All of Us Sinners (Doctor Who)

Regret

The Prophet was still wiping her eyes when she landed, sobs still breaking through her mouth. She needed to get herself together. She wasn't sure if she was even safe or not. After clearing her watered eyes again, she saw it was similar to Twelve's Tardis, but different. It was late Eleven's, she guessed. She dreaded seeing him. Dreaded.

"Doctor!" The Prophet turned to see Clara Oswald skipping into the Tardis, a wide grin on her face. That grin faltered as soon as she saw the Prophet. "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you lost? Can I help you?"

"Clara, I'm the Saint. Well, sort of. I'm her, but much younger," the ginger explained, waving the girl off.

"The Saint? What are you talking about? Where's the Doctor?" The Prophet heard her second heart break, felt it shatter slowly.

"Clara!" The Doctor appeared coming out of the hallway, smiling. Just like Clara, it dropped when he saw the Prophet. "Prophet..."

"Doctor, why doesn't she know me?" the Time Lady asked quietly. The Doctor's eyes flickered back and forth between the two women, warring with himself.

"Prophet, why don't we go talk... Clara, I think I might have to cancel this Wednesday," he said softly, walking down the stairs to the Prophet. She took a few steps back, her arms wrapped around herself.

"Doctor, who is she?" Clara pressed, walking closer. This resulted in the Prophet being stuck in between the two, not wanting to be near either of them. She could feel her throat closing again.

"Clara, not now."

"No, who is she?"

The Prophet felt like a cornered animal, stuck between the Doctor's worried gaze and Clara's frustration with the man. She backed away from being directly in between them, her back landed against a wall.

"Clara, I am a little busy," he yelled, gesturing to the ginger Time Lady.

"Yeah, real busy apparently," the human bit back. The Prophet slowly started to sink against the wall, tears silently streaming down her face. The Doctor was by her side in an instant, gently holding her face.

"Prophet, dear, hey, look at me," he cooed. The Prophet tried to pull her face out of his grip.

"Doctor, answer me!" Clara finally made him snap.

"She is my wife!"

The Tardis fell silent, the Doctor glaring at Clara, Clara staring stunned at the other woman crumbled against the wall, and the Prophet staring in shock at the Doctor. The only sounds made were the ones the Tardis produced. Everyone was too shocked. Except for one person, whose whistle cut through the tension.

"Wow, bad time?" The three looked to the other side of the console, seeing a familiar young man leaning against it while he smirked at them.

John Ren. He was dressed as casually as he had been the last time the Prophet saw him: dark jeans, fitted black long sleeved t-shirt, and silver rings adorning his fingers. His flippant demeanor was not what the three wanted in that moment. Truthfully, none of them knew what they wanted. John's eyes met the Prophet's, seeing how upset she was. He stood up straighter and stuck his hands in his pockets, trying to maintain his composure.

"Doctor, why don't you take Clara back home and explain things to her. I've got the Prophet." The way that John spoke sent a wave of deja vu over the Prophet, something comfortingly familiar about it.

The Doctor seemed to stall, looking back at the Prophet, then Clara, then the Prophet again. He sighed, leaning forward and kissing her forehead. He slowly stood up, still watching the woman before escorting Clara out of the Tardis. John walked over and sat next to the Prophet, sighing as he folded his long legs.