Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Another work week had come to an end at Coal Hill School. For many of the teachers, it meant the part of the evening where they could go home, rest and enjoy their weekend. 

But for Clara Oswald, her day was only just getting started.

As had become a routine, she hopped astride her motorbike and sped her way home. Except instead of heading inside and up to her flat after parking her bike, she turned and headed towards the adjacent green. There, she found that magnificent blue box parked, waiting to whisk her away on a weekend of adventures throughout space and time. 

Pushing the doors open, Clara smiled as she stepped into the place which had become her home away from home, a metallic room which served as her own personal enchanted wardrobe. Except instead of leading to Narnia, it led to wherever and whenever.

“Hey!” she called out cheerily in greeting, looking around to try to spot the Doctor. After all, she rarely found him anywhere other than this grand console room, whether that be up top or down beneath the central platform housing the glorious console unit.

“Oh hello, Clara!” the Doctor called back in return, slamming his book shut and shifting a little to the side to reveal his grinning face from where it had previously been hidden from the other side of the incandescent time rotor. “Was wondering where you were.”

The two best friends beamed at each other from across the console unit, excited to go on even more adventures together. 

“So, where we off to?” Clara asked, drumming her fingers excitedly on the console. “Ooh, I know, maybe we could go meet Charles Dickens? Got my class reading his books this month, and it got me thinking, there’s gotta be something up with the idea behind A Christmas Carol?”

“Nah, been there, done that. You’re right, me and old Charlie boy did encounter ghosts. Alien ghosts. But, maybe a week in Ancient Greece? Though we’ll have to steer clear of Socrates, old fella is lovely, but he'll keep us philosophising for weeks otherwise. Actually, Venus is lovely in the thirty-sixth century, maybe we should go there for one of their famous Sun Dance parties.”

Clara kept on smiling as the Doctor continued to ramble, throwing out a whole litany of potential travel destinations. She could listen to her best friend talk forever, pretty sure his enthusiasm could even make reading the phonebook sound interesting. Not that he’d have the patience or attention span for that, of course; he couldn’t even finish a crossword without getting bored. Until all of a sudden, he cut himself off midway through his next suggestion, eyes widening and mouth opening as though a lightbulb had flickered on in his brain, raising his pointer fingers up.

“Actually, put a pin in all that for now. Do you know what I think we should do?” the Doctor called across the TARDIS console, his face half-bathed in the teal glow of the time rotor and one hand now idly fidgeting on the smooth metal of the console unit panel.

“Fix the chameleon circuit?” Clara asked in return, her cheeky smile not abating in the face of the Doctor’s obvious revulsion to that idea.

“Clara!” he exclaimed, clear offence marring his features. “We’ve only just gotten her to like you, and now you’re making personal remarks!”

“Hey, we both know it's what's on the inside that counts,” Clara crossed her arms, then tilted her head. “Though on second thought, a blue box is far more interesting than a grey pillar. So, what was your idea then?”

“No, I’m not sure I want to teach you how to fly the TARDIS now,” the Doctor huffed indignantly, spinning around and crossing his arms grumpily to turn his back on Clara. 

Clara couldn’t help but chuckle at her best friend’s childish reaction. With the youthful face of a young man, he could never quite pull off the authoritative look he often went for. Not with those big, sad eyes.

“No-no, I want to fly the TARDIS!” she affirmed, rushing over to wrap her arms around her best friend from behind. He couldn’t keep his annoyed façade up for much longer, caving almost immediately into the hug. “Teach me, Doctor!”

“Okay, fine!” he shook his head and rolled his eyes, but the big grin on his face after he turned around betrayed the fact that he was just as excited for this as Clara was. Perhaps even more so. She knew the Doctor practically inside out by this point, all of his faces. One thing every single regeneration had in common was that they lived vicariously through their companions.

Clara couldn’t help grinning with delight at her daily dose of excitement, so eager for this that she swayed back and forth on the spot, her teal dress with white polka dots swishing with the movement, as she watched the Doctor tap away at the buttons on the TARDIS console keypad.

“Right then, let's hope this turns out better than it did last time.”

“Nah, don’t particularly fancy climbing through a wrecked TARDIS again. Even if I still only vaguely remember it.”

“Okay, now put your hand on this lever,” the Doctor directed as he picked up Clara’s wrist and placed her hand around the desired control. “And remember, don’t make any funny faces.”

“Why? What’ll happen if I do?”

“Well I’ll be a little bit cross with you, and the TARDIS will probably be so huffy with your improper flying that she’ll go hiding your bedroom again.”

Clara shuddered at that thought. As much as she did prefer to come and go from her life through time and space, there were occasions in which she did choose to sleep aboard the TARDIS. She was relieved that the TARDIS had seemingly warmed up to her, despite her status as an established complicated event in space and time. Jumping into the Doctor’s timestream would do that for you. Frankly, she heavily suspected that the Doctor himself was the biggest factor in the TARDIS no longer hiding rooms from her. He spent so much time tinkering and talking to his beloved time machine, Clara was certain that he’d coaxed her into accepting that Clara Oswald was here to stay, and wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

The way the Doctor was with the TARDIS was so much worse than any car-adoring boyfriend Clara had ever had. She swore she’d caught him caressing the console more than a few times.

Clara gasped as she pulled the lever, and felt the entire room shudder, as though she was inside a turbulent plane. She giggled as she caught sight of the Doctor actually stumbling about before clinging onto the console. For once, the TARDIS was in flight without him controlling it. She was too focused on concentrating to even bother making a quip out of the Doctor being a passenger rather than the pilot on his own ship.

