Is she still alive?”

The Doctor stares at her, searches her eyes, and ever so softly, he says, “Sometimes I think she is.”

Clara nods, not knowing why she feels like she’s going to smile, but also going to cry. #

The Doctor’s dealing with his bored, listless energy by relentlessly rapping his hand against metal, the rise and fall of his fingers rhythmic like rain.

It’s driving Clara insane.

She’s trying to read a book she’s found in the cabin. The book’s not interesting, really. It’s something to do with Russian history and is as dusty as it is long, but there’s not much else to do, and at least it’s a novelty to think that, technically, she’s reading a book in Russian even if it’s all being translated into English for her.

But Clara can’t concentrate with that constant, infernal tapping.

“Doctor, stop,” she says sternly.

Without looking up from her book, Clara reaches her hand out and lays it on top of his, the pads of her fingers pressing against the back of his hand, pulling it down and pinning it lightly in place in-between them.

The Doctor stills under her touch, the cabin falling silent, his swirling sea of restless energy starting to calm, and then slowly, she feels his hand move beneath hers, rotating and repositioning so that they’re palm to palm, holding hands.

Amused, Clara’s eyes flicker up from her book to look at him, but he’s not looking at her. He’s staring somewhere up at where the ceiling meets the wall, and Clara wonders if he's even noticed their entwined hands at all.

Holding her hand must’ve been some sort of automatic, unconscious response, she realizes as she watches him, because he’s off lost in thought, counting the bolts in the room or mentally reciting the numbers of pi, or whatever it is bored Time Lords do.

At least he’s quiet, she thinks, and goes back to her book, her eyes taking in the faded, narrow print on the page.

She makes it a whole four paragraphs more before she senses his absent-minded energy surging again, and he starts shifting restlessly.

Then she feels the soft brush of his thumb moving up, gently ghosting across her skin.

Clara’s breath catches, caught somewhere beneath her collarbone, and there’s surprise in her eyes before slowly, she exhales, convinced it was all a mistake. But then he does it again, his thumb drifting up, absently tracing a circle on the soft, inner center of her wrist, and Clara finds she can’t concentrate, not with the way his fingers are slipping beneath the sleeve of her coat and skimming over her skin and how there’s something like a shiver starting down her spine. She’s still facing her book, but her eyes flutter shut, and she tries to decipher what exactly it is that he’s drawing out on her wrist.

At first it feels like maybe he’s mapping something, some invisible, ethereal, navigational chart that only he can see, or sketching out stars on her skin. But then she feels the pad of his thumb softly sweeping something smaller and circular over her, and it feels less like a constellation string and more like cursive, making Clara think that maybe what he’s doing is writing invisible words.

“What language is that?” Clara finally asks, and though there’s curiosity in her voice, her sentence comes out hushed, barely above a whisper. This moment is something soft, something fragile, and Clara’s afraid that simply speaking will shatter it.

The Doctor’s lips turn down in a frown, her words pulling him out of his thoughts and back into the world, and then he looks down at how their hands are intertwined in-between them and he blinks in surprise, his thumb brushing over her wrist once more before stopping, coming to rest right above her pulse-point. ”Sorry,” he says, confused and contrite. “Head in the clouds. Hadn’t realized.”

“It’s fine,” Clara answers, and she knows from where his fingers press, he can feel the fast, fluttering melody of her heartbeat, and she hopes he hasn't guessed that he’s the reason behind it. “Just tell me what it is.”

“It’s Gallifreyan,” he answers quietly. “A language so ancient it’s older than half the stars, and every bit as beautiful.”

Clara’s lips curve up at the corners, and her eyes flicker up to his.

“Show me,” she says.

He shrugs, “No pen and paper. No chalk either. Not even a tiny, table-top zen garden with a tiny rake to write in the sand with. This cabin is surprisingly lacking in resources.”

“Come on, Doctor,” Clara says, and she tugs him closer and then holds out her hand, palm up. “Just show me how you write it, I’d like to see.”

The Doctor hesitates, looking torn, but then, ever so slowly, his hand comes forward, and she watches as his finger moves in delicate, intricate curves, lightly tracing words onto her palm.

“What does that mean?” Clara asks, wondering what he’s spelled across her skin. He laughs, ducks his head, and says:

“It means Impossible Girl.” # Clara’s aware that they’re sitting on a bunk and that there’s a pillow somewhere behind her, but she can’t be bothered to look for it, not when there’s a perfectly good Time Lord next to her to lean against instead. The aforementioned Time Lord is finally sitting contented and still, having taken over her book, the discussion of ancient Russian history fascinating him much more than it did her (likely, Clara thinks, because he was actually there), so she scoots over, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Tired,” she says, yawning.

“Staring at a wall all day can be draining,” he says wisely.

“What about you? You don’t look tired at all.”

“I don’t sleep,” he says, turning another page of his book.

“Not ever?” Clara asks, not too sleepy to not be skeptical.

“Well, fine. Sometimes,” he amends. “I sleep sometimes.”

“Like when?”

“Like when people aren’t pestering me,” he says, and Clara swats his arm. ”I don’t need that much sleep, Time Lord biology is -“

“Superior in every way, yes, you've mentioned that.”

He looks up from his book and glances down at her, “Do you need the bunk? I can stand.” Clara makes a small noise of disagreement. The smooth cotton of his shirt feels soft against her cheek, and he’s much more comfortable than she ever would have guessed, what with his gangly, flailing limbs.

Besides, he’d promised her Vegas and landed her here instead. The least he could do was sit still and be a pillow. “Don’t move,” she says, curling in against him.

“Clara,” he says lightly, and there’s amusement and terror and terrible fondness in his eyes as he watches her nuzzle her face against his waistcoat. “I don’t think -“

But he’s too late, Clara’s already gotten comfortable and is nestled into his side, holding him in place and firmly shutting her eyes.

“All right, you can stay,” he says, as if he actually has a choice in the matter. “But it’s not happening again. I’m no one’s personal pillow.” “More like a personal space heater,” Clara mumbles saucily, half-asleep already.

”Watch it,” he warns, trying his very best to sound scolding and indignant, but Clara merely hums contentedly in response.

And as the soft tendrils of sleep overtake her, she feels his fingers gently running through her hair, and with both laughter and affection in his voice, he whispers, “Sleep well, Impossible Girl.”

Later, when Clara wakes up and rubs the sleep from her eyes, she finds her head‘s still curved against the crook of his neck, and her hand’s moved to rest right in the middle of his chest, in the center space between his two hearts, and she can feel their tandem tempo, beating out a rhythm beneath her fingers.

And the Doctor, well, he’s sleeping from what Clara can tell. His eyes are shut and he’s slumped over, half-sitting, half-sinking against the wall, and his left arm’s looped around her shoulders.

One side of Clara’s lips twitch up into a smile, and as if he can somehow sense her rising laughter, the Doctor wakes up, and he opens one eye, glancing at her with sleepy suspicion.

“Time Lords don’t sleep, hmm?” Clara can’t resist saying. “Superior biology.”

“Got bored,” he grouses, sitting and shifting them up. “There was nothing to do, not with you curled up on me like some sort of sleepy, clingy cat. Incredibly boring. Completely boring. Body shut down as a defense mechanism against the lack of mental stimuli, that’s what it was.”

Clara nods solemnly, “Of course.”

“Shut up,” he grumps, but she swears she sees a hint of pale pink on his cheeks.

They’ve just gotten news that they’re surfacing and that they’ll soon be back with the TARDIS, and giddy with excitement, the Doctor takes out a giant, old map he’s found tucked under the bunk and tacks it up, spreading its paper green mountains and blue paper seas over the dull grey metal wall.

