It happened as soon as they stepped out of the Tardis – they were separated. Or at least they thought they were. Clara turned swiftly to tell him that she didn't liked the look of the place when she saw he wasn't there. Neither was the Tardis, and for a moment she panicked.

"Doctor?" She called.

She was lost.

"No, Clara," the Doctor responded in a hushed whisper from what sounded like her right, but when she turned, there was nothing but the grey dust and dunes that spread into the horizon. "No…" His breath slipped past her on a warm breeze and she stepped away from it, feeling the gooseflesh spreading over her skin.

Looking around again, she tried to find the source, but he'd gone silent. She thought she heard a small moan and she moved towards it, but when she reached out, there was nothing. And no one. Clara screamed his name and then waited, feeling a small terror beginning to build in her chest. One that constricted her lungs and turned her body to ice. He couldn't have left her; this couldn't have happened.

The wind blew her hair back and she shivered thinking maybe she'd heard him say her name again. She waited for his voice, watching the scattering of dust billow over the ground beneath her as she took another step, shoe pushing evenly into the thick sand. Shaking her head, she pushed away the thought of being lost; the thought of being alone; the knowledge that the Doctor wasn't just within her hand's grasp.

She could feel her heart hammering in her chest at the notion. Her head was starting to spin with a cool nausea at the thought that he'd left her behind when she realized it made no sense. They'd travelled there on purpose, he would never… Clara grimaced and uttered a simple, "No."

Closing her eyes, she told herself it wasn't possible, she couldn't be hearing his voice on the wind, telling her to lie still; telling her it would be alright – and then he wasn't there. He'd been right behind her; the Tardis had been right behind her, and she reached out, hand pressing firmly against the wood of the ship's exterior. With a smile, she opened her eyes and found herself looking at a wall, a wall that hadn't existed before.

"It's not possible," she whispered. "No," she closed her eyes again, this time feeling over the surface to find the edges of the doorframes and then the handle and pushed it open, stepping inside with a nervous swallow before taking a breath and allowing herself to slowly open her eyes.

Releasing a laugh, she looked over the interior of the Tardis and then turned, glancing back out into the barren landscape, not seeing the Doctor where he should be and she understood.

Clara breathed with a sigh of relief, "It's not real."

She wasn't sure how, but she was absolutely sure what she was seeing wasn't what she was seeing and she understood that if it were true for her, it was true for the Doctor and she shouted out for him, listening instead of seeing. Waiting, breath held painfully, for him to respond.

They were supposed to be landing in the middle of the largest bloom of poppy flowers in the history of New Earth, but the Doctor found himself stepping out into what looked like a landmine. And before he could shout a warning, Clara had stepped directly onto something that clicked just underneath her foot.

"Doctor?" Her voice wavered, unsure, as she half-turned and the Doctor carefully took a step towards her, Sonic immediately in his hand.

"No, Clara…" he breathed just as she shifted, foot slipping off the detonation device and in the explosion, he was knocked away, landing roughly on his back. The ringing in his ears made him wince as he pushed himself up on his back and when he looked back to where she'd been, there was a fog that blanketed his vision. "No…" he managed, breath leaving him as he crawled towards it.

For a moment he closed his eyes, knowing the odds of her still being there were minimal, but he had to hope. And then he heard her shout out. Clear and shrill and terrified, and he pushed up, rushing towards her and tripping over something solid. Something that made a small noise of protest and he turned from where he lay, seeing her there, just within reach.

His mouth opened to call her name, but he remained stuck in his throat as he inched his way closer, taking in the singed clothes and the missing legs and the way her face stared up in a sort of shock at the smoky sky. He grimaced, running the Sonic over her and then shaking his head. No, he told himself, no, no, no, this wasn't how she would end. Not on some distant planet; not going to see flowers; not… so young with so much yet to do.

"No," she uttered.

Pocketing his Sonic, his hand reached out, fingers trailing over the black powdery residue staining her face, as he told her with a shaky breath, "Clara, lie still; everything'll be fine."

He watched her wince, looked back down to where she was bleeding out and he knew there was nothing he could do. He could see the color draining from her face and knew it would be seconds. She had seconds, he understood, bending to kiss her lips lightly before dropping his forehead to hers, exhaling when he felt the cold skin touch his.

"It's not possible," she uttered. "No," she breathed.

The Doctor pulled her up into his arms – she sounded so distant; so far gone already – and he gripped at her tightly because she'd gone limp, limbs dropping away, head falling back away from him and he frowned. In his mind he could hear her laughter, ghostly and on a breeze that tickled the back of his neck, sending shocks through his body.

And he shook his head, murmuring in denial, "It's not real," imagining he could hear her saying it with him.

Rolling Clara into his lap, he tucked a hand behind her head and looked over her flaccid features, watching his own tear drop onto her cheek and roll off. He felt his hearts crumple in his chest because he'd failed her in the simplest of ways – he should have stepped out first; should have tested where they were; should have prevented this.

"Doctor!"

Her voice was somehow distinct despite the body in his lap and for a moment he simply stared. And then he closed his eyes.

"Clara?" He tested.

"Doctor!" She responded enthusiastically.

