A/N: Anastasia (oswinwaled), this is for you.

The Doctor glanced up and down at the figure of Clara several times, who was slightly bending down with a face that nearly matched the horror of his own. His eyes were even larger than hers, were that possible. "Clara, you're leaking."

At the sound of his remark, from all the emotions going through her the desire to kill him was the stronger one. And so she did, shooting him eyes of rage when she finally managed to lift her head enough to glare at him. "My water broke, Doctor."

"Oh," he exclaimed, scared and terrified, taking one step back and pacing around in circles quickly, for he suddenly had zillion things to do in mind but couldn't settle on which one to do first. He decided to go back to her side and allow her to lean onto him, once again uttering, "Oh."

Clara allowed all her body weight onto him, regardless if the baby still inside of her doubled her normal weight by two. "She's coming, Doctor. Oh God, she's coming."

The Doctor took her by the hand. "Right, let's not panic. Yes, Clara, the baby is coming."

She was obliged to bit down on her lip when she felt the first signs of a contraction kicking in. Her breaths were sharp and could be easily heard from the distance. "Doctor."

He tried to walk her to somewhere, anywhere, but her feet were stuck in place. "Come on now, let's get you settled. You're about to give birth, Clara – I'm sure the TARDIS has built you a desirable deliver room."

"The TARDIS?!" she squealed in terror, lines of sweat starting to take over her face. "Why aren't we going to a hospital?! I'm giving birth, Doctor, I should go to a hospital!"

"Whatever for?" he patronized her, offering her back round motions with his hand, "You have your own doctor, who's available for you and you only 24/7, right here."

"This isn't funny, Doctor!" she lectured him, voice high pitched. Her body was consumed by yet another contraction and she was forced to bent down in attempts of easing her pain, whilst cries of despair escaped her slightly departed lips.

"I wasn't being funny," he clarified, leaning down alongside her. As he went down, he passed his arm – the one that wasn't being almost pulled out from her hold – underneath her knees and brought her in the air. "Good. Let's get you lying down."

He took her inside the first door he had found, which the TARDIS had been nice enough to make into a maternity ward. Soon after, Clara found herself in a white gown with colorful dots all over it. Despite of his insistence, she refused to lie down at the bed.

The Doctor circled around her, instructing her to breathe in and out. "So this is how you're going to deliver the child? Our child? By standing?"

Clara rested both her hands against the sheets of the bed, holding them so tightly between her fingers they were starting to turn as white as the color of the fabric. As she spoke, she gave long pauses between one word and another, "I'm not complaining. Our child is not complaining. You're the only one complaining about it, Doctor."

Wrinkling his nose in the air, he stood in the same position as her, right by her side. "I'm not complaining, Clara, I'm just commenting—are you sure you're comfortable?!"

She closed her eyes for dear life, trying to block him out of her view and idealistically, from existence. Failing, of course. "A baby the size of a watermelon is about to break through my vagina. But please, do enlighten me on your definition of comfortable."

He swallowed hard, coming to the conclusion she wasn't in fact requiring an answer. Instead, he took a step back, placing his sonic shades on his nose and analyzing her with it. "Your contractions are too close together. Clara, I'm pretty sure the baby isn't too far away. Why don't you lie down so I can take a better look at you?"

"I don't want to lie—" her sentence was cut short by a breathless scream that escaped her throat. Her knees suddenly grew weak underneath to the point they weren't able to support all of her weigh. Weren't for the Doctor's presence nearby, she would have surely fallen to the floor.

"Alright, that's a strong one," his voice was calm and not compassionating at all. "Let's get you in bed. No, Clara, that's not arguable."

Hesitantly, she did as she was told. She threw her back into a mountain of pillows that almost swallowed her in. Yelps still constantly departed her lips and suddenly felt the need to push. "Doctor," she called for him, but her words were hoarse, "She's coming. The baby's coming."

He nodded several times, "Yes, Clara, I think I've got that for a little time, now," he exhaled, frowning when her legs slightly departed away from one another and tears started flooding her eyes. "Oh, you mean right now. Okay, no panicking. There's no room for panicking. Let's all just take a deep breath and calm ourselves."

Settling on a seating position, she offered him devious eyes. "You're the only one panicking, Doctor."

Forcing himself out of his daze, he took a place right at the edge of the bed, opposite from her head, ready to meet the child at her arrival. "Right, forgive me. Alright, Clara, I'm ready, are you ready? You must be—"

"Doctor, shut up," she demanded, not giving him much of a choice. Her chest rose and fell quickly, determining the hurried pattern of her breathing. Her heart sped up inside of her from a reaction chain of adrenaline and fright. Her face was then covered in sweat and her spine hurt from weird angle it was bent in order for her to start pushing. "Oh God."

"You're pushing, alright, oh god," he mimicked her profanity, although his dismay was growing by the second. "Oh god, I can see the head. Clara, I see the head! Alright, alright, alright, keep pushing. One more time, can you do that for me? You're doing great, dear, just one more push."

Her loud screams were the only thing that could be heard in the room. Until the soft cry of a baby echoed in the air and everything became silent.

The Doctor was careful to cut the umbilical cord, right after wrapping the tiny baby in a blanket. Then, he allowed himself to feel. "Clara… She's perfect. She's so tiny, oh my God, I can fit her in my hands. She's perfect, Clara, she's perfect."

