MISSION: BAD COMPANY, PART 2

[ximilian]

● ● ● M I S S I O N   4 . 2

INTRO • THE DREAM DEFERRED • YOUR WAKE UP CALL • FYI

// INTRO. WELFORD BRANSON  

It is barely past twilight in Scorpion’s Bend, the twin suns having just set, taking their light with them — but the moons delay, and so darkness lingers over the town as Lan Xichen’s conversation with one Welford Branson comes to an abrupt end. At the same time, all around the town, the team will notice the town natives around them stilling — some freezing in the middle of a sentence, a man with a fork in the air, a woman mid-step on the street, some youngsters with their mouths open in laughter. All of them become statues in less than a heartbeat; still, eyes vacant, like everything that made them seem alive has been taken away.

And then — a reverberating sigh, echoing heavily in the ears of all the Orbers. What follows are words, spoken by a chorusing voice now familiar to most of the team —

“Well now you’ve done it.”

The orb’s echoing sound is filled with disappointment, even annoyance.

Some may see that amidst all the frozen townspeople, an old man runs, clawing at his thinning hair. Some of you may hear his words, muttered, desperate:

“I don't understand, I thought 'twas just a bad dream, everyone was fine, don't understand, what in the name of the Eight could've done somethin' like this —”

The disbelieving mumbles trail at his wake, making it clear he does not know what is going on at all — in fact, you may have a better idea as to what has happened than he does. But as you turn to follow him, open your mouth to yell at him to stop... everything around you shatters.

The lights in the buildings grow dim and break; the smell of food disappears; the horses in the stables simply fade away. You notice that if you were wearing or carrying something you bought while here, it too disappears, your clothes turning to those you had on upon arrival, all equipment shimmering away slowly.

But perhaps most importantly… the frozen statues of people crumble into ash right in front of you. It may fill the floors of the now-silent, dusty and worn-down houses, or it may blow away with the harsh desert wind — whichever it is, sans the team, the town of Scorpion’s Bend is now devoid of people.

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// PART I.THE DREAM DEFERRED  

The town that now surrounds the team is very different from the one it used to be — the houses are quiet, filled with sand and dust; doors broken, tables turned over, drawers open and mostly empty, aside from anything not valuable. The beds in Thornbush Inn are ragged, insects of various sizes skittering along the floors. The Saloon is dusty, furniture broken, and a lone piano stands in the corner, half its keys having crumbled away. The door to the Mayor’s office is ajar, a banging sound repeating as it hits the wall in time with the wind.

1.0   In the corners of the Sheriff’s office, the school and the church, the embera slither along, searching for food; owl-shrews hide from the Orbers on the streets, while feathered coyotes howl at the five moons now lending their light to see the town’s destruction better. The team may be the only living humanoids, but they are not the only living beings in the town anymore; in the absence of people, animals have made the town their home. And coexist they must, now, to survive the rapidly dropping temperature of the night that has fallen upon them.

2.0   The next morning, as the moons disappear underneath the horizon and let the two suns bring out their scorching rays once more, the team wakes up to the reality of having to survive Scorpion’s Bend… with very little supplies. So search the empty houses, for they still stand; the fire that has burned away the people has not touched the buildings… but they have not been immune to the passing of time, or the harsh weather in the desert. You may find clothing, basic equipment, pots and pans left on a now-cold stove; but no valuables, no money, no gems, no jewelry, no weapons.

But amidst your search through the town, remember that what you need, first and foremost, is to find water and something to eat — it will not be long until the suns are high in the sky, and some of you are already in desperate need of proper nourishment, without being left to endure the scorching temperatures the days on the planet of Badrock bring.

3.0   But should you want to brave the heat, you’ll find it is now possible to leave the town and venture out into the desert. Out there, the rock dragons search for prey, while bald vultures circle above your head in groups of three or four, their shrieks growing in volume the farther you walk. If you show weakness, any weakness, they strike — and the dragons, sensing their chance, are not far behind.

And when you least expect it, the ground underneath you trembles, like a small earthquake is approaching you… and then you see it: from the sand, a whale surges up, then another, and another, arcing through the air like suspended there, before the sand swallows them once more. Should you get too close, you too may be swallowed underneath the sand; unless you’re very, very careful, or have in your arsenal something else that may help you to deal with these near-immortal giants that have swam across the deserts for hundreds of thousands of years.