“Close your eyes, Clara,” he says, a delighted grin on his face, and when she does, she feels his hands wrap around her shoulders, and she laughs as he gently spins her in place.

“It’ll be just like pin the tail on the donkey, except better. Because any place your hand lands on the map, we’ll go,” he says, offering her the world as he twirls her around. “North or South, East or West, anywhere and everywhere, whenever you want.”

Finally, he stops spinning, positioning Clara in what she assumes is the space in front of the map. With her eyes still shut, she feels him lean down over her shoulder, and there’s a shiver that goes down her spine as his face falls next to her ear and he whispers, “All you have to do is point.”

So Clara points, her hand connecting with paper, and when she opens them, she finds the pad of her finger directly over a country.

“Peru,” she says, reading what she’s landed on and smiling.

“Peru,” he echoes excitedly. “Good choice, Clara. Amazon rainforests and Andes Mountains and ancient Incan cities. Frogs and fog oases and cactuses and cloud-forest slopes.” And then he turns to her, his eyes glittering as he grins and says, “How would you like to be beside Hiram Bingham when he discovers Machu Picchu?”

And Clara grins back, because there’s a whole wide world waiting for them outside of this sub, and adventure’s only a breath away, and how lucky is she, to have this magic, mad, impossible man offering her the universe in the palm of his hand?

So, laughing, she reaches out for his hand and says, “Doctor, any point in time will do, as long as it’s with you.”

And as his fingers close around hers, he says:

“Likewise, Clara Oswald, likewise.”

And she knows it’s true.

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paigenotblank · 5 years

Text

The Age of the Wolf (8/9)

Rating: Mature overall, this chapter is teen

Pairing: Eighth Doctor x Rose Tyler; Eleventh x Rose; Ten x Rose

Written for @doctorroseprompts and Eight x Rose August. Prompt: Dimension hopping!Rose meets Eight / What if Rose was with Eight or met Eight during the Time War? 50th Anniversary Re-Write/Fix-It

Read it on Tumblr: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

AO3 TSP

An Elizabethan jailer pushed the three Doctors and Rose into a cell. “Come on, you lot, get in there.” When all four were in, he slammed the door closed.

The bowtied Doctor bent down and picked a small metal rod off the floor. He immediately set about scratching into a stone support. “Three of us in one cell? That's going to cause some nasty anomalies if we don't get out soon.”

The pinstriped Doctor’s gazed bounced from his older self to Rose and back again. He asked the other man somewhat curtly, “What are you doing?”

“Getting us out.”

“That’s gonna help?”

“I’m sending a message to a friend. She’ll know what to do with it.”

The wartime Doctor wandered over to the door and began examining it with his sonic.

Rose kicked at the ground while nervously stealing looks at her second Doctor. He had his hands in his pockets and was looking at her with desperate need while trying to appear not to.

The oldest Doctor momentarily stopped his scratching. “Oh, would you both just talk to each other.” He grumbled under his breath as he went back to his task. “Never thought I’d ever say it, but bloody Harkness was right.”

The Doctor and Rose looked at each other, surprised at being called out by one of his selves, before Rose broke out in giggles. The Doctor, not realizing how starved he’d been for the sound of her laughter, walked up and gave her an exuberant hug. He lifted her from her feet and spun her around, making her laugh harder. When he settled her back on the ground, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. The Doctor had his face buried in her shoulder, breathing in her scent. Rose ran her hands in circles over his back.

“How...how are you here? You’re...I tried everything...I couldn’t...it’s impossible.”

“Back in Pete’s World, the stars were going out. An’ we built this, er, this travel machine. Called it, um, a dimension cannon...so that I, well, so I could…”

The Doctor pulled back enough so that he could see her face while gently asking, “What?”

“So I could come back.” The Doctor grinned brilliantly. “Shut up. Anyway, it didn’t work at first, but then suddenly the Void was dying and the walls between dimensions started to collapse. An’ that’s when it began to work. It was completely random, where I’d land. So many different dimensions. I stumbled across parallel versions of just about everyone I know. But never myself or you. Well, except in this one pocket universe, were you...”

“Pocket universe?”

She took a deep breath and plastered on a smile. “Nevermind. ‘S not important right now. Anyway, it was Mickey who thought of using my TARDIS key to lock us on to the right dimension. Had a couple of near misses after that, showin’ up jus’ after you’d left an’ the like, before finally runnin’ into you.” Rose pointed at the youngest of the Doctors. “That you.”

“Why didn’t you have him bring you to me?” His voice held a little bit of hurt, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

Rose ran her thumb up and down his sideburns. “He needed me.”

His hand covered hers as he leaned into her palm, his eyes fluttering shut. “I need you.”

“Doctor, you know what he’s goin’ through, I couldn’t leave him. But I’m coming back to you...before you know it. I still need help with the stars goin’ out, an’ then I have a promise to keep. Forever, yeah?”

For one shining moment, the Doctor put aside his fears of their disparate lifespans, and allowed the idea of forever with Rose Tyler to wash over him. He closed his eyes and captured her lips in a desperate kiss.

They parted briefly. “Rose, I-�� She crushed her mouth against his.

When she next gasped for breath, she assured him, “I know. Me too.” She dragged him back into their kiss.

Rose vaguely heard the other two Doctors arguing about the door and molecules and sub-atomic harmonic resonance, but she let their voices wash over her as she reacquainted herself with the Doctor in her arms.

Rose was brought back to reality by the need to breathe. The Doctor’s grip around her waist had gotten tighter and tighter the longer she stood in his arms. “Too tight.”

“Oh! Sorry!” He loosened his hold but kept his arms encircling her.

The pinging of the metal rod hitting the floor and the oldest Doctor arguing with his youngest self drew their attention.

“Oi! Chinny?”

The Doctor holding Rose nodded. “Yeah, you do have a bit of a chin.”

Before the eldest Doctor could let loose against his wartime self, Clara barged through the door nearly stumbling and clutching at the vortex manipulator around her wrist.

The eldest Doctor asked, “How’d you get in here?”

“It wasn't locked.”

He wrung his hands. “Right.”

Clara gestured at the other men in the room. “So they’re both you, then, yeah?”

“Yes.”

She grinned wickedly at the Doctor who still had his arms wrapped around Rose’s waist. “Nice suit.”

He beamed at her and adjusted his tie. “Thanks.” Rose rolled her eyes, but slipped her hand into his with a smile.

“And Rose.” Clara waved that the other woman. “You were totally right about the way it makes his bum look.”

The Doctor preened at the compliment and waggled his eyebrows at Rose.

Rose looked between the Doctor and the young woman. “You...I’m sorry do we know each other?”

Clara shot a panicked look at her Doctor, whose own eyes had gone wide. He shook his head as discreetly as possible. Clara plastered a big smile on her face. “Oh, uh, no. Just, er, you know. He’s the Doctor. You’re...blonde. Must be Rose. And I am gonna stop talking now.”

“Right and you know my thoughts on his arse in these trousers how?”

Clara swallowed hard. “Erm, lucky guess?”

Rose narrowed her eyes at the oldest Doctor. He tapped the end of his nose and winked at her. Rose nodded and let it drop.

Clara spun around and looked back at her Doctor. “Hang on. Three of you and one Rose in the cell, and none of you thought to try the door?”

Rose blushed.

The wartime Doctor tapped his chin. “It should have been locked.”

The oldest Doctor agreed. “Yes. Exactly. Why wasn't it locked?”

Queen Elizabeth, at that moment, pushed the door open and entered the holding cell. “Because I was fascinated to see what you would do upon escaping. I understand you're rather fond of this world. It's time I think you saw what's going to happen to it.”