“Oh hey, that’s good!” the Doctor beamed with pride at his companion, laughing as he could see the joy written across her face, even with her intense concentration on the TARDIS monitor. He knew she was such an overachiever, she was probably trying to decipher the Gallifreyan symbols on-screen. A right clever clogs as she was, the TARDIS would never translate that for her.

Clara Oswald had been an enigma to him for such a long time. Now, he was beyond thrilled to take pride in knowing exactly who she was after their trip to Trenzalore, not having to worry anymore about what she could be. Now, he could simply enjoy the ride, enjoying her company and friendship tremendously as he took her along for the joyride of a lifetime.

“Okay, now press that button if you want to-”

Without Clara pressing any other controls, there was an almighty crash, the console room lurching and shaking, before feeling as though the blue box was propelled backwards, both Clara and the Doctor screaming as they were hurtling to the floor. 

A few minutes earlier…

Somewhere not too far away…

As she often was, the Doctor was lost in thought.

These days, there were simply too many thoughts bouncing around her head to ever give her true comfort. 

Some might say it had always been that way. But until recent events brought terrifying truths to light, the Doctor’s head had always been filled with theories, ideas for places to go and people to meet, or which part of the TARDIS to tinker with next.

Her regeneration hadn’t started off this way, but she did a lot more brooding these days. All the lives she had lived, yet retained no memory of, not knowing what she had stood for, or what she had done. At the moment, she had run fresh out of leads, left to ruminate on exactly what the revelations meant for her and who the Doctor really was. 

And like they were doing far more as of late, the Doctor’s thoughts turned to Yaz.

Yaz, who had been the star to guide her home more often than not lately. A source of light in the darkness. 

She was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to choose favourites. After all, one of the perks of having two hearts was the extra storage space for love.

It had been months since Ryan and Graham had chosen to leave TARDIS life behind. In a regeneration who had kept those three amazing humans with her from her very start, the loss was undoubtedly an emotional blow. There was no mistake about it, the Doctor loved her fam. Always had, and she would carry them all in her hearts forevermore. However, if the Doctor was perfectly honest with herself, she’d always had a particular soft spot for Yaz. While Ryan and Graham had been running away from things - for Graham, the grief of losing Grace, for Ryan, the dullness of mundane life - Yaz had actively ran with the Doctor. Not because she was missing anything in her life or had something she needed a distraction to recover from, but simply because she wanted more. She specifically wanted to spend time with the Doctor.

If there was only a finite number of gold stars or points in the universe, the Doctor would award the lion’s share to Yasmin Khan. Never cruel, never cowardly. Always curious, full of courage, and with an astoundingly good heart.

Of course, it wasn’t just her strong morals that had made the Doctor overjoyed that Yaz had chosen to stay with her. Laughs were guaranteed to be aplenty in the TARDIS with Yaz around. Yaz wasn’t just kind, she was also funny, smart, and beautiful. Inside and out. That big grin which always made her hearts beat extra fast, her little giggle which sounded more wonderous than most galaxies, her-

The Doctor swallowed thickly, tugging the dead man’s handle in her mind to stop her train of thought in its tracks. She couldn’t let herself think about her best friend. Not in that way. Not now, or ever.

“Doctor?”

Coincidentally, Yaz chose that moment to make herself known. The Doctor gasped in shock as she whirled around to find Yaz calmly sitting on the steps outside the edges of the console room.

“Yaz! How long have you been there?”

“Bout five minutes. Were wondering when you’d notice.”

“No, you haven’t?” the Doctor furrowed her brow.

“Y’know, for a super smart alien, you sure do get lost in that big head a lot.”

“Oi!”

“So go on then. What were you thinking about?”

“I was thinking…” the Doctor started, before landing on what sounded like a brilliant activity for today. “That I can teach you how to fly the TARDIS some more.”

As she had hoped to see, Yaz’s eyes lit up like they were watching twenty consecutives New Year’s Eves all over again. “You mean it's time for another lesson?”

“Yeah! TARDIS training with Yaz? Amazin'!” the Doctor beamed, before nodding over to a switch on the other side of the console unit. “So go get into position, co-pilot.”

Like the eager adventurer she was, Yaz leapt at the opportunity, following the Doctor’s guidance to the letter. 

While the Doctor was reluctant to share her inner thoughts with Yaz, her hearts simply couldn’t take keeping so much from someone she cared so deeply about. To balance out the heartache, she instead split her time between taking Yaz to the most extraordinary times and places she could think of, and teaching Yaz how to pilot the TARDIS.

It was a big step. For as many friends as the Doctor had gathered over her lifetime, only a very select few had gained even the tiniest knowledge of how to fly the TARDIS. Quite honestly, the Doctor wondered why she hadn’t thought of it sooner. But if it was going to be anyone, who better than Yaz?

The Doctor tried hard not to admit aloud just how lovely she thought Yaz looked today, in her crimson leather jacket and black jeans. Always ready for action, and well-dressed. 

As eager as she was to shower her best friend with compliments as she deserved, she couldn’t risk leading Yaz on. Not that the Doctor even assumed that Yaz would even have any interest in her in that way. 

But she had to say something. “Nice outfit,” she settled on.

“Oh these?” Yaz looked down bashfully, before flicking her eyes back up to the Doctor. “Nothin’ special.”

