A/N: Yay, new fic! I kept changing the first chapter so I'm posting it or at this rate I never will. Set immediately after the end of Last Christmas. Starts happy. Fluff and some smut, with a mystery. Domestic. Gets angsty in the final chapters. I hope you enjoy the story!

Disclaimer: Doctor Who and its characters belong to the BBC, I just have an overly active imagination.

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Clara let her gaze wander around the console room, as she had done in one of the dreams. Nothing had changed in the months she had spent on Earth, from the orange glowing of the console to the books scattered here and there on the stairs and the writings in Gallifreyan on the blackboards. She could hear the Doctor behind her, dematerializing the TARDIS and sending it in the Time Vortex, the sound of his steps familiar to her ears as though she had never left.

"Where to, Miss Oswald?" he asked, and Clara spun around to meet his eyes.

He was grinning brightly at her, the most genuine and joyful smile she had ever seen on his face, more lines forming near his eyes and a spark lighting up his pupils. She did love his smile. And she saw it so rarely, hadn't seen it in months. She grinned back automatically.

"I don't know. It's Christmas Day, isn't it? I should be making breakfast, opening presents…" she trailed off.

"Actually, it's 4 in the morning. Surely you aren't hungry yet? And you always complain you get the same presents every year anyway."

"Do I?" she teased.

"Books from your father, clothes from your grandmother and a plant you'll let die from Linda…" he enumerated, counting on his fingers.

"Oh, do shut up," she hushed. "I've gotten a special present this year."

"What is it?"

"You, you idiot. You came back."

"Oh."

They kept smiling at each other, and Clara was surprised of how much she could read in his eyes: the happiness, the hope and maybe –just maybe, if she wasn't entirely misreading this- the love. This version of him tended to keep his feelings hidden most of the time, but now he looked so open, more willing than ever to just be himself, to just let her see him.

"We need to talk," she said gently.

"Do we really need to?"

"Not talking didn't take us very far."

"No, it didn't," he admitted.

Clara took a few steps, sitting down on the stairs, the same stairs where they had sat when he had asked her if she thought he was a good man, and the Doctor followed, sitting next to her, turning to look into her eyes as she spoke:

"Thanks for taking me back."

"Why wouldn't I?"

She looked away for a second, her pride fighting the words she had thought over for so long, had dreamed of telling him.

"I've put you through a lot, haven't I? I've had a wobble… or twelve… sorry about that. I want this to be my second chance too."

"I… thank you, Clara," he answered.

Clara remained silent for a while, thinking. She had missed him. Desperately so. Just the thought of him sitting mere inches away from her had her heart beat ten times faster than normal. There was more to that, however. There was a weight she felt in her chest, making her ache with every breath. A weight she needed to lift. She wanted to. She had always wanted to… but the words had always died on her lips. Every time but tonight, when she had subtly confessed her love to him, earlier, in the dream, but even then she hadn't found the guts to dare more than a peck on his cheek, and it didn't seem like he had caught the hint. She should have known.

"This- this could be our second chance," she sputtered, "as, you know, an us."

He frowned. "We are a we, Clara. That's the right pronoun. Aren't you supposed to teach English?"

"I mean, we as a couple." The Doctor blinked a couple of times, putting on his confused eyebrows. "I mean as a romantic couple, you idiot!" she snapped as she punched his shoulder, and quite hard too. He gave her a stunned look as he massaged the spot she had hit. " 'Cause you want it too, right?"

Her hands fidgeted nervously. She felt uneasy exploring what she knew was dangerous territory, territory that she didn't have control of. She was never able to decipher his emotions in this incarnation, even though there had been times when, looking back, she could swear he did feel something for her. There had been the jealousy for Danny, the intense glances he reserved for her when he thought she wasn't looking and the things he had done for her -going to hell, risking his life, putting aside his own happiness… they were so similar to what she had done and would do for him.

The Doctor smiled. It was a small smile, a little shy, a little incredulous, but his eyes were shining with delight. "Okay," he said simply.

"Okay?"

"Yes. Okay," he repeated, eyes fixed on hers.

"Just like that? Easy as that?"

"Love isn't complicated, Clara. Nor is it something you can do anything about. It's just there, it won't go away if you hope hard enough."

"We tried that, didn't we?" She laughed nervously, instinctively trying to lower the tension. "Didn't work so well- wait. Wait. You love me?"

