A Beautiful Melody [Whouffle]

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I had previously posted this on ao3 just a few minutes ago, but my friend wanted it here too. I hope you enjoy.

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They were drawn to it, Claire realized.

Even as aliens, they were drawn to the sound of this teenager's music. Classical music was beautiful after all.

These aliens, oddly enough, were attracted to Claire's music, to be exact. Even as the Doctor, his tenth incarnation to be exact, tried everything in his power to tell her to leave, that he could find another way instead of her being trapped in this bubble of music forever. But being a copy of Clara, she would not leave her position, despite the fact any normal person would have ran off. Her hands deftly moved through the keys of the piano, as she played the tune of one of Chopin's Ballades (the second one) by Frederick Chopin. This echo of Clara, named Claire, had these monsters under her spell, but she was aware if she stopped, they would kill her and all the other men and women in the room. There was no way she could assure their safety as well as her own.

"Claire!" The Doctor cried, banging on the bubble that surrounded her and the monsters, "There's another way, there has to be! We could try to mimic your playing, perhaps with a speaker? There has to be something!"

"A speaker won't work. They like live performances, remember?" She said over her loud playing, watching as he tried his sonic. She knew this song by heart, as it was one of the last her mother had taught her before this mess. She watched as the Doctor paced, trying to come up with a plan. Claire knew there would be no plan, she knew this was it. She'd die at the ripe age of sixteen. "Just...run. Isn't that what you said you did? You run away? Get these people to safety, figure a way to kill these aliens. It's your job, isn't it, Doctor?"

"Claire-"

"Go!"

---

She woke up with a jolt, a thick layer of sweat drenching her and her ivory sheets. Clara took deep breaths, allowing the tears that she didn't know she was shedding fall silently. This was the fifth dream Clara had of this woman, her echo. Claire Oswald. A young aspiring musician with a love for anything that involved an instrument and music notes. Clara was used to this by now, having random fits of nightmares that involved previous lives, but Claire was a repeat offender in terms of seeping into her dreams. She refused to worry the Doctor further after the events of Trenzalore, so she kept it all to herself, even if she was terrified of these fleeting dreams.

But even if they were dreams, they felt so real to Clara. She could remember the little things about Claire and recite them by verbatim, if prompted to do so. Claire always wore skirts to all her performances, even if it wasn't appropriate to do so. Her favorite color was crimson red, she called her piano Bristol, and she loved every instrument, but the piano held a special place in her heart. Claire would always visit her mum after a competition and they would celebrate with a celebratory souffle, often a vanilla one. Claire was well received by the musical industry and they all loved how well she could play, with little to no error.

Clara slowly sat up, allowing her fingers to go through her brown locks. Damp with sweat. She sighed and decided to get out of bed, though her legs were quite uncooperative and she stumbled towards the dresser where a picture of the Doctor and herself lay, holding a souffle that for once- did not die. She smiled at their frozen faces, looking at the pure delight on her own face, as well as the pure proud look the Doctor had as he took the selfie to keep as an everlasting memory. Clara's first successful souffle. It was vanilla, Clara remembered. She groaned as another memory washed over her.

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