The sight of an alien planet headed straight for Earth caused massive panic both on the streets and in the Naismith Mansion.

A technician was banging on the door of a locked, glass booth. “Help me, please. Somebody, please.”

Wilf slipped unobserved through the doors amid the chaos and into the room. He made his way over to the glass booth. “All right! I've got you, mate. I've got you.” Wilf went into the the open half of the booth and closed his door which unlocked the technician’s side. “Come on. Go on.” The man ran without a backward glance, leaving Wilfred trapped on his own.

Queen Elizabeth escorted the Doctors, Rose, and Clara to the Zygon lair hidden in the dungeons. “The Zygons lost their own world. It burnt in the first days of the Time War…” The wartime Doctor’s steps faltered. Rose slipped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. “...A new home is required.”

The Doctor quietly murmured to Rose, “Will the effects of this war never be behind us?”

She lifted her head and kissed him softly. “They survived, that’s something.”

Clara surveyed the activity of the Zygons from entrance at the top of the chamber. “So they want this one?”

“Not yet. It's far too primitive. Zygons are used to a certain level of comfort.”

Clara leaned over to her Doctor and whispered, “Kate turned into one of these creatures right before I came here and found you.”

The Doctor put his fingers to his lips, and glanced around the room, eyes catching sight of a glass cube.

A Zygon walked up to the Queen and asked, “Commander, why are these creatures here?”

“Because I say they should be. It is time you too were translated. Observe this. I believe you will find it fascinating.”

The Zygon marched over to the the glass cube and placed his hand on top of it. He vanished in a glow of blue light, just as a figure appeared one of the 3D landscapes Clara and her Doctor had seen in the Under Gallery earlier.

Clara and Rose went up to the painting to inspect it more closely.

Rose turned to her husband. “That's him! That Zygon’s in the picture now.”

The wartime Doctor walked up beside the two women and reached for Rose’s hand. “It's not a picture, it's a stasis cube. Time Lord art. Frozen instants in time, bigger on the inside, but could be deployed as…”

The pinstriped Doctor walked up on the other side of Rose. “...Suspended animation. Oh, that's very good. The Zygons all pop inside the pictures, wait a few centuries till the planet's a bit more interesting, and then out they come.”

The oldest Doctor joined the group and stood beside Clara. “You see, Clara, they're stored in the paintings in the Under Gallery, like cup-a-soups. Except you add time, if you can picture that. Nobody could picture that. Forget I said cup-a-soups.”

Rose smiled fondly at her future Doctor.

Clara turned back to him. “And now the world is worth conquering. So the Zygons are invading the future from the past.”

He smiled proudly at her deductions. “Exactly.”

The Doctor in pinstripes cocked his head and spun to face the Queen. “And do you know why I know that you're a fake? Because you're such a bad copy. It's not just the smell, or the unconvincing hair, or the atrocious teeth, or the eyes just a bit too close together, or the breath that could stun a horse. It's because Elizabeth, the real Elizabeth, would never be stupid enough to reveal her own plan. Honestly, why would you do that?”

“Because it's not my plan. And I am the real Elizabeth.”

“Okay. So...backtracking a moment just to lend context to my earlier remarks…”

“My twin is dead in the forest. I am accustomed to taking precautions.” The Queen raised the hem of her skirt and removed a dagger from its sheath tucked into her garter. The Doctor took a discreet step back from the blade. “These Zygon creatures never even considered that it was me who survived rather than their own commander. The arrogance that typifies their kind.”

Rose asked, “Zygons?”

“Men.”

The two women shared a knowing grin.

Clara leaned forward in interest. “And you actually killed one of them?”

“I may have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but at the time, so did the Zygon. The future of my kingdom is imperilled. Doctor, can I rely on your service?” She turned to the pinstriped Doctor.

“Well, I'm going to need my TARDIS.”

“It has been procured already.”

“Ah. Well...”

Rose stepped forward. “If there is anything I know about the Doctor, it’s that he will always defend the Earth against its enemies.”

“She’s right, this is like a second home to me and I pledge to keep your kingdom safe, my Queen.”

“Excellent. Now, my love, you have another promise to keep.”

Rose crossed her arms over her chest and raised a brow the pinstriped Doctor. “‘My love?’”

The Doctor with great hair and a big gob stood gaping like a fish, unable to find the words for an explanation.

Rose narrowed her eyes. “Wha’ kind of promise did ya make?”

“Er…”

The bowtied Doctor swung his arm across Rose’s shoulder. “Your Majesty, about that. He’s actually already married.”

The pinstriped Doctor’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”

His older self glared meaningfully.

“Oh! Right, yeah, sorry, so sorry about that. Misunderstanding...thought I was proposing to a Zygon.”

The Queen turned to him in fury. “Doctor!”

The Doctor raised his hands. “Don’t worry, I won’t let it affect my solemn vow to your kingdom. I’m still your man for that.” He ran toward his TARDIS and yelled over his shoulder, “In fact, I’ll just go take care that now shall I? No time like the present...or the future as it is may be.”

He opened the door and hurried inside. The others smiled nervously at the Queen as they backed toward the TARDIS.

“Right, we should really be helping with that. Ta.”

They followed behind the other Doctor and entered the TARDIS. The oldest Doctor popped his head out surprising the queen. “You might want to write him a letter just to remind him of his promise. Erm, just a thought. He seems a bit scatty.”

When he re-entered the TARDIS, the wartime Doctor was contemplating the console room. “You've let this place go a bit.”

“Ah, it's his grunge phase. He grows out of it.”

“Oi!”

Rose leaned against a coral strut and cooed, “Don't you listen to them, darling. You’re gorgeous.” All three Doctors looked at her with the same mix of pride and amusement.

An alarm blared and the pinstriped Doctor at the controls got a shock. “Ow!” The console room flared and the grating was replaced by metal plating and stone. The walls shone with light coming from deep set roundels. “The desktop is glitching.”

The youngest Doctor took in the changing console room. “Three of us from different time zones. It's trying to compensate.”

“Hey, look. The round things.”

“I love the round things.”

“What are the round things?”

The pinstriped Doctor shook his head. “No idea.”

“Oh dear, the friction contrafibulator.” The bowtied Doctor reached over and flipped a switch which completely replaced the mixed era decor with his own console room. “Ha! There, stabilised.”

The pinstriped Doctor regarded it in awe. “Oh, you've redecorated.” He face dropped into a pout. “I don't like it.”

“Oh. Oh yeah? Oh, you never do. Listen, we're going to the National Gallery. The Zygons are underneath it.”

Clara snapped her fingers. “No, U.N.I.T. HQ. They followed us there to the Black Archive.” The three men all turned to her with identical glowers. “Okay, so you've heard of that, then?”

Inside the Black Archive, Kate Stewart and her team arrived to find a set of Zygons cloned in their images. Kate walked over to a conference table and sat down. The Zygon clone of Kate took the seat across from her. “You'll realise there are protocols protecting this place. Osgood?”

“In the event of any alien incursion, the contents of this room are deemed so dangerous, it will self-destruct in-”

“Five minutes.” Kate lifted a remote and set the timer. Each second counted down with a beep. “There's a nuclear warhead twenty feet beneath us. Are you sitting comfortably?”

“You would destroy London?”

“To save the world, yes, I would.”

“You're bluffing.”

“You really think so? Somewhere in your memory is a man called Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart. I am his daughter.”

“One word from you would cancel the countdown.”

“Quite so.”

“It's keyed to your voiceprint.”

Kate nodded. “And mine alone.”

The Zygon Kate smiled and yelled over her shoulder. “Cancel the detonation!”

The timer stopped at 2:50.

“Countermanded!”