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// PART II.YOUR WAKE UP CALL  

Time passes at a snail’s pace without the comforts of the town you were used to. Scorpion’s Bend is now a wasteland you must survive, and it clearly isn’t easy. Some of you might question whether retrieving the orb is still an endeavour worth pursuing after all of this, but the rest of you know that it is. That you’ve come this far and you’re nearly there; you just need to band together and form a gameplan.

As the suns begin to set over the horizon on yet another grueling day of scorching heat and rough, dry sand in the ghost town of Scorpion’s Bend, you might begin to hear a distant thunder that has nothing to do with an oncoming desert storm or otherwise. It rattles at the already weakened structures of the old Saloon and the General Store, bits of broken glass and debris vibrating with the raucous sound of clattering hooves, feet, and paws. And as the sound of the invasion grows louder – you’ll hear the unmistakable manic howling and bellowing in accompaniment: these are the Bouldersnakes that some of you have already heard much of.

4.0   The Bouldersnakes are not a group to be taken lightly, and have garnered the fearsome reputation that they now hold for a reason. Kicking up dust, they arrive like a cloud of chaos in different sizes, shapes, and forms. Some have the ability to shrink and grow in size to match their opponents in physical size and weight. Other Bouldersnakes are agile and quick; and others yet are superhumanly strong and robust – either way, they make for formidable opponents when you, yourself, have been weakened from weeks of a lack of proper nutrition and sleep. The individual members of the Bouldersnakes are like a band of bloodthirsty brothers: from all walks of life and all colours and creeds, with a severe and mean streak to them, who will stop at nothing to achieve their goals.

What goals, you ask? Should you listen carefully, their leader, riding a winged lizard-like creature, shouts to their underlings:

“Find it! This is where it told us to come to. We missed it last time, but no more! I don't care what we have to do, we're getting our hands on that thing!”

As it so happens, you are not the only crew in search of that elusive orb; the Bouldersnakes have been tracking down the whereabouts of this mysterious and all-powerful object themselves, burning through towns – quite literally – to get it. News that Scorpion’s Bend has seen a resurgence of life and might still be the resting place of the orb has the bandits seeking out the town again. Their first round through Scorpion's Bend about a year ago had them coming up empty-handed (save for a few bits and baubles), but this time they are determined to find what they've come here to find. Though if there’s anything left here to salvage... they’ll ransack as they please.

Whether you confront them head-on or they catch you in hiding, they won’t easily back down from a fight. It will be best to keep your distance if you can manage it, and hope that they’ll pass you by. But the Bouldersnakes have their weaknesses too: once maimed, they still bleed, and none of them are immortal, though they are notoriously difficult to kill based on their talents alone... and when they carry weapons, too, well — those not accustomed to battles may find it best to hide. And even for those with fighting experience under your belt, teaming up with your fellow Orbers and combining your shared skills will be your best chance at survival.

5.0   By the time the suns have disappeared and the moons have risen, the Bouldersnakes invasion will make the bandit attack from the other night seem like a childish tussle. The Bouldersnakes don’t play nice and have adapted to the harsh lands as ruthless survivors. They arrive like a wave, many equipped with weapons: guns, sabers, pistols and small knives. A few others have engineered their own specially crafted weapons made of metal and magic (in the shape of guns, blow-torches, and blades) that wield a special element harnessed from mined ore called ‘pulsefire’. It is this pulsefire, glowing a deep blue (like the hottest colour of flame), that has the capability to destroy all living beings and allows the bandits to systematically ravage unsuspecting towns down to ash, reap its benefits (either for the town’s riches and wealth, or and especially: for any supply of ore), and then leave without a trace.

The best way to fight against pulsefire is to acquire weapons of pulsefire of your own and best a Bouldersnake before they best you. (Think high stakes, noon-time duels of the pistol.) Of course, this is a very risky and very dangerous affair as one shot by pulsefire could mean your untimely demise and the element itself isn't easy to put out either, so it might be best to work in teams to strategically disarm and swipe a pulsefire weapon to use before they manage to overwhelm you.

NOTE:   If your character is alive, your character will be vulnerable to the effects of pulsefire. Unliving things such as buildings and infrastructure will not be affected. Pulsefire has a slow spread-rate over unliving things, but its effects on the living are instant. Once in contact with the element, pulsefire quickly consumes the living body and spirit until it is turned to ash. Putting pulsefire out over unliving things is relatively easy, but once pulsefire has touched the living, there's little to no chance of making it out in one piece.

All through this, you must still remember your goal — it is not to stay in Scorpion's Bend, or even fight the Bouldersnakes, but to find the orb... and that means finding Welford Branson. How will you convince him to give you the orb, when all signs point to him not even knowing what it is, or what it has done? That is what you must decide... if you survive the Bouldersnakes in one piece, of course.

