Clara's fluffy orange pillow was clutched tightly to her chest; so hard was she holding it there'd probably be a big, square shape on her skin when she pulled it away. It was still a bit soggy from where she'd snuffled into it but she didn't care -just kept holding on as if it was the only thing anchoring her down.

She'd escaped to her room to get a bit of head space; make sense of every thought that was continuing to pile up inside her, knowing that if she didn't sort herself out soon she'd fall apart.

It had been a while after the Doctor had regenerated-the realization only hitting her now-and in all honesty Clara had no idea how she felt about it. Of course she'd known what regeneration was; having seen his past selves, but that was when she still had her Doctor and hadn't needed to think about it. So now all of these emotions and worries were bubbling up like a dam about to burst and she'd told him she needed space to think, leaving him shifting about in the console room still in his tweed jacket that-she'd noticed sadly-didn't seem to suit him anymore.

As time passed undisturbed and she got rid of all the ridiculous excuses and thoughts that were really just a side effect of being sad; Clara realized that what was really wrong, was that she was worried about how The Doctor and her would be now. Would he still need her now that he was this mature, confident, self assured man? Would he want to be running around with her when they could so easily be mistaken as a father and daughter?

Her life with the Doctor was fixed firmly in her heart and she was so scared that it could be pulled away from her, if it didn't work out and he decided to take her back home.

She thought on all of those times it had been just the two of them-the time travelling team-where they needed each other so much they'd actually pulled apart time and space for each other; and she didn't want those memories to be just a story. There'd been that time when he'd seen the image of Gallifrey and he'd grabbed her hand because he wasn't okay, so Clara had held on tight and did not let go even long after he'd recovered-because that's what mattered and she wondered if it still did.

Despite the massive difference though he still had his similarities-still being the wild madman and talking ten mile an hour whilst fiddling with bits of the Tardis, so really one could say he was still the same Doctor and she'd believe that (because she didn't care how he looked so long as she still had him-let's face it he could be dead and then where would she be?) if it wasn't for this fear at the back of her mind that if she got to fully know this new him it might be different. Bad different.

A tentative knock caused the silence to break then; which made her smile a little because he still knocked the same number of times and he was still here to check that she was alright.

"Clara?" The worry was evident and it made her feel guilty that he was fretting whilst she hid away, so she called out to him and watched as he poked his head around the door and smiled awkwardly, not sure if he should enter or not.

"Hey...come in." Shifting a little so that there was room for him, she patted the quilt which he strode over to (strode-not skipped or gambled, but it was still early days to see if that trait was still around) and smiled warmly once they were both settled.

"So...um..." It was a struggle to say what he wanted, "I err-"

"You still do that thing!" She burst out, before slapping a hand over her mouth. "Sorry it's just-you still do that thing where you rub the back of your neck when you're nervous." His eyebrows shot up so high at this that it made her giggle, clearing the air of all awkwardness and tension between them.

"What's wrong Clara? Is it because of the..." His finger circled round his face and he was biting his lip nervously. One foot had begun to tap hurriedly and the hand that had been at his neck had now moved to grip his hair; looking like he was inches from tearing it out which made her feel sick to her stomach with guilt when she realized that he thought her running off was because she didn't want to be near him now that he'd changed. He thought she was rejecting him.

Her head shook furiously as if the movement would wipe away the wounded look on his face and she turned to stare directly into his eyes, which only filled her with more guilt when she saw his eyes; those eyes that held all the ages of the universe inside of them. They were exactly the same.

Stupid, stupid! It's still him you idiot!

"It's not because of you. No, really it isn't!" Her hand shot out to him, not wanting him to leave before he'd heard her out. "I was worried you'd be different in another way. I mean, I don't really know what changes other than the obvious and I thought-"

"That things would be different between us." It wasn't a question and she didn't even have to tell him that he was right.

The Doctor sighed and ran his fingers through his hair whilst she fiddled nervously with the hem of her dress. They'd both been worrying about the exact same thing yet both of them couldn't have been more wrong; they just needed to know that the other was okay with everything.

"Clara, look at me." She was too embarrassed to do so, thus he gently grabbed her chin and turned her face towards him.

"That's better. How you could ever think I wouldn't want to carry on like always is beyond me."

"You thought it too!" Indignant with how he was making her feel stupid, she shoved him slightly before looping her arm through his, "so you're not going to be embarrassed that people will think you're my dad or anything? It won't be awkward?"

"Well I am the one with the new face and no I wouldn't! Since when did we care what other people thought?" He sighed before planting a kiss in her hair, "my mad, impossible girl. What am I going to do with you?"

"You still call me that?" She couldn't help the goofy grin that was spreading across her face and wasn't quick enough to hide it. The Doctor laughed loudly and Clara liked how deep and merry it sounded.

"I'll always call you that." Planting another kiss on her forehead, almost in apology, he turned serious and pulled away to look at her.

"Do you miss him?"

"Who?" She asked, confused.

"The old face, the one before me now." That worried look was back; he was going to puncture his lip if he kept on chewing it like that. Clara sighed and decided that being truthful-like they'd always been with each other-was the only way forward.

"I do, yes." Her grip tightened on him as she said this, to show that she wasn't going anywhere.

He sighed. "Me too."

They were both silent for a moment, listening to the gentle hum of the Tardis and reveling in just being close, knowing that everything was alright for now. It was some time before Clara spoke, looking up at him through her lashes and smiling bashfully.

"But I do like this one too, the face I mean. And besides..." She grinned mischievously before tapping the underneath of his chin, "It's not all different. Still got a bit of a chin poking through."

"You're just jealous," he scowled, but she smoothed the frown out with her fingertips before carrying on.

"I don't want to hear that again. The him and you bit, okay? You might look different, but I don't care what nose you have or how long your hair is, because you're the Doctor and that's not going to change for anything. And it definitely won't change for me."

It was like what she told the Timelords through the crack at Trenzalore. He would always be the Doctor; the same man with however many different faces. No matter what name others called him or what incarnation he was in, he would always be the same man to her.

And, she thought, resting her head against his shoulder-not bothering to see his reaction because she knew she'd made her point-Clara would always be his Impossible Girl. It would be the two of them forever among the stars, running side by side and holding onto each other's hand if they needed it. Always through all time.