( Red's expression crumples when she sees the way Clara crumbles at the sight of her, when she is faced with the reality of that: no heartbeat, no breathing, so still and quiet. Her aura's changed too, shifted to something else that she cannot quite untangle, and she's not thinking about untangling it.
Clara reaches, and she sinks down beside her, wrapping her arms around her, drawing her in close to her chest - tight and protective though the danger's long since passed. )
Just a godsdamn hero, huh? ( She asks and presses a kiss into Clara's hair even as tears slip down her face. Her voice is quiet and hoarse. ) I'm so sorry.
[ She always wanted to be just like the Doctor, he'd called her out on it, her recklessness. He'd been right in the end, and now they've both paid the price. For a little while, all she can do is cry against Red; she hasn't done much of that for herself because she couldn't, but now she's with Red and it's all she can do. It isn't just that she's dead, but that she didn't ask to be brought back, and she's lost the only person she could've stayed with. When Clara can finally catch her breath, she looks like a complete mess, tearful and snotty, but she sniffles and wipes at her eyes, staying close. ]
He brought me back. The Doctor tried to cheat everything and almost won.
[ One hand presses to her chest to feel the absence of her heartbeat: the one thing he couldn't give back to her. Which means all she can do now is run in a TARDIS as far from the other Time Lords as she can, and for as long as she needs to. How does she turn herself in for her own final heartbeat? ]
( Red stays quiet while she holds her, while she cries. Tears slip down her own face slow but quiet. Her hands do not stop moving, rubbing gentle patterns across her back. This is so fucked on every level, but that's just about the way the worlds go. She can't help but want more for Clara, better for her.
She lifts her own hand when she sees where Clara's gone, and she presses her palm to the outside of that hand where her heart doesn't beat. )
...he didn't bring you back living.
( Her voice is soft, hoarse. ) So what... what'd he do?
[ Clara doesn't know if she's still angry about it, or if she's horrified, or if she should only be grateful. So many things happened so fast, it's been difficult for her to process. ]
He spent...four and a half billion years stalling until he could come up with an answer. Tricked two other Time Lords into bringing me back after he convinced them I had information they were desperate to have. I have until my heart beats again, but he stole me away. He shot and killed another Time Lord, and we ran away.
[ There's a flat hollowness to her voice as she simply gives the facts; the Doctor did something he's never done in all of his lives, and he did it for her. He killed one of his own for her. ]
The only way to fix me was too—I wouldn't let him.
[ Which may sound completely insane, but she couldn't. This is where she isn't sure if she's angry or not. How could he ever think it's what she would want? He wasn't thinking about what she would've wanted, but didn't she do the same thing to him at Christmas? ]
He would have burned out the universe. An entire universe full of life.
( Red quiets as she explains, and she senses she hasn't had the chance to really wrap her head around this herself yet. She wonders how soon before she ended up here that all of this even happened. She is not surprised to hear that he killed another Time Lord, that he might have burned out an entire universe full of life.
She's seen his aura. It's full of good and warm, but it is also full of the destructiveness of a volcano, near bursting with the ability to eradicate anything in his way. And for Clara, what wouldn't he do?
What wouldn't she do? She can understand it - the need, the desire, just as she can understand if Clara is angry for it. Her throat locks up even as she nods, fighting past that clogging in her throat. In the end, she asks the most important question (to her): )
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no subject
Clara reaches, and she sinks down beside her, wrapping her arms around her, drawing her in close to her chest - tight and protective though the danger's long since passed. )
Just a godsdamn hero, huh? ( She asks and presses a kiss into Clara's hair even as tears slip down her face. Her voice is quiet and hoarse. ) I'm so sorry.
no subject
He brought me back. The Doctor tried to cheat everything and almost won.
[ One hand presses to her chest to feel the absence of her heartbeat: the one thing he couldn't give back to her. Which means all she can do now is run in a TARDIS as far from the other Time Lords as she can, and for as long as she needs to. How does she turn herself in for her own final heartbeat? ]
Almost.
no subject
She lifts her own hand when she sees where Clara's gone, and she presses her palm to the outside of that hand where her heart doesn't beat. )
...he didn't bring you back living.
( Her voice is soft, hoarse. ) So what... what'd he do?
no subject
He spent...four and a half billion years stalling until he could come up with an answer. Tricked two other Time Lords into bringing me back after he convinced them I had information they were desperate to have. I have until my heart beats again, but he stole me away. He shot and killed another Time Lord, and we ran away.
[ There's a flat hollowness to her voice as she simply gives the facts; the Doctor did something he's never done in all of his lives, and he did it for her. He killed one of his own for her. ]
The only way to fix me was too—I wouldn't let him.
[ Which may sound completely insane, but she couldn't. This is where she isn't sure if she's angry or not. How could he ever think it's what she would want? He wasn't thinking about what she would've wanted, but didn't she do the same thing to him at Christmas? ]
He would have burned out the universe. An entire universe full of life.
no subject
She's seen his aura. It's full of good and warm, but it is also full of the destructiveness of a volcano, near bursting with the ability to eradicate anything in his way. And for Clara, what wouldn't he do?
What wouldn't she do? She can understand it - the need, the desire, just as she can understand if Clara is angry for it. Her throat locks up even as she nods, fighting past that clogging in her throat. In the end, she asks the most important question (to her): )
So what does it mean for you?