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F Y I

• The events in this log take place ICly right after the end of the NPC thread.

• The voting for how to get the orb is now open! Please head HERE to submit your idea for how the team should proceed to get the orb, or +1 others’ ideas.

• The conclusion of the mission and the return to the station will be posted on February 13.

• If you have questions about anything in this log, please direct them HERE.

• And finally, your soundtrack for this log: ♪ ♪ ♪

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Comments

[lateness]

[ The problem with Clara Oswald — and truth be told, it isn't actually a problem at all — is that she knows him. She knows him too well. She can see uneasy way he navigates this new-but-not-fun situation and know exactly how he feels about it. She can hear it in the way he speaks how impatient and frustrated he is to feel like the situation is so far out of his hands, he's feeling utterly useless. She can see how he might wind up doing something reckless and stupid because of it — but because of that gift of hers, she's also the one person who might be able to convince him from doing exactly that.

He tips his head to rest against hers when she leans in, looking out over the rather depressing landscape they've found themselves in. Now that the illusion is well exposed, the place seems so grim and miserable, and they've still got no idea where the orb could have gone; where Welford could have taken it. ]

Oh, but we really could do with a miracle roast right about now. [ Especially if it baits the Branson man. ] I don't suppose the coyotes I heard earlier would make a very good meal though. Besides, all I've got is a screwdriver — not exactly an oven, is it.

[bossily]

Mmm.

[She makes a sound that's in agreement with his assertion, not liking how it makes him sound like he's full of doubt about his cleverness and his ability to save the day.]

Really isn't.

[No, the screwdriver isn't an oven. But neither was the Tardis, and they had turned it into a perfect place to cook her christmas turkey. Of course, she can't bring that up to him. He hasn't lived through that yet. So her hand seeks out his, holding on tight.]

If we were still in our little home in the saloon, I'd make the best roast.

[But they're not in the illusion any longer. The home they had built together the past weeks is gone now, along with the marriage that came along with it. She had been all too happy to indulge in their little life, and she supposes she's sad it's gone now.

They're still the Doctor and Clara Oswald, but no longer need to be Mr. and Mrs. Doctor.

But that's just fine. They'll be the Doctor and Clara Oswald and navigate the rest of this mission together. Which is why she shifts focus, choosing to discuss a plan of action instead of pretending a roast will solve all their problems.]

I was thinking of trying to lead a group out toward the mines to find him. A screwdriver could come in useful for that.

[lateness]

[ It's a much preferred plan anyway, the talking of things they actually can do rather than the things they wish they could if things hadn't all gone so terribly ... awry. Wishes can't be made true, no matter how much one wants them to — at least not without some sort of action and a little bit of thinking.

The Doctor straightens a little to look in Clara's direction. ]

When I went to the mines the other day, there really wasn't anywhere to hide. Are we certain that's where he is? Where he went?

[bossily]

Absolutely not.

[She's reluctant to admit it, to say that she doesn't know what she's doing. But it feels like that's her path on these missions more often than not. Not knowing what to do or where to fit with everyone else that seems so much more better suited to find the orb than she does.]

But I have to try something. Even if it doesn't lead anywhere. I can't keep struggling to find my place here and doing all the wrong things to try and be more useful.

[Clara realizes then that despite their closeness, she's been keeping things from him. Her head lifts so she can meet his eyes.]

Because I've been having issues with that for months now. Ever since I came back. I've put so much into learning magic, into picking up knives and guns, into having people teach me how to use them. I'm not a fighter like most people here are. Have no special powers. I don't have a screwdriver or regeneration cycles. I don't even have a special set of skills like nursing or a scientist. I'm just Clara. And that's always been enough, until now that it isn't.

[So she has to at least try to find Ford. Explore and attempt to be clever. It's all she has going for her, she figures.]

[lateness]

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?

[bossily]

[She can only stare at him for a few moments, before forcing a smile on her face.]

Time has a way of changing all of us, Doctor.

[She easily gives the truth without saying the truth at all, an act she's well practiced in these days. The fact is she hasn't spoken to him about it because there's no way to tell him all that she needs to say. Not without letting him know the truth. And she's determined to never let him know how their story ends.

He hates endings. He hates them so much he'd rather never speak to her again than face the end of their time together.]

But so many of these missions require people to fight. I can't keep depending on others to save me.