“Cancel the detonation!”

“Countermanded!”

“We only have to agree to live.”

“Sadly, we can only agree to die.”

The pinstriped Doctor was fighting against the controls. “I’m trying to bring the TARDIS in. Why can't we land?”

“The Tower of London is totally TARDIS-proofed.” The two older Doctors gaped at Clara. She shrugged. “That’s what the Zygon Kate told me earlier.”

Rose questioned, “How can they do that?”

“Alien technology plus human stupidity. Trust me, it's unbeatable.”

Both women exclaimed, “Oi!”

The wartime Doctor blurted, “We don't need to land.”

“Yeah, we do. A tiny bit. Try and keep up.”

“No, we don't. We don't. There’s another way.” He glanced at Rose.

With a nod, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the Eye of Discord. She held it in her hands and focused inward.

The pinstriped Doctor’s eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. “Rose, is that…? What are you doing with...?”

The wartime Doctor moved to stop his older self from pulling the device from Rose’s hands. “Leave her. She knows what she’s doing.”

Rose’s eyes flashed gold and a swirling pathway opened from the TARDIS to the Black Archive. She gave the others a manic smile before jumping through the newest time fissure.

The group of five appeared in the Black Archive to a very surprised set of U.N.I.T. employees in duplicate.

The youngest Doctor greeted, “Hello.”

“I'm the Doctor,” added the pinstriped Doctor.

“Sorry to just pop in.”

Clara shook her head at the trio. “Also the showing off.”

The oldest Doctor shook his outward calm off and stormed over to one of the Kates. “Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, what in the name of sanity are you doing? Please tell me you’re not about to do something unbelievably stupid.”

The other Kate replied, “The countdown can only be halted at my personal command. There's nothing you can do. I’m sorry.”

The Doctor in pinstripes attempted to get her to see reason. “Not as sorry as you will be. This is not a decision you will ever be able to live with.”

The bowtied Doctor promised, “I’ll make you both agree to halt it.”

She scoffed. “Not even the three of you.”

The Doctor freshly from the war shook his head. “You're about to murder millions of people.”

Rose walked over to the youngest version of her husband and took his hand.

“To save billions. How many times have you made that calculation?” She looked each of the incarnations in the eye.

The oldest Doctor glanced at Rose and his other self. “Once. Turned me into the man I am now.”

The pinstriped Doctor sighed. “You tell yourself it's justified, but it's a lie so you can sleep at night. Because what I did that day was...it will never feel right.”

The youngest Doctor closed his eyes against the love and understanding in Rose’s.

The oldest Doctor turned back to Kate. “And, because I got it wrong, I'm going to make you get it right.”

“How?”

The middle Doctor glanced at the countdown clock. “Any second now, you're going to stop that countdown. Both of you, together.”

“Then you're going to negotiate the most perfect treaty of all time.”

“Safeguards all round, completely fair on both sides.”

“And the key to perfect negotiation?” The Doctor queried his previous self.

“Not knowing what side you're on.”

“So, for the next few hours, until we decide to let you out…”

“...No one in this room will be able to remember if they're human…”

“...Or Zygon.”

The oldest Doctor jumped on the conference table and pointed his sonic upward. He nodded to the two other Doctors, who both raised their sonics. They activated a memory filter in the ceiling causing both the humans and Zygon clones to blink and shake their heads in confusion.

The two Kates glanced at the countdown clock and as it dropped under 0:07, together they yelled, “Cancel the detonation!”

As the countdown stopped at 0:05, the Doctor fiddled with his bowtie and smiled at Clara. “Peace in our time.”

The two Kates retook their seats at the conference table and began negotiations.

The Doctor remained on his knees breathing heavily. The Master looked in confusion at his oldest friend and bitterest enemy. “But this is fantastic, isn't it? The Time Lords restored.”

“You weren't there in the final days of the War. You never saw what was born. But if the Time Lock's broken, then everything's coming through. Not just the Daleks, but the Skaro Degradations, the Horde of Travesties, the Nightmare Child, the Could-Have-Been King with his army of Meanwhiles and Neverweres. The War turned into hell. And that's what you've opened, right above the Earth. Hell is descending.”

The Master’s eyes lit with glee. “My kind of world.”

“Just listen! Because even the Time Lords can't survive that.”

“We will initiate the Final Sanction. The end of time will come at my hand. The rupture will continue until it rips the Time Vortex apart.”

The Master was incredulous. “That's suicide.”

“We will ascend to become creatures of consciousness alone. Free of these bodies, free of time, and cause and effect, while creation itself ceases to be.”

The Doctor pleaded with the Master. “You see now? That's what they were planning in the final days of the War. I had to stop them.”

The Master stepped forward, arms spread wide. “Then, take me with you, Lord President. Let me ascend into glory.”

“You are diseased, albeit a disease of our own making. No more.” Rassilon raised his gauntlet covered hand toward the Master and slowly opened his fist. The Doctor pushed himself to his feet and stepped between the two. He aimed the revolver he still held at Rassilon.

“Choose your enemy well. We are many. The Master is but one.”

From behind, the Doctor heard the Master cajole, “But he's the President. Kill him, and Gallifrey could be yours.”

The Doctor spun around to point the revolver at the Master.

“He's to blame, not me! Oh...the link is inside my head. Kill me, the link gets broken, they go back. You never would, you coward. Go on then. Do it.”

The Doctor flipped around to point the gun at Rassilon.

The Master egged the Doctor on, “Exactly. It's not just me, it's him. He's the link. Kill him!”

Rose slipped through the door without any notice as the Lord President addressed the Doctor. “The final act of your life is murder. But which one of us?”

Behind Rassilon, one of the dissenters lowered her hands and caught Rose’s eye. Rose fought back tears as she met the gaze of her mother-in-law for the first time in years - and likely, the last.

The older woman inclined her head, just barely perceptible. And Rose, after taking a bracing breath, did the same and mouthed, “Goodbye.” The corners of the older woman’s lips twitched upward.

The Doctor’s mother moved her eyes to her son. He stood frozen, unable to even pull air into his lungs. She too remained unmoving, though he noticed her eyes flicker to a place over his shoulder. His mind raced as it recalled the layout of the space. His eyes flared for a moment and he turned once again back to the Master.

The Master closed his eyes waiting for the inevitable.

“Get out of the way.”

The Master’s eyes popped open. He jumped out of the way just before the Doctor fired at the apparatus holding the White Point Star. A flare of light heralded a gale that blew through the area. The Doctor dropped the arm holding the pistol as the Time Lords fought against the winds pushing them back into the Time Lock.

“The link is broken. Back into the Time War, Rassilon. Back into hell.”

The Visionary looked up from her scribing and chanted to the heavens, “Gallifrey falling! Gallifrey falls! The Wolf rises! The Age of the Wolf begins!”

Rassilon screamed, spittle flying from his mouth, “You'll die with me, Doctor.”

“I know.” The Doctor’s head dropped.

Rassilon took aim at the Doctor with his gauntlet. The Doctor’s mother lowered her eyes as a tear fell and she re-covered her face. Rose was about to make her move, when the Master clambered to his feet and yelled, “Get out of the way!”

The Doctor jumped back as the Master sent an energy blast at Rassilon using up his unstable life force. He raged at the Time Lords, “You did this to me! All of my life! You made me! One! Two! Three! Four!”

The Doctor and Rose stood transfixed, watching as the Master hit the Lord President over and over with energy bursts until he collapsed to his knees. The Master stepped closer and closer, energy pouring from him unrelentingly. It intensified until, in a brilliant eruption of light, all Time Lords, save the Doctor, disappeared from Earth.