‘You’re always special to me’, the Doctor thought to herself.

“So, the spacial-temporal lever?” Yaz broke the sudden silence, snapping the Doctor back to the present.

“Yep, that’s the one!” the Doctor busied herself by dashing around to the other side of the console.

“Checking the TARDIS shields are still up,” Yaz narrated aloud, flicking a button. “Taking her up,” she announced as a slight turbulence interrupted the previous calm of the room. “Flyin’ her eastward,” she said as she twisted a lever. Usually, the TARDIS flew through the time vortex. But there would be times where they needed that magical blue box to fly through space as well, and this was a perfect test flight for Yaz.

“Dispensing in-flight snacks,” the Doctor pressed her shoe onto a lever, her face lighting up as a custard cream came down the chute. She passed one over to Yaz, before dispensing another for herself. “Now,” she spoke around a mouthful of biscuit, before swallowing. “Let me just program some coordinates in, and then we can-”

Without warning, an almighty bang echoed around the spacious console room.

The whole room shook with a jolt, eliciting surprised yelps from both women as they only just managed to steady themselves before the room settled. 

“Doctor, what was that?” Yaz asked, her eyes wide. “I swear I didn’t-”

“No-no, that wasn’t anything you did, Yaz. You were amazin’,” the Doctor shook her head, too focused on her internal thought processes to notice the blush and look of pride on her companion’s face. “No, it felt like we crashed into something. Or they crashed into us. Either way, it wasn’t there two seconds ago.”

“So now should we-”

“Have a look? Speakin’ my language, Yaz. Quicksmart.”

The Doctor bounded over to the doors, eager to discover what exactly her TARDIS had crashed into, and see if anyone needed any help. Yaz followed close behind her, like she usually did. Yaz would follow the Doctor anywhere.

As they exited the box, Yaz noticed the Doctor still in place, boot still hovering before finally landing on the ground tentatively. Stepping forth to stand by her side, Yaz instantly knew why.

It had been a rough landing, to say the least. 

Without any prior experience flying the TARDIS (properly, at least), the Doctor had expected Clara to not be the smoothest driver. He had taken every precaution possible ahead of time, had searched for objects to avoid in the atmosphere of the empty, barren planet he’d chosen to let Clara fly over. 

This world was devoid of life or valuable resources. There weren’t even any meteorite showers scheduled for at least twelve more years. Absolutely zero reason for anyone to come here except them.

So what had they crashed into? He had been maintaining careful watch over everything Clara had been doing. There really shouldn’t have been anything to crash into.

After checking in with his best friend, the Doctor had been relieved that Clara seemed to be mostly okay, even if she’d banged her shoulder up a little bit when she’d been thrown to the floor in the impact, if the fact she had massaged it had been any indication.

Luckily, the close call hadn’t deterred Clara’s enthusiasm in any way. Instead, she had been right behind the Doctor, to discover the cause of the collision.

Pulling open the doors, the Doctor and Clara had stepped out of the TARDIS, both gasping with shock at what they had seen standing fifty feet away.

Another TARDIS.

The box was a less bold shade of blue. Instead of white-paned glass windows, the windows shined yellow from the light within. Rather than shining a radiant white, the lantern atop this other TARDIS shone a brilliant blue.

The Doctor could almost believe it was actually his TARDIS. Except for the fact that it had never quite looked exactly like that. But he could just feel it was his sexy thing.

In addition, he couldn’t dismiss the very likely possibility that he’d simply forgotten tiny details over the past millennium. He’d lived so long that by this point, some things were buried in the mists of time. After all, it had taken more time than he’d like to admit to remember exactly who the Great Intelligence was after his time spent in Victorian London.

“Doctor?” Clara had kept her gaze fixed on the other TARDIS, and had reached her arm to the right to repeatedly tap his shoulder. “Is that-”

“It can’t be,” he had whispered, his mind still processing how, why, or when.

Luckily, some answers had been destined to arrive sooner rather than later. They’d already made it halfway across the space separating them when the doors of the other TARDIS had creaked open, and two strangers had exited the blue box.

Two women.

Both looked just as stunned to see them.

“Do you know who they are?” Clara asked him.

“Not a clue,” he admitted, shaking his head. 

He then cleared his throat and straightened his bowtie, before striding forward with renewed purpose, bringing his hand up to wave. 

“Hello there! I’m the Doctor, this is Clara. And who might you two be?”

Chapter Text

“Hello there! I’m the Doctor, this is Clara. And who might you two be?”

The words still rang in the Doctor’s ears, as she struggled to comprehend how this had happened.

Time often felt like it stood still during really big moments. Well, sometimes it literally stood still. But that was usually not the Doctor’s fault. Well, eighty percent of the time. Maybe sixty percent. Alright, about half of the time.

Now, however, her mind was running faster than an Olympic sprinter, running through every possible way to handle this situation.

She didn’t remember this happening. But on reflection, of course she wouldn’t. The timestreams hadn’t fully synced up yet. 

It had been so long since she’d last seen that old body of hers. Actually, the first time seeing it outside of a mirror. She’d forgotten how much she’d liked it, face young, hair flopping about. Although finally seeing it from the outside, now she could see why she’d been teased about that giant chin so much.

But she couldn’t waste time admiring her past face. Although time had seemed to slow down to her overactive mind, it wouldn’t stay that way forever. Fairly soon, she’d have to offer some sort of response to her younger self’s greeting. That would be socially acceptable, wouldn’t it? Be a bit rude if not, probably.

