A/N: I had this idea while having a conversation with thirteenoswin back in 2016, and I finally managed to finish writing it. So, Ste, this is for you. I hope you don't kill me for all the angst xx

A special thanks to Solène for being my beta and always providing with me her thoughts and opinions.

"You sure you want to do this?" Martha Jones asked for the zillionth time, hesitantly staring down at the unearthly man lying down in front of her, wearing nothing more than a hospital gown.

With a fierce expression on, the Doctor nodded his head vigorously. "Surer than I've ever been."

One day before.

Clara Oswald had no idea how bad her promising day would turn out to be.

She woke up with a warm smile spread across her lips. Today would be her day. She knew that somewhere in the universe the Doctor was just waiting for her to get out of bed, so he could pop up and take her somewhere else – regardless if neither him or his time machine had any sense of timing. She was just expecting him to show up sometime – somewhere – during her day.

She jumped eagerly on her feet, took a quick shower, chose a nice outfit. As ordinarily as any other human being, although there was nothing ordinary about how her day would turn to be. Traveling towards the stars made her feel incredible special – no one else got to live the kind of life she lived.

She sat down at her kitchen table, taking her time to sip her cup of tea. Although her external façade was peaceful, her blood was rushing quickly through her arteries and veins. She kept her ears out for the materializing sound of the TARDIS, hoping he would get to her before her normal routine started, for many were the times she would go off during school period and would come back without any idea of what she was doing when she left, not even what outfit she had on.

Clara looked at the clock and sighed. She couldn't wait any longer or she would be late for class. Dreadfully, she got up, grabbed all her things and climbed down her building's flights of stairs, where her anti-gravity bike silently waited for her. She smiled to herself, remembering how she had stolen it from the precious incarnation of the Doctor, as a souvenir from their first encounter.

Turning the engines on, she took off. The London streets were unusually empty, making her wonder if there had been some an alien invasion over the night and everyone either disappeared or judged better to stay home. She jerked back, knowing very well that, if she carried on traveling, she would find the Doctor right at the heart of the problem.

Clara sped up a little, but not enough to danger the life of other or even her own. She could be reckless in space, when risking her life just to be with the Doctor – to be like the Doctor – but she would never be reckless enough in transit and risk herself a mundane death, even if most people, especially her family, would prejudice riding a bike as a sign of imprudence.

She heard a car's motor loudly coming from behind. She peered at the mirrors and could see a fancy car approaching. If she didn't have to keep her eyes on the road, she would have surely rolled them until they reached the back of her head. That was the same kind of car her mates from university drove in order to show themselves to the ladies. Of course, she had never been a victim of theirs, neither would she become one that precise moment. She held tightly to the clutch, preparing herself to the draft of air that would soon pass her by as the car rushed past her.

Clara only didn't expect that, instead of it passing by her side, the car would hit her right in the back, at the highest of speeds.

And all of time and space seemed to stop around her, frozen on a single frame.

Clara desperately tried to grab a hold of the vehicle, but she was unable to keep its balance. Her bike was thrown sideways, towards the cars coming on the opposite direction, and her arms failed to sustain themselves clung to the motorcycle. She closed her eyes as her body hit the ground, the inertia causing her to roll along several times, her back burning by the touch with the hot asphalt. Her legs were tangled around her bike, getting her stuck underneath the very heavy vehicle. Both of them ended up several feet away from the crash site.

Clara was ready for the upcoming car to run her over – she had no idea how distant it was. She could only assume the heavens were on her side when she heard its loud breaks pressing against the road, letting her know that the driver had seen her scattered across the ground.

She gasped for air, painfully, and her lungs burned with the oxygen they were then offered. She couldn't breathe. There was something too heavy on top of her chest. She tried to get out of there, but all her muscles refused to obey her brain's commands. She had no alternative than to lie there, completely still, completely lifeless.

Her mind was working too fast in comparison to the rest of her body.

Clara desperately wanted to take off the helmet, at least so her air way would be freed, although she couldn't feel her arms. Heck, she didn't even know if they were still attached to her torso. Better than her legs, she thought, for she could still run away from alien monsters without her arms. Then again, she couldn't tell if her legs were there, either.

