That Kind Of Soldier

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Doctor Who

Copyright: BBC

"So, are ye still seein' him?" asked the Doctor gruffly, during a rare quiet moment in the TARDIS.

"Danny? Well, yeah." Of course, she wanted to say, but swallowed it just in time; there was no 'of course' about it to the Doctor. If anything, his stint as caretaker of Coal Hill School had shown them just how unprepared he was for the idea of Clara dating anyone, let alone an ex-soldier who grew up in a foster-home.

"Ye haven't finished the job yet." He avoided her eyes as he typed away on a touchscreen. "Explained him, that is. What in the name of sanity possessed ye to fall for a PE teacher anyway?"

"Okay, you know what?" she snapped. With the Doctor, self-control lasted only so far. "If you call him that one more time, I will sic Courtney Woods on you! He's a maths teacher. He's clever. It's entirely possible for an army man to be clever. How else would they win their wars?"

"Hmph."

"Just look at you!"

Even his eyebrows seemed to bristle. "I am not an army man," he rumbled.

"Tell that to the Time War veteran who helped you save your planet."

The Doctor sighed and lowered his drawn-up shoulders, the closest he ever got these days to admitting when he was wrong and Clara was right.

"Look," she said more softly, "I know you don't like to be seen that way." She resisted saying something about the little boy in the barn, who had been so afraid of being packed off to the army by his guardians. He didn't know she knew that, did he? "You've done things you regret, and so you choose to be the Doctor instead. But don't you see? That's the same reason Danny became a teacher."

He lifted his gray head to look at her – resentful at first, insulted by the comparison. But something in her own face must have calmed him, because the bitter lines smoothed out into a wry, thoughtful little smile.

"Alright. But still, the question is – what has this maths teacher," he waved his hands in sarcastic emphasis, "Done to distinguish himself from any of the dozen nondescript human males workin' at yer school? And don't say, distract the Skovox. Ye've been canoodlin' with him for aboot a year and two weeks."

"You kept count?"

"Answer the question, Clara."

He picked up a stick of chalk and pointed it imperiously. She plucked it from his hand.

"First, my co-workers are not nondescript to me. Second, I don't expect you to understand anyway."

"Oh, aye?"

"You've been in love. Suppose I asked you what made you marry Professor Song? Would you have an answer ready at the drop of a hat?"

Some deep emotion twitched the corners of his mouth and flickered across his eyes. He turned abruptly away, straightening the barely slanted blackboard.

"Ah, but I'm nae the one," he said, finally turning back around, "Who makes a living out of words."

Clara sighed. He wasn't going to let this go, was he? He'd been so accepting when he thought she was dating Adrien.

She did have an answer ready, anyway. It was incomplete, of course, but still the result of many hours' thinking and dreaming. She analyzed everything and everyone, including her relationships. It could be a weakness, but also a strength.

"Okay," she said, staring up into the shifting circles of the TARDIS with unfocused eyes. "So the first time we met … from my perspective, anyway … and he told me he'd been in the army, I made a joke about it. A not-very-nice joke, to be honest. The sort you'd have made."

"Hmph."

"He said there was some moral dimension to the work he'd done. Then I was like, What? So you shoot people and then cry about it?"

This time, the Doctor's "hmph!" had a distinct note of amusement. God, I knew it, thought Clara wryly. He's rubbing off on me.

"It's not funny, Doctor! That's my point. When I said that, his face just sort of … froze. He asked me something like, Who told you? I didn't understand at the time. But later that day, you showed up and took me inside that broken Dalek. We met Journey Blue and – and Gretchen and the others, who were only defending their people, against the Daleks who were exterminating everything in their way. And that look on Danny's face before – I saw it on Journey's, when she talked about her brother. And I saw it on yours."

"When?"

"When Rusty called you a good Dalek."

She saw that look again, stone-cold with horror and remorse, every line carved in his face deep as the cut of a knife.

"Some soldiers don't fight because they enjoy it," she said softly. "They hate it worse than anything. But they do it if they have to, to protect what matters to them. You're that kind of soldier. In his own way, so is Danny."

These two men in her life; how alike they were, and yet how different. Danny hadn't been afraid to touch her, to look at her, to show how much he cared. Or rather he had been afraid, but hadn't let that stop him. Danny owned his past, regrets and all. The Doctor made her take risks; much as she liked that, at the end of the day, she needed to come home to a man who made her feel safe.

She smiled at the memory of placing toy guards around little Rupert's bed, and the Doctor's sincere attempt to overcome his newfound dislike of children to give the boy courage. Fear is your superpower. It was thanks to him that Rupert had grown into a man who could somersault through gunfire and come out safe.

He had done that for the children. For her.

"Then so are you," said the Doctor, a rare gentleness in those cool blue eyes. "And for once I mean that in a good way."

"Me?" she blushed. "I suppose I am. Never really thought about it."

She remembered his younger self leaving her in charge of Captain Alice's platoon at the amusement park; working with Journey Blue inside the Dalek; following the Doctor's orders at lightning speed to stop the Skovox Blitzer. He might have a point. She didn't entirely like the idea, but then, for that matter, neither did Danny or the Doctor.

"Ma'am." He drew his lanky frame up to attention and saluted her.

"Sir." Beaming, she returned the gesture.