They’re in a Benedictine abbey in 1

They’re in a Benedictine abbey in 14th century Italy. The old monk they’re speaking to recognizes Clara. She’s never met him in her life. He might have met one of her echoes, but she hopes he’s from her own future. It would help confidently entertaining the thought of one.

The Doctor thinks the monk can help him find his TARDIS, maybe solve some of his other problems. “He’s only part human,” he explained. “But don’t mention that to his face.”

“The answer is simpler than you’re allowing it to be.” The monk speaks in Italian, blithely putting a morsel of cheeseburger into his mouth. Smuggling it into the abbey was something of a tradition. He grins at them when they leave, his front teeth missing like a raggedy old toddler, the opposite of the Doctor’s great exasperation.

She stands with him in the cloisters and can imagine the future gift shop, the donation boxes, and air of sterility. The huddled masses in this time are desperately poor, seeking sanctuary in the mountains after being displaced by a war between noble families. She and the Doctor blend in without difficulty.

“Sorry,” Clara tells him.

He shrugs with a self-deprecating grimace. “How’s that pulse?”

She places two fingers on her wrist. “Nothing.”

He doesn’t look at her, won’t let slip even a hint of despair. “No, it’s fine. It’ll be fine.”

She holds his hand and chooses to believe him. They’ve come too far. “Yeah.”

“Your hands are cold,” he says.

“I think it’s a side effect.”

He bring her hands to his mouth and breathes warmth onto her skin. She remains in his grasp. “How’s that?”

He is riveting, the earnestness in this simplest, most human of gestures. She stands close enough to smell the scent of his skin, study the long fine bones of his fingers.

She leans into him, like whispering a secret, and kisses his lips softly. They sink into each other as a tidal wave of air leaves their lungs. Their chests deflate, and the muscles of their shoulders come loose.

Words. We should leave it at words, one of them ought to say, always imagined saying. The relief of it feels mythical. Atlas no longer obliged to carry the heavens. Somewhere above, a gargoyle is blushing.

“Oh, Christ.” She breathes a laugh. The inappropriateness is not lost on her. They’ve caught the attention of the parishioners. Hesitant glances drift their way.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I was hoping you’d be bad at this.”

“Bad?”

“Such a disappointment.” She grins easily. “I quite enjoyed that.”

He makes a face. “I was hoping you’d be better.”

“Me?”

“I think my gran could do better.”

“Do you often think about your own gran when you’re kissing people?”

“Would you rather I think about your gran?”

Her face falls, and she sees the panic surge within him.

“Clara,” he says, “I would never actually think about your gran—”

“It’s just that my gran thinks I’m dead.”

This is a dull and sad realization spoken out loud. Nothing that she expects to be corrected.

結果 (中文) 1:

他们在 14 世纪意大利的本笃会修道院。他们在讲到老和尚承认克拉拉。她也从未见过他在她的生活。他可能遇到了一个她的回声，但她希望他是从她自己的未来。它将有助于自信地思索，之一。医生认为和尚可以帮助他找到他的 TARDIS，也许解决一些他的其他问题。"他是一个只有部分人，"他解释说。"但别提，到他的脸"。"答案是比你允许它要简单得多。和尚讲意大利语，轻率地把汉堡一口放进他的嘴。偷运进修道院是传统的东西。他笑着看他们当他们离开的时候，他的门牙遗漏，像拉格迪奥恩老蹒跚学步，相反的医生的伟大恼怒。她与他站在回廊中，可以想象未来的礼品店、 募捐箱和空气的不育。在这时间挤作一团的群众是一贫如洗后被因贵族家庭之间的战争而流离失所, 的山区避难。她和医生混合毫无困难。"对不起，"克拉拉告诉他。他耸了耸肩自嘲做了个鬼脸。"如何是那脉冲？"她在她的手腕上放置两个手指。"没什么"。他并没有看她，不会让滑甚至绝望的暗示。"不，它是好的。它会没事的"。她握着他的手和选择去相信他。他们已经走的太远。"yes"。"你的手是冷的"他说。"我认为它是一种副作用"。他把她的手带到他的嘴和呼吸到她的皮肤上的温暖。她仍然在他的掌握。"怎么回事？"他铆接，认真负责的这最简单、 最人类的手势。她站着足够接近，闻到他的皮肤，研究他的手指长好骨头。她像耳语的秘密，人们倾向于他，并轻轻地亲吻他的嘴唇。他们陷入对方所说的话，当空气潮波离开他们的肺。他们的箱子放气，和他们的肩部肌肉松动。单词。其中之一我们应该离开它的话，应该说，总是想象着说。它的救济感觉神话。Atlas 不再不得不继续天堂。某处以上，石像鬼脸都红了。"哦，基督."她呼吸一笑。失当不失去了她。他们已经引起注意的教区。犹豫的目光漂移的途中。"它是什么？"他问。"我希望你会坏在这"。"坏"吗？"这种失望"。她轻松地笑着说。"我很喜欢的。他做了一个鬼脸。"我希望你会更好"。"我吗？""我认为我奶奶可以做得更好。"你经常觉得自己格兰当你亲吻的人吗？""将你想对你的 gran 吗？"她的脸沉了下来，和她看到他内心的恐慌飙升。"克莱拉，"他说，"从来没有真正想对你的 gran — —""它是只是我奶奶认为我死了。这是一个枯燥和悲伤的实现，大声念出来。没什么，她预计予以纠正。

結果 (中文) 3:

他们在上世纪第十四年代意大利的本笃会修道院。他们在说要认识克拉拉的老和尚。她一生中从未见过他。他可能会遇到她的一个回音，但她希望他从她自己的未来。这将有助于有信心的娱乐的思想。医生认为和尚能帮助他找到他的TARDIS，也许他的一些其他问题的解决。“他只是人类的一部分，”他解释说。“可是别提那对他的脸。”“答案是不是你让它变得简单。”和尚说意大利语，轻率地把一块三明治放进嘴里。走私到修道院是一个传统的东西。他笑着看着他们离开时，他的前牙缺失就像一张破烂的孩子，医生非常恼怒的对面。她站在他在道院艺术博物馆和想象未来的礼品店的募捐箱，和空气无菌。在这一时期，挤着的群众是极其贫穷的，在一场由贵族家庭之间的战争之后，在山区寻找避难所。她和医生毫无困难地融为一体了。“对不起，”克拉拉告诉他。他耸了耸肩用自嘲的鬼脸。“那脉搏怎样？“她把两根手指放在手腕上。“什么都没有。”他看不到她，就不会让他一个绝望的暗示。“不，这很好。会很好的。”她握着他的手，选择相信他。他们已经走得太远了。“是的。”“你的手很冷，”他说。“我认为这是一个副作用。”他把她的手，他的嘴和呼吸温暖到她的皮肤。她仍然在他的掌握中。“怎么了？“他是在这个简单的铆接，真挚，大多数人类的手势。她站得很近，能闻到他皮肤上的香味，研究他手指上的长细骨头。她向他倾斜，像耳语一个秘密，轻轻地吻他的嘴唇。当空气离开他们的肺时，它们会相互吸收。胸部缩小，和他们的肩膀肌肉松。话.我们应该把它放在一个单词，其中一个应该说，总是想象着说。它的感觉是神话般的。阿特拉斯不再有义务进行天堂。头顶上，一个石像鬼脸红。“哦，天啊，”她笑着说。不能不失去她。他们抓到的注意。犹豫不决的目光飘荡着他们的路。“那是什么？他问道。“我希望你会很不好。”“不好吗？““这样的失望。”她笑着地。“我很喜欢。”他做了一张脸。“我希望你会更好。”“我？““我想我大可以做得更好。”“你经常思考自己的奶奶当你接吻的人吗？““你宁愿我想你的奶奶吗？“她脸上落下，她看到了他内心的恐慌。“克拉拉，”他说，“我永远都不会真的认为你的奶奶”“这就是我的奶奶认为我死了。”这是一个沉闷而可悲的实现，大声说出。她希望得到纠正。