She could hear voices. Too loud. Too quiet. She couldn't make what they were saying, but they were still there, tormenting her, disturbing her. She just wanted them all to go away so they wouldn't increase her already growing headache. She just wanted to close her eyes and let the darkness swallow her.

Suddenly, she started to cough, several times, her injured body jerking at each time, causing it to hurt – she hadn't noticed the pain until then. She felt a metallic taste in her mouth, and she knew it wasn't just saliva. The blood pouring out of her throat would hit against the helmet only to fall back into her face. She would soon drown in her own sanguine fluid.

She was surprised when the headgear was taken off. Carefully, avoiding hurting her any further. She thought its removal would be enough to get her breathing steadied again, but she still could only retrieve the air required for her survival through desperate gasps. At least, she wouldn't suffocate to death anymore. Clara just wished her torso would be relieved from all the pressure above it.

She didn't recall it being so cold when she left home. She should have grabbed an extra jacket.

Her lower lip began to tremble, unsure whether it was because of the cold breeze or the shook finally starting to subside as her pain infensified. She needed to get out of there. Why wasn't anybody helping her? She needed a doctor, she needed her Doctor. Why wasn't he there helping her?

For the first time, Clara dared to open her eyelids, but she regretted it as soon as she saw the world spinning. She felt like puking, but she didn't even find the strength to do so. She could see lots of blurry heads around her, she could see their lips moving, she understood they were trying to help her, but none of them seemed willing to take the first step.

At last, she heard sirens approaching. She thanked the stars, for she knew she wouldn't be able to hold for much longer. She was breathing quickly, loudly, yelps coming out of her mouth at every breath drawn in sharply, because she struggled to fulfill her lungs with oxygen. She blamed the bike thrown above her, slowly and gradually suffocating.

Clara didn't know whether her heart was beating too fast or too slow. If she didn't know better, she would say it wasn't beating at all.

Her eyes were still open, but she really wasn't processing any images. She just knew if she dared to close them, there was a great chance she wouldn't open them again.

She didn't mind dying, no, so long as she died seeing the stars. She refused to perish like this.

"Ma'am? Stay calm, we're going to get you out of there."

The voice was close. Were they talking to her? What were they saying? They gave her hand a firm squeeze, and she concluded the paramedics had arrived – no civilian would dare to touch her. At least now she knew that arm still belonged to her body.

An oxygen mask was placed above her mouth and nose and she was grateful. She wouldn't have to overwork herself to search for the air she gravely needed anymore. They moved her head carefully, putting it on a neck extrication collar, so she wouldn't risk breaking her neck. They more they moved her, the more pain she felt.

"What's your name?" a male voice asked, still holding her hand, in a silent attempt to let her know she wasn't alone.

Her eyes wandered towards him, his figure still being hazy shades of blur. His words were still distant, but she did her best not to let them go to waste. "Cl-Clara," she gagged, in a very low whisper, one that she was unsure it had even escaped the lips that formed it.

"Alright, Clara, I need you to pay attention to me," he prompted and she nodded, although she doubted she had succeeded, not entirely, at least. "We're going to free you now, and I'm not going to lie, it's going to hurt like hell," she didn't move an inch, but her eyes flickered in consent; she was unsure they had understood the meaning behind her blinking. "Your injuries are being held together by the motorcycle, and when we remove it, they're going to become messy. It's going to hurt like hell, and you're going to feel like fainting, but you can't. You hear me, Clara? You have to stay awake."

She could do it, she could handle the pain. She had been through worse when traveling with the Doctor, she assumed she had. Her eyelids shut as she felt the pressure leaving her body, tearing down the link that had been created between her and her anti-gravity bike.

She was freed, and Clara felt the life being sucked out of her.

Her whole body started to shake terribly, and she found the gas mark useless. It took her whole three seconds to start coughing blood again. Weren't it for the paramedic to remove the mask, she would have most likely choked.

"Easy, Clara, just breathe," the old man tried to calm her down, with no use. He stood by her side as the other slipped a hard spinal board underneath her.

Clara felt herself getting increasingly weaker. She did her best to stay awake, but she wasn't strong enough. The darkness soon welcomed her in.

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