The Doctor stumbled to the window and noticed Gallifrey gone from the sky and people celebrating in the streets. He backed up and leaned against the wall, feeling every painful twinge of his battered body. “I'm alive. I've…there was...I'm still alive.”

Rose ran up to him and, although she wanted to throw herself into his arms, she feared hurting him. He crushed her into a hug, not caring.

Clara walked over to the photo board containing pictures of the Doctor’s known companions. She played with the push pin stuck into a black and white photo of a teenage girl with a pixie cut. She glanced to the corner of the room and noticed the wartime Doctor sitting alone, staring into a steaming cup of tea.

She strolled over and perched on the arm of his chair. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

“I'm Clara. We haven't properly met yet.”

“I look forward to it.” The Doctor took a sip of his tea while Clara sat quietly studying him. “Is there a problem?”

“No, I just noticed you here all alone.”

The Doctor let his eyes drift over to where Rose was laughing and joking with the other Doctors. She met his gaze and her smile widened.

The Doctor sighed. “The way they both look at me. I'm trying to think of a better word than dread.”

“It must be really recent for you.”

“Recent?”

“The Time War. The last day. The day you…”

“The day I had to kill them all?”

“The Doctor, my Doctor, he never wants to talk about the day he did it. The day he wiped out the Time Lords to stop the war.”

“I don’t imagine one would.”

Clara scrutinized the Doctor’s face and appeared to be making a decision. “You wouldn't...Because you haven't done it yet. It's still in your future.”

“You're very sure of yourself.”

“He regrets it. I see it in his eyes every day. He'd do anything to change it.”

The Doctor gestured over to the negotiating table. “Including saving all these people? How many worlds has his regret saved, do you think? Look over there. Humans and Zygons working together for peace.”

Rose appeared and sat on the Doctor’s lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

The Doctor considered Clara. “How did you know?”

Rose watched as Clara struggled with how to answer the Doctor’s question.

Finally, she sighed. “Your eyes. They...they’re haunted, but not filled with the same self loathing that I sometimes see in him.” She gestured to her Doctor.

“Is he...does he...do I-”

Clara leaned over and touched his knee. “I don’t think you’ve ever really gotten over it, but you always say that Rose made you better.”

He said low enough for Rose’s ears only, “I've seen all I need to.”

“I know.” Rose smiled gratefully at Clara, before kissing the Doctor’s crown.

“Clara!”

Clara turned to her Doctor and called out, “I’ll be right there, I’m just talking to-” She turned back to the cuddling couple to find them gone. She glanced left and right, but they’d vanished. “Doctors!”

Rose and the Doctor found themselves back where they started - in the Doctor’s childhood barn. Rose was holding the Eye of Discord in her hands, and sticking straight out of the top was a shaft tipped with a bright red ruby. It was reminiscent of a long stemmed rose. He quirked his brow at her.

“You wanted a big red button.” Her hands started to shake. “One big bang, no more Time Lords. No more Daleks. Are you sure?”

“I was sure when we left, but that doesn’t make it any easier. It’s just there’s no other way to save at least a portion of the universe...all those worlds, their people. The Zygons...when I first heard they’d lost their homeworld. I...I thought maybe it was a sign that the universe was better off dead. All the suffering that’s already been caused. That can never be erased. But to see them and the humans working together...together, Rose! I realized that the universe can, no, does survive.”

“In no small part due to you.”

The Doctor placed his hand just above the button. He closed his eyes.

Rose tilted her head as if she was listening to something only she could hear. “You know the sound the TARDIS makes?” The Doctor opened his eyes and turned his attention to Rose whose eyes had just began to take on a low glow. “That wheezing, groaning? That sound brings hope wherever it goes.”

The Doctor released a long held breath. “Yes. Yes, I like to think it does.”

“To anyone who hears it, Doctor. Anyone…” A slight breeze began to blow around them, the unmistakable sound of the TARDIS filling the space. Rose smiled. “...even you.”

Two TARDISes materialize at the far end of the barn. The pinstriped Doctor exited one, Clara and the bowtied Doctor the other.

Clara appeared relieved to find Rose and the younger Doctor. “I told you. He hasn't done it yet.”

“Go away now, all of you. This is for me to do.”

The pinstriped Doctor eyed his next self. “These events should be time-locked. We shouldn't even be able to get here.”

“So something let us through.” The bowtied Doctor eyed Rose.

Her eyes flashed gold. “My clever boys.”

“Oh!” The pinstriped Doctor bent over and grabbed his head, it was as if a jolt had gone through his body. His eyes fell on Rose in shock. “The Moment. You...my...you’re the Moment? My Lady Moment. Bad Wolf! And we’re...” His jaw dropped open.

The bowtied Doctor reacted a little less dramatically with a simple cringe as the memory unfurled in his mind.

“Go back. Go back to your lives. Go and be the Doctor that I could never be. Make it worthwhile.”

“All those years, burying you in my memory, and it wasn’t even a real memory. You made me forget Rose completely!”

“What would you have me do? She insisted on staying, before we had ever even met her. I can’t forget the whole bloody war, no matter how appealing the thought. We came up with the idea of creating a false memory based on an alternate timeline and to bury it at the bottom of all the memories that you’d never want to remember anyway.” He mumbled to himself, “Glad to know it works.”

“I pretended that the Doctor...you...didn't exist during the Time War. Keeping you a secret, even from myself. A false Doctor...”

“Thinking you weren't the Doctor, when you were the Doctor more than anybody else.”

“You were the Doctor on the day it wasn't possible to get it right.”

“But this time…”

“You don't have to do it alone.”

The two older Doctors placed their hands, one on top of the other, hovering over the sparkling red ruby.

The younger Doctor looked at his two successors with gratitude. “Thank you.”

“What we do today is not out of fear or hatred. It is done because there is no other way.”

“And it is done in the name of the many lives we are failing to save.” The oldest Doctor caught sight of Clara whose eyes were full of tears. “What? What is it? What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“No, it's something. Tell me.”

“When you told me you wiped out your own people. I just...I never pictured this you doing it, that's all.”

“If you like, you can wait for me in the TARDIS.”

“‘Cos there isn't anything we can do.”

“He's right. There isn't another way. There never was. Either I destroy my own people or let the universe burn. And if I have to be the one to make the decision, then the very least I can do is support myself in it.”

Clara wiped her tears. “If Rose can stay here for you then so can I. That’s what friends do. Support each other even when it’s hard.”

“Rose, you don’t have to stay here for this. Neither one of you does.”

Rose’s lips tightened with anger. “You should know better by now, Doctor, sendin’ me away is never gonna happen.”

The younger Doctor blurted out, “She can’t leave.”

The two older Doctors boggled at the younger Doctor. “What?”

“Bad Wolf. The Moment. She’s the interface of the Galaxy Eater. We need her to make it work.”

The two older Doctors stared at her in dawning horror. “What?”

“This...Roppen...it was always meant for us. It’s conscience is Rose.”

“Rose, I...”

“This is wrong. You shouldn’t-”

“Me here. Does it change the way you feel about me? Ruin me in your eyes?”

“No!” “Of course not!” The two older Doctors yelled simultaneously.

“Then why would you think this would ever change how I feel about you?”

Both men had their mouths open, clearly surprised, and unsure how to answer.

“I love you. You.” She glanced at all three versions of the man she loved. “No matter the face, no matter the fears, no matter what you’ve done in the past, present, or future...I will love you. Forever.”

Rose’s pinstriped Doctor was the first to act. He leaned forward and captured her lips in a fervent kiss.

She pulled back and the bowtied Doctor kissed her on the forehead. She looked at him in confusion. He shrugged. “I...you don’t really know me yet. I didn’t want you to feel-” She stopped his ramble with a quick kiss on his mouth.

