One Last Chance |6| The Ascension

Chapter Twelve: In Which There Is A Downside To Taking Selfies With Soviets

"The boss," Clara smirked as she entered the Maitland home later, hanging her coat up. "Yep, that's me. I am the boss." Then she entered the dining room and stopped dead, her eyes wide as she recognised the pictures of herself throughout history collated on a laptop screen. There were ones from the submarine, from Caliburn House, and even one from the café near the Shard.

"It's you, isn't it," Angie said as she took a closer look. "It's from the seventies, but it's definitely you.

Clara hesitated. "Of course it's not."

"And that's you too, from 1983," Artie added, pointing to the picture she'd had taken with the crew of the TARDIS, Zhukov and Grisenko. "I found it at school."

"No, that's just someone who looks like me," Clara tried.

Angie rolled her eyes. "And that's someone that looks like your girlfriend." She pointed to Wanda, not seeing Clara's eyes widen slightly.

"Is that man an alien?" Artie asked, curiously, pointing at the Doctor.

"Why would he be an alien?" Clara asked, trying to sound disbelieving.

"The chin," Artie replied matter-of-factly. Clara snorted.

"And the time travel," Angie pointed out, bringing up another image, this time of Clara in Victorian London.

She frowned. "That's not right."

"You were in Victorian London," Angie insisted.

"No, I was in Victorian Yorkshire," Clara corrected. After a beat, she winced.

Angie smirked. "How come you didn't tell us?"

"Time travel, that's so cool," Artie enthused.

"Can we have a go?"

Clara's eyes widened. "Can you have a what?"

"We want a shot at the time machine," Artie demanded.

"No, no, no, no," Clara tried, shaking her head. "Listen—"

"Okay," Angie said, folding her arms. "We'll just have to tell Dad that our nanny's a time traveller."

Clara swallowed nervously. Checkmate.

~~~