She could see it in his eyes that despite the cheery greeting, scepticism blazed inside. How could it not? If she remembered rightly, from his perspective he was the last regeneration. At the end of his regeneration cycle, without any plan of how to extend it. It was only thanks to one particularly brilliant, brave and kind woman, that she’d been (or would be) granted a new regeneration cycle by the Time Lords.

That very same woman presently standing by his side.

Clara.

She looked even younger than she’d remembered last seeing her. Of course she would be. She was fairly certain (and feeling more than a little guilty) that dealing with the tumultuous start to her previous regeneration had aged Clara though sheer stress. Not to mention the natural passage of time.

Her face was just as round and beautiful as she remembered her dear Clara, those big eyes shining brightly with hope, a fierce (and stubborn, not to mention bossy) intellect behind those eyes.

“You okay there? Have to say, as if stealing the look of my TARDIS wasn’t rude enough, ignoring me is also fairly a little bit annoying.”

“Yes, sorry,” the Doctor shook herself out of it, focusing on her bemused past self. “I’m…John Smith,” she offered before feeling Yaz’s eyes burn questioningly into the side of her head, realisation hitting her. “Oh yeah,” she groaned, scrunching her face up and tilting her head. “Agh, sorry, that one doesn’t quite work anymore, does it?”

She sighed heavily, knowing just how pointless coming up with a new alias would be. It’s not that she couldn’t come up with one on the spot. She’d be brilliant in doing so. Joan Smith? Jolene Smith? Jolie? Jordan? Jo? Any one of them would be plausible for her. Not to mention that she’d be especially proud to call herself Jo, after her dear friend from so very long ago.

But she was tired . Tired of all the lies. Tired of all the hiding she was having to do with Yaz through her inability to share the existential turmoil warring in her mind. Despite how much she wanted to, she just couldn’t figure out where to even start. Especially when she couldn’t even figure out how she felt about it herself.

Having an existential crisis was exhausting .

Plus, this was the Doctor she was dealing with. Throughout any incarnation, she was certain of being a super intelligent Time Lord (thankfully Yaz couldn’t hear her thoughts, or she’d be hearing ‘big head’ again). There would be no fooling her past self.

“Hi there, me!” she chirped back just as cheerily, stepping forward and putting her hands on her hips, pulling her coat back and further showing off her blue braces underneath. “I’m the Doctor.”

As expected, the younger Doctor’s face was one of incredulity, his face growing even longer as his mouth opened wide. Lines creased onto his furrowed brow, his quiff quivering with disbelief.

Somehow, his mighty chin looked to grow even bigger after he’d snapped his mouth shut and resettled his jaw in anger, his chin sticking out even further. Had she had a chin that functioned like Pinnochi’s nose whenever he got angry and nobody had bothered to tell her?

“Except you’re not,” he insisted, his tone low and dangerously slow. She’d always made sure to conscientiously measure each word carefully back when she’d been him and had been truly ticked off, so that nobody was under any illusions as to his true capabilities.

“Oh trust me, I am, mate.”

“No, trust me, I’m the Doctor. And if you knew anything about me, you’d know that it is physically impossible that I could ever become you.”

She paused, arching an eyebrow inquisitively before leaning forward slowly enough to be dramatic. “Or is it?”

The two battled in a silent but intense staring competition, both sizing each other up. Their respective companions could do little more than just stand and watch in bewilderment, none the wiser as to the true gravity of the situation, never feeling more like outsiders than they did at that very moment.

“If you really are me, then tell me, how could that be?” the younger Doctor asked. “Oh, let me guess-”

“A thing happened.”

“A thing happened.”

Both incarnations of the Doctor spoke simultaneously, the words blending into one. Slowly but surely, understanding spread across the younger Doctor’s face, brows raising as his mouth widened, before curving into a slight upturn at the brush of familiarity.

“A timey-wimey thing happened,” both Doctors spoke simultaneously. 

“Love it when I do that,” they uttered in perfect synchronicity. 

They both narrowed their eyes at the exact same instant. 

“Stop doing that!”

As much as the Doctor’s enemies might falsely assume the Time Lord to be a mastermind, that was not strictly speaking wholly accurate. While the Time Lord’s survival did rely on a great deal of intelligence and an innate capability, luck played a very significant factor. 

And only the Doctor would be humble enough to downplay their role in events, reducing a well-thought out plan to “a thing happening”.

“Okay, one more test to see if you really are the Doctor,” he suggested, slowly reaching his hand into the inside pocket of his purple frock coat.

At the exact same time he was doing that, she was reaching into her grey coat pocket, matching his carefully slow motions.

Both retrieved cylindrical devices, though both were distinctively different sizes, colours, and material. Two practically essential devices that almost every regeneration of the Doctor had wielded.

The younger Doctor couldn’t help sporting a cocky grin as he flicked his Sonic Screwdriver open with his wrist, the claws shooting upward and the emerald tip glowing. At the same time, the older Doctor pressed the button on the side of hers, the tip at the end of the silver device illuminating amber. Two sets of buzzing filled the air, sounding practically identical.

If her younger self didn’t believe her already, he certainly did now. She could see it in his eyes, any suspicion erased and replaced by a look of optimistic enlightenment so dazzling that for a second, she wondered if he’d somehow managed to get his new regeneration cycle early.

Two Sonic Screwdrivers. Two Doctors.

Same software, different case.