“I always know you. My Doctor.”

He blushed and she faced the man she had married. The man she’d shared a lifetime with.

“Doctor.”

“Rose.”

“Thank you.”

“Me? I should be thanking you. You’re the one who saved me...over and over. In so many ways.”

“You let me. You let me into your life and shared it with me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Better with two remember.”

“How could I not? You had me at, ‘Run.’”

She smiled her tongue touched grin, eyes sparkling mischievously. “Guess we’re even then.”

“Oh?”

The bowtied Doctor injected, “Spoilers.”

The younger Doctor addressed his eldest self. “Take care of her...afterwards. Make sure she gets to where she needs to go, since…” He swallowed thickly. “...I most likely won’t be able to fulfil that promise to her.”

Rose cried, “Doctor, don’t say that!”

“Rose, we both know where today leads. I’ve been wearing a bit thin for years. The Time Lock around Gallifrey is the only thing that’s staved off my regeneration as it is. When it breaks… Please...just know that I love you and will for the rest of my lives.” He gestured to his elder selves. “Not that I doubted it, but it’s still nice to know I’m right.”

Her smile wobbled. “Git.”

He closed his eyes, he never could stand to see her crying, and pressed his lips to hers. For a moment he simply savored the feeling of her soft lips caressing his, remembering each little instance of domesticity he’d shared with this woman. How could he ever want such a life if it wasn’t with her? It filled his hearts with hope for his future and gave him the courage to do what was needed at present. The thought ran through his head that if this was his last chance to snog Rose Tyler with these lips, he was going to make it count. He deepened the kiss until his wife moaned her need.

A subtle throat clearing had the two breaking apart, eyes unfocused, breathing stilted. Rose’s slight blush had the Doctor grinning widely.

He clapped his hands. “Right, er, where were we?”

The bowtied Doctor stepped forward. “You asked me to take Rose where she needs to go next, and on that account you have nothing to worry about. I may be remembering today as it happens, but if there is one thing burned in my memory, it’s the day Rose came back.”

“Thank you.” The youngest Doctor wiped at his eyes. “Well, gentlemen, it has been an honor and a privilege.”

The pinstriped Doctor nodded. “Likewise.”

The eldest Doctor saluted his youngest self. “Doctor.”

The three men placed their fingers around the edge of the ruby red button of the Eye of Discord. The youngest of them raised his eyes and met those of his wife. “I’m sorry.”

He pressed down and the world around them burned.

#eight x rose #ten x rose #eleven x rose #doctorroseprompts #50th re-write/fix it #time war #clara oswald #queen elizabeth #kate lethbridge-stewart #rassilon #Wilfred mott #the master (simm)#zygons

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blueboxshenanigans11 · 7 years

Text

Dark Room

Eleven x Reader

Request: Anon asked: Hi can I have a 1, 5, and 13 prompt list 3 with the 11th doctor? I love your work 😘

Request: @thedemiwitch-at221b I dunno where to put requests… so I’ll put it here. Prompt 5 with the she replaced with the 10th or 11th doctor and his companions find him

Hello! I hope it’s okay that I combine your requests because, like Drowning, they call for the same Doctor and most of the same prompts. Also, just wanted to mention again, I personally have not attempted suicide, so with this story, I tried to write in a way that was honest and pulled from my personal experiences. I also wanted to try something a little new with this and I hope you both like it and it reads well. I hope you both enjoy the read. As always, if there is anything that is harmful or hurtful please let me know, and I can take it down or change things. Thank you for your understanding, support and love. Much love to you xoxo

Title: Dark Room

Warnings: Cursing, suicide, death, night terrors.

Word Count: 2,486

It was as if you had been holding your breath for just too long as you jolted awake from your dead sleep, sitting up trying to take deep breaths to steady your pattern. Just as quick as someone snaps their fingers, you were fully awake, staring into the vast darkness of your room. Your gut was telling you to go to the Doctor. You stayed in bed attempting to fall back asleep, thinking it was just your mind being needy. But your soul was screaming to go to him, so you finally listened. You grabbed your jumper that was laying on top of your others on a desk chair, and let the oversized garment engulf you to fight against the coldness the Tardis was emitting.

You made your way down the winding halls to get to the console room, the Doctor nowhere to be seen. This puzzled you, and you walked about calling out to him to see if he would answer. He didn’t. While he hardly used his own room, or even slept for that matter, you had an idea of where it might be in the ominous spaceship. You quickly spun back to the entrance of halls, beginning to follow the twists and turns once again. If he wasn’t with you in your room, he would be in the console room. If not there, then he’d be with Clara. If not there…then you weren’t sure what room he would be tucked away in. You decided to head to Clara’s room first, especially since she might have a better idea on where he could be.

When you got to her door, you knocked softly. After a few seconds, you heard her stirring about before greeting you with her eyes only half open. “Hm? What is it? Is something wrong?” She asked sleepily, a yawn escaping her lips. “Well…I’m not sure if I’m being honest.” You claimed, wringing your hands nervously. She gave you a puzzled look, and you explained, “I just, woke up needing to see the Doctor. Like, a gut feeling. So I went to the console room and he wasn’t there so I thought I’d check if he was with you.” Clara shook her head, her eyes more open and alert than before. “No, he isn’t with me. Do you want help looking for him?” You let out a sigh of relief, and nodded. She went back into her room to switch out of her robe and put on a sweater of her own before coming out with you to head towards the Doctor’s room.

Something you admired about Clara was the way she so easily fit into a situation that seemed impossible to take on alone. She never judged, she wouldn’t question your part. She would be whatever you needed her to be in that moment, and do what she could to help you. You always felt safe coming to Clara with anything. You two had grown very close since you began traveling with her and the Doctor, which was something you weren’t expecting. The Doctor had swept you off your feet quicker than you could have imagined when it came to impossibility of what the universe could hold, and Clara was there to help you remember to keep yourself grounded while it was all happening. They were both your best friends, and you felt that you were the luckiest person alive to have found them.

You spied the door to the Doctor’s room as you turned down a long hallway. Your heartbeat began to quicken with every step you took, and your stomach was churning into painful knots. Clara looked over at you as you both made your way, but grabbed you by the shoulder to stop you once seeing how distraught you were. “Y/N, are you okay? What’s going on?” “It’s the Doctor. Something is wrong.” You simply stated, and without another word, turn and ran to the door. The hallways seemed to never end, and your mind was racing as to why you were feeling this strongly something was wrong, and how it was probably nothing. You couldn’t be sure until you found him, and you wouldn’t feel better until you had.

You were out of breath as your body came to a screeching halt, and you immediately began knocking on the door. “Doctor!? Doctor! Are you in there?!” You sputtered, Clara catching back up to you, also short of breath. The Doctor hadn’t responded, and when you put your ear to the door to try and hear if he was within, you couldn’t hear anything with the blood pounding through them. “Clara, I can’t hear anyth…he’s not – “ You stammered, briskly pacing away from the door while running your hands through your hair. “Doctor? Doctor open up!” Clara called, knocking heavily against the metal door, sending echoes throughout the expansive hallway. “Try the door, we need to get in!” You ordered, Clara without question starting to work on the door knob. Unfortunately, it wasn’t allowing you entrance which wasn’t helping you panic any less. “Doctor! Please! Let us in!” You yelled as loud as you could, shaking the door knob so vigorously you were sure it was going to pop off. “Move Y/N!” Clara yelled at you, and as you turned out of the way to face her, you saw she had the sonic screwdriver in hand rushing to the door as it buzzed energy through itself to work on the lock. “Clara, how did you –“ But before you could ask any questions, the door finally opened, and your mind was back to finding the Doctor.