[Of course she wouldn't have told him about the weapons. She knows his feelings on them. And knows he might think less of her for even picking a gun up. But she trusts him enough to tell him, to be open with him now in this quiet moment they have together. She loves him enough to let him see these insecurities, to see how they've clouded her perception of herself enough to think she's not enough to get to work alongside the others.]

No one has to say anything. Not for me to know I'm not contributing the same as everyone else.

[It's hard for Clara to tell if it's a matter of pride, or her sense of self has taken a hit since being brought back. This is all so unlike her usual confidence, her bubbly projection of always being in control and being the boss. But in the end, she supposes that's exactly the problem. She's not in control. Not in the same way she gets to be when it's just the two of them in the TARDIS.

She feels her eyes brimming with tears, and blinks them away as she ducks her head. Leaning back over, she rests her head against him once again. This time trying to hide the emotion on her face.]

[lateness]

[ There's something else, the Doctor can tell (the Doctor can always tell) but he won't press it, not now. It isn't the time for it, and he reckons it will only make him angry. He can't afford to be angry, and quite frankly, he doesn't want to be either.

He lets out a breath. ] You never depend on anyone else to save you, Clara. That's what makes you so frustratingly you. [ This is said with the fondest of tones, even when he scrunches his face up in mock-frustration. ] But if you think that you were asked to come here because you were expected to fight, don't you think they would have asked someone else? Don't you think they would have asked for someone other than us? I'm not fighting either. Neither is the other me.

[ He holds a hand out, turning it up so his palm is facing the sky; it's an invitation for her to take it if she wants to, an offer to lend his strength (and warmth) to her. It's what they've always done, grip each other's hand for support. They certainly don't need to knife or shoot anyone to save each other's lives, now do they? ]

Fighting's easy. Fighting's always easy. But that doesn't mean it's always the only option. I've seen what happens when people think that it is. [ When he thought that it was. ] Violence doesn't end violence. It only extends it.

[bossily]

[She takes his hand without a second of hesitation. Her fingers lace through his, hand clasping hold and not letting go. Clara is so used to being the strength for him, used to guiding him along the right path. The roles being reversed is strange, but not entirely unwelcome.]

We do have enough warriors.

[It's a soft agreement, the corner of her mouth curling upward in a smile as she recalls the last time she spoke those words. He hasn't lived through it yet, but it doesn't matter.]

And any idiot can be a hero. You can do what you've always done, be a doctor. But what does that mean I should do, then? Be a carer?

[lateness]

[ The Doctor gently squeezes her hand in his. And with that all-knowing brightness in his eyes, subdued only by the fact that they're all hungry and tired and worn very thin by their surroundings, he responds. ]

Well, Clara, I think you should just keep being you. Clever, humany, yes — caring, you. [ Because she's right. Any idiot can pick up a gun and start shooting. ] Never underestimate how important it is to care, Clara. The very moment we stop caring is the moment we're no better than these orbs that treat these worlds like their playgrounds.

[ He averts his gaze, looks off towards the abandoned structures that surround them, the ghosts of Scorpion's Bend woven into the broken glass and decayed wood posts, everything covered in dust and grime. ]

It's too easy to forget that when you're surrounded by violence. Maybe what this team needs from you is to remind them all of that. You remind me. It's why I'm terrible at traveling alone.

[bossily]

[Clara has been around violence more and more recently. But it's still nothing compared to the things he's seen and experienced. Clara will never fully understand the Time War, even if she desperately tries to in order to protect him from the aftermath.

His giving a voice to a purpose she could have here is enough to put a hint of a smile on her face. She isn't sure if the team here will listen to her. But she will always be sure to remind her Doctors to act with care. ]

You haven't hurt anyone in thousands of years, Doctor. You're only terrible at traveling alone because you like to have someone around that thinks you're impressive.

[A light tease to go along with the heaviness of the topic isn't completely unwelcome. But there's warmth in her voice there that speaks to the fact she finds him very impressive. Even with things seeming bleak here on this mission, she thinks he's just as impressive as all the stars they used to travel out among.

It's with a fond smile that she leans back over to rest against his arm, letting her eyes drift closed for a moment.]

[lateness]

[ The Doctor huffs a soft laugh. ]

Hah. [ His expression grows solemn rather quickly, though he tilts his head to press a quick kiss into her hair. While true that he does have a penchant for showing off (and he certainly enjoys a compliment or three at any given time, but who doesn't, eh?) — yes, maybe, he isn't going to admit as much aloud. Well. Not right now, anyway.