Having no energies left inside of herself, she dropped to her back against the mattress and closed her eyes. It wasn't long until the crying approached and a soft skin touched her bust; only then she dared to open her eyelids again. And she smiled at the first sight of her daughter. Their daughter. When the tears started to take over her again, they weren't out of pain. "Look at her, Doctor."

Sitting by her side, they both took the child in their arms. "Ten little fingers, ten little toes. She's gorgeous, Clara."

Using his chest as some sort of pillow, Clara caressed the cheeks of the infant with her thumbs. She looked peaceful, staring at her mother with her big blue eyes. "She's got your eyes, Doctor."

"Are you kidding me?!" he prompted, combing her hair with his fingers whilst his other arm embraced her embrace of the child. "They're giant, Clara, she's definitely got your eyes."

She giggled softly, studying each of the child's features. Feeding herself on the image of her. "She's beautiful."

He planted a kiss on the top of her head. "She takes it after her mother," he pledged, knowing her to smile at his allegations. Knowing the child would soon learn to mimic the smile on the mother's face. "What should we call her?"

For several moments, Clara was silent, matching each of the names from her previous list to the face of the infant and discarding them when they didn't feel right. She took a long and tired breath, "What about… Victoria?"

Out of the blue, the Doctor broke away from their contact and stood up, leaving both mother and daughter perplexed as he showed his back to them. Clara called for him, "Doctor? What is it? Is there something wrong with the name?"

He turned around to face her, biting down on his nails, harshly. "We can't name her that. I'm sorry, Clara, we just can't. Hey, how about Claire?"

"We're not naming her that, Doctor. Clara, Claire, it'll get confusing," she shook her head, "Why can't we name her Victoria?!"

"It's… complicated," he still wouldn't take his fingertips away from his teeth, "What about Clarice?"

"Why are you suddenly so obsessed to name her something so similar to my name?" Clara pondered, bringing out her nipple to the mouth of the child. She started sucking immediately, to Clara's elation. "Uncomplicate it."

Shyly, he sat at the border of the bed, watching their first physical bond with delight. Shivering, he added, "Queen Victoria."

Bouncing the child up and down almost unnoticeably in her arms, she nearly snapped, "What?!"

"Queen Victoria, Clara!" he gasped at her lack of comprehension.

"Yeah, Queen Victoria, I hear you just fine, Doctor," she grunted, "I just don't understand what a monarch that's been dead for over a century has got to do with the naming of our child."

"Clara," he sung her name melodically, "We can't name our child after a monarch, Clara."

"Why not?!" she was clearly at loss, "There's nothing wrong with the name Victoria. It's a great name! From a great monarch!"

Sniffing, his head shifted sideways and he simply blurted out, "You can't name the child after yourself, Clara!"

Sensing the grip around her breast to be losing its strength, Clara kissed the top of the child's head as she began to drift off. "You're not making sense, Doctor. For starters, I'm not Queen Victoria?!"

The Doctor glanced at her, only to have himself nearly swallowed by her own big brown eyes. "Except… that you are, Clara."

Her frown only increased, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Well, not you, I guess," he scratched melancholically his non-existent beard, "But, um, one of your echoes."

Unexpectedly, she busted into laugher. Regretting it when she noticed she was disturbing the sleeping infant in her arms, but still unable to stop. "Are you serious? Actual serious? Are you saying I'm Queen Victoria?"

"Of course, only you would have your ego fed by the prospect of being Queen Victoria," he rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but to join her grin, "When I first met you – I had obviously already encountered Queen Victoria – I couldn't deny the similarities. She's bossy just like you, Clara. I guess I just pushed the thought to the back of my head, because how could you be her? And then, you jumped into my time stream and it all made sense. Queen Victoria is an echo of yours, Clara."

She allowed her tongue to travel the border of her lips in attempts of hiding her smirk. She glared down at child, talking to her but referring herself to him, "Can you believe that, sweetie? Your mummy is Queen Victoria."

Admitting defeat to both her and her ego, the Doctor lied down next to her. "Yes, sweetie, your mummy is Queen Victoria. But more importantly, your mummy is Clara, a wonderful human being who travels the stars spreading love and kindness, with whom I was blessed enough to fall in love."

Smiling at his words, Clara snuggled herself closer to him, the baby then lying perfect above both their bodies. "I guess I was pretty lucky to fall in love with you, too."

He scoffed, breathing in the smell of her hair. "And upon us falls the grace of our union. A gift from the stars themselves."

She agreed, unable to look away from the child. "I still think she makes a mighty fine Victoria."

Knowing he would never stand a chance – not because of her stubbornness, but because of his devotion to her – he conceded, "Named after a great queen. And a great mother."

Clara could hear the thudding of his heartbeats from her ear pressed to his chest, understanding Victoria's ones to be mimicking the same rhythm. "Victoria. Your mummy and daddy love you so very much."

He traded looks between the two girls he adored the most. "Our little triumph. You bring happiness to our lives, Vicky."

And for the moment, the Doctor and Clara just dwelled themselves in love for their little Victoria.

A/N: Any feedback here or on twitter (dutiesofcare) is much appreciated :)