CHAPTER THREE

Clara finished twisting her hair back. There was a long line of people needing food, she could help with that. Porridge was stood on a large crate, talking to one of the leadership pair in charge of the colony. Gloria stood at his side, manipulating the screen in her hand. Clara began filling up bottles with something green, which was apparently very nutritious. It smelled really good, citrusy and summery. She turned to the person next to her.

"Is it safe for me to drink?" she asked, the fact that she didn't have another set of eyes and who knew what else coating the question.

The person gave her a quick nod which Clara returned with a smile. She'd try it later; right now there were people who needed it more, if the line for the doctors was any indication.

Several hours later, her arms sore and her head thumping, Clara helped divide up the leftovers, taking a couple of packages and bottles for herself. One of the others who'd been working beside her pressed a violet-coloured fruit into Clara's hand with a brief smile and flutter of four eyelids.

"Thank you," Clara offered with a smile, because if she couldn't eat it, then she'd definitely find somebody who could.

She held up her armful of food to Porridge. "Dinner?"

Porridge nodded and lifted his gaze to the people that Clara had been working with. "Thank you, for your service and the gifts." His gaze slipped back to Clara. "That's very good timing."

He wrapped up his talk and allowed Gloria to make the call that teleported Porridge and Clara back up the ship. Clara just about kept hold of her armful, Porridge immediately stepping forward to lighten her load. Clara glanced around; they weren't in a room that she recognised. There were several large squishy-looking cushions on the floor and a long bench near one wall. The opposite wall was made up of a number of enormous screens that all displayed portraits. Clara squinted at a couple; they were portraits of Porridge's relatives? That one with the red hair definitely had his nose, and the one with blonde ringlets held herself in a very familiar way.

"Am I meeting your family?" she asked.

Porridge was unpacking his parcels on the bench. He cast an affectionate look towards the high-definition gallery before transferring the look to her. "It's the only way you can. These are the Emperors and Empresses who came before me, the Defenders of Humanity, the Imperators of Known Space."

Their eyes followed Clara round the room. She smiled at them and thought about bobbing into some sort of curtsey, only she'd most likely drop her dinner and that was probably more of a faux-pas, wasn't it?

"They look very grand," she decided aloud.

"They weren't all the time. Those are just their official likenesses," Porridge gestured to a dark-haired man with a sweeping forehead and an outfit that looked like a black velvet dress. "Sreea the Fourth Glorious was my favourite Grandfather. He used to build amazing toy spaceships that flew better than anything the royal engineer corps created. He used to have oil all over his hands most of the time, it drove his husband mad."

Clara's smile grew. She liked that, funny stories behind posh and proper photos, it made them seem like flesh and blood instead of imperious history. "So where's your official likeness then?"

Porridge grimaced but obligingly walked forward to press a button on one of the screens, changing its display. Clara laughed; there was Porridge, in the sort of suit she'd seen him wear before for extremely proper occasions. He wore no hat and no smile but his eyebrows were lifting in a way that suggested his general amusement at the whole idea. It was Porridge, just about, but it was mostly the Emperor.

"Very grand," Clara declared.

"Mmm, I remember thinking how nice it was to have some time virtually to myself," Porridge replied, changing the display picture back to one of his ancestors. "It was quite relaxing really."

"Like this room." Clara glanced up at the vaulted ceiling and the star systems flickering across it. "It's...it's something different from everywhere else on the ship."

Porridge smiled and gestured for her to pull up a cushion as he plumped himself down and reached for a little ceramic jar of something gloopy and orange. "People think I come here to gather wisdom from our previous leaders. Really, it's just good to spend some time alone."

"And with the family," Clara guessed softly, having spotted how his gaze kept going back to the screens.

Porridge's eyes met hers, telling her a thousand different stories, his mouth smiling just enough to make her smile back. "And with the family."

Clara bit her lip, thinking about a leaf pressed in a book and fresh flowers regularly left at a gravesite. Yeah, she got that. She grabbed the green drink that had caught her attention hours before – it tasted as citrusy as it smelled and was amazingly refreshing after the long afternoon she'd had. Porridge took the offered bottle with a nod that said he understood what she hadn't vocalised. His hand on her arm was gentle.

It turned out that the thick orange mixture tasted like runny cheese and could be spread on unwound bread rolls. There were waffles stuck together with an extra-sticky sweet form of syrup and meat sticks like mealy sausages which tasted really good with the waffles. It was a picnic, Clara realised with a quiet laugh, she was having a picnic with an Emperor on a spaceship.

And there was literally nowhere else she'd rather be.

