Number 8: The Painting

11/River

The first time that Clara had seen the painting, she had been in the library. She barely noticed it, and just walked right past.

Then it began to appear everywhere, forcing Clara to notice it. Only when she was alone, though - never when the Doctor was around.

It got to the point where Clara was sure that the grumpy old cow of a time machine was trying to tell her something.

The subject of the painting was gorgeous, of course. There was no denying that. But it was the subject of the painting itself that bothered her.

The painting was of Cleopatra, but not done in any Egyptian style - and not as Clara had ever seen her before.

This painting of Cleopatra showed her with shoulder-length, crimpy black hair. She had traditional Egyptian makeup - eyes thickly lined with black kohl, and the rest of it at a minimum. Her dress was white and sleeveless, but a thick jeweled collar helped to disguise just how low-cut the dress was. An elaborate headdress was set on her head, and…. were those Romans?

Finally, after opening up the door to her room on the TARDIS only to see that bloody picture again, Clara had had enough.

"Doctor!" she yelled, stomping into the console room.

"Yes, Clara, what is it?" he asked, sounding bored.

"I am being haunted by bloody Cleopatra." she growled, making him look at her in confusion.

"...I'm sorry?" he asked after a moment, as if wondering whether or not he had heard her correctly.

She blushed slightly, but continued on anyway. "You heard me."

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It took a bit of time, but eventually she persuaded the Doctor to come to her room so that she could show him what she was talking about.

As soon as he saw the painting, he turned bright red - so red that if Clara hadn't been so irritated about the whole thing, she would have started laughing.

"Oh." was all that he could say, and then he went quiet. Clara would have thought that he was just trying to figure out what was going on if not for the goofy little smile that had appeared on his face.

"Doctor." she said, annoyed.

He jumped, startled. "Right! Sorry." he said quickly. "Now then, the painting…." he said, getting lost in the thing once more.

By this point, Clara had begun to realize that something was up.

"Doctor," she said gently. "Who is she?"

He stiffened, refusing to answer. After staring at the painting for another minute or so, he left the room without even a glance in Clara's direction.

She ran after him, but lost him after only a few seconds. Deciding that he would come out when he was ready, she headed back to her room.

Once there, she looked to where the painting was - only it was no longer there.

"Seriously?" she asked the TARDIS a moment later, and Clara could have sworn that the Old Girl laughed at her in response.

Meanwhile, deep in the TARDIS…..

The Doctor sat, miserable, as he stared at the painting that had been in Clara's room mere moments ago.

"I miss you, honey…" he whispered brokenly.

A/N~ Okay, not one of my best. I couldn't figure out how to end this one, so….

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