"If that makes it easier for you, to phrase it that way, then yes." He paused briefly to chew anxiously at his thumb. "I love you, Clara Oswald. I have loved you for a very long time," he stated, as if it were the most obvious and natural truth in the universe. As though he thought she knew.

"Why, how else would you say it?" she joked, smiling, mouth dry.

He did love her. Her heart missed a couple of beats. Then, her smile faded slowly.

'Do you think I care for you so little, that betraying me would make a difference?'

He had said it already. It dawned on her. He had been saying it over and over, and she just hadn't been paying attention. In every gesture, in every word now she could see a pattern, a connection. Everything he had done ever since his regeneration, he had done for her in some way. The sheer adoration that she could now see in his eyes had always been there. Always. But she hadn't seen it. Just like she hadn't seen the Doctor in him at first, for months she hadn't seen the love in his eyes, in his actions. She wanted to cry at her stupidity.

"Oh my God. How long?" Clara asked in a whisper.

"Since I've met you, I think. This you, I mean. The original. But I didn't realize until much later."

"Why didn't you say something?"

He shrugged. "I wasn't sure you felt the same. I wasn't sure of what I felt. Maybe I would have, sooner or later, but then..."

"You died."

"Regenerated," he corrected.

"Whatever."

She had hurt him, she realized, she had made him suffer more than she could ever imagine. He had regenerated. And she had panicked. She had rejected him. She couldn't picture how much that must have hurt. She had pushed him to retreat to safer boundaries, to detach as a way to protect his hearts.

"Why didn't you say anything?" the Doctor questioned, breaking the moment of silence.

Clara hesitated. "I thought you didn't want to… be- that, at first. I thought you didn't do relationships, and I thought I understood why... How could I tell, anyway? You used to hide everything from me! I thought it was clear that you had lost someone… then it all happened so fast, you regenerated and I was so confused and angry with you and I thought I had to get to know you all over... God, I'm so sorry about that. Then Danny came along and I- I don't know, I just think I loved you both, for different reasons, in different ways. Does any of that make sense?"

"I don't think love ever makes sense," he said slowly, "and… and you just said you loved me."

"I do. Love you, that is," she assured hurriedly. "And… it does. We will. I'll make us make sense."

She felt a lump in her throat. She had promised she'd never say those words to anyone ever again after Danny. She had screwed up, screwed up royally. She wouldn't let it happen again.

She brought her hand to the Doctor's cheek and he jumped lightly, his body going rigid and tense as his eyes followed the movement of her arm. Her thumb stroked the line of his cheekbone and he quivered almost imperceptibly. She slowly, very slowly moved her head a little closer to his, sliding her hand a tad lower, reaching behind his neck and pulling him towards her ever-so-gently.

"Clara, what are you doing?" he whispered, a hint of alarm in his voice.

"Kissing you."

"Oh."

The Doctor swallowed audibly and tightly shut his eyes, as though bracing himself, but he puckered up just a little, which made Clara smile.

"So eager," she murmured before closing her eyes too and pressing her lips against his, delicately, briefly, only long enough to feel how soft and cool his lips were, enough to make a warm shiver run down her spine.

She pulled back just a few inches and opened her eyes to see his reaction, licking her lips. His eyes opened and met hers before jumping rapidly, avidly to her mouth just for a moment. She noticed his breath rate was faster, irregular. There was a silent plea for more in his blue irises, one that maybe he didn't dare to voice.

She kissed him again, feeling him inhale sharply right before their lips could touch in what was a firmer and longer kiss than the previous one, confident and deliberate, his lips pressing back against hers towards the end of it, followed by many similar ones, short and relatively chaste but that had little knots of tension form in her lower abdomen anyway.

Clara moved her hand upwards, exploring the back of his head, playing with the shorter hair at the nape of his neck, trailing up to tangle her fingers in the longer curls, thick but incredibly soft, scratching his scalp lightly as she revelled in the tender insistency of his lips on hers. She shivered. God, she had dreamed of this. The Doctor let out the smallest sound under her ministrations and seemed to gain sureness from them, as she felt his cool palms cup her face gently, pulling her closer still, and his kisses grow needier, impatience filling her too all of a sudden.

Her tongue darted out to part his lips and he shuddered lightly as he opened his mouth to her, letting her deepen the kiss. He tasted of coffee and sugar and scotch, a strong and powerfully addicting mix that sent a string of hot waves down her spine and straight to her core. Her hands slid to his shoulders and then to his waist, tugging at his clothes, trying to erase the space between them, their tongues caressing urgently. His hands moved more cautiously but in a similar path, settling on her hips with a gentle but strong grip. He was eager to follow the rhythm she set, returning every bit of her passion with enthusiasm, moaning softly every now and then, when she kissed him just so, trembling when she brought her palms to his thighs.

