Lost Our Minds |5| The Ascension

Chapter Thirteen: The Snowmen

McKenzie had always known that living for over a thousand years had afforded her husband a great mass of knowledge and a great many skills. It hadn't, however, occurred to her that he knew how to stay in one place and time for over a month without letting his ADHD take over. It was like the shock of losing Amy and Rory had stunned him into a different personality.

Of course, he wasn't entirely different. His feelings towards her were the same, if a little more protective. He still enjoyed crosswords and books and learning. On a good day, he was exactly the Doctor she knew and loved.

On other days, his curiosity ran dry, his step lost its bounce, and his once-incandescent smile found itself listed as an endangered species. On such days, the memory of those they had lost hung over them like a dark cloud. The Doctor, having lived so much longer, had lost so much more, and at times it seemed as though his dark clouds might suffocate his childlike spirit, might leave the man she loved lost in the darkness. Even on the good days, she worried about his state of mind, for she knew he was never quite out of the dark. The Doctor was most the Doctor when he was playful and joking and smiling, and yet the man she saw before her had not worn a bow tie since the day their friends had died.

The others saw it too. They all knew the Doctor was not himself, and they all knew what he needed. But he had sworn never to get involved again, and no amount of persuasion or offered mysteries or combat threats would get him to change his mind. To the lizard, the human, and the potato, this was simply inexplicable. The Doctor they knew could never have walked past a puzzle, let alone the many Victorian London presented. To McKenzie, however, it was to be expected. She knew his abandonment of their past lifestyle was not done out of selfishness, or of his immense grief. It was done for the same reason he did anything else: selflessness and compassion. They both knew the dangers of their lifestyle. They both knew the dangers they posed to others. The Doctor had vowed to never endanger anyone like that again, and on good days he seemed to accept this new life and enjoy it.

Today was not a good day.

***

"Did you make this snowman?"

The Doctor turned around to see a barmaid in a red dress. He glanced disinterestedly at the toothy snowman before looking away. "No." He made to carry on, looping his arm back through that of his wife.

"Well, who did?" the barmaid pointed out. "Because it wasn't there a second ago. It just appeared, from nowhere."

McKenzie raised an eyebrow at her husband, then tugged him after her as she approached the barmaid. "Maybe it's snow that fell before," she suggested. "Maybe it remembers how to make snowmen."

"What, snow that can remember?" The barmaid snorted. "That's silly."

"Oi, what's wrong with silly?!"

"Nothing." She smiled. "Still talking to you, ain't I?"

The Doctor's lips twitched slightly. "What's your name?"

"Clara," the barmaid replied.

"Nice name. Clara." He nodded. "You should definitely keep it." He took his wife's arm. "Goodbye." They took the next corner.

Clara's eyes widened, and she ran after them. "Oi!" They turned back, the blonde looking amused. "Where are you going? I thought we was just getting acquainted."