The darkening clouds that sat in the distance rumbled with the threat of storms, but Clara merely smirked at the thought, looking to the man beside her. He had his hands pushed deep into the pockets of plaid pants, and he was slightly slouched, relaxed in only her company as he stared out at those same clouds with a look of curiosity hidden underneath a pair of sunglasses through which she imagined he was examining so many things; the density of the molecules, the separation of space through which tore electric currents, the patterns of rain flow, the predictability of motion. The Doctor smiled calmly and he released a sigh as Clara inched into him, nudging at his elbow with her own.

"You're being quiet," she chastised lightly.

"Perhaps," he began, glancing down at her, "I'm being polite."

"Perhaps," she repeated with a giggle. "Though that's rather unlike you."

"Is it, Clara?" He gasped playfully.

She laughed, enjoying that he followed suit, looking back to the horizon as the winds picked up just a touch, blowing her hair back over her shoulder. Soon the rain would approach – she could smell it wafting through the air – and they would retreat to the safety of the Tardis, just a few feet behind them, and he would tell her something magical then. He always did. There were times it took her a while to understand the depth of the meaning behind his words, but it was always there, waiting for her discovery to ponder in epiphany.

Clara watched him as he scanned the skies, neck craning back, and she observed, "I bet you can see the stars beyond the daylight of this planet's sun with those glasses."

Without looking to her, he responded, "I'm a Time Lord, I can see the stars without the need for eyewear," then his eyes drifted to her, "Though they do help with the glare."

She chuckled, head bowing before turning her attention to the rain, now falling in sheets over the valley that spread out beyond the cliff's edge in front of them. The grey of it obscured the view of an ocean they'd seen upon arrival and Clara wondered why they'd come. He hadn't explained when she'd stepped into the Tardis, dropping her bag beside a chair on which she'd settled schoolwork, and she hadn't asked. She trusted he had a reason and she waited, wondering just what atrocity hid just beyond those storms, because it always seemed there was one.

Some civilization to save; some war to battle against; some problem to solve.

It was rare they just had a moment because they wanted a moment, and Clara let her gaze drift back up to him as he took another long breath – his mind wondering a number of clever things, she imagined – and watched the storms. They raged, growing closer, as he stood still and looked out at them, and the juxtaposition unsettled her, because she imagined there should be some story for him to tell, some important detail about what they were watching to justify their being there. Wasn't there always some tale he had to tell, some wisdom to impart, some history to divulge, or some anecdote they needed to be in this precise place to make sense.

But the Doctor remained quiet and it was unlike him, her mind repeated.

It was a simple worry beginning to build into a frown on her face she knew he noticed because he looked to her then, body turning as he stared down at her and considered her as she looked back out to the clouds, watching them shift about within their winds. A crack of lightning split the sky in five and though she felt her insides tremble alongside the thunder that rumbled the ground, she stood, defiantly steadfast. She wouldn't let him know he was worrying her, at least not just yet. She would given him the time to find the right words, as she presumed he was doing.

The Doctor nodded, Clara knew, because he could sense her trepidation. He shook his head, brow rising slightly around thoughts and then he pulled his hands from his pockets, balling them into fists before stretching them. He plucked the sunglasses off his face, holding them between his forefingers before shifting them to his right hand, secured between his thumb and ring finger, and then he turned them slowly and moved to stand before her, slipping them onto her face without a word.

He tapped at something on the side, offered some psychic command, and she heard the buzz of the Sonic activating something as she looked up into his face, watching the concentration in his eyes. He nodded as though pleased and the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly as she waited. She imagined there was something he wanted her to see and she looked out to the rains to watch them fall in darker hues, listening to the gentle thumping of a heartbeat, seemingly amplified by the glasses.

Clara smiled as he returned to his spot at her side, then her brow creased as she counted the beats, too many for her own heart she knew, and she looked back to him to ask, "What am I hearing?"

His head tilted as he replied, "You know what you're hearing Clara."

There were four beats, as steady as the whirring of the wind through the tall grass around them, and she listened as she watched him. Of course she knew, what she didn't know was why, and the potential answers to that question worked at the double beat inside of her own chest as she considered the look of serenity on his face. He was staring into her eyes, waiting for something, some understanding, she knew, and she smiled up at him, calling over the wind and the coming storm.

"It occurred to me you've never heard a Gallifreyan's hearts before," he offered.

Clara shook her head, telling him gently, "I hear them all the time."

He seemed surprised, brow dropping slightly as Clara glanced back to the rain, growing gradually closer, trying to gauge just how much time they had on that cliff side before they had to rush back towards their blue box, its light glowing brightly behind them. Over the rush of rain and the whistle of wind and the thumping of those two hearts, she could hear the occasional bong of her Cloister bell, warning them, but Clara took a long breath, patiently standing in the threat of a torrent, because she wouldn't lose this moment. They'd already lost so many, she knew, and there was a limit to how many they'd have.

"This noise," she gestured to her right ear, "This isn't what your hearts sound like to me, Doctor – this is just blood flowing through flaps, muscles expanding and contracting, this is merely the measure of your body's rhythm."

His head toggled and she laughed, imagining him about to exclaim, "That's what a heart beat is."

So she closed the distance between them to stop his words and focus his mind on her proximity, on the feel of her fingers finding his to hold as she told him gently, "I hear your hearts in every word you say, I feel them in every worry you carry, I see them in every wrong you right, and I've known them from the very first steps we took together."

Nodding slowly, he uttered, "Poetic."

"English teacher," she teased, reveling in his soft laughter. Then she admitted, "I listen to them every morning, when you think I'm still sleeping. It's a comforting sound," Clara shrugged, feeling her cheeks go warm at those memories.

"Is that why you've developed such a fondness for cuddling?" The Doctor retorted, his knuckles reaching to nudge her hair back before his fingers curled it behind her left ear. "And here I thought I'd simply cultivated a knack for it."

Clara laughed and she leaned into him, hugging at his midsection to rest her cheek to his chest, feeling the timid rumble of his laugh against her as she stood within his solid arms. A hug he'd perfected for her, wrapped around her like a soothing blanket. She looked up at him then, grinning at the comfortable smile he wore as she listened to those beats continue softly in her mind, wondering just how long he'd listened to them before sharing them with her. Wondering just how long he'd known she needed to hear them. He bent slightly, brows rising as she shook her head.

And then he uttered gently, "Clara, those aren't my heartbeats."

On a small nod, she whispered, "I know."

Of course she'd known.

Signaling their beginning during a shower she'd spent in confusion, one hand at her chest, the other settled at a space beneath her navel, they'd been tapping and tugging at her own heart for weeks with increasing strength. Looking to the man who held her, she wondered how long they'd been knocking on his, demanding to be acknowledged, something she'd refused to do until that morning. When she finally understood those two new little hearts calling out to her belonged to her and made her something more than she ever imagined she'd get the chance to be.

Inching up on tip toe, Clara delicately pressed her lips to his, enjoying their warmth, thankful he'd grown used to her affection. They split with a shared smile and a healthy understanding. Her giggle was drowned out by the rain approaching, and they let it wash over them for a while.