Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters/Pairing: Clara, The 11th Doctor
Summary: Clara asks to see the Doctor's other selves, but comes to the conclusion that she's happy with the one she got.
Prompt who_at_50 50th Anniversary Fanwork-a-thon-a-thon, Round 1: "Eleven", 100_women 040: "Reveal"
Disclaimer: None of it is mine.
“Hang on. So you’ve had eleven faces including this one and you’re trying to figure out who I am?”
“Well. It’s different. I’m fundamentally the same every time; I just look different on the outside. You on the other hand…” The Doctor gave a sort of non-descript hand-wave in Clara’s direction, and she understood what he meant.
“Can I see them?” she asked.
“Your other faces. If you’re really over a thousand years old, you must have kept some sort of record. Otherwise you’d eventually forget everything. I assume you’ve got photos or something.”
“I don’t forget.”
Clara cocked an eyebrow and stared at him. The Doctor fidgeted and looked uncomfortable for a moment. This went on for a few minutes until he caved under his companion’s gaze.
“Oh, all right.”
He led her to the screen above the TARDIS console and began turning dials. The screen flashed up a page with images of the Doctor’s previous incarnations, as well as his current face.
“Oh, that one’s cute,” Clara remarked, motioning to the second-to-last face, and then casting a glance at the Doctor next to her, added, “Pity I didn’t run into you a bit sooner.”
The Doctor opened his mouth to argue, but she shushed him and grinned. “Just teasing.”
“Teasing. Right. Yes."
“Because I mean, who could go past the gawky science professor look?”
The Doctor frowned for a minute before concluding, “More teasing.”
Clara flashed him another grin, and then turned back to the screen to study the other versions of the Doctor.
“I have to say, I am loving the cape,” she said, pointing to the third picture, and then at the fourth, “though his hat’s a bit scrappy. Number Four clearly didn’t inherit Number Three’s epic sense of style. That is a ridiculous scarf.”
As she threw a glace over her shoulder to gauge his reaction to her comments, the Doctor nearly argued again, but instead settled for furrowing his brows in what he hoped was a disapproving expression. It didn’t seem to have the desired effect, because the cheeky grin was still wide across Clara’s face.
She turned around to face him and reached up to ruffle his hair. “Don’t worry,” she assured him, straightening his bow-tie, “I’m glad I got you. Those other fellows all look pretty well-adjusted as far as I can see, but I know you need a friend.”
The Doctor found a smile creeping across his face to match that of Clara’s. They stood like that for a few moments before Clara spun back to face the TARDIS console, looking keenly at the buttons, dials and the screen above.
“All right, then, Doctor.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to the console. “Aren’t we supposed to be adventuring or something?”
“Adventuring, yes!” The Doctor rubbed his hands together and then began pulling levers and turning dials again. Clara’s enthusiasm was infectious; he was still grinning himself. Yes, this was what he was supposed to do. How did he ever think he could leave it all behind?