The Hybrid - Doctor Who Fanfiction

22

The Doctor has been leaning up against the closed door for what he can only describe as 'support', the debilitating conversation having taken its toll as he listens and digests her serrated words with heavy hearts. Stepping literally out of his comfort zone, he walks towards her until she's forced to crane her neck to look at him, her fringe sweeping back to reveal bright brown eyes.

"Will you promise me?" She asks him, her eyes glistening as she rubs her thumbs across the backs of his hands, and he swallows, looking down at his shoes.

"Clara, it's hard to explain why, but some things just aren't possible."

His companion merely blinks, still unconvinced. "Like choosing whether you should save the life of your defenseless unborn child or not?"

But he's not discouraged by her at all. "Put it another way. If you had to decide which love of your life was the greatest, wouldn't you end up choosing to save the person you love more than you've ever loved anything else?" He asks easily, his honest voice steady and smooth as he finally lifts his eyes to hold her surprised gaze.

"Wouldn't you want to save the person that's been with you the longest, the one that you couldn't live without?"

The Doctor looks on as his rattled companion falters, her mouth hanging open as his words register a little later than expected. "Clara--"

"Stop." She hiccups shrilly, jumping away from him with wide, furious eyes. But all the Time Lord has to do is take a simple step towards her, and he's closed the space between them once again. "S-stop moving! Just--just stand right there. Please, for now."

"Right, sorry." He raises a pair of placating hands, "Okay. Sorry, I'm not," he shifts and she jumps again, and the movements appear almost involuntary.

"I'm not trying to scare you," he finishes in a lowered timbre.

The Doctor straightens a little upon seeing her panicky motions, coming to the understanding that he's probably alarmed her with an unprecedented amount of information and hasn't given her the necessary time to recover.

"I'm-I'm out of practice with how to do this bit, but I swear to you, Clara, I'm serious."

"You can't be." She spits, a trembling hand covering her mouth. "You can't be."

"I am. They're words I haven't said in hundreds of years, and I never thought I'd say them aloud ever again, but you make me want to say them--to you particularly, even in this disgustingly crude language that hardly does the sentiment justice. Words I never believed would hold a place in my hearts, but they do because I do love you, Clara Oswald," he slowly repeats, wanting her to catch the emphasis behind every syllable. "And I don't expect that'll change any time soon."

"But you--wait. No. No. No, that night, in the nursery, you said--"

"Look, whatever I said, or did, or didn't say or didn't do--Clara, everything I've ever done to make you think otherwise was a ruse. There is a countless number of people that would gladly prey upon and exploit any weakness of mine they might find. If they were to find out you meant more to me than I let on, it'd be as sweet as Christmas bonus. That's why I said those hateful things. That's all--every unkind word or action against you was a lie to dissuade you for your own wellbeing. And I never meant any of it. Not ever."

Clara's world, which has been shattered, salvaged and haplessly glued together an infinite number of times at the hands of this imbecile, comes crumbling down once more as she hears the earnestly said words that give her pause. But her mind, for fear of an illogical heart prone to fancy, swoops in to automatically reject the Doctor's unforeseen confession before she can make sense of it.