“Yeah, well, bigger isn’t always better,” the current Doctor shrugged at her younger regeneration, who opened his mouth in offence as he closed his Sonic Screwdriver, flipped it up in the air before catching it and replacing it inside his coat pocket.

“Oh yeah, is that right?” he asked before his furrowed brow evened out and he shrugged. “You’re probably right. I’m sure you’ve got loads more pocket space with a smaller Sonic.”

“Love pocket space,” both Doctors spoke simultaneously. Leading to gasps just as in perfect synchronicity to each other, before both shared in laughter at such an innate camaraderie in the air. 

Laughter which the other two women watching couldn’t help but feel left out of an inside joke.

“Hi, sorry, teensy little bit lost,” the round-faced woman standing beside the bow-tie wearing Doctor interrupted, turning to her Doctor. “Who are they again?”

“Isn’t it obvious? She’s me in the future. I’ve got a future, always nice to know.”

“Yeah, but I’ve seen all your faces. All twelve from your timestream. I’ve never seen hers before.”

For a few very long seconds, the older Doctor stared at Clara. Hurt spread through every vein, every nerve ending, like a virus, until her whole system was flooded with pain. She remembered that one day, Clara had wound up dead. And it had been all her fault, no matter how much Clara had tried to convince her otherwise. Like she did with everyone else she’d lost, she carried that pain and guilt in her hearts for the rest of her life, and it never got easier. It was impossible for her not to worry that one day, she’d lose Yaz too. And right now, she couldn’t bear to think of her universe with no Yaz.

But in that moment, she decided to push that pain to the side, and concentrate on the here and now. Because at that precise moment, Clara Oswald wasn’t a ghost, an echo, or an AI interface taking her form. She was so full of life, optimistic and happy, without yet being burdened by the loss of Danny Pink, a loss which had pushed her to keep running until she had become too much like the Doctor.

“Clara!” she exclaimed, flourishing her arms wide open at the sides as she failed to contain her euphoria. 

As she watched, Yaz couldn’t help the insidious embers of jealousy flicker in her belly, hearing her Doctor greet this Clara person in the exact same tone of voice which she was used to hearing call her name.

It only lasted a brief moment before she doused logic on the flames, as much as they kept trying to reignite. It only made sense that in the thousands of years that the Doctor had walked the universe, she would have made many friends thought of just as fondly. After all, they’d already met Captain Jack, who had served as a reminder that the Doctor had had a long history before them, and would almost certainly continue long after they had gone. Who knew just how many close friends the Doctor had had?

Of course, Yaz cared more about the Doctor than any best friend she’d had before, even more than she cared for Ryan or Graham. It was a different kind of care, more like adoration. Star-struck, in a way. Except, that star was her best friend and role model, both at the same time. And her complicated feelings surrounding the Doctor made the jealousy all the more difficult to keep down.

Although Clara eyed the newcomer warily for a few seconds, it was the Doctor’s exuberant greeting which cinched the truth of the matter for her. Whether it was the fond, older eyes weighed down by the centuries she’d lived since last seeing her, or the similar eagerness and energy to her incumbent Doctor, it was impossible for the Impossible Girl to not recognise her best friend in this woman.

“Doctor?” Clara grinned back, the newer Doctor’s smile growing with an eager nod. “I like your new face.”

“Oh do you? Yeah, had a bit of work done,” the Doctor beamed, Clara’s approval making a clear impact.

“Love the accent. About time you went northern.”

“Yeah? I love the North. My favourite hemisphere of most planets.”

And then, the Doctor did something very surprising to Yaz.

She opened her arms wide in an invitation to Clara.

That was unusual. While the Doctor was a wonderful woman who treated everybody with kindness and respect unless they’d earned her ire, she wasn’t particularly touchy-feely. Her uncontainable energy usually translated to smiles and a penchant for talking quickly with great enthusiasm, rather than physical affection. 

Clara must have been very special to the Doctor if she was offering her a hug. A hug which Clara didn’t take long to accept, moving forward to lean into the Doctor’s embrace.

To her shame, Yaz couldn’t help but feel the sparks of jealousy return like angry butterflies in her stomach, having to tear her eyes away at the sight, suddenly finding the barren ground unavoidably interesting.

The whole time, she couldn’t help but yearn for the Doctor - her Doctor - to hug her more often.

Luckily, the younger Doctor seemed to pick up on her apprehension, taking a step towards her. By the time Yaz looked back up from the ground, she was looking into big green eyes, and a welcoming smile on his face.

“Hello there…” he said, his voice charming and friendly, but sounded uncertain at the end. It took a moment for Yaz to realise that he was waiting for her to respond.

“I’m Yaz. Yasmin Khan. Yaz, to my friends.”

“Ah, hello there Yaz. Nice name, Yaz. You should definitely keep it.”

Yaz couldn’t help snorting at that. It seemed that a splash of social awkwardness wasn’t entirely new to her Doctor, if that comment was any indication.

“Mate, think I’m a bit stuck with it by this point.”

“A bit like him with that chin,” her Doctor interjected as she let go of Clara, prompting chuckles from everyone except the past Doctor himself.

“Oi!” he exclaimed, furrowing his brow in much the same way her Doctor did whenever she was appearing to be offended during banter. 

As they’d continued interacting, more and more similarities were making themselves apparent, from the same easygoing demeanour radiating an aura of calm, at complete odds with their chaotic energy. If she was being honest, Yaz didn’t think the Doctor even tried to be so easily likeable. She just was. 

