A/N: I don't own Doctor Who.
Breathless
From the moment they stepped out of the Tardis, Clara felt giddy. The Doctor had taken her to the third noon of some planet with a name she wasn't going to even try to pronounce- Raxocrisco? No that wasn't it- and it was gorgeous. Ice stretched out as far as she could see, covering every rock, every tree, every blade of glass. It was a thin layer, the Doctor explained, and it thawed at the end of every day, but since a day here was a week on earth, the moon was usually frozen. The amazing thing about the ice was how it reflected the light. The nearest Sun burned a bright blue, and when if filtered through the atmosphere, the sunlight was a light lilac. So the ice sparkled every shade of purple, crystalline and delicate. The small, fuzzy animals that dashed every so often out of their dens sent up a rush of snowflakes that fluttered slowly in the light air.
Clara and the Doctor walked, or waddled, really, hand in hand across the frozen meadow, trekking up a hill toward "the bluest lake you'll ever see, Clara, same color as the Tardis". For the first few minutes, she was fine, though she let the Doctor do the talking. Halfway up, she had begun to pant, breath clouding in the cold air. She blamed the heavy coat that he had insisted she wear (it was huge and furry) for weighing her down. When they were nearly at the top, she realized something was wrong. The edges of her vision were starting to go dark, and Clara realized to late that she wasn't just winded; she couldn't catch her breath. She couldn't even take in enough air to warn the Doctor.
"Its just past here, watch your step- Clara!" She lost her balance on the icy slope and tumbled backwards into strong, skinny arms as the world- as the moon- went black.
When Clara woke up, it was in the warmer-than-usual Tardis, and her hand was numb from how hard the Doctor was grasping it. She was in her own bed, though there were a few more blankets than normal piled on top of her. She'd be touched at the good care she was being giving if she wasn't losing circulation in her fingers.
The Doctor's head snapped up from its resting place on his arms when she tugged weakly to free her hand. His face immediately brightened in relief.
"Morning." She croaked, wiggling her fingers a little. His face was a sweet mixture of sheepish and caring.
"Its 5 pm." The brunette rolled her eyes, but didn't miss the catch in his voice. He must have been very worried, to break his brusque façade.
"What happened?" She sat up slowly, appreciating his hand coming to cradle her back and rearrange her pillows to support her. He was frowning again.
"You fainted... straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn't have to go to such extremes." He said in his perfectly practiced deadpan delivery, pursing his lips.
His sudden lurch forward stopped her snarky reply in its tracks with his arms thrown somewhat awkwardly around her tiny form.
The Doctor had just... initiated a hug? Clara was shocked stiff for a heartbeat, but quickly leaned into him, face burried in his neck.
"Clara, I'm so sorry, I didn't check the atmosphere, I forgot that it was too low on oxygen for humans. I carried you back to the Tardis." The words came out in a rush against her hair. She brought her arms around him and pulled him tighter.
"I'm fine, Doctor." She assured him, lightly stroking his back. "Just a little-" He moved urgently again, pulling back and pressing his lips quickly to hers, as if he was afraid he wouldn't be able to do so if he took his time. It was over in a flash.
"Breathless," she finished.