Yes! The muse lives! You know I swore that when I got back into my writing that I would focus on my WIP pile with some one - shots in between. However, between the DW S7 finale, The Announcement proceded the finale a couple of weeks later (Which everybody probably knows about by now unless they either don't have Internet/TV or otherwise have been living under a rock), and other stuff dangling about, this fic below started happening and before I knew it a fully formed fic formed in my head. I do hope to plow through that WIP pile soon enough. TITLE: The Impossible Meeting (at the End of the World) Prologue/? AUTHOR: @Juliet316 FANDOM: Doctor Who CHARACTERS:Clara Oswin Oswald, Thirteenth Doctor (prologue only), Spoiler (Move your mouse to the spoiler area to reveal the content) Show Spoiler Hide Spoiler (Mentions of the Twelfth Doctor, mentions of the Eleventh Doctor, Alex Morgan (Eleventh Doctor timestream copy), A few minor OCs, River Song near the End)) RATING: PG - 13 CONTENT: ANGST, VIOLENCE(Nothing beyond a regular Who episode), CHARACTER DEATH, ADULT LANGUAGE, ADULT SEXUAL SITUATIONS CATEGORY: DRAMA, ADULT, ANGST SPOILERS: The Name of the Doctor specifically, The Annoucement (though dealt with indirectly), just about all of New Who really. SUMMARY: Ten years after her adventures with the Doctor have ended, and inadvertent trip to doomsday leads Clara Oswald to an encounter with a man she never thought she see again. DISCLAIMER: BBC owns Doctor Who. Doctor Who was created by Sydney Newman, and the recognizable characters in this story were created by Steven Moffat. If they are not recognizable by the reader then they were created specifically by the author for this story. No money is made off them with this story. Prologue Five Years from events of The Name of the Doctor (Clara’s timeline) After Clara left the TARDIS, a year after he’d regenerated into his 12th incarnation, he visited only visited her once. To tell her good - bye. He looked older; so much older than the Doctor she had first met, five years prior in his Eleventh incarnation, the one who had given up his life to save hers. Even older than the incarnation that had come after. It still struck her as odd, even after she’d entered his time stream to save him and having seen all his previous faces, to look at the face of the Doctor and not see the face of the one she had dubbed her ‘clever boy.’ Try as she might, Clara couldn’t deny that she still had the odd pang in missing those blue eyes and that one size too big chin she had first laid eyes on. The Doctor looking at her now had dark brown eyes, bordering on black with immense grief in them. He told her he was taking one final trip to Trenzalore. Clara started to cry. “Do not cry,” he told her in a voice that told the winter of his long life, “this was always meant to be my fate.” She nodded, trying to wipe the tears staining her cheeks. It would do neither one any good for her to be crying over him, be it this version, or any other version of him. He cupped her cheek, like her first Doctor used to. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see him walk away for the last time. Then she felt him reach for her hand. Looking up at his weathered face, he put something cold and metallic in her hand. Not bothering to glance at the object just yet, she looked at him quizzically. “You’ll know, Clara, what to do with that when the time comes,” he said, “also, there’s these, seeing as I won’t have any use for them anymore.” Reaching into his pocket, he handed her his psychic paper and a sonic screwdriver. Clara looked at it for a few moments. It looked exactly like the one her first Doctor had when he was alive. With a melancholy expression, she puts all three items in her purse. “Thank you, Doctor,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear her voice break with her own grief. “Farewell, Clara,” the Doctor said, finally turning and walking away from her for what would be the last time. “Good - bye, Doctor,” she whispered, watching his retreating back, heading, presumably towards the TARDIS. She stood there and waited until she could hear those once familiar engines roar to life and then fade for the final time in her life. Then she turned and headed into her flat. Where Clara Oswin Oswald finally collapsed and cried.