“Enough about the chin,” he continued to protest. “Bit of a low blow, don’t you think?”

“If you can’t laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?” she retorted, hands on her hips before she shrugged. “Besides, not like you’ll remember it anyway, so no harm done,” she smirked back cheekily.

“How do you mean, he won’t remember it?” Clara asked.

“The two of us meeting will have put the time streams out of sync,” the older Doctor explained.

“Meaning I can’t retain any of it until my future is her present,” the younger Doctor added. “Handy to prevent paradoxes, but a bit bothersome. It’s like when you walk into a room and forget what you walked in there for, only to remember hours later.” He paused before frowning. “Except it’s not actually like that at all, forget I said that.”

“Hold on, I’m proper confused,” Yaz said, her brow scrunched up. “Still trying to wrap me head ‘round him being you,” she turned to her Doctor. “I thought you said you used to be a white-”

Her Doctor hurriedly turned to shush her, hazel eyes blown wide with anxiety as she brought a finger to her shaky lips. Despite not appreciating being shut down, Yaz snapped her mouth shut anyway, trusting from the urgency in the Doctor’s eyes that it was necessary at that point in time.

The Doctor turned to her past self, shooting him an apologetic shrug. “Spoilers.”

He seemed to understand at once from the single word which meant so much to both of them, nodding. “Spoilers,” he spoke with a tone of agreement.

“But I thought you said he wouldn’t remember this?” Yaz questioned.

“No, but it’s possible for some things to bleed through subconsciously,” her Doctor explained. “I can’t risk messing up my own personal timeline. But don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I know what you were about to ask. Very clever you are, Yaz.” She turned to her past self with a proud grin. “She’s dead smart.”

“I look forward to it,” he grinned back, the look in his eyes at his future companion relaxing her in an instant. “But to make it perfectly clear, Yaz, I’ve had many faces, many lives. And since she really is me from the future, then it sounds like I’ve got plenty more faces I don’t know about yet.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she spoke, a cryptic tone to her voice, which left everyone except her thoroughly confused, but sensing from the sad way her gaze suddenly tilted to the floor that she didn’t want to be questioned further on it.

A sombre tone suddenly overtook the atmosphere at that response, the sadness roiling off the older Doctor in waves. For several few moments, the other three looked at each other in silence, taking glances at the Doctor while her gaze remained fixed to the floor.

Yaz was growing unfortunately accustomed to the Doctor becoming lost deep in her head ever since she’d returned from Gallifrey/space jail. All Yaz yearned to do was to pull her out of the seemingly endless minefield she kept falling into, but it was easier said than done. As difficult as it was though, nothing could deter Yaz from trying to get through to the Doctor.

“You know what I fancy?” Clara suddenly broke the tense silence. “Nice cup of tea.”

“Oh, in that case then we’ll have to go visit the Great Tearooms of Zymon Sixteen. You know, they love tea so much they have a whole lake made of-” her Doctor began suggesting, before his companion turned to shake her head.

“No, I mean right here, right now,” she retorted, digging her heels in deeper when he shook his head. “Oh come on, there’s a kettle and a whole cupboard full of teabags in the TARDIS kitchen. How often do you get the chance to have tea with yourself from the future?”

“Well I mean technically, given the natural progression of time, you’re always having tea with yourself from the future whenever you…and that’s not the point you were making, was it?”

Clara chuckled. “No, Doctor.”

“But Clara, we can’t stay here! The longer two of me occupy the same point in space and time, the more the universe is at risk! The temporal danger is inevitable, like Thursdays. There’s a reason different regenerations of the same Time Lord only come together in the gravest of emergencies, because-”

“It’s just tea,” Clara retorted through slightly gritted teeth. “If I could have tea with three different versions of you while we looked at a painting, then I’m pretty sure the four of us can have tea without the universe blowing up.”

Clara couldn’t help noticing Yaz, out of the corner of her eye, looking impressed at her casual mention, pride swelling in her chest.

“So stop with the excuses for why you don’t want to spend time with yourself and just drink your tea,” Clara continued to insist, her tone almost scolding. “I’ll even grab you a pack of Jammie Dodgers.”

His face went from impassive to slightly on-board with her idea at that. Of course, he knew it was inevitable that Clara Oswald would get her own way. She had a habit of doing that. “Fine,” he finally agreed, even with his arms crossed and a petulant pout on his face, chin sticking out again.

“Doctor?” Yaz walked close enough to her Doctor to put a hand on her shoulder, tensing before springing like a coil in shock.

“Huh?” the Doctor asked, shaking herself out of it. “Right, yeah, of course, Yaz. Time we were getting off, right?”

“No, Doctor,” Yaz shook her head, realising her Doctor hadn’t been listening to a single word they’d said. “Clara just suggested we have a picnic.”

“What? No, we can’t!” the Doctor answered, her eyes going wide and face aghast at that idea. “Yaz, we can’t stay here! The longer two of me occupy the same point in space and time, the more danger the universe is in! The fabric of reality could unravel if we stay. There’s a reason different regenerations of the same Time Lord only come together in the gravest of emergencies, because-”

“Excuses, excuses,” Yaz rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help a little smile gracing her lips.

“Past me already tried that, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” he answered, looking slightly sheepish. “Didn’t really work.”

“Why couldn’t you try harder?” she exclaimed, throwing her arms out to gesticulate. The older Doctor then sighed with resignation, before a flicker of excitement danced in her eyes, truly thinking the situation through. “But on the other hand, tea with Yaz and Clara? Amazin'!”