She pushed him back to adjust his position on the step and moved to straddle his lap, pulling her nightie up to her hips in the process. The Doctor hesitated when his fingertips touched bare flesh, but her hands found his wrists, pressing lightly, encouraging him, giving him the confidence he needed to run his palms experimentally over her upper thighs and the curve of her arse, kissing her harder, making her squirm and long for more. The Doctor's hands were cool on her legs in a curiously pleasant way, caressing delicately but passionately enough to cause goose bumps, steadily tightening the tension between her legs.

Clara dragged him a little more towards her, to feel his chest on hers and his heartbeats wild just underneath, beating against her own heart, and pressed her body harder into his. She gasped first and then smiled in the kiss when she felt a firm bulge in his trousers as his hips jerked up into her, sending a jolt up her spine that had a shiver shake her upper body. He mirrored her shudder, twice more intensely and with a needy groan.

"Doctor." He replied with a sigh, brushing his nose against her temple, a gesture that Clara interpreted as both affectionate and pleading. "Bedroom?" she suggested, placing a kiss on his jawline.

She had wanted to sound nonchalant, but her voice betrayed her blatantly, coming out breathy and low.

"What would you need a bed for?" he asked, confused. "Oh- for-"

She laughed softly. "If you prefer the floor…"

He shook his head lightly, eyes fixed on hers. Clara got off him and offered him both her hands, helping him to his feet. He smiled down at her then, ecstatic, starting to lead the way as he held her hand gently. His skin was warm now, and she could feel his pulse race under her palm. He didn't speak again in the few minutes it took them to get to his room, but he glanced over his shoulder every few seconds, almost to reassure himself that she was still there, as though her hand in his didn't feel real enough.

She noticed that the Doctor's hands were shaking when he opened the door and let her in, closing the door behind his back as she glanced around briefly. A large bed, dark blue sheets, bookshelves and a desk and an armchair.

The tentative brush of his lips on the back of her neck distracted her from her surroundings with a warm rush of pleasure, and she turned in his arms to face him. His hands settled on her hips with feather-light touch as he kissed her, but he thrust his middle against hers with undeniable need. Their kisses were short, only the tips of their tongues touching, his lower lip caught between her lips, gently pulling and leaning into each other, then his teeth nibbling at just the corner of her mouth, a little dance of seduction filled with hesitation and longing at the same time, her body hot and trembling with anticipation and excitement.

"You know, I don't think I know how to do this," she murmured against his lips.

She wanted him now, desperately needed to feel his skin on hers right this instant, but she also knew he deserved so much more. She deserved more. More than rushed and frantic venting of months of pent up feelings and sexual tension.

"What?"

"This." She let her hand dip to his upper thigh, pressing her palm against his erection and stroking upwards resolutely. He whimpered.

"I think... we should keep kissing."

She laughed softly. "Yeah probably."

He kissed her again and she let the insistent pressure of his lean body against hers push her slowly towards the bed, deepening the kiss, easing his coat down his shoulders with a measured movement.

"And maybe get naked."

"Oh, easy there, Tiger," she teased, smiling in his mouth as the Doctor started to take off his shoes, clumsily, not willing to break the kiss, fingers working hurriedly at his shoelaces, nearly letting himself fall on the bed on top of her when he finally got rid of his socks too.

She pulled him down, in her arms, welcoming him with a slow kiss, parting her thighs to let his body find its place between them, let him press his hips against hers and moan helplessly in her mouth, while she unzipped his hoodie and took it off. They locked eyes for a moment as she played with the holes of his jumper, which seemed to fascinate and confuse him at the same time.

"I like your jumper."

She slipped her fingers in the holes, pulling the Doctor towards her by tugging at the black fabric.

"Are you trying to seduce me now?"

She laughed.

"I think I might casually have done that already."

She tugged his undershirt out of his trousers, making him shiver, and lifted both that and his jumper over his head, pushing him back slightly, leaving to him the task of removing them and throwing them somewhere. She placed her palms on his newly-exposed shoulders, causing him to freeze, his eyes following the movement of her hands. She leisurely explored his torso, caressing his skin, marvelling at how solid and strong his muscles felt, no matter how skinny he was, on his back, his arms and his chest. She lingered there, tracing his collarbones, stopping over his hearts to find them quickened like never before, tormenting his nipples with her thumbs just for a second, making him jump lightly. She smiled. Sensitive, then. She filed the information for future use, sliding her hands downward, his abdominals tensing under her fingertips when she reached the waistband of his trousers.