The room was so dark you were initially frightened to go in, but Clara grabbed you by the arm and pulled you in behind her, the door slamming shut behind you. The sound was deafening and rattled through your core as you were plunged into total darkness. It didn’t take you long to realize Clara wasn’t holding onto your arm anymore, and you were completely alone in the cold darkness. “Clara? Clara where did you go?” But there was no answer from her. You shuffled about the space, attempting to find the Doctor, Clara, or if anything, a source of light. The air around you felt thick, making your lungs pump slower causing your breathing to be labored. “Doctor? Doctor? Doctor please answer me…” Were the only words you were able to muster out as you helplessly staggered about. You didn’t know how long you had been searching, and you almost completely forgot about Clara until you heard her small voice, “Y/N…” “Clara?!” You spun around with your arms outstretched. “Y/N, I’m here. I found him. The Doctor…he tried to kill himself.” She stated in a monotone whisper, your heart stopping at her words. “What?! No! No, no, no! Where? Where are you Clara?! Doctor!?” Then a bright light blinded you as you were spinning about trying to locate Clara’s voice. Your eyes were hurting, but you forced them to face the stunning brightness. As they were still adjusting to your whereabouts, you were able to recollect that the room was bare and empty. No furniture, no bed, nothing on the walls, just a floor and four walls. As you strained your eyes which were refusing to open, you still managed to find a heap on the floor not five feet away from you.

You felt your body go numb from your feet up, as you realized who the heap of a man was on the floor in front of you. “Doctor…” You whispered, trying to force your feet forward but they wouldn’t budge from where you were. You fell to your knees and began to reach out to him, still unable to make yourself move from where you were. Tears were falling from your eyes, and you couldn’t control the piercing sobs that escaped your lips. “NO! NO DOCTOR PLEASE!” You screamed in hopes that would maybe jolt him up and come to you. Your head was spinning. Your stomach’s previous made knots twisting tighter and punching you with a force you never knew was possible. “How did you…why did you…I don’t understand! You said you weren’t going to leave me…Doctor please…Doctor! Please!” You sobbed, pleading to the lifeless form. Without warning, you jolted forward and he was in your lap in a matter of seconds. You were caressing his face, while giving it light slaps to try and wake him. “Come on Doctor, it’s okay. You’re okay…I can fix this…I can…I...” You began to hyperventilate as him not waking up became more and more of a reality.

His usual warm skin was now cold and hard. His lips that always seemed to have a hint of a grin were now in a pressed line. “You’re mad at me Doctor aren’t you?” You pressed, trying to get any sign of a reaction from him. “You’re mad at me and this is all my fault…I’m sorry! Please, this isn’t funny!” His hair flung about as you tried to readjust him, and his body was heavy fighting against you in a whole other way than it might if he were still conscious. “Oh Doctor…Doctor I love you! I love you so much! I’m so sorry…I’m so, so sorry…” You cried, touching your forehead against his and running a hand through his still soft hair. “I’m too late…” You whimpered knowing you were not going to get an answer back. Your gut had been right that something was wrong, you never would have guessed it at this capacity. As you sat with the Doctor in your arms, all of a sudden the room began to dim with no real reason to do so. Your face shot up, and you looked around to see who would be doing so, when you realized the large door that had stood only moment before was now gone. “What the fuck?” You muttered, clinging onto the Doctor’s body a little tighter. “Clara? Clara where are you?!” You hollered, anger and fear present in your voice. “Time’s up.” She claimed softly into your ear. “Clara what the hell are you talking about?!” You spun around to face her, but she was also nowhere to be seen. When you turned back around, the Doctor was also gone from your arms. “NO! DOCTOR?!” You screamed, furiously looking around for him in the continuing dimming. It was becoming harder and harder to see, and your movement felt as if it was slow-motion going through heavy water. The sound of the sonic screwdriver began to buzz loudly in your ears until you couldn’t hear your screams for the Doctor anymore. You were banging on the floor, unable to move as you sobbed feeling helpless and utterly alone. The room descended into darkness, and you felt absolutely nothing as the buzzing grew to the point that everything was numb.

“Y/N?” You heard a distant voice called, sounding as if your ears were filled with water. “Y/N? Y/N, come on, wake up!” You felt as if you were rushing up for air, the voice becoming clearer and clearer. “Y/N!” Finally, you had jolted up with a large gasp, trying to get all the air you could inside your lungs. “Doctor!!” You shrieked, almost flinging your whole body forward and out of the bed you were in. “Woah, woah, Y/N I’m right here. It’s okay…hush now it’s okay.” The soothing timbre of the Doctor’s voice filled your ears, and your eyes began to shed waterfalls of tears. Your defenses had decided to kick in, and you shoved him away from you, pressing your back against the wall. “You’re going to fucking leave me! What if you leave me? What if you fucking leave me!” You roared, taking the Doctor aback. “Y/N, there is no way…why would you say that? I’m not going to fucking leave you! I would never even think of doing something like that to you.” He responded, trying to reach out to you again. You could see that he was just as jarred as you were, and you felt your wall fall, resulting in you falling into his arms crying hard. “You say that now but you’re going to fucking leave me…you’ll turn out like everyone else did…” You croaked, leaving the Doctor speechless only for a second before he realized he needed to bring you back to him.

“Oh Y/N…No sweetheart no…I’m not going to leave you. I’m right here. I am right here with you. You had a night terror my love…It’s okay thought, I’m here…” He hushed you while gently rubbing your back in the way he knew would help sooth you. He let you cry in his arms as you slowly came back to reality from your purgatory of sleep. You sat up on your own accord and put the Doctor’s face in your hands. His face looked tired, and you knew it was because he had just been woken by you. His face glowed in the dimness of your room and you felt at ease when you looked into his warm eyes. “I’m so sorry Doctor, I didn’t know you were here…I didn’t mean to say those things…” You blubbered on but he took your face into his hands and made sure you were looking at him. “You never have to apologize Y/N. Never. I want to be here for you when these things happen. As long as you’ll have me, I will be here to bring you back.” He wiped the fresh tears from your face, and a small smile creeped onto your face feeling the love he was giving you. “Lay back down love. We can just lay here.” He urged, reaching onto your desk as you readjusted yourself in your bed. He grabbed you your water that you had set on the night stand, and as you downed it he had turned on your music on the speaker at a low volume, and flicked on a plug in light that helped ease you after a night like tonight. You watched him as he turned back around to come to you, and you couldn’t fathom how he had come to learn about you and what you needed so quickly, but you were more than grateful that he had.

You and the Doctor laid in bed in silence, listening to the soft music flood the room. You both knew the other was awake, but neither of you needed to speak the obvious; you loved him, and he loved you. That was all you needed in that moment, to know you were loved and that you weren’t alone. The Doctor made sure you knew both of those things, and he secretly vowed that he would always be the one to show you that those things were true, even if it took him all of time to do so. You never would have to face the darkness alone again.

#blueboxshenanigans11 #doctor who imagine #doctor who #requests #eleven x reader #eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor imagine #reader insert #fanfic

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History's best Super Bowl halftime shows

Written by Allyssia Alleyne, CNN

Oh, the Super Bowl. For football fans, it’s the most important day of the season, the culmination of five months of National Football League competition. And for those less interested in the sport, there’s the halftime show, when the world’s most famous performers deliver 15 minutes of high-voltage entertainment.

The halftime show has long been popular among viewers, whether they’re into football or not, if the perennial Twitter jokes about the game being the opening act for the performer are to be believed. Indeed, the most-watched halftime show, Katy Perry in 2015, attracted 118.5 million viewers, while the game itself drew an average audience of 114.4 million viewers.