It was remarkable what an effect a good cup of tea had had on the Doctor’s sensibilities. 

Whereas ten minutes ago, both incarnations had been overcome with horror at the idea of prolonging time spent in each other’s company, now they were getting on famously. 

Besides being the same person deep down, they had plenty of mutual interests to discuss. First had been a spirited discussion on their love of hats (Yaz’s Doctor maintaining with insistence that she looked good in a plume, while Clara’s Doctor was adamant that he should wear a fez at all times, much to Clara’s disagreement).

Now, they were debating the merits of custard creams and jammie dodgers, munching on biscuits in between taking sips of tea - both with far more sugars than was socially acceptable. No wonder both of them were always so hyperactive.

Lost in their own bubble of hats and biscuits, both Doctors hadn’t realised that their companions had naturally gravitated towards each other, wanting to learn more about one another. Desiring privacy away from the Doctors, they’d sat several feet away from them.

“So Yaz, where you from?” Clara asked after nibbling on a custard cream. “Year-wise, obviously. That Sheffield accent is quite distinctive.”

“Look who’s talkin, Blackpool,” Yaz grinned. Despite the initial jealousy, it was hard not to get on with a friend of the Doctor’s. If the Doctor had trusted Clara completely enough to want to hug her, then clearly she must have been a trustworthy, capable companion. “But when I met the Doctor, it was 2018. Suppose it must have been a couple years since then at least.”

“Time is hard to figure out on the TARDIS, yeah?” Clara supposed, a sense of companionship filling the air on finding mutual ground. “I try to limit my adventures to single days out for that reason, but even then I lose track. Sometimes they bleed into another before I get back, a couple of days older than the rest of the world.”

“Wiser?”

“Well, I do still keep jumping back into that box, so maybe not,” Clara joked, both women sharing a laugh before she sobered. “But god yeah. Imagine not being on this ride, Yaz.”

“I wouldn’t want to,” Yaz shuddered, thinking back to her words to Captain Jack about the idea of not being able to have a life with the Doctor anymore. She pulled herself together, smiling back up at Clara. “So what about you?”

“2013,” Clara answered. “He sounded like a complete madman at first, even slammed the door in his face.”

“Yeah, she hasn’t changed,” Yaz grinned back. “First night I met her, I was investigating a disturbance and about to report it to my station. Next minute, she was forgetting her own tongue and banging on about aliens without even realising she was a woman!”

“Sounds like the Doctor,” Clara laughed, a look of complete awe written all over her face, looking to spot her Doctor and Yaz’s Doctor laughing loudly together. Although her Doctor and the skinny one in the suit had gotten along reasonably well, they’d still bickered a good deal. 

But now, a couple of brief references to chin size aside, the two Doctors seemed to revel in each other’s company. It made perfect sense. She could see so much of her Doctor in Yaz’s Doctor, from their jovial, bubbly nature, to the energetic, animated way they spoke and gesticulated, to their similar tastes, to the moments they thought nobody was looking at them, and she could see the burden of the centuries weighing down their eyes.

Clara had also caught the future Doctor’s eyes continually flicking towards Yaz, as though she was unable to help herself from checking on her, making sure she was still okay. Something her own Doctor didn’t feel the need to do, and not from lack of care. 

It was somewhat comforting to know that even in the future, the Doctor wouldn’t change enough to evolve subtlety. The Doctor was still the Doctor.

It was clear to Clara that clearly there must be something going on between the future Doctor and Yaz. Even if their body language gave nothing else away, there had to be something beyond pure friendship there. Even if she also had an inkling that neither of them realised it yet.

“She’s like, the best person I’ve ever known. They’re amazing,” Yaz spoke up, to jolt Clara out of her musings. “Both of them.”

“Yeah, they really are,” Clara grinned. “Still daft then?”

“Oh, definitely, she’s such a big kid sometimes,” Yaz smirked. “Wouldn’t have her any other way.”

“Oh trust me, I know,” Clara giggled. “If we go anywhere that has those plastic straws wrapped in paper, I have to confiscate and open it for him, otherwise I know he’ll blow it at me. Every time.” Clara shook her head, despite a fond smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Not to mention he almost always has the energy of a toddler on a sugar rush.”

“Oh mate, I know,” Yaz giggled. “I feel like sometimes she should wear a safety helmet to stop her from bumping into stuff. The other day, she stubbed her toe on the console. Spent two minutes angrily ranting at the TARDIS, then the next five profusely apologising to her for losing her temper.”

Clara snorted. “Hard to think sometimes that that’s the same alien who can make whole armies turn and run away at the mention of their name.”

“Yeah. But we know, don’t we Clara? The Doctor is worth the danger.”

“Oh, of course,” Clara nodded, a vibe of understanding and camaraderie hanging heavy in the air. “I take it you’ve met the Daleks by this point?”

“Yeah, couple of times. Had to bring in a bunch of SAS Daleks to exterminate a new mutation of them.” She noticed Clara’s look of revulsion to that idea. “Yeah, wasn’t pretty. But gotta fight Daleks with Daleks. It was the only way, and the Doctor got rid of them all in the end.” Yaz had noticed by now how embarrassingly enamoured her grin had grown as she’d continued talking about the Doctor, without even meaning to. The Doctor was her whole universe; she found it hard not to adore her. Not wanting to come across as overly obsessed with the most incredible woman she’d ever known, she quickly put forth a question of her own. “Have you met the Cybermen?”