"We're not compatible, right?" She asked, looking up at him, popping open the button of his trousers. His hands closed around her wrists to stop her.

" 'Course not. Different species."

"I don't risk catching anything from you either, I hope?" she chuckled.

"Clara!" He shot her an indignant look, eyebrows knitted.

"Was joking."

His hands moved to the hem of her nightie, pulling it over her head, and she closed her eyes for a second when the fabric rubbed over her face. When she reopened her eyes, she found the Doctor staring in wide-eyed wonder at her, mouth slightly open, pupils frantically moving up and down, taking her in.

"You're gorgeous," he whispered after looking for long enough to make Clara blush intensely, voice husky and inexplicably more Scottish.

"Not so bad yourself."

"You haven't seen me yet," he argued.

"May I?"

She slid her hands to his zipper and his body trembled, leaning into her touch, but he grabbed her wrists again.

"There's a- thing, I want to do."

She smiled. "Tell me."

His eyes stared into hers for a long moment, as though trying to make her understand what he meant without words. Then, he took both her hands in his and brought them to his temples.

"I want to feel you. In here."

It took her a few seconds to realize what he meant.

"Oh my God. You need that, don't you?" His eyes spoke an assent for him, and she realized he was waiting for her permission. "Yeah. Okay. Go on." She moved his hands to her temples.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. Okay."

He grinned radiantly at her.

"Oh, Clara, you are going to love this. I'll be gentle, I promise."

"Wait," she hesitated, taking his hands in hers, away from her face. "Is it dangerous? Won't it be like... dropping a piano on my head or something?"

"No. No no no." He brought his hands close to her temples again, but didn't touch her. "Trust me?"

Her expression softened. "Always."

He smiled, pleased with her answer, and his fingertips made contact with her skin again.

At first, nothing happened, but then Clara felt that sensation of void in her belly, like falling, like thinking there's one more step at the end of the stairs when actually there isn't. It was as though the Doctor had just removed a real, physical barrier that had until then surrounded her mind. She felt so incredibly vulnerable all of a sudden, bare in a way that had nothing to do with the lack of clothes, and it was absolutely terrifying. Irrationally, absurdly petrifying. She fell. Fell like a drop in the ocean of his mind, sudden hot and icy currents of his feelings and memories submerging her. She thought she was going to drown.

'Relax. It's only me,' he reassured, the sound of his voice abruptly shaking some of her fear away, and it took her a moment to realize that his voice was in her mind. 'Of course, I understand that's a lot to experience,' he added smugly. She could feel what he was feeling, how pleased with himself he was as he formed that thought.

"Oh my God, you're in my head."

His thoughts let her know that no, not exactly. They were connected, in a way, and as long as enough of his nerves were in close proximity with hers, his emotions, thoughts, memories, even his physical sensations could be shared freely between them. But he wasn't in her head. There was no such thing as being in someone else's head. Even though, of course, if you were to cut open someone's skull you could say…

Clara laughed. She didn't know what to say. She was following his train of thought. She opened her eyes, needing to look at him all of a sudden, and she almost screamed when, just for an instant, she saw big brown eyes staring back at her. Then, she saw both her eyes and his. It was surreal. She saw her face as he saw it, so round, so wide. So beautiful. He was sharing with her what he was seeing, and the emotions and impressions connected with it. His sight was different from hers, she noted. The colours were richer, the details more numerous, the sense of the third dimension better. It was as though he could see in next-gen HD, and she lived in an old TV-show from the early 90's.

He smiled at the comparison and started to push more strands of her hair behind her ear, making sure to settle his other hand of her hip, keeping the contact. No wonder he needed two hearts, Clara thought idly: the tenderness and love emanating from him in that moment was enough to make her single heart ache. He was in this deep, maybe even deeper than herself, she realized. And to share his mind with her, share himself, let her truly see him, meant more to him than she could ever comprehend. She could only grasp bits and pieces of his twirling memories and feelings on the matter. It was the deepest demonstration of trust for his people. Not necessarily sexual, and not necessarily romantic either. Could be a lover, a best friend, a parent. It was about trusting a person with your life, trusting them to love you even when they could see all of you, good and bad.

"Wait. Is this- is this about making love?" she asked. "As in opposed to 'just sex'?"

