This is set in the universe created by In Your Place wherein Clara gets her heartbeat back after the Doctor sacrifices himself to the Raven, but being a Time Lord with a special connection to his companion, he survives. You don't have to have read it to read this. The two are different in style too. Clara having been frozen between one heartbeat and the next has to relearn how her body works.

Sleeping

She was back, he'd found a way and she was back. Heart beating, lungs breathing, alive, and he had spent the day adjusting. Adjusting to the memories which had returned, and to the reality of the woman in front of him, to the Clara of the stories he had heard, the one whose reputation in the universe was rapidly catching up with his, but whose face he could never describe until now. They had talked and laughed and cried a little, and then she had asked to go home, so of course, he took her there.

He was aware of the warmth from the console room at his back, the dim lights that shone from the balcony; and he was aware of the earth below, spinning slowly, bathed in sunlight. The greens and blues of her oceans and continents were familiar and bright, and to both the Doctor and Clara much missed. They hadn't yet gone down there, there was a spell they didn't yet want to break, so half asleep, perched in the TARDIS doorway, leaning hard into one side, he listened to Clara describe how she had never gone back to Earth after leaving him in that desert one day.

'Why?' he asked, genuinely curious but eyes half closing against his will.

'Because I thought if you were to look anywhere for me it would be earth,' she said, 'I didn't want to run into you.'

He snorted, 'Charming, you put a whole planet on the Excluded list just in case you met me one day in a bookstore.'

'Yes…because that's exactly where you would go,' she said mock defensively, 'That and…'

'And?' He managed to open his eyes and look down at her, where she snuggled unashamedly against his chest, legs dangling out into space.

'And it reminded me of too much. Of so much… of you.'

'Ah…' he said softly. The word hung in the sir for a moment heavy with meaning. He had lost companions and run from their memories trying to escape the inevitable pain. However this was different, this was more than companionship and the loss was unbearable. He had escaped all of that, his memories wiped, but Clara had been travelling, running from his loss all the time they had been apart, apparently avoiding some old haunts for the pain it caused, while he had been free. She'd seen to that, that he could go wherever he liked and live his life in whatever style he pleased without her shadow to remind him of all that sorrow. He kissed the top of her head gently, guilt in his lips.

'I'm grateful,' he said to her, 'And I'm sorry.'

'What for?

'Grateful that as ever Clara you protected me from the worst of it. And sorry I couldn't do the same for you.'

'Shut up,' she whispered, voice cracking a little against his shirt. 'Just shut up. I didn't protect you from enough, that Dial...all of that time… you should never have…'

'Shhh,' the Doctor closed his eyes again and made sure his arm was tight around her shoulders.

'You Shhh,' she countered and he chuckled at her banter. It broke the slight melancholy the subject was bringing and he felt her relax again.

'We could be here all day doing this,' he said, 'Floating.'

'How long have we been here?' Clara asked, 'because someone is looking sleepy.'

'I'm fine.'

'That's why you're dozing off is it?'

'Hmmph.' He opened one eye and tried to glare at her resulting in a cascade of giggles. She reached forward to ruffle his hair in an attempt to irritate him further. 'Don't you sleep?' he asked to try to distract her.

'Not for several hundred years, no. Well not because I'm tired anyway. I sometimes sleep just to pass the time.'

'Do you even remember what being tired feels like?' the Doctor asked curiously.

Clara looked thoughtful, chewed on her lower lip for a moment. 'Umm… not really. A sort of heavy feeling? Maybe? Heavy round the eyes?' He watched as she quickly checked her wrist for the hundredth time since she had come on board. 'I still have a pulse,' she said, 'So does that mean I'll get tired now? Maybe I am tired and can't tell? Am I tired, do I look tired?'

He contemplated her face and rubbed a thumb lightly across one of her cheekbones. She did look tired and it was rather unsurprising given the day's events. 'Well your physiology is active again,' he said, 'you'll burn energy and consume oxygen and presumably get tired as well. I'd hazard a guess you are. If I am, so you must be.'

'I don't know if I like the sound of it. It's been pretty good not having to worry about these things. Not having to breathe, or eat or drink or rest, really useful on adventures.'

The Doctor rolled his eyes, 'That can be seen both ways. Great when in extremis on Skaro, not so much cop when you miss out on the fun having a working body can lead to.'

Clara suddenly stared at him, huge eyes and dimpled smile betraying her amusement. 'Fun Doctor? With my body? What kind of fun?'

He blushed, 'Not that kind of... I wasn't referring to…Not everything is an innuendo, Clara. You haven't changed in that respect I see.'

She burst out laughing again. 'So what pleasures of the body have I in store?'

He shifted, pulling himself up from the doorway as though making ready to run from her. Flustered he made a show of brushing down his jacket. 'I just meant simple things like, eating, enjoying a cold drink… don't look at me like that.'

She pulled an innocent face and then stood with him and took a moment to compose herself. 'Eating and drinking… well I guess I have missed it. I can do it but nothing tastes of anything, it's all cardboard to me. I gave up centuries ago and just stared jealously at other people over dinner.' She frowned, 'How will I know when I'm hungry?' she asked curiously, 'Or when… well you know…' she looked awkward.

'What?'

'How will I know I need to go to the loo? I can't remember,' Clara's face turned to slightly horrified and it was the Doctor's turn to laugh.

'I'm sure it will come back to you,' he said with a wry smile and snapped his fingers to close the TARDIS doors.

'But what if I don't realise and…' she dropped her voice to a whisper, 'What if I have an accident?'

'You'll be fine,' he reassured even as she stood in front of him looking distracted and slightly panicked. 'Clara,' he said, 'Clara!'

