When he thought back, in his darkest moments, he would remember all of the small things about her that made her who she was. What stuck out the most in his mind wasn't how she acted when he needed her to be strong, no. It was the way she was when they were just enjoying themselves, and life, regardless of who she was with.
The constant change between his selves, and companions, would have been difficult for her, he knew, but, she never gave away what she knew about how the others left. She would just smile and hug whomever was there, and they would continue on. As if she didn't know that they chose to left, or had no choice. As if her heart didn't thud painfully when she saw them, remembering the way they had looked when they left them behind.
Of course, there were times when they travelled alone together – in all three of his recent regenerations. He has memories of the arguments and in-depth talks they shared when he was in his ninth body. He recalls the teasing moments and tearful talks when he was in this tenth body. And he constantly thinks about the tender moments they shared when he was in this body, his eleventh.
Different body, different people, but ultimately the same Doctor, and he knew that she loved them all. So what if she had a bit more of a soft spot for his tenth face, as that was the one whom she spent the most time with in the beginning. He knew that she loved him for him, regardless, and that she always managed to see the different men and share the same memories.
But, when he sits in her room, laying in the middle of her bed, surrounded by everything that made her, her, his mind shifts to the better days they had. As well as the nights. Some nights, the ones he remembered the most, he would sit with her under the skies, on either Earth or a different planet, staring at the stars. She would get lost in these moments, wonder on her face, despite all of the places they had been, and he could never make out if she was gazing at the stars or the stars were gazing at her. The way the starlight caught in her blue hair, and brought a different sheen to the colour of her eyes – it was captivating.
He would sometimes ruin that moment, he admits, when it became too much and he simply had to touch her, or hold her, or kiss her, and she would just smile up at him, placing a hand on his cheek, happily meeting him.
Those nights, he thinks, hugging her pillow to his chest as silent tears run down his cheeks due to the gaping hole she left in his hearts, are the ones he misses the most. Those nights, he swears, as he falls asleep in her bed again, just to feel close to her, are the nights he will not take for granted when she's back with him. Those are the nights that fill his dreams now that she's not here.
Clara starts to wonder if he so readily agreed to one-day-only trips so that she wouldn't hear how he cried out in the night. The places they went varied from nonsensical to hazardous. Anywhere he could find a potential signal, a possible clue, they went. When he felt guilty about it, for dragging her with him on quests that sometimes caused him to lose his temper, he would take them somewhere magnificent, not related to the search they were on, as an apology.
This had been one of those tips. A planet that was entirely a spa. He had booked her in for a full day and, when it came time to collect her, to take her home, she had managed to fall asleep on the jump seat while he settled the bill.
At least, that's what she assumed happened, as she can't remember much after sitting down on it, and now, here she was, waking up on a bed in a sparsely decorated room. She blinked as she tried to remember why she had woken up, when his cries echoed through the room again.
For a ship so large, and so intelligent, she knew that she was hearing them for a reason. With a small curse towards the TARDIS (who tripped her in retaliation as she made her way through the door), Clara got out of bed and followed the sound, knowing that she was not going to be allowed to sleep, or go home, until she had helped in whatever way she could.
Lights lit up the hallway, directing her where to go, and stopped her outside a door she knew to be Astras'. A faint clicked indicated that the TARDIS had unlocked and, with a sigh, she pushed the door open slowly. Peering around the side other door, she took a quick look around, the photos on the wall shrouded in shadows, before boldly entering.
It was still dark, but, she could see fairly well, thanks to dim lights in the ceiling designed to look like stars. If she had looked close enough she would be able to make out spiral galaxies, and names purposely designed into the make-shift night sky, but, soft whimpers caught her attention more and she made her way over to the bed, where the Doctor slept.
Curled up into himself, dressed in green cotton pants and a plain white tee (why she had thought he would sleep in his dress pants and shirt she would never know), his face was scrunched in pain, and he clutched one of the pillows to his chest. Gently, Clara sat down on the bed next to him. He keened slightly with the movement, but, didn't wake up. She sighed. What was she to do? She couldn't help him. Had the TARDIS wanted her to see how much they needed to focus on their search? Because she had understood from the beginning and, while she enjoyed the trips that didn't involve scouring an entire planet, she wasn't asking for breaks either.
Another whimper brought her out of her musing and Clara hesitated a moment, before placing a hand on his head and running her fingers through his floppy hair in, what she hoped was, a soothing manner. The frown on his face eased a little and she cooed at him, feeling like a mother with a small child who was having night terrors. But, she knew that these weren't just bad dreams – they were likely bad memories.
She continued to soothe him, odd words and mumbles tumbling from his lips as he slept on. Clara only picked out one from every few, and usually only words she knew. Astra. Silence. Archway. Missing. Her heart cried out for the man who was so lost inside of his memories they were imprinting on his dreams. He should at least be able to escape when he slept, escape to a place where she was still with him, but, it seems his guilt ate at him even then.
Eventually his cries stopped and the Doctor fell into a peaceful deep sleep. His face was relaxed, making him so much younger than Clara knew that he was, and his limbs started to unfurl, still clinging onto the pillow, however. With one last soothing whisper, Clara stood up and made her way to the door, pausing just before leaving to look back over at the Time Lord. His breathing was slow and steady and she knew that he would sleep calmly for the rest of the night.
Making her way back to her room, the lights guiding her way, she was almost not surprised to see the Voice Interface sitting on her bed, looking like the blue-haired Astra. She closed her bedroom door behind her and waited, the Interface staring up at the ceiling, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
"I can't touch him." She said, finally, still not looking over at the brown-haired girl. "He cries out and I can't do anything but watch and listen and observe how he gets no sleep which leads to sloppy decisions. I had to send you."
Finally, blue eyes looked over to meet brown and Clara folded her arms across her chest. "I'm not the one he needs. You need to find Astra."
"I'm searching." The Interface responded. "For every lead he chases, I've already dismissed three others. But, I think I've found her. I just need to put him on the right path."
Clara nodded, making her way over to the bed, weariness beginning to set in. She had no idea how long she had sat with the Doctor and her body was demanding rest. "How much longer?"
The Interface got up, letting the human girl slip into bed. "A week or two. I just want to be sure. These failed outings aren't just disappointing him." Snapping her fingers, the Interface turned the lights off, leaving just a faint flow around the hologram itself. Clara turned on her side to look at her, standing in the middle of the room.
"The sooner she's back the better." Clara said, closing her eyes.
"Mmm." She hummed in agreement. "Oh, and Clara?"
The brown haired girl opened an eye to look at the Interface, who was slowly dimming. She smiled.
"Thank you."
And then she was gone.