“Yeah, the Doctor got sort of possessed by the Cyberiad and turned into a Cyber Planner for a bit while he played chess with himself in an old abandoned giant theme park world,” Clara shared casually, not missing the gobsmacked look on Yaz’s face at that crazy explanation. “Yeah, it was a weird day,” she shrugged.

To anyone else in the universe, their tales would sound like complete nonsense, spawned from an imagination excelling even the most brilliant minds of the twentieth century under recreational hallucinogenic aids.

But to Yaz and Clara, they more than understood each other. Life with the Doctor was mad, every day of the week. But despite the crazy situations they found themselves thrown into, neither would trade it for any other life.

“So, of all the lifeforms you’ve encountered, who was the scariest?” Clara asked.

“Well, giant spiders were super creepy,” Yaz answered, shivering at the memory, feeling phantom spiders crawling on her skin. “But psychologically, I won’t ever forget the Master.”

“The Master?” Clara asked with a snort, bursting into a laugh before she covered her mouth to quiet herself, as the look on Yaz’s face remained deadly serious. “Egomaniac, much? Who on earth chooses a stupid name like that? Who was he?”

“Somebody I hope you never have the misfortune to meet,” Clara’s Doctor cut in, both Doctors having stood, looking ready to leave.

Yaz couldn’t help but catch her Doctor glancing sadly at Clara, the forlorn look in her eyes giving away the fact that despite her younger self’s hopes, Clara would indeed encounter the Master one day in her future.

However, if the sadly limited time she’d spent with Clara today served as any indication, Yaz was certain that she’d be a match for that vile Time Lord.

“Right, Yaz, time we were off,” the older Doctor declared, offering a hand to help her up. Maybe the emotions were running particularly high, but Yaz couldn’t possibly decline such an invitation for close contact, gladly grabbing hold and letting the Doctor pull her up.

But as soon as Yaz was back on her feet, she felt the loss of warmth as the Doctor let go immediately, and couldn’t help but want to hold her hand again.

“Well, this has been a total pleasure,” the younger Doctor beamed at Yaz and his future self. “Absolutely top-notch. Completely bananas when you think about it. And even though I won’t remember it, it’ll be fun finding out how I’m able to regenerate into you,” he grinned at Yaz’s Doctor. “Good to know my future is in safe hands.”

“Oh, it’s been brilliant,” she beamed back, her eyes brighter than most galaxies. “I really loved being you. All these years later, and I have to say, bowties are still really cool.”

“Look after yourself, Yaz,” Clara smiled. Yaz was a little surprised as she felt herself pulled into a hug, but happily melted into her fellow companion’s embrace, squeezing gently back.

“So long as you do the same, Clara. And look after him. I think my Doctor will thank you for it.”

“Tiny bit of an ask,” Clara chuckled. “Keep her out of trouble, as impossible as that might be.”

“Oh, she is fairly impossible.”

“Oi!” the very Doctor in question exclaimed, prompting a burst of chuckles as Yaz and Clara broke apart. They turned to see her with hands on hips, arching her eyebrows inquisitively. “I presume you meant that as a good thing?”

“Sure. It was really nice meeting you, future Doctor,” Clara smiled warmly.

For a moment, it looked to Yaz as though her Doctor was about to burst into tears, from how shiny her big, sad eyes looked at Clara. But she seemed hellbent on avoiding that, her face instead overtaken by a giant grin. “It was really amazin’ seeing you again, Clara.” For the second time, the Doctor pulled Clara into a hug, ducking her head into her shoulder. “My Clara.”

Except this time around, Yaz didn’t feel the insidious flames of jealousy in her heart. Instead, she felt only gratitude that the Doctor had had a friend like Clara, who she cared for so dearly that she was so ecstatic to see again. If it was up to Yaz, she’d have loved to spend even more time getting to know Clara. But while two versions of the Doctor meeting wasn’t catastrophic, there would always be planets and civilisations in need of saving. As wonderful and insightful as this tea break was, it was time to get back to their normal lives of travelling and saving the universe.

“Well Yaz, it’s been a total pleasure meeting you early,” Clara’s Doctor turned to grin impishly at his future friend, taking her hand and shaking it as energetically as though he was getting all his boundless energy out that way. “And as much as I’m looking forward to becoming her,” he nodded over to Yaz’s Doctor (whose face was still hidden in the crook of Clara’s shoulder), before smiling warmly at Yaz, “I’m even more excited to meet you properly, Yasmin Khan. Might be early days, but I can tell.” He paused, his radiant grin growing even more infectiously bright. “It’s gonna be a whopper.”

“Oh, come here, Doctor,” Yaz couldn’t help chuckling at his earnest sentiment, opening her arms out in an invitation.

It seemed the past Doctor was far more touchy-feely than her Doctor, wasting no time in not only reciprocating the hug, but squeezing gently and leaning back far enough for Yaz’s feet to momentarily leave the ground.

The action alone was enough to bolster Yaz’s nerves when it came to how she felt about her Doctor. If the younger Doctor was happy enough to hug his friends, then surely a part of him must still live inside her Doctor? Yaz was certain of it, she just had to keep working to coax her Doctor to open up, for her to grow less closed off. 

Having said their farewells, the two pairs of TARDIS travellers headed back to their respective blue police boxes, exchanging friendly waves before they set off.

The Doctors and their companions flew off in opposite directions, ready to continue their respective journeys among the stars, throughout all of time and space.