(A/N: This story takes place before the 50th)
Clara walked into the consul room in search of The Doctor, she had promised him that once she had taken a shower and gotten un-alien-slimed they could go somewhere or maybe it will be somewhen. She had never quite gotten used to the correct terms for time travel. When she entered the consul room, she found the Doctor repairing (though she doubted that it was repairing and more tinkering with the ship) the TARDIS. He looked sad. Clara walked over to him and put her hand on his arm. He jumped.
"What's wrong?" Clara asked softly. The Doctor was her best friend and she felt terrible that he looked so sad. She would sometimes see that face out of the corner of her eye as she turned away or when she entered a room, though it typically would fade away before she could say anything.
"Nothing." he said, with a smile growing on his face, but his eyes were still sad, she could always see it in his eyes, they looked so sad and old.
"Really, Doctor, you can tell me." Clara wanted him to trust her.
"My people, they're gone," he whispered, still staring at the consul. He pushed away from the consul, he looked broken. She hugged him, he whimpered into her shoulder.
"Doctor," she said to him, "you'll find a way to save them." she said, not knowing what was to come.