This massive audience makes the halftime show a valuable platform for artists to promote designers and spread messages through their costume choices — sometimes courting controversy and backlash in the process.

Ahead of this year’s Super Bowl, here’s a look back at some of the most memorable costumes of halftime shows past.

1993 – Michael Jackson rocks the military look

Michael Jackson performs at Super Bowl XXVII in 1993 at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, California. Credit: Steve Granitz/WireImage/Getty Images

Given its significance today, you’d think the Super Bowl halftime show has always been a prestige event. But it was only in 1993, when Michael Jackson brought his trademark pageantry to the event, that it took on its current reputation. Before then, the show had mostly been dominated by marching bands.

Jackson’s performance — introduced by no less than James Earl Jones — opened with him springing eight feet into the air from underneath the stage (a trademark of his 1992 Dangerous World Tour), against a backdrop of pyrotechnics. He then stood motionless for one-and-a-half minutes in a military-inspired black-and-gold ensemble, before launching into a medley of his hits.

Given Jackson’s repertoire of songs against police violence, war and injustice, this look was subversive. “Michael made (the uniform) his own by pushing the envelope, rebelling against the establishment the uniform is supposed to represent with all those badges and making it rock ‘n’ roll,” Michael Bush, one of Jackson’s costume designers, told Rolling Stone in 2012.

But it was also just fantastic theater for an audience that had previously settled for Disney characters and an Elvis-impersonating magician.

2004 – Janet Jackson’s wardrobe malfunction

Janet Jackson performs during the halftime show at Super Bowl XXXVIII at Houston’s Reliant Stadium in 2004. Credit: Frank Micelotta/Getty Images

Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake’s 2004 performance will forever be remembered as the incident that brought “wardrobe malfunction” into popular parlance.

While performing a duet, Timberlake ripped off a part of Jackson’s bustier, exposing her breast to 143.6 million viewers, and “Nipplegate” was born.

A lot of people were unhappy. The Federal Communications Commission reportedly received more than 500,000 indecency complaints about 9/16 of a second of exposed flesh, and levied a $550,000 fine against CBS, the network airing the game, and its affiliates. (The fine was thrown out by the Supreme Court in 2012.)

Jackson took on the brunt of the backlash and has not performed at the Super Bowl since. Timberlake, however, performed a set alternately described as “forgettable but flashy,” “sonically challenged” and “a total disaster” in 2018.

2007 – Prince’s perfect timing

Prince at Super Bowl XLI in 2007. Credit: Philip Ramey/RamneyPIX/Corbis/Getty Images

Prince — dressed in blue suit and chest-bearing orange button-down, hair covered with a black scarf — performing “Purple Rain” in the middle of a torrential storm, purple “symbol” guitar in hand, was a glorious finale to a performance that saw one of history’s most incandescent performers giving his all for 140 million views.

“The heavy rain made the smoke and lights seem mysterious, instead of merely ridiculous. And there was a sneaky thrill in watching Prince steal the field from guys three times his size, if only for a few moments,” opined music critic Kelefa Sanneh in the New York Times following the show.

2012 – Madonna brings high fashion to halftime

Madonna wears Givenchy by Riccardo Tisci at Super Bowl XLVI in 2012. Credit: Al Bello/Getty Images

The 2012 Super Bowl is when halftime officially went high fashion. To add an extra veneer of dark glamour to her performance, Madonna enlisted designer Riccardo Tisci, then creative director of Givenchy, to design her costumes.

“Following my collaboration with Madonna on her last tour three years ago, it is a great honor for me to be a part of yet another historical and iconic moment,” Tisci told Vogue after the performance. “People say everything has a limit, but limits do not exist with Madonna.”

Givenchy’s Riccardo Tisci’s love letter to New York

The bespoke outfits, inspired by looks Tisci had designed for the French fashion house, included an embellished gold cape and a gladiatorial black mini skirt with a studded belt, each accessorized with an Egyptian-inspired headpiece by British milliner Philip Treacy.

2015 – Katy Perry goes (more) pop with Jeremy Scott

Katy Perry, wearing Jeremy Scott, performs her single “Roar” atop a metal lion during the Super Bowl XLIX halftime show. Credit: Tom Pennington/Getty Images

Fashion took the spotlight again in 2015, when Katy Perry wore four Jeremy Scott outfits on stage. The looks were a perfect marriage of Katy Perry’s over-the-top cartoonish-ness and Scott’s penchant for bedazzled Americana and pop culture.

One of the highlights? A metallic skirt-and-jacket combo covered in flames worn during the first number, inspired by a pair of shoes from the designer’s archive. Perry wore it to perform her song “Roar” atop a metal lion.

Exclusive documentary: Around the world with Jeremy Scott

“I love pop culture, and for me that’s one of the things that’s so exciting about this opportunity,” Scott told the now-defunct fashion news site Style.com. “The audience is so vast, it’s so much more outside our nuanced world of high-fashion lovers.”

That “vast” audience ended up encompassing 118.5 million TV viewers — the standing record for a Super Bowl halftime show.

2016 – Beyoncé gets political

SANTA CLARA, CA – FEBRUARY 07: Beyonce and Bruno Mars perform during the Pepsi Super Bowl 50 Halftime Show at Levi’s Stadium on February 7, 2016 in Santa Clara, California. (Photo by Ezra Shaw/Getty Images) Credit: Ezra Shaw/Getty Images

Super Bowl weekend was a busy one for Beyoncé. On Saturday, she released the video for her new single, “Formation,” a visual exploration of southern black femininity and the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, which ripped through predominantly black New Orleans neighborhoods in 2005. On Sunday, she took to the stage to perform in one of the year’s most-watched televised events.

Her performance was unabashedly politically. She opened the show with an all-black dance troupe donning afros and black berets, an obvious reference to the way the way Black Panther Party members dressed in the ’60s. (Forgoing the beret, Beyoncé tipped her hat to Michael Jackson with a black-and-gold military jacket recalling his own Super Bowl look.) The dancers also assumed an “X” formation at one point, a reference to Malcolm X.

While fans and critics praised the performance, and the audacity of making such a powerful statement in front of her entire country. New York Times Magazine staff writer Jenna Wortham put it well: “I think she wants us to know that even though she’s headlining a mainstream event like the Super Bowl, she has opinions and isn’t afraid to share them, nor is she afraid to do it on a national and global scale.”

(It’s worth noting this was in February 2016, seven months before Colin Kaepernick began kneeling during the national anthem in protest against police brutality and racism in the US.)

Others took offense at what they perceived as an anti-police sentiment. Some were so upset that they organized a poorly attended anti-Beyoncé rally at the NFL’s New York headquarters. Rudy Giuliani, the outspoken former mayor of New York mayor and Donald Trump’s attorney, called it “outrageous.”

“This is football, not Hollywood,” he told Fox News, “and I thought it was really outrageous that she used it as a platform to attack police officers who are the people who protect her and protect us, and keep us alive.”

2017 – Lady Gaga takes to the skies

Lady Gaga performs during Super Bowl LI Halftime Show at Houston’s NRG Stadium in 2017. Credit: Kevin C. Cox/Getty Images

Leave it to Lady Gaga to take the Super Bowl halftime show to new heights. The Oscar-nominee started her set singing “God Bless America” and “This Land Is Your Land” before being lowered into the stadium on cables to sing, dance and play piano to her greatest hits.

Surprisingly, she wore only two outfits throughout: An iridescent, crystal-embellished bodysuit (which she later covered with a spiked golden jacket); and a white jacket that resembled football shoulder pads with matching hot pants. Both were designed by Atelier Versace, so subtle they were not.

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