𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐏 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 , doctor who

viii. february 28th, 2012

"I feel weird reading some of these," Clara finally admitted as a series of chills ran up her shoulders. A dark look had settled onto The Doctor's awhile ago as he thought about his last face. He became so egotistical there for a moment. He had forced himself to regenerate for a reason.

"Clara... I—"

"It's alright, Doctor." She smiled softly at him. She understood. She had lived a few different lives herself, after all. "I was just thinking... Abraham has seen so many of your faces. How many people can you say has been that lucky?"

"I would call it more of a bad omen," he replied.

"Huh. A bad omen," she repeated thoughtfully. "You've convinced yourself so much over the years that death follows you." The Oncoming Storm, he remembered and chuckled to himself. "Why do you think you kept going back to him? You have to know he's going to die young, no matter what you do."

He cringed slightly at her bluntness, but she was right nonetheless. Forty years was an eternity to people from Abraham's period, yet only a wink of time to a man as old as The Doctor.

"Do you believe in alternate realities, Clara?" She tilted her head as if saying 'what a dumbass question.' All they had been through, how was she not supposed to? "Abraham would be fantastic in another life."

"Fantastic? You really think so?"

"I know so." He raised a hand but stopped, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. "I'm not allowed to have everything after all, am I?"

Clara breathed in harshly, the sound imitating a laugh. "You could have the world at this point."

The Doctor thought about Rose Tyler in that moment. Then it was Amelia Pond. Sarah Jane Smith. Dozens of faces and millions of smiles clouded his face. So he smiled the same, and looked towards Clara with adoration.

"I've already had the world, over and over. More times than I ever deserved."