He looked up in an almost eye-roll, then uttered the words very softly, very quickly, like it was some sort of personal offence for him to use such an expression. "In a manner of speaking."

She grinned and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, marvelling at how sensitive he was, just the contact of skin against skin setting his nerves on fire, and she immediately perceived his reaction at that thought: this body was different, violently oversensitive and particularly weak for her.

"You know what? This is proof," she stated, arms around his neck, fingers toying with his hair.

"Of what?"

"That I was right. Underneath it all, you're into sweet."

He scoffed. "I'm not into anything," he retorted grumpily, but she just laughed.

"I expect you to be into someone rather soon," she purred.

He arched an eyebrow at her, but his lips curved in a mischievous smile as he bent down to kiss her, one hand cupping her face and the other sliding down her thigh, encouraging her to wrap her leg around his waist.

The feel of that kiss was impossible to describe. She could feel his lips warm against hers, and at the same time the heat of her own lips on his, so incredibly soft, and her tongue in his mouth making his head swim. She felt both his muscles tensed at her fingertips and her skin smooth under his touch, just that sensation enough to make small jolts of electricity run down his spine, and simultaneously she knew he could have counted her goose bumps if he wanted. The reassuring, light warmth of his body was softly calling her closer to him. Her scent was driving him crazy, the heat radiating from her body was so inviting and welcoming and he needed more. Clara felt the rough tug of arousal at his abdomen as though it was hers and she gasped against his lips at the suddenly doubled need for him.

"Doctor."

His mind tried to soothe her, assuring that yes, it was intense, but she'd get used to it with time, but "I want you" was all he could manage to say out loud before fiercely deepening the kiss, rocking his hips into hers, hard, demandingly, making them both moan. Gods, he wanted her, had wanted her for so long, loved her for so long. Just kissing her, caressing her was everything he had ever dreamed of and more and the perception of her own desire for him was almost too much, it wouldn't let him think straight.

His emotions were a raging storm of lust and love and brutally simple need, and they made her squirm beneath him and her legs tighten around his waist in response as his thoughts entangled with her own arousal, her own feelings. To think about all the time she had needed to know that she would never want anyone but the Doctor- she'd been so distracted. Her hands quickly unzipped his trousers as though they had a mind of their own. She needed to feel his skin on hers. He needed to feel it. His thoughts were so overwhelming she almost couldn't form a coherent thought of her own. His hips jerked forward while she hurriedly worked to tug his trousers down his legs, forcing him to kick and wiggle his way out of them and out of his pants.

He muffled a groan against her neck when she finally wrapped her hand around his cock and started to stoke him lightly. She let out a small sound herself at the maddening friction, wonderfully pleasurable but nowhere near enough for him.

"Clara. Clara, Clara, Clara. Please."

She didn't have the heart to deny him anything, not when she could feel his need for more real and physical in her own nerves. She guided him inside her carefully, slowly, moaning softly as he let himself sink in and fill her, thick and hard and fucking perfect. He grunted and whimpered against her skin, revelling in the feel of her body surrounding his, wet and snug and so hot that the sensation was everything his impressive brain could focus on.

He started a steady, urgent rhythm, groaning softly and trembling at each thrust, mouth busy at her neck, kissing the line of her jaw, sucking and nibbling in between sharp breaths, making her moan and grab a fistful of his long hair to keep him in place as her other hand travelled down his back and to his arse, demanding more of him, her legs wrapped firmly around his waist. The combined pleasure was overwhelming, every jolt of electricity and every wave of heat shared, doubling the intensity of every movement. It took her breath away and made it impossible to think of anything else but their bodies pressed as close as physically possible and minds blended entirely, to the point that neither of them could tell where one began and the other ended, the Doctor's voice pleading and panting her name echoing in her ears as though from a great distance.

Clara faintly registered that the Doctor was already holding back his release, mentally thanking the control his species had on their bodies, sweat gathering over his pale frame. His hearts were beating furiously against his ribcage and he couldn't remember them ever beating this hard. Clara stopped trying to breathe regularly. Soon she was calling out his name, head thrown back against the pillow, digging her fingernails into his shoulders, his back, anywhere she could reach as their shared pleasure washed down her spine and his, obliterating everything else.

