In Her Eyes (A Whouffle Fanfiction)

Chapter 11- The Story of Fenric

A/N

Hello Ladies! (and Gentlemen, if there are any reading this.)

Thank you to everybody that left a comment, you guys really help to keep me going every day :) Love you all. 

This update is a nice large one for you all, as I haven't updated much recently :/ expect the next one on Wednesday, maybe Thursday, I'm not sure yet (it depends on how much coursework my teachers decide to dump on me). 

This chapter is dedicated to @AnnaMC16. She writes some brilliant whouffle fics (my library is full of them) and if you haven't already, check out her page and take a look. She really deserves a lot more recognition than she's getting.

The history of Fenric, as in this chapter, is mainly based on the TV version of events. Some aspects, however, are purely fictional.

Love you guys,

-Jazz

Clara teetered outside the kitchen door, teeth worrying her bottom lip as she debated whether to go in or not. On one hand, her and the Doctor were on the verge of making some real progress with their relationship; he was willing to open up to her and share some of the fears and worries that had been bottled up inside of him.

But, on the other hand, Clara had been hurt by the Doctor. He had looked into her eyes and said the words that had cut her heart so deep, fire burning in his normally calm features as he spat her flaws at her, told her that nothing she could do could help him. And to be honest after that experience she was a tiny bit scared to try.

Just do it Clara.You're here now, you might as well just open the damn door and get on with it. Hear him out, and if you don't like what the has to say you can leave and never  come back.

Clara edged the door open and slipped one hand around the side. She could hear humming and the faint hiss of food being fried. Curiosity overcoming caution she peeked her head through the gap between the door and the frame. What she saw made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. The Doctor was standing by the oven in Clara's red soufflé-stained apron, twirling a fish slice in his hand like a conductor's baton as he fried bacon. His face was wrinkled with concentration as he watched over the rashers, humming a tune that Clara vaguely recognised but couldn't quite place. As she watched he scooped up the bacon from the pan and slid it onto the slices of bread waiting on the other side, squirting a generous amount of tomato ketchup on top before deftly flipping the slices on top of each other and cutting it in half. Clara stayed frozen in the doorway as he started on another pan full of bacon, back turned towards her. She had expected the Doctor to be sitting at the table or pacing, not making them both bacon sandwiches. But since when had the Doctor done anything that she expected?

Clara moved one foot forward slightly to get a better look and cursed when a floor board under her gave off a loud creak. Typical.

The Doctor whipped around, tense, but relaxed when he saw that it was only Clara. "Hello." he said warmly, pointing to the second plate that he had just placed in Clara's usual spot at the table. "I made you a bacon sandwich. Lettuce, no ketchup." He made a face at her, waving his arms enthusiastically. "Bit rubbish without sauce if you ask me. Did you know, there's a planet devoted to making sandwiches. Arthur Dent, good friend of mine, used to live there and passed on his knowledge of sandwich making to the locals. Oh, Arthur. Brilliant man, if slightly confused and hermit-y. Mind you, none to popular with those Vogons though-"

Clara coughed, hiding her smile with one hand.

"What?"

She raised her eyebrows at him pointedly. "As much as I would love to hear about your friend, we do have...things...to talk about."