'Hmm?' she looked back at him at last roused from her worrying thoughts.

'Do you have any of that heavy feeling?'

'Tiredness?' she said and then paused as though consulting with her body, 'Maybe, maybe a bit,' she paused again suddenly and a large yawn racked her frame. The Doctor raised his eyebrows and she laughed, 'Ok yes, that was a yawn. My first yawn in years. I must be tired and you… You look…'

'Exhausted,' he admitted and she raised her eyebrows, 'Don't look so surprised it's been a very long day.'

'No… it's just, well… You just never usually admitted to it. You'd sneak off for a twenty minute catnap when you thought I wasn't looking. Twenty minutes or longer. And you snore.'

He opened his mouth in surprise. Clara approached and shut it with one finger under his chin. 'I noticed,' she said, 'I noticed lots of things you thought you kept hidden from me.'

The Doctor pursed his lips, 'Right,' he said with some resignation. 'Well ignoring that for the sake of my embarrassment I really am quite tired and…'

'Are we going to bed together?' she asked suddenly and his eyes widened. 'I don't mean for anything scurrilous,' she reassured, 'I just mean… well I'd like to stay with you, if that's ok? I don't even know if I will sleep, I might have forgotten how, tired or not, I might get nightmares but I'd like to be with you…'

She suddenly looked very small, barely coming up to his shoulder. Her hands were tiny, her bone structure delicate. Gods how he had missed her. She yawned again and rubbed her eyes. He wanted to bundle her up and protect her and immediately the idea of her sleeping elsewhere without him became objectionable. He was beginning to really understand how he could sacrifice so much for this woman, why he would have moved worlds and stopped time all those years ago. Why if he had had his memories he would have been driven mad at their separation.

'I kept your old room,' he said, threading his fingers through hers. 'Come…'

Like Clara herself the room had been frozen in time, just as she had left it, her belongings spread out across her dressing table, her clothes hanging off the back of a chair. It mirrored her bedroom in her London flat, now long gone and the Doctor watched as a look of sad nostalgia passed over his companion's face. She swallowed hard.

'I seem to keep wanting to cry now I'm alive again,' she said.

'Hormones,' he said lightly and she smiled.

'I'm a mess of hormones am I?,' she shook her head. 'Well I suppose I've been hormone free all these years, I've that to look forward to, mood swings and pre menstrual tension and….'

The Doctor held up one hand as he perched on the edge of the bed, 'I don't need details,' he said to stop her.

'You'll be the one dealing with it, my first outpouring of hormones in four hundred years, could be nasty. You'll need to arm yourself… mainly with chocolate or ice cream if I remember right.'

He pulled a slightly alarmed face and then gestured to the bed bidding her get ready while he simply collapsed back against the cushions and pillows. He'd slept there plenty of times over the years, somehow lured to this quaint little room with no owner. There was something about the atmosphere it created, the vague smell of perfume on the pillows that comforted him. He had a feeling it probably belonged to her but the TARDIS would never confirm it, yet she didn't deny it either and never deleted it on her yearly clean ups of extraneous or unused rooms.

Clara emerged from the bathroom while he lay fighting sleep. He could hear her cross the floor but his eyes refused to open and already his breathing was slowing. The bed dipped as she climbed onto it and he felt her wriggle up beside him, cautiously at first and then with more decisiveness until she was resting on her side with her back against him. Without thinking he turned towards her and she was saying something quietly but he was falling and couldn't hear the words.

He slept. And so did she. The hours passed uneventfully.

The following morning the Doctor woke suddenly, missing the press of a body against his torso and the warmth radiating from it. Thirty-seven degrees of human heat; it was almost enough to make him break a sweat had he not been able to use his superior physiology to self regulate his own temperature down. It seemed an extreme measure when he could simply shuffle backwards away from the source, but the source was Clara and much longed for so he stayed put.

Now he was too cold. He lay for a moment trying raise his temperature again but it seemed to be taking an age, and there was an odd smell distracting him, and where was she? Not in the ensuite, he could see through the empty door. How long had he been here? Eight, nine hours? Ridiculous. But it had been so good, gently drifting as she pressed against him in pyjamas the TARDIS provided her. Just the same as those she used to wear sometimes when they travelled, satin finish, cream. She wanted him near, and reassured him so, whispering to him in the moments when they both roused in the dark and dozed back into peace. He was thrilled but stoically didn't let on, instead unconsciously he had slipped an arm around her and a hand up onto her belly while he slept. It was a physical intimacy they had never had and it seemed so foolish that they had denied themselves something so simple, but now it was beginning to rectify. A good night's sleep for both.

But he hadn't taken into account her memories, transmitted to him by skin to skin contact.

Her memories became his dreams as he drifted in and out. Memories of loss and misunderstanding and lies. Memories of their parting. At first they dominated, made him frown and stir, mutter in his sleep, but then they changed, encouraged by his proximity, her nightmares over. Memories of them together and the things they had done replaced them. Images of places they and been and narrow escapes they had dodged. They made him smile and her body relaxed. The Doctor snuggled closer to her allowing sunrises and waterfalls from their past to sooth him to deeper sleep. Clara might not have slept for years but she made it look simple now. The Doctor never wanted it to end.

The smell persisted and he attempted to bury himself under the covers again. The best night's sleep, probably ever. He never wanted it to stop but he was definitely awake now. What was it? Burning? Something in his TARDIS was burning and the scent of it was growing with each moment. No more sleep for him. The Doctor reluctantly opened his eyes and found a dressing gown nearby, left the room to find the kitchen had been moved opposite, and in the kitchen, Clara.