They had lingered in the console room to see if the griffin would wake up, but the creature was well and truly asleep in his makeshift nest. It was Clara's growling stomach that drove her and the Doctor to head deeper into the ship for a meal.
Clara walked into the TARDIS kitchen and sighed in relief. At least here, things looked a little closer to normal. White tiled walls and floors gleamed like someone had recently waxed them, and the modern appliances were practically part of the wall itself. A part of Clara missed the previous Doctor's stylized kitchen, with alien appliances that seemed to have no real purpose, and the splashes of color and design that changed spots daily. But another part liked having the only color in the room be a tea stain she'd made earlier that morning. The starkness created a kitchen that looked more refined, much like the new Doctor standing beside her.
The Time Lord didn't hesitate as he moved forward and sat himself down at the table in the middle of the room, where two steaming plates of pasta now sat. It had become a kind of routine to find a TARDIS-cooked dish waiting for them at most every meal. The Doctor had only dabbled in outlandish recipes as his previous regeneration, and now he didn't cook at all. Clara was still a little disappointed by this. He looked like someone who might know his way around a kitchen.
Their pasta had some kind of space fish and a hint of spice, Clara's favorite in the endless menu of the TARDIS, but she was too busy worrying about the Doctor to enjoy it fully. He was in one of his moods again, staring into empty space and barely acknowledging his food.
When the silence threatened to stretch on for more than ten minutes, Clara pushed her half-eaten pasta aside and leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Doctor," she said to him, "what is it?"
He turned towards her, a look of innocent confusion on his face, and she sighed. Like her first Doctor, this one only seemed to respond to questions capable of steam rolling him into the ground. "Something's on your mind. If you tell me what it is, maybe I can help." He tried to look away, but Clara deliberately caught his eye again. "Does it have something to do with the griffin creature?"
The Doctor huffed. "Clara, my giant brain could be thinking a million different thoughts each second." When she eyed him, he gave in. "But yes, the gryphes de stellis is what is foremost in my mind."
Clara nodded, and she recalled how peaceful the griffin had looked as it had slept next to the warmth of the central column of the console. She wondered if it was awake yet. "Mine, too. You can repair the helmic regulator, right? We won't be stuck for good?"
"Of course I can fix it. Could do my repairs right now and be done with the whole bloody mess," the Doctor answered. He pulled a handful of scrap metal out from one of his coat pockets and began to tinker with them.
Clara sat back in her chair in astonishment. "Then what are you waiting for?" she asked him. "The griffin could take us anywhere. What if it leaves us on some hostile planet?"
The Doctor stopped tinkering and set the newly-made wind-up toy bird on the table. He said, "But that's just it, Clara. It could take us anywhere." He gently wound the bird and let it go. They watched as it fluttered around their heads in erratic circles, before gliding into the Doctor's hands.
"The griffins are as ancient a race as the Time Lords," the last of the Time Lords began. "They used to migrate all over the universe, and influenced countless civilizations along the way. One visit to the Middle East on Earth in the year 3500 BC was all it took for the griffins to become a mythical legend and a popular heraldic symbol."
"Kind of like you and the TARDIS," Clara added.
The Doctor chuckled. "Yes, I suppose you're right." But his face instantly sobered as he recalled one of his happier childhood memories. "I remember lying on my back in Gallifreyen grass, skipping my lessons so I could watch them fly by." He looked off to the side as he absently stroked the toy bird's head. "Gallifrey was like their home base back then. The suns would turn the red sky the color of crimson blood, and a whole flock of them would rise up. Squawking worse than crows, the suns' light making their claws and golden feathers shine…as a kid, I thought it was the most beautiful sight in the universe." He laughed once, a short and soft "ha". "Still do, actually."
Clara smiled as she imagined a child-sized Doctor staring in awe as golden birds took to the sky and space. She wondered if their path across the stars inspired the Doctor to forge his own. "But this griffin came in a rock capsule," she pointed out, "Why didn't it come with its flock?"
"I don't know. Some griffins were known to be cast out of the group if they broke one of their many moral codes. Their version of exile. Others might want to leave so they can start their own flock somewhere else, but that's the least likely. It would have been with its mate. Or maybe this griffin just got lost." The Doctor still didn't look at her. "I'm betting on the latter. Because anyone who's lost usually wishes to be found."
Clara felt the blood drain from her face. "You're not…you don't think…"
The Doctor suddenly leaned forward until he was practically hovering over the table. "But what if, Clara, what if? If this griffin wanted to find its flock again, the best starting point would be at home base. And that home base is Gallifrey! If we let the griffin have its way, just for one trip, it could take us right to the Citadel of the Time Lords!"
"But what if it doesn't?" Clara reluctantly added. Dashing the hopes of the Time Lord in front of her was the last thing she wanted to do, but they'd been down this road so many times before… "What if the griffin decides to go to some haven for griffins that isn't Gallifrey?"
Before the Doctor could answer, the whole ship suddenly lurched and tilted, causing their lunch plates to fall to the floor and shatter. The screech of a bird echoed off the walls of the TARDIS hallways.
"It's awake," the Doctor muttered. He stuffed his toy bird into his pocket and dashed out of the kitchen, Clara hard on his heels.
They reached the console room just as the TARDIS gave another sickening lurch. Clara reached out a hand to the railing to steady herself, but she yelped and jumped back in surprise. The metal was burning up with searing heat.
"The coolant, you pest, you forgot the coolant!" Clara looked up to see that the Doctor was shouting insults at the golden creature and turning dials simultaneously. In an instant, the temperature in the TARDIS returned to its normal levels.
The griffin, however, squawked back indignantly and continued to flap around the blue column, which hummed and pulsed as if nothing at all was out of the ordinary. With each pass the bird would flip or spin a seemingly random device to send the TARDIS, and its passengers, reeling.
"Slow down!" the Doctor bellowed. The griffin swept past him and slammed a lever, which the exasperated Time Lord deftly shoved back into place. Clara would have called the griffins meddling and the Doctor's reactions comical if she hadn't been in danger of dying. He continued to shout, "And watch those stabilizers! I am not losing my spectacular ship to some thick headed space rat like you!"
Shouldn't they be getting along better than this, since they're both from Gallifrey? Clara wondered. Instead of flying the TARDIS together, as a team, they were squabbling like siblings.
Good thing Clara had some knowledge in that particular area.
"Hey!" she shouted. The Doctor and the griffin froze where they were and stared at her. Clara gripped the railing again as the TADIS listed to the left. "Stop fighting and land so we don't get ourselves killed! The griffin controls navigation," Or what's left of it, she added silently, "and the Doctor handles the stabilizers. Is that clear?"
There was no response from the time-and-space travelers, but then again, she hadn't expected there to be any. With a begrudging glance, and a throaty growl from the hijacker, the Doctor and the griffin resumed their irregular dance. This time, at a much calmer pace.
Not two minutes later, the TARDIS landed with a sigh and the pilots stilled. The Doctor reached for the monitor so he could check the surrounding area, but the griffin leapt in front of the screen. It hissed and flicked its head towards the door. The creature's message was clear: the only way to know where they'd landed was to walk through those doors.
Clara thought the Doctor might drive off the creature, but he maintained a casual appearance and stood up slowly.
"Well, Clara," the last child of Gallifrey said as he straightened his black velvet coat, "Shall we see what remains of the Time Lords?"
Clara nodded, but it felt like her ribs were suffocating her insides. She glanced at the cheerful griffin that sat in front of the monitor, and desperately hoped it had taken them to the right place. How many more disappointments could one man face?
The Doctor put his hands on the doors.
ns 15.158.61.6da2
