Clara. [ The way the Doctor speaks her name, firm and final, like he's about to deliver a lecture in her direction, really only speaks to one thing: where is this coming from?
He frowns, studying her face, the crease between her eyebrows, until he looks into her eyes. Those big, round doe-eyes of hers that can fill with tears in an instant. Kind and clever eyes. Eyes anyone with even half a heart could trust.
He'd known about the bit about magic given that she'd spoken to him about it one night under the covers, speaking of silly things and orb theories and what they might be able to accomplish if they had the TARDIS here. But the rest of it? Knives and guns? He shakes his head. ]
I didn't know. About the knives and the guns. [ There's the slightest tightness in his voice when he repeats the words, a very clear indication of just how he feels about those particular weapons. Or any weapons at all, really. ] Has anyone said that knowing how to fight, knowing how to use a weapon, makes you more useful? Is anyone telling you that you're not enough if you haven't got special powers?
[ Every person in this team has a place. He might not understand how they came to be plucked from the cosmos or why, but they were all chosen. The Doctor was needed twice-over, sure, but Clara Oswald had been chosen amongst them just as equally. That makes her very, very special indeed, and he isn't going to hear anything to the contrary. ]
You know we've traveled together, you and I — you and the man that I'll change into one day. Fighting, powers, any of that — that's never been the point, that's not what we do. When you came back — [ They haven't spoken much of that time when she'd returned, somehow with more memories than she'd had when they first found themselves on the Ximilia. Perhaps it was partially his fault, never speaking of these things unless they had to come up.
Sometimes the Doctor can (and will) distract himself with other things to avoid difficult topics, but Clara seemed fine. She always seemed fine. ] — did something else change when you came back?
no subject
He frowns, studying her face, the crease between her eyebrows, until he looks into her eyes. Those big, round doe-eyes of hers that can fill with tears in an instant. Kind and clever eyes. Eyes anyone with even half a heart could trust.
He'd known about the bit about magic given that she'd spoken to him about it one night under the covers, speaking of silly things and orb theories and what they might be able to accomplish if they had the TARDIS here. But the rest of it? Knives and guns? He shakes his head. ]
I didn't know. About the knives and the guns. [ There's the slightest tightness in his voice when he repeats the words, a very clear indication of just how he feels about those particular weapons. Or any weapons at all, really. ] Has anyone said that knowing how to fight, knowing how to use a weapon, makes you more useful? Is anyone telling you that you're not enough if you haven't got special powers?
[ Every person in this team has a place. He might not understand how they came to be plucked from the cosmos or why, but they were all chosen. The Doctor was needed twice-over, sure, but Clara Oswald had been chosen amongst them just as equally. That makes her very, very special indeed, and he isn't going to hear anything to the contrary. ]
You know we've traveled together, you and I — you and the man that I'll change into one day. Fighting, powers, any of that — that's never been the point, that's not what we do. When you came back — [ They haven't spoken much of that time when she'd returned, somehow with more memories than she'd had when they first found themselves on the Ximilia. Perhaps it was partially his fault, never speaking of these things unless they had to come up.
Sometimes the Doctor can (and will) distract himself with other things to avoid difficult topics, but Clara seemed fine. She always seemed fine. ] — did something else change when you came back?