But it's her other comment that has him pausing.

You haven't hurt anyone in thousands of years, Doctor. ]

There are a number of ways to hurt others. No, I refuse to take part in any sort of violence if I can help it ... but I have hurt others, Clara.

[bossily]

[Her hand squeezes hold of his tighter, thumb tracing along the side of his hand. There's a part of her that wants to protest, to argue with him that he could never. But she knows that everyone has the ability to harm others.

Like he's said, there are a number of ways to hurt other people. She's guilty of emotionally damaging people she cares for. And he's managed to hurt her emotionally too, though he hasn't lived through any of those moments yet. She thinks of the town of Christmas, of Trenzalore. It's hard not to wonder if he'd still choose to send her away now, with as close as they've become.

Her head turns, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.]

Tell me about the last time you hurt someone, Doctor.

[Maybe it will help them both if he tells her about it.]

[lateness]

Oh, you don't want to hear that.

[ The way they've come so far since he'd tried (and obviously failed) to keep her at arm's length, before he'd decided that perhaps he needed her much more than he could ever admit to. These months sharing close quarters and dangerous, risky adventures together, not quite unlike the things they might do if he had his TARDIS; having a Christmas on the station, with all of the food and the sparkle and the cheer; mistletoe.

It's the longest he's ever spent the normal way forward, and on any other occasion he might honestly lose his mind — but Clara has found ways to make it not only bearable, but fun. Quick. (—ish. He's still an impatient timelord, after all.) ]

And I don't want you to think worse of me. Or worse yet, I don't want to frighten you.

[ Not from this face, and certainly not from any future faces she might know in the future. He thinks of his older counterpart. ]

[bossily]

Don't. Don't you dare presume what I want to hear.

[She isn't cross as she says it, but is firm in her insisting he not dodge her request.

With her head now raised completely, she turns just enough that she can bring a hand up to cup his cheek. Her touch is a little warmer now than it might've been a few minutes ago, his closeness providing some much needed heat.]

Even if something worries me, I'm not going to think any differently of you.

[When you love someone, you accept them for who they are. darkness and light, and every shade of grey in between that makes them who they are. Her Doctor is made up of the brightest, most wonderful light. But he's capable of being someone that is jagged and harsh, dark in a way that's all consuming and destructive. But she loves both the Doctor as he is with her, and the part of him that's capable of shifting into the Oncoming Storm. She loves him even when he's forgotten who he is, and she needs to remind him.

And right now, she's glad to remind him that she will never see him as anything other than someone that's worthy of her love. Someone that she could never think worse of or be frightened by.]

Tell me. I'm not going to be frightened. I want to hear.

[lateness]

[ The Doctor thinks of his personal goal, and how easily they've slipped into this topic of conversation, almost as though the orb itself had something to do with orchestrating it. And while he would ordinarily change the subject as he so often does, lead them into lighter things, maybe even start in with a good joke about the first time the crown prince of the Bo'ahla met Vastra —

But. No, no, that can always wait for another time.

The Doctor isn't sure he even feels like telling a joke, not with how grim things have turned out, and him feeling foolish and helpless all at once, very much like the silly old Doctor he sometimes admonishes himself as. He thinks of his regret, and he thinks of just how apt this very tale is, how much he owes to Amy and Rory for what he's realizing he'd put them through. ]

There was a place called Demon's Run and a battle there. I took part in that battle. Actually, I headed it.

[bossily]

[This conversation has shifted away from lighter topics and onto something serious, and she respects that. But as he trusts her with this information, he also trusts her to keep him from drifting too far into sadness. She'll always be here to keep him from getting lost in his own thoughts, keeping him anchored to her instead of his past.]

Heading a battle? Can't really picture you doing that.

[It's with a pause that she holds his hand tighter, reminding him that she's here no matter what.]

How did that happen, Doctor?

[lateness]

No, and you shouldn't. It wasn't me. In that moment, I was unrecognizable. I wasn't me.

[ It hadn't hit him until he'd learned that the people of the Gamma Forests equated his name with 'Great Warrior', something he never, never wanted 'the Doctor' to be. It wasn't supposed to be him.

He lets out a breath, his voice hardening with the memory. ]

But they hurt my friends. They took her, you know, they took the daughter of my friends and they tried to turn her into a weapon. All because of me, in fear of me. That's how the old story goes, anyway.

[ And while things have changed since then, the Doctor promising to save Amy and Rory's daughter, in the end he'd still inadvertently hurt them. He'd hurt Amy so badly. He'd taken her one chance at motherhood away, and he hadn't even known it until it was too late.

