parallels | NAKED TIME WITH GEM

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NAKED TIME WITH GEM

[There was something on her side of the bed. Well all of her bed was technically her side so the fact that there was something stopping her from spreading her legs out as far as she wanted was just weird. And annoying.

She gave it a good kick.

It pulled away for a but then eventually returned to rest against her toes. Annoying. And chilly. Why was she so cold.

With a sleepy grumble she rolled over to curl up and cocoon in her sheets. Not caring if her elbow happened to jam into someone else's ribs.]

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Apparently not, no.

[A deep breath, and he tries again, just in case, but really, it's like breathing, it's second nature, if it doesn't work, then there's something more.]

Hit me again.

...Really? You want me to hit you?

You better not sulk about it.

Blimey, didn't think I'd need to ask you twice.

Just hit me. Now.

[SMACKS HIM ACROSS THE FACE.]

Ow!

[He cups his cheek because it's instinctive. But then did it hurt at all?]

No. Wait. Not ow. Not ow at all. Not even ow a little bit.

[And Clara, that'll be you getting pinched on the arm. You need checking too.]

Hey!

[She tries to shove him away. Like him, it's just instinct. But then she stops.]

It doesn't hurt. That's... weird. Not that I'm complaining at the moment.

No, it doesn't.

A room with no door, no clothes, and no pain. Maybe no room. Not a room at all but a projection. So we have to be somewhere. Still access to our consciousness, but all of it? Memory, Clara, what about memory. Apart from getting here. Try and remember, remember anything, remember falling off your bike when you were six, or blowing out your candles when you were 12. Remember your Mum taking you to the sea life centre. Remember ice creams on the beach in Blackpool.

[Clara looks at him for a few moments and then closes her eyes...

She's six and on her first day of primary school. She lets go of her mum's hand and walks through the gates and when she turns back around to give her mum one last look, her mum seems so tiny and far off the in the distance.

She's 8 and had to get her tonsils out. She sits in a hospital bed with her mum on one side and her dad on the other. Her mum strokes her hair and promises her ice cream and her dead reads her 20 whole pages out of "101 Places to See".

She's 13 and at a friend's Birthday party. She catches the boy standing next to her give her a grin and she blushes. He reaches for her hand...

She's 14 and her dad is trying to convince her to ride the roller coaster at Blackpool. She tells him she's going to get sick.

She's 18 and entering university. She passed all her A-levels with top marks and is going to her top choice. Her stomach is a bundle of excitement and nerves as she opens the door to her first class.

She's 21 and at a pub getting completely pissed with her friends. She ends up getting sick in a cab and hungover the next day. But what a night of shenanigans.

She's 23 and wandering the mall with Artie and Angie and trying to mediate between going to the clothing shops or to the electronics shop. It's a day out. They're excited and the sun is shining and it's a lovely day in London...]

[He doesn't watch them, not all of them, they're her memories, and it's not his place. Infinitely curious, perhaps? Flicking his fingers across the pages of a life, and an impossible life at that. He's read so many words, but none of them make sense of her yet.]

All there? Everything intact?

What about there? The things you don't like to think about, the corners of your mind you don't visit. What if you go there now, Clara? Is anything there? Anything you don't recognise?

So now I have to remember the bad things too? Could have warned me about that.

[She doesn't want to. She really doesn't want to think about things things. And she especially doesn't want him to see.]

If someone wanted to hide in your mind, they'd go where you don't want to be. It's okay, I won't look, not at that. I'm just passing through. And don't worry, I'll be here. I'm right here with you.

[His voice is soft and soothing, or at least as much as it can be without patronising her and earning another smack. Whether he'd feel it or not, he doesn't really want it.]

Are you sure? Are you absolutely, completely sure that there's something in my head or are you just guessing at the problem?

[She looks up at him, eyes wide and a lot more vulnerable than she'd like.]

I'm always guessing, Clara. Haven't you worked that one out yet?

[I mean really, his definition of a 'plan' is very loose.]

You can't just poke around my worst memories on a whim!

[Sorry Doctor. She's a guarded girl.]

I'm not poking around!

I'm asking you to.

Clara can we just get on with this. Who knows what's happening to us.

[ :| ]

Fine.

Get on with it then.

[She doesn't look him in the face. She tightens her body language, crossing her arms tightly in front of her chest as if hoping it will form a barrier between her and the Doctor and his oncoming invasion.]

Okay.

[And he's about to, but then there's a sudden shriek of pain. Real pain. He detaches from her and he's thrown backwards to the ground as he cries out, all pale skin and very little covering it.

Doctor!

[She unhooks her arms and immediately drops onto the ground next to him, holding his hand and trying to cradle his shoulders.]

Okay. Pain. Can definitely still feel pain.

[His hand grips hers, tight, it feels like someone is wrenching his insides.]

Someone-- Someone is trying to stop us working this out.

Go inside my mind, get us out. Fast as you can. Do it!

[She grips his hand in hers and tries to pull him into a sitting position.]

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