**Questions are asked and answers are sought. But it seems like the Doctor and his thoughts will forever remain a mystery…**
Moment later, Clara was high in the air on the back of an enormous female griffin.
"Woohoo!" she screamed. Her griffin screeched in response, and continued to flap her enormous wings steadily as she danced among the updrafts and slipstreams.
On their right was the comparatively-tiny griffin that had hijacked the TARDIS. It was enjoying itself immensely, that much Clara could see, and was making no attempt to join the main flock. In fact, whenever the rest of the griffins came close, their little criminal would stay so close to Clara's griffin their wings would touch.
And on her left was the Doctor, riding the male griffin leader. Their movements were much less erratic than Clara and the female's flight, a sign that perhaps both aliens were older than they looked. Whenever Clara glanced at the Doctor, she would see awe and amazement in his eyes. Maybe even a tear or two. And who could blame him? He'd probably been dreaming of flight ever since he'd been a boy, when he had first watched thegryphes de stellis take to the air for the first time. There was also a persistent look of concentration on his face, which puzzled Clara at first, until she remembered that these griffins were telepaths. The Doctor and the male leader were probably engaged in some kind of intense, nonverbal debate.
Clara only wondered at the Doctor's ever-changing attitude for a short while, before her own enjoyment caught up with her. Here she was, resident babysitter of Great Britain, galaxies away from home and riding a griffin from outer space! With each new destination, Clara could feel her personal universe get a little bit bigger, and a little bit better.
Well, Clara thought, maybe a lot better.
She leaned forward as the female leader began to climb the wind currents again. "So, you're all telepaths?"
She felt the female griffin shake underneath her, like she was chuckling. Yes, child. It is tactile telepathy, more commonly known as touch telepathy. All Time Lords were capable of it, and those of us griffins who were skilled enough learned it from them. Now that Gallifrey is gone, my mate and I are the last griffins who continue to use such a primitive form of communication.
"'Touch telepathy', huh?" Could the Doctor really communicate with his mind? She'd never seen him use something like that, but then again, Clara supposed that she really didn't know much about Time Lords at all. The Doctor's previous lives were numerous, and were probably full of things Clara could never dream of. "Have you and the Doctor already met?"
Not in this life, and perhaps never again.
"He might come back," Clara said, "It's so beautiful here, and you're creatures from Gallifrey! Why wouldn't he want to be near the last living survivors of his home planet?" Besides the TARDIS, Clara added silently.
The griffin's chest rumbled again. Oh, child. Tell me: what do you know of the Time War?
"I know that it was the last war between the Daleks and the Time Lords." Clara absently watched the smaller griffin do loop-di-loops beside them. "The Doctor had destroyed Gallifrey and two entire species. He was the only survivor." The griffin next to them saw Clara watching it and crowed triumphantly. "But the Doctor, with the help of all of his previous regenerations, went back in time and rewrote history. As I understand it, they put Gallifrey into a time lock. And then those same Gallifreyens gave the Doctor more regenerations through a crack in time and space, saving him from death. Now the Doctor is determined to find Gallifrey, however he can."
And have you had any luck?
Clara looked down at her fingers, which had started rubbing the female griffin's feathers on their own accord. "Well, no, not yet. That's why the Doctor didn't stop this little griffin from directing the TARDIS. He was convinced that the griffin would lead us to its home planet, which we assumed was Gallifrey. We were half right, in a way. But the Doctor—we're not giving up! Gallifrey is out there, somewhere. We just haven't looked in the right places yet."
The female leader paused before she continued. The Doctor is more than just one man. The face you see him with today is one of many, with another personality to add to a growing list. Our species, mere travelers through space, have been lucky enough to have seen each of his faces in turn.
The Grandfather…Clara bit back a gasp as a mental image flared into her mind. She saw an old, white-haired man standing outside a junkyard, laughing with a younger girl.
The Clown…A slightly younger man was playing a recorder and wandering through a maze of enormous bookshelves.
The Dandy…Another grey-haired man was driving with tall woman in a yellow car from the 20th century.
The Wanderer…A young man with wild hair and an outrageous scarf was staring anxiously into a glass tube, where the body of a woman lay.
The Peace-maker...Another man, the youngest she'd seen yet, was sporting a croquet outfit and a stick of celery. He was wandering through a forest while arguing with the woman beside him.