My friend, you have never risen higher, he remembers Vastra shouting in his direction. There was pride in her voice, but it pricked at something within him, the anticipation of his darkest hour. ]

The thing is — you see, the thing is, if that's true, it was my fault. I hurt them. I hurt her.

[bossily]

[She thinks back to his dream she had been in, about the companions he had lost. She wonders if this is related to that. He's never mentioned his past companions or friends before, and especially hasn't mentioned their child. But he's so protective of children she can't imagine him not being involved, if a child is in danger.

His story is enough information that he has her undivided attention. He usually isn't this open with his past. There's still a strong element of vagueness to his attempt to explain, where Clara tries to fill in the blanks without pressing. She wants to know more about him. Wants to know absolutely everything. But she knows she can't press the Doctor. He's likely to turn back in on himself and push her away.]

You would do whatever it took in order to protect me, wouldn't you?

[So she tries to rationalize his story with the fact he seems to hate himself for doing it. Protecting someone you care for always has a cost. Is this situation one where the cost was finally to high?

She can't help but make the connection between this and all the weapons she's been attempting to use recently. It makes her far more reluctant to engage in actual combat. To see his regret like this, to know the impact harming others has made on him. It's all far more real to her now than it was even moments ago.]

[lateness]

Yes.

[ There's no hesitation in his voice, no pause or rumination. He thinks about it a lot, the cost of keeping his friends when he lives so reckless and dangerous a life. Each of his lives has seen heartache and loss, some more than others. And there are always other ways of hurting someone than losing them to violence or battle, and the Doctor knows more than most just what it's like.

He takes a breath and looks to Clara, his mouth twisting into a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. A little like he's trying to push the dark thoughts aside and leave the memories where they belong: in the past. Always running, that's the Doctor; always trying to find something else to look forward to because he leaves so much behind.

He understands the old man of this town more than he'd like to admit, and while he might not choose to wrap himself in an illusion to deny the losses he'd experienced, running away isn't exactly a healthy option either.

But what else is a madman with a box supposed to do, eh?

He lifts his free hand to graze Clara's cheek. ]

There's nothing I wouldn't do to protect you, Clara Oswald. But I don't know if that makes me a good man or a selfish one.

[bossily]

[Her smile is warm, even with the sadness that's present. As her cheek leans into his touch, there's nothing but affection in her eyes. She knows from experience that he'd do anything to protect her. And she hadn't asked him just to hear him say it. She's hoping he'll at least hate himself a little less because he did what he had to in battle to protect.

She'll always prefer him to be the Doctor. But she won't love him any less when he isn't able to be.]

Why can't it be both? There's nothing wrong with being a little selfish sometimes.

[She's a prime example of that, selfishly cuddled up at his side under the pretense of warmth. It's her that's selfishly brought up violent topics, and it's Clara that selfishly seeks to make him feel better about a truth that she's pulled out of him.

Because at the end of the day, she knows that he would do whatever was needed to protect his friends. To keep his traveling companions safe. But then again, they feel like they may be more than that now. More than just associates, friends who travel across the stars together. She can't voice that though, and she knows it. But it's evident in the way she looks at him, and the way she turns her head to press a soft kiss to his palm as his hand drops away.]

I think you try to be a good man, Doctor. And that's what matters.

[lateness]

[ The Doctor doesn't argue, doesn't try to tell her that there's everything wrong with being a 'little selfish' sometimes. That it's being selfish that can and does lead to people getting hurt, to them thinking they owe the Doctor something, that he can go on taking people into his TARDIS and endanger them through numerous risky endeavours because he's a bored, old creature and he gets desperately lonely sometimes.

That sometimes the only thing that keeps him from becoming something un-Doctor-like is the company he keeps, and it isn't right for him to take them away from their own human-y lives, but it hardly ever stops him, does it?

(In fact, he's being very selfish right now, isn't he, taking Clara's attention up and harbouring it for his own because he doesn't want to share it with anyone else.)

But though he might be selfish, he wouldn't hesitate to show them the very best things that the universe has to offer, to surprise and delight them with the wonders of the stars and planets, and to protect them at the cost of his own life if necessary. Yes. He does try. And he'll try until his very last breath. ]

Yes. [ He nods, meeting Clara's eyes for a moment more before he turns his head to look back at the wasteland that surrounds them. ] Yes, maybe it does. Maybe that's all it takes.

[ He isn't sure he believes it, but for now ... perhaps it'll do. ]