It didn't take long for Clara to near her climax as well, his pleasure added to hers too much to bear, sending flames through her nerves. One of her hands tugged at his hair so roughly he cried out, while the other left small, red half-moons on his lower back. She entirely forgot to breathe, mouth slightly open, eyes shut as her inner muscles clenched hard around the Doctor's cock and ecstasy rippled through her, making her whole body shudder and a throaty moan escape her lips. She pulled the Doctor right along with her, making him come violently and suddenly as soon as the tension at her core broke free, with a shout of her name muffled against the pillow, muscles trembling and hips jerking into her through her orgasm.

For a few long moments afterwards, they moaned weakly and breathed irregularly into each other's ears, bodies hypersensitive, sweat on their skin, stray waves of pleasure swaying from him to her and back at the smallest move they made, until it became too much and he reluctantly pulled out of her.

She kept her arms wrapped around his neck however, holding him there, not willing to let go, still unable to open her eyes, still catching her breath. She felt a hint of regret at the knowledge it had been over too soon, but she could feel nothing but joy from the Doctor, confused blissful thoughts she could barely distinguish.

'Clara. My Clara. That was so beautiful. Clara. Thank you. I love you. My Clara. It was perfect.'

She could tell he had been longing for this for centuries. Not for this specifically but for the freedom of loving her. He had forbid himself to even just fantasize or dream about his feelings in this life, convinced as he had been that he would never be reciprocated, and now that he was in her arms the happiness that came with it nearly brought him to tears.

She automatically held him tighter, pressing his chest against hers. She wasn't sure she wanted to let go of him- ever. She liked the rapid raising and falling of his chest and the quick hammering of his hearts refusing to slow down. It was reassuring, in a moment when she almost felt like she was realizing now for the first time that they weren't dreaming and everything they were experiencing now was real.

He inhaled sharply and Clara felt his knees and elbows had turned to jelly and he needed to lie down but didn't want to crash her with his weight. She let him roll to her side even though a part of her selfishly wanted to keep him where he was. She let out a small squeak when he suddenly pulled her to lie on top of him with ease, like she was weightless.

'You're so small and light.'

She looked up at him and he smiled.

"I'm not small."

He chuckled and relaxed beneath her, letting his head heavily fall back on the pillow, his left hand starting to caress her back. She interrupted him to move to a more comfortable position, with her head on his shoulder and her right arm and leg draped over his body. He barely shifted her when she started to feel cold and he reached for the blankets without her needing to ask. Being mentally connected had many advantages, she decided.

They lay in silence, sharing the disbelief at how impossible just ever seeing each other again had seemed not 24 hours earlier and the regret for so much time wasted figuring out their feelings or idly dancing around each other. But they were here now, and that was all that mattered. All they could afford to concentrate on. She shook away those thoughts from her mind and his, trying to simply enjoy the feel of his slightly damp skin cooling and the sound of his hearts finally beating steadily again, but while she was rapidly beginning to feel sleepy, lulled by the constant rhythm of his heartbeats, the Doctor's brain was gradually sliding back to relentless work.

"Clara?"

"Yes?"

"Do you feel any pain?"

If their minds hadn't been linked she would have been confused, but she knew exactly what he meant.

"No. No ice cream pain anywhere."

She was able to sense his fear, one of those deep, sometimes irrational ones that you can't shake off even during the best of times. He was afraid to wake up alone, to never see her again, or worse to see her again only when it was already too late, like in one of the dreams. She prompted herself on one elbow to better see his eyes, and gently stroked his face to gain his attention.

"This is real. I'm not going anywhere," she stated decisively, partly reassuring herself as well. "And even if it's not, you'll better wake up and come to me first thing in the morning, or I swear I'll invent time travel myself to come and get you."

He smiled a shy smile, the admiration he held for her determination seeping through their connected minds, and even though her words didn't have the power to erase his anxieties she felt him at least slightly calmer, silently thanking her. She lay down again, placing her hand over his hearts, and to her surprise he started to progressively part his mind from hers.

"What are you doing?"

"We can't sleep like this. You don't want my nightmares."

"You don't want mine," she murmured, and he shot her a look of genuine concern, protectively wrapping his arm around her as their minds separated.

She almost felt less complete without the presence of his consciousness, which was an absurd idea in itself, but it had felt good to have him, comforting. She snuggled closer to him, focusing on the physical closeness and his body against hers. She remembered him mentioning it was early in the morning and felt the weight of a nearly sleepless night heavy on her. She closed her eyes.

They didn't repeat the words. They meant so little, after all. Just the way held her, so gentle as though afraid to break her, but so desperately, like she was the only thing that kept him right in the universe, said more than one thousand words.