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12 Songs

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She was given to me to put things right,
And I stacked all my accomplishments beside her.
Still I seemed so obsolete and small,
I found God and all His devils inside her.
In my bed she cast the blizzard out,
A mock sun blazed upon her head.
So completely filled with light she was,
Her shadow fanged and hairy and mad.
Our love-lines grew hopelessly tangled,
And the bells from the chapel went jingle-jangle.

(Nick Cave)


“Sooo,”Clara drawles, hopping onto the jump-seat. “I still don't get it.”


“That's no wonder,” the Doctor scoffs back. “Care to share what exactly is above your mental capacities?”


Ignoring the Doctor's insult, the young brunette just shakes her head. “The bank, Doctor. Why would anyone want to protect anything that desperately.”


He shrugs. “It's an urge, embedded into almost every creature's nature. The things you desire, whatever you long for the wish to protect it.”


“But,” Clara protests, “the whole planet is a bank. You take this thing - whatever it may be - there, lock it up, and leave it behind. It's like you don't even have it anymore.”


“Some things are of such a great value, you'd do just that.” He isn't looking at her as he pulls a lever, sending the TARDIS back into the vortex.


“How would you know that,” she demands to know. “You put everything in danger, nothing seems to be important to you, there isn't anything you wouldn't risk, or put at stake.”


“If you say that.” He just tenses for the shortest amount of time, it's almost imperceptible.


“Do Time Lords have that urge too?”


“Sorry, what?”


Clara rolls her eyes. “Now, who's slow? Do Time Lords have that urge too? To keep things save? Is there anything you'd protect at all costs? Even at the price of the entire universe?”


“The universe, obviously,” he retorts haughtily. “You little humans wouldn't be living your pointless little lives if not for me.”


“There's gotta be something,” the school-teacher argues.


He moves aside, traces the lines of his beloved console as his face is enlightened by the unearthly glow of the time-rotor. “I used to have something. I still have it, it's hidden from any harm,” he whispers.


“What is it?”Clara presses, not even pretending to hide her curiosity.


“Something precious, unique – yet ordinary,” he mutters. “I found it one night.”


“What happened?”


“I took it with me. With this thing at my side, I found...I found wonder again. I found Gods and Devils.”


Clara makes a noise, as if to pose a question but for once, the Doctor keeps talking. “I made sure this thing would be safe. I locked it up, on a place so very far away no one would ever find or reach it.”


“Where?” she blurts out.


The Doctor just arches an eyebrow in amusement – yet, he doesn't look amused. He looks terrifying. “Not here, not even in this universe.” He grins – and it's the epitome of smugness.


“And what keeps it safe?” Clara can't help asking.


Me. I stacked all my accomplishments beside that thing. Clara, do you fear me sometimes? Do you fear what I'm capable of?”


She can only nod as she breathes out her last question.“What was this thing?”


“It was light. It was full of light.”