The Unknown...Another man, blond and wearing a rainbow-colored coat, appeared to be sitting trial in front of many oddly-dressed men.
The Professor…A man wearing question marks and carrying a matching umbrella was walking away, arm in arm with a young girl in a biker jacket.
The Gentleman…A man with an unreadable face and wearing an old-fashioned suit was shouting at a mirror, "Who am I?"
The Warrior…Clara recognized this man, with his grey hair and haggard beard. He was standing in the dirty barn again, his hand poised over the glowing red button.
The Survivor…The next man was not the one she had been expecting. This new man was struggling against the grip of several shop window dummies. He disappeared just as a blond woman swung towards him on a rope.
The Lover…Clara blushed as the handsome Doctor appeared, the same one who had kissed her hand. Except this time, she saw him on the TARDIS hugging the blond girl Clara had seen earlier. Around him were a whole group of people, smiling, laughing, and hugging each other like a proper family.
The Madman…She couldn't help it. When the face of her previous Doctor, her Doctor, appeared before her, Clara let a small sob escape her throat. Here he was, bouncing off the walls with his usual spunk, only Clara wasn't with him. This earlier Doctor was leading along a red-haired woman and another man through a city that looked suspiciously like Renaissance-era Venice.
And now, the Hopeful. The images faded and Clara was once again staring at a green sky. The sun was finally disappearing below the distant mountains, making the sky grow dark. It was then that she realized that her griffin had landed on the same cliff as the TARDIS.
This man you see now is a man born out of hope. The female griffin explained. Beside them, the small, hijacking griffin was rolling around in the dirt, completely unaware that anything out of the ordinary had occurred. But hope is a frail thing. So powerful, and yet, so small and fleeting. You say the Doctor is desperate to find Gallifrey? His hope is waning. This disappointment could be his last.
"No!" Clara insisted. When she saw the Doctor and his griffin landing on the other side of the cliff, she lowered her voice to a whisper. "Gallifrey is out there! We just have to keep looking!"
The griffin lowered herself to the ground, and Clara dismounted, but she kept a hand on the female's shoulder so the leader could reply. You're determined, or persistent. Or maybe just stubborn.
"Yeah, that's hours of babysitting for you."
Perhaps that is what is needed, then? The female leader looked at Clara and tilted her head in curiosity. Maybe you're what the Doctor needs to continue his search.
Clara bit her lip. Something about the griffin's tone of voice…did she know more than she let on? "So, is Gallifrey really out there? Will we ever find it?"
Before the griffin could reply, the Doctor came up behind Clara and asked, "Nice flight?"
The female leader showed no sign of replying while in the Doctor's presence, so Clara reluctantly took her hand away from the griffin's shoulder. "Yeah, it was incredible. Had a nice chat, too."
"Ah, touch telepathy." He rubbed his temple. "Haven't met someone else with that ability in…ages, it seems."
At first the Doctor's expression looked mournful, but then the little hijacker appeared, and his plastered smile returned. "Hello there, little one. Are you all alone, too?"
So the Doctor had witnessed how the other griffins treated the runt of the litter. Was this a case of "it takes one to know one"?
The griffin nodded and its head and tail drooped low. Before Clara could react to the quick change in mood, the Doctor had sat down on the edge of the cliff, his legs dangling over a sheer drop. He patted the ground next to him. "Come on, join the loners. Night's coming on fast and you'll get chilled."
The griffin perked its ears up and jumped to the edge of the cliff. In a way Clara could only describe as cute, the golden-retriever-sized creature curled up like a cat against the Doctor's side and promptly fell asleep.
The last Time Lord in existence glanced down at his new friend, and then looked back at Clara. "You want to join the loners, too?"
Clara wasn't sure if she would consider herself a loner, but she nodded and sat on the other side of the Doctor as quietly as she could. As the sun disappeared completely and the stars came out, Clara glanced at the alien beside her. The Doctor's face was unreadable, and she could only guess what was going on inside that big head of his.
**Still looking for an ending, readers! I'm being serious here. I don't want to be a disappointment, so please help me in ending this story. All ideas welcome, whether they end in the canon 'verse or in an AU. (Although, by now, I'm pretty sure I've already crossed into AU territory.)**
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