ic contact; MoM

[coppelganger]

Hey, it's Sarah. Leave a message.

Comments

[oddbod]

i woke up alone
my calls aren’t going through
says the number’s not assigned to anyone

[Just like with the Doctor, and Sarissa. She knows what this means, and she feels like she’s going to be sick.]

[coppelganger]

[ Oh, fuck. ]

Maybe she's updating

[oddbod]

maybe

[Or maybe not. How can she sit here and hope when everything could have already ended?]

i'm not good at waiting

[coppelganger]

Well try not to panic. [ Sarah says, panicking. ] Come over if you want

[oddbod]

if she's not back after 24 hours i'll come

[She'll count every minute.]

[coppelganger]

Okay. Let me know if anything changes.

[oddbod]

i will

[4:41 A.M. the following morning marks twenty-four hours since Clara woke up and saw the clock through where her wife should have been laying. By that moment she's already tearing at the walls of her own head, ready to run from the ruins. And once the clock strikes 4:42, then 4:43, then 4:44, and Cosima's number is still unavailable, still stricken from the database...

She leaves food for the animals, shoots a text to the Doctor, and gets her bike from the garage. The station wagon sits cold in the driveway, another piece of the family-centered life she'd built.]

still gone
i'm coming over

[coppelganger]

See you soon.

[ What? Of course Sarah's still up. ]

[oddbod]

[Clara's bike pulls into the drive at about 5:30, and a moment later she knocks on the front door, soft and even.

She's looked worse at Sarah's door, but this time something is different. She isn't a whirlwind of anger and self-destruction; this grief is quieter, more distracted. Her boots and leather are nowhere in sight, replaced with old sweatpants, and her hair is a wreck. Her eyes are pink and distant.]

I brought whiskey.

[coppelganger]

[ Sarah opens the door, looking much the same as always—kind of tired, kind of grumpy, but mostly okay. She steps back to allow Clara to come in. ]

Hey. Come in. Alison is sleeping, but— [ She shrugs. As long as they're not screaming, it's probably fine. ]

[oddbod]

[Clara steps inside silently, toeing off her shoes at the door. The house seems unnatural, too quiet without Sarissa's voice.]

I hope I'm overreacting.

[She pulls the bottle out of her backpack, hand gripped tight around the neck, and makes a shuffling move towards the sofa.]

[coppelganger]

Shall I get glasses, or are we gonna do this right?

[ Sarah follows her to the sofa, hands in her pockets. ]

[oddbod]

[The bitterest hint of a crooked smile. Clara sits down, knees tucked tightly to her chest.]

No glasses.

[coppelganger]

Alright. [ Sounds good to her. She takes a swig from the bottle and passes it over to Clara. ]

You can get drunk now, yeah?

[oddbod]

I can get very drunk.

[She takes the bottle and takes her own gulp, trying her absolute damnedest not to show how disgusting she still finds the stuff. It's vile, but it's effective.]

[coppelganger]

Well that's good. Otherwise it's gonna be a long month.

[ It will anyway, but Sarah is holding onto this deadline, just like she had with Sarissa. ]

[oddbod]

Why a month? Isn't it usually twenty-four hours?

[It always has been with her.]