His eyes snapped open and he released a small moan of disappointment because she was still lying there, lifeless in his arms, and he protested, "It's a cruel illusion –," then he whispered down at her with a smile, "Just an echo in my mind."

But she replied, "Yes, close your eyes, Doctor."

For a moment, he stared again, this time more considerate and then he glanced around at the Tardis several feet behind him, and at the rocky ground and the small mounds in the dirt. "Clara?"

She laughed and despite himself, despite the weight on his legs and the smell of burnt flesh in his nostrils, he chuckled and then he closed his eyes. "Where are you?" Clara asked roughly. "I can't…" she began, "I can't open my eyes or the reality is gone."

"That makes no sense," he replied. "That makes perfect sense," he suddenly shouted. "It's an actual illusion – you're not dead." Clara straightened and he bellowed, "You're not dead!"

"Why would I be dead?" Clara questioned, arms stretched out, fingers feeling the air, waiting to connect with him, hoping that if she did reach him, that it would be him. And the thought suddenly alarmed her. "Where are you?"

The Doctor laughed and Clara grinned, she didn't think she'd ever heard him so cheerful and she followed the sound, a swell of happiness filling her as she breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't lost, just… "Poppies!" He shouted, "Poppies and poppy seeds and poppy effects. But not poppies; Tardis got the wrong planet – wrong flower; devastating effect. It's the flowers. We're in flowers, Clara. Can you feel them at your feet? Hadn't before, distracted senses, but now – they're there and the pollen. Oh, we've inhaled the pollen. The spores are known to have dire effects on the mind: worst nightmares flashing before your eyes. Optical illusions, tend to trick the senses, but your hearing; our hearing – can you hear me, you're not talking!"

Clara felt herself crying as she listened to him ramble on and she replied honestly, "It's just good to know you're here."

"Where would I go?" He questioned.

"Why was I dead?" She responded, perplexed.

"Worst nightmares; thought I explained," he began, just as his fingers collided with her face. "Sorry," he touched her cheeks as her hands clasped around the edges of his coat. The Doctor smoothed her tears away with a frown, feeling her continue to move forward and for a moment he thought she might not understand she'd reached him, but then her arms circled his waist and she buried herself at his chest. "Clara," he breathed into the top of her head, understanding, "Clara, you're not lost."

He felt her nod against him. "We should get back to the Tardis," she mumbled, before asking, "How do we find the Tardis now?"

One hand securely on her back, he slid the other between them and pulled his Sonic free, giving a buzz and he waited, smiling when he heard her give a ding of the Cloister bell. "Follow our ears."

"What if it's not real?" Clara asked as they began to move, awkwardly, side by side, each gripping the other firmly.

He gave her shoulder a squeeze, and whispered, "Let's find out together, shall we?"

They continued on, crashing into one another as they went, the Doctor giving buzzes of his Sonic while Clara felt around in the air until she shouted out just as he did and they both chuckled because they'd both knocked their knuckles into the Tardis doors. Clara pushed through and for a moment she didn't release her hold on the man at her side, nor did she chance to open her eyes. She heard the doors close behind them and when his hand slipped off her back, she shouted in shock, feeling him still in her grasp.

"Clara, you're not lost; we're in the Tardis, the ventilation would have removed the pollen here, you're fine," he reached out to touch her face, thumb running over her cheek, "You're safe."

Her head shook slowly and she smiled, "What if this is a hallucination as well? All of this?"

"Open your eyes," he told her gently. He waited, watching her brow come together tightly in fear, and then slowly, her eyes fluttered open and he smiled, palming her cheeks in each of his hands and bending slightly to tell her, "You're not lost, Clara."

She offered a weak grin and looked around them, her hands now rubbing at the material on his jacket as she took several small breaths and, reluctantly, released him. "I wasn't afraid of being lost," she realized suddenly, quietly, and she moved away from him.

"What did you see?" He asked curiously.

She smiled and replied, "Nothing." And when he began to ask, she explained, "There was nothing, just, nothing all around."

He laughed, "You were lost."

Opening her mouth, Clara inhaled and stopped herself from allowing, "I'd lost you," to instead reply, "Yeah, guess I was." Then she watched him zip past her to poke at the console, a look of understanding drifting over his face as, she knew, he saw where they'd actually landed and hit a button that send a burst of air whipping through the Tardis.

"Maximum ventilation protocol," he explained with a sly grin, "Just in case."

Clara nodded, moving slowly to his side and she spoke hesitantly, "I wasn't dead." He peered at her, one eyebrow rising in consideration, "Back there, you said I wasn't dead." Clara shrugged, "Is that what you saw?"

"I'd lost you," he thought to reply, and he nodded slowly, telling her on a whisper, "Worst nightmares."

She watched him a moment, studying the way he wouldn't meet her eye, and then she nudged him, slipping her arm around his to sigh, "How about the most beautiful sunset – that's a safe destination, isn't it?"

Throwing her a knowing smirk, he raised a lever and gestured at a key she twisted, setting them on a course and he tilted down to offer, "Mind if I don't let go for a bit?"

Clara slipped her hand into his with a quiet understanding, "Not at all, Doctor."