Fic: And the shields are left to rust (Doctor Who)

[flowsoffire]

Title: And the shields are left to rust
Author: flowsoffire
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing/characters: Clara Oswald, Eleven and the TARDIS
Genre: Drama/Angst
Rating: K+
Word count: c. 400
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: Staring at a blue box, she can feel it staring back—deep within, deeper than she knows herself. Clara and the TARDIS never do get along. A tiny drabble set during Hide.
Author's note: A tiny Clara drabble, set during Hide as the Doctor and Clara rush back to the TARDIS. It's my first time writing her. Happened at 5 in the morning too, hopefully that doesn't say a thing about the quality ;) Enjoy!
(Title is a line from the Florence And The Machine song What the Water Gave Me.)


Through the garden in the rushing of the storm, they ran.

Clara pushed on her shorter legs to keep up with him. So much running they always did—it was ludicrous, really, and ludicrous she enjoyed it so much. She could think of a fair few other ludicrous things, however, and only half-heartedly scowled as the rain slapped her face—stupid, creepy storm, as if she should be scared by that part of things, stupid way-too-freaking-tall alien whose arm she was firmly clinging to.

(Don't trust him. There's a sliver of ice in his heart.)

It might just be too late. Oh, how she hated to think that.

Having the gall to tut at her, he rushed ahead. Into his box, disappearing there.

And Clara's heart sank, and she cursed herself for her foolishness. The miracle box stood so ominous. Its door shut, merciless, and she had to rush, with a sickening jolt in her chest. As she eventually entered, her lungs felt tight and the lights overhead flashed so coldly at her. She felt tiny and out of place, like her rumpled, dripping umbrella, at the entrance of a temple.

Something off, not right. A buzz at the back of her neck, an icy shiver like those she had felt getting up in the mornings, after—when her mother hadn't been there to greet her with a smile, anymore. Like when she had stood in the Soviet submarine, death hovering around and the Doctor running off ahead.

The wheels of fate, turning. Oh, silly Clara, she was more sensible than that. She shook the umbrella.

A faint rumbling from the engines.

Oh, shut up. But she dared not move closer at first, as the Doctor skipped around the console, mad flailing limbs somehow arranging themselves in the allotted space and over the controls with a precision she normally wouldn't have expected from him. But he fell into place there, when he would stand out so ridiculously anywhere else. She could have grinned in fondness.

She didn't.

A cat indeed, an old cat with time claws, subtly brushing somewhere beneath her skin. A cat had those mysterious haughty eyes. And that TARDIS may not have eyes, but she had stared Clara down all right, blue and glowing, dripping into the night like something eternal standing there. Now, inside, those lights flashed accusing, blinding her for seconds at a time. The Doctor danced in the gleam, at ease.

Do shut up. Drop the dignified-time-thing act. You want him for yourself, plain and simple.

And the umbrella dripped on, dismal.

"You need a place to keep this."

"I've got one," he said, pointing somewhere.

He didn't.

Comments

[radiolaires]

Ah, pretty and thinky! I didn't expect less. Lots and lots of details in there and hints and thoughts. And as always so well-written.

Her legs being too short, the running being ludicrous, the way-too-freaking-tall alien... Perfect beginning. Which makes the rush and halt before the closed door even more striking... 'You shall not pass' indeed.

The miracle box stood so ominous. Its door shut, merciless, and she had to rush, with a sickening jolt in her chest. As she eventually entered, her lungs felt tight and the lights overhead flashed so coldly at her. She felt tiny and out of place, like her rumpled, dripping umbrella, at the entrance of a temple.
This is my favourite part because you really read a sense of danger and crushing silent power emanating from the TARDIS -which I think was lacking in the Journey episode. So I'm tremendously glad you wrote it. Not only a magic box, she is something powerful, thus dangerous, we seem to forget that. It is as a mute and impossible box that the TARDIS is most threatening, not as a mystery. She is a sentient ship, an inhabited, haunted vessel, like, as you wrote, a temple. There is a presence and essence within those walls and THIS is more terrifying than zombies in corridors... Inside the TARDIS, Clara seems to feel pressed, because she is, as her umbrella, folded to fit in what is essentially another dimension. And Clara feels it because of what she is? (I want the finale now)

The wheels of fate, turning.
Oh, I really like that image, especially after Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS... Something/someone is pulling the strings and the plan is huge. And Clara a wheel...

The description of the Doctor's limbs surprinsingly falling into place in the TARDIS was extremely accurate because for all his power and intelligence he still is an alien and his body language betrays him as much as his time machine.

You also encapsulated so well Clara's general reaction to the Doctor when you say 'she could have smiled' but didn't. That's what I adore about Clara, she's much, much warier of him than any companion -frankly I would be. Obviously the way he acts around her is weird and she senses it. She's right to act as if she is tested constantly; she puts on a face for him. At the end of the day, she always comes back home because she sees she doesn't belong with him - no 'but I was going to be with you forever' which is cute but a bit unrealistic considering all of them know he is an ageless alien. We discussed it before, it doesn't mean he lives his relationships in a superficial way -well, a bit, but he has to protect himself, he is no Knulp-, it is to him short, but intense.

Oh, the metaphor of the cat with time claws, delicious, absolutely. Because cats, more than any other pets, seem to tolerate us rather than live with us -'peasant, I shall share this part of my sofa only because you take so much place'. The TARDIS similarly acts with everybody including the Doctor. And I think you may just have hit the nail on the head with 'those lights flashed accusing'. The TARDIS knows who Clara is, something worse than Jack who was a walking time anomaly, yet she is not aggressive, she doesn't want to kill Clara, she seems to resent her. We'll see, soon...

Of course, smart girl, Clara would see it as jealousy on her part, she sensed how 'alive' the TARDIS is.

Loved the ending, it fell like and axe. Accused: Clara. Verdict: guilty. Sentence: Guillotine.

It was extremely insightful. I love gap-fillers and this one is really good and tickles the mind when it comes to finding who is Clara... On the threshold, between the lines, but right on the spot. It is as good as meta ;)

[honeynoir.livejournal.com]

This is so lovely! Loving the insight into all the characters... Clara talking to herself, the Doctor at the console, the TARDIS's time claws -- everything about how you're describing the TARDIS's effect on Clara is fantastic. Perfect scene!

[justascrewup2.livejournal.com]

Interesting. I wonder if they're ever going to address this on the show, but I suspect that it's something to do with Clara's scattering through time and space we saw in NotD.

[arwen-elen.livejournal.com]

...A cat indeed, an old cat with time claws, subtly brushing somewhere beneath her skin. A cat had those mysterious haughty eyes. And that TARDIS may not have eyes, but she had stared Clara down all right, blue and glowing, dripping into the night like something eternal standing there. Now, inside, those lights flashed accusing, blinding her for seconds at a time. The Doctor danced in the gleam, at ease...

This was my favourite part of this story, a really interesting way of describing the TARDIS because in a way she's almost indescribable, but you totally catch her here.


I also really like the rushing of Clara's thoughts, like a kind of rushing of the rivers coming together, how your writing just weaves in and out of the maelstrom of her mind.

I found this a really well executed portrait of Clara :)