The Time of Change

Change It

Now I see Clara's posture relax, as if she's just let out a deep breath she'd been holding. Not quite relief, though. More like defeat. I blink a couple of times, the firelight and warm flames drying my eyes rather quickly. "I don't get it," I rasp, and she looks at me. A flurry of emotions flickers in her dark brown eyes, but they move too fast for me to comprehend, to identify, to understand. I do get it, though, and quite vividly. But I would never tell her that.

"Doctor!" an automated, mechanical tone outside screams. "The Doctor will be brought!"

Suddenly someone bursts through the door at the other side of the room, letting the sound of shouting and explosions drift in with the snow that now blows on the wooden panels on the floor. Clara jumps to her feet, clutching the wrapper in her hand still, staring at this newcomer. I turn slightly and see a young man, around his thirties, with stubble on his face. Sweat coats his lined forehead. "They're here," he tells me seriously. "The daleks. We can't stop them. They... they want you."

I groan, sitting up straighter in my chair and finally getting to my feet. "Oh, alright Barnable," I say hoarsely. Now I peer at him through squinted eyes, taking in his appearance. His face is now a bit slack after what I've just said. "Are you Barnable?" I ask. His mouth hanging slightly agape, he shakes his head. The light brown hair on his head flips this way and that, a longer strand tickling his cheek.

"No, Doctor. My father was killed three years ago."

I nod, not really listening to what he says. I notice Clara look at me sadly out of the corner of my eye, but I don't really understand why. I wave my hand dismissively around the air, making the dust motes swirl about my head. "It's okay, Barnable, don't worry," I tell the young man in a paternal sort of way. His eyebrows pull together, a frown forming on his youthful face. "No, sir, don't you worry one bit. I've got a plan. Off you pop, now, go on back to Jeremy. He'll be needing you."

He blinks at me several times, and now his head droops a tad bit. Without a word he sprints back out the door, letting it fall shut with a loud thud behind him. The wood of it muffles the soundtrack of war playing outside. Smiling, I look at Clara and wink. "I haven't got a plan," I confide. "But people love it when I say that."

She takes a stride toward me, her eyes pleading. "Doctor, what are you going to do?" I keep the crooked grin on my face as I reply honestly, "Oh, I don't know. Talk very fast, hope something good happens, take the credit. That's generally how it works."

"Doctor -- "

"Not this time, though," I continue as an afterthought. "This is it."

"No!" Clara cries. Her voice is thick and tears are brimming fast. I try not to notice the pain she's in. My gaze falls on her sternly. "Yes," I tell her, my tone firm. "We saw the future, Clara. You know what has to happen. This is how it ends. Here. Tonight."

"Change it!" she yells at me. "Ha," I chuckle, striding over slowly to get my cane and tweed jacket. As I slip it over my shoulders, I feel the sonic screwdriver poke me in the side, and I smile ever so slightly to myself. Things have been lost over the years, and things have broken, but the sonic has not. Clara grabs my arm and forces me to look at her. "Like Tasha said," she enforces, desperate. "Change the future."

I shake my head, and her eyes cloud over. I see a storm brewing behind them, churning and thrashing with force I couldn't imagine. Fear is causing her heartrate to accelerate; I can feel it in her pulse on her wrist as she clings to me. The rosy flush in her cheeks that is ever-present due to the cold is fading out, her skin becoming a pale, terrified white. Her lower lip wobbles a bit. My voice low, introspective, I reply, "I could have, once. When there were Timelords. Not anymore."