Chapter Text
“Gallifrey, the long way ‘round.”
How those words had come to haunt her. Clara massaged her temples as she sat back in an armchair in the Tardis library. Fractured memories assaulted her – a crashing Tardis, fiery pursuers, terror as she hid in the library, trying to find the Doctor.
He had looked so much younger then, but his childlike demeanor had concealed the ice in his heart. The psychic had warned her in that Scottish mansion, but she hadn’t listened. The Doctor was like a mountain, layered and ancient—how could she leave without solving his mystery?
Madame Vastra had warned her, too, even before the Doctor showed her a new face, yet one so old. “What is his name?” she had asked.
Now, in the corner of a manuscript, Clara saw the Doctor’s name, and she remembered. She remembered the journey to the center of the Tardis, the fear in the Doctor’s voice as he asked who she was, and the moment he chose secrecy over trust.
Anger welled up in her. The arrogance, to think that his name was more important than their shared memories! He had betrayed her again, when he pulled her away from the Raven and tried, once more, to erase her memories. That wasn’t altruism, her thoughts raged, That wasn’t life! It was his own selfishness, to remove the weight of her death from his conscience.
“Can’t sleep?” Clara felt Ashildr’s body behind her.
“Look at this.” Clara pointed furiously to the manuscript. “It’s his name. The Doctor’s name.”
Ashildr examined the Gallifreyan script blankly. “Where did you get that?” she asked.
Clara rubbed the back of her neck guiltily. “The Tardises of Gallifrey seem to be telepathically linked,” she said. “I may have learned how to emulate rooms on other Tardises…like the library.”
Ashildr sighed. “When will you let him go, Clara?”
“When I’ve got all my memories back, for one!” Clara snapped. She couldn’t explain why these stolen moments had returned now. Maybe when she was only one heartbeat away from death, the universe no longer cared which secrets she knew.
Ashildr sensed her thoughts. “Still no pulse?” she commented, more as a statement than a question. She gently put two fingers to Clara’s neck, as though she were feeling for one.
Electricity shot through Clara’s spine, then somewhere deeper. She quickly stood and turned to face the woman who had travelled with her these many months. She couldn’t process these feelings, not while she was still missing memories. Not while she had no heartbeat. “Good night, Ashildr,” she said.
Ashildr responded with the same question she asked every night. “And why do I let you call me Ashildr?”
Clara smiled. “Because I remember.”
Ashildr nodded. “Because you remember.”