The next day, there was a message on her phone - It's been three months. A smile flickered across Clara's face, was the Doctor whining? It was the closest he'd get to saying I miss you, and it was enough to make Clara's smile solidify. She was still smiling when Porridge spoke.

"I didn't know breakfast could be that amusing."

Clara started and laughed, reaching for her abandoned fork – they were having eggs with blue shells for the first time after a delivery and they tasted really good. She took a last look at the message before tucking her phone away.

"Breakfast is delicious. The text message was amusing. I think the Doctor's getting lonely, and whiny."

Porridge smiled in return, before his gaze dropped to his spicy breakfast drink, his fingers deliberate in their movement against the mug. It made Clara immediately pay attention.

"What?"

"Hmm?"

Clara scooped up more breakfast, raising an eyebrow. "You're thinking about something serious and about whether to share it with me or not. My vote's on sharing."

Porridge's smile quirked a little before wilting again. It made Clara chew a lot slower and even put down her fork. "Porridge?"

"You've been here for three months, Clara. The children will be missing you too."

That was a good point, so why did Clara's heart feel like it was dropping? She loved the kids; she was looking forward to seeing them again. She wasn't looking forward to saying goodbye to Porridge though.

"I miss them," she said quietly, her hand reaching to touch his gently. "But I'm going to miss you too."

Porridge wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed gently. He didn't say I don't want you to go, because he wasn't that kind of Emperor, but it was clear in his expression anyway. Clara took a deep breath and decided to attempt to finish her breakfast one-handed. She wanted to remember Porridge's touch, his gentleness and wisdom, his smile. She wanted to remember everything.

She didn't want to leave, but she had promises to keep, and...well, she couldn't stay forever. She couldn't.

The rest of breakfast was silent, and their hands stayed joined.

Are you bored, by any chance?

Bored? No, why, are you? There's a garden on a planet in the Cherria Nebula that's said to…

And he was off. Clara shook her head, as message after message popped into her inbox, rolling with the Doctor's enthusiasm. A familiar excitement was starting to tingle inside of her, all those different places to go and people to meet and all that running. She had missed it, just a little bit.

Not bored. Hope the space taxi's ready.

She forced herself into her room – her room – and changed back into the clothes she'd worn when she'd first met Porridge before packing up everything else up. For a moment or two, her reflection looked wrong. It wasn't who she'd been for the past three months. Clara tried shrugging her shoulders, shuffling on the spot as though getting used to this version of herself again. She could sort of recognise herself now but it was like looking at childhood photographs; it wasn't who she was anymore.

"Pull yourself together," she told herself. "You are not Queen of the Universe."

At the last syllable, she remembered the camera and squeezed her eyes shut. Great. She sent a grimace towards the all-seeing bauble and a little wave before grabbing her bag and heading out the door. She breathed in the room one last time, hoping that she'd memorised it well enough.

Porridge waited for her in the gallery room, it was as private as the ship got and since a lot of people would no doubt be interested in the TARDIS, privacy was pretty important. Of course, if anyone asked, the privacy was for their goodbye and the TARDIS was just a spaceship with an old-fashioned look, to match its pilot.

"Well…" Clara trailed off, feeling bitty and raw. "God, 'thank you' seems too small but it's all I can think of."

Porridge's smile was a precious thing as he walked close enough to grasp her hands. "It sounds just right to me, because all I can think of is thank you, Clara, for making this place seem a bit less empty."

Clara could feel tears in her eyes and raised a hand to wipe them away, self-deprecating laughter tumbling out. "This was all so much more than I was expecting, does that make sense?"

"There's a lot more out there in the universe than we really think about, you reminded me of that."

The look on his face made a familiar feeling shake apart inside Clara and she took a determined breath, not wanting to have one of those moments where it all felt so final. She'd had too many of them in her life already.

"I really don't want this to be goodbye."

Porridge squeezed her hand. "Then it won't be."

Clara cracked a smile. "Just like that?"

"Oh yes, I can make things happen. There's got to be some perks to this job."

Clara grinned and squeezed his hand in return. She leaned down before she could think too hard about it and brushed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. She felt his intake of breath and his cheek against hers as she lingered a moment before pulling back. They shared a few seconds of just staring, fingers still interlocked. Clara was going to miss that most of all, his hand in hers.

Then with a deep breath, she used her free hand to text the Doctor.

Space taxi for one please.

There was more-than-a-chance that the Doctor wouldn't land in the gallery, so Porridge put a call in to Gloria just in case and then they stood there, facing each other, hands still linked, drinking each other in.

This wasn't going to be goodbye, Clara knew that with a certainty that squeezed her chest tight and made her jaw tense.

There was a sudden gust of wind and a noise like grinding gears and howling and then coalescing at the end of the room, right in front of Porridge's paternal great-grandmother, was the TARDIS. Clara's heartbeat pounded. Even if the ship didn't like her, it had shown up at the right place and time, and she had missed it.

Porridge's fingers slipped from her grasp as the howls died away and the door opened and there was the Doctor, stepping out in tweed and a bow-tie, why did he think that was a good look again? It was like he'd been raiding charity shops, or some dusty old professor's wardrobe.

She couldn't help smiling though, as he swooped her up into a hug with a shout.

"Clara Oswald! Look at you, all…you."

Clara grinned against his shoulder before letting go. "You're getting better at keeping appointments, taxi man."

"Sssh! No, no, she's not a taxi!"

The Doctor actually stroked the TARDIS's door, causing Clara and Porridge to exchange a look. Clara's heart panged again.

"Porridge! Emperor Ludens Nimrod…yes, hello, how's the empire?" the Doctor strode over to shake Porridge's hand.

"Oh, I'd say in decent shape, wouldn't you, Lady Clara?"

He turned to Clara as he spoke, with a look on his face that made her waggle her eyebrows at the Doctor. "Oh, I'd say so, Your Majesty. Very good shape."

The Doctor looked from one to the other, a hand raised as though trying to grasp something. "You're very…"

"What?" asked Clara, innocent and pleased and taunting all at the same time, the Doctor hated not knowing something and it had been so long since she'd teased him.

"Organised. You haven't made her Queen of the Universe, have you?" he asked Porridge, quiet and slightly worried.

Porridge cast a glance towards Clara that made her smile softly before he answered. "I really think you should ask her that, Doctor."

The Doctor spun around to face Clara who made herself purposefully blank-faced. "Clare, you haven't…?"

Clara raised her eyebrows imperiously. "Not yet."

"Yet?!"

As the Doctor yelped, Clara turned to Porridge and sharply saluted him, her smile trembling only slightly at the corners. The way she was angled, only Porridge could actually see her face and his expression was sad too. They both lifted their chins.

This was it. Clara had already said goodbye to the council, who hadn't seemed completely relieved that she was leaving. Clara was counting that as a win. She'd told Gloria to take care of Porridge. She'd said her goodbyes, this was just a formality. All that mattered had been said already.

"Emperor Ludens Nimrod Kendrick Cord Longstaff the 41st, Defender of Humanity, Imperator of Known Space," she rattled off neatly, a proud smile on her face.

Porridge nodded, equal pride in his expression. "Lady Clara. Don't forget, I will make things happen."

Clara's smile felt like it was taking over her face. "I'll hold you to that."

They held each other's gazes for a moment more, then Clara abruptly tore herself away, like ripping off a plaster. She grabbed her bag and headed for the TARDIS. She made sure not to look back. It was only once she was inside the control room that the Doctor's footsteps clattered behind her. Clara kept her focus on the pale light of the central console and the familiar smell of dust and fire.

"Hmm, it looks like everything's still in one piece..."

"Well, of course it is! Mainly. Wait, hold on." The Doctor crowded closer, peering into her face. Clara stood her ground. "What have you promised him?"

Clara looked at him steadily for a couple of seconds. "That this isn't goodbye."

Her expression dared him to argue, but he didn't, he just looked back, infinitely sad and something else. Clara wasn't going to get dragged down into that again so she swallowed and walked out of the control room towards her bedroom. She really hoped that the corridors weren't moving again, when the TARDIS was being a particularly stroppy cow, it took Clara hours to find whatever room she was looking for.

There was a rumble under her feet – the engines were firing up. They were leaving. She paused, closing her eyes for a second, and wondered if Porridge was still there in the gallery, watching as the blue box faded from sight, leaving him alone with memories of his family, leaving him alone.

Clara pushed onwards. The next door around the corner was her room, exactly as she'd left it, bed unmade and an empty glass on its side thanks to her rushed morning. She dropped her bag onto the bed and half-heartedly unzipped it. The clothes that spilled out made her lips lift. She hung the clothes up carefully, like a statement among all her other garments.

There was something rolling around in the bottom of the bag. Clara lifted out the violet-coloured fruit that she'd been given after helping out that food line. She'd forgotten all about it. She held it up in front of her face, it smelled like the planet they'd visited. Clara looked at it for a minute, a thousand memories storming through her, bringing a lump to her throat, before resolutely placing it on her bedside chest of drawers. She'd give it to Porridge the next time she saw him.

A familiar buzz of determination ran through her, her hand flexing as she remember his grip on it. She was going to do this. She glanced in the nearby mirror, at her hands, at the marks on them now, at the gold badge still pinned to her top. She was going to see Porridge again. She could make things happen too, she knew a man with a space taxi.

-the end