A/N: You might as well just stone me to death now, because this is possibly the most angst-filled thing I've written. Also, I thought I should mention that THIS IS NOT A HEADCANON. I was just listening to a sad song and thought of this.
You're just a small bump unborn, in four months you're brought to life
Might be left with my hair but you'll have your mother's eyes
I'll hold you body in my hands, be as gentle as I can
But for now you're a scan on my unmade plans
And I'll hold you tightly and give you nothing but truth
If you're not inside me, I'll put my future in you
'Cause you are my one and only
You can wrap your fingers 'round my thumb and hold me tight
And you'll be alright
He sits, legs swinging in space, leaning against the doorframe of the TARDIS. In front of him an entire galaxy forms, bits of light exploding and flashing to life in a billion different vibrant colors. Tendrils of dust twisted and turned, forming glimmering planets. Any normal person would've been awed by the beauty, but instead the Doctor focuses on a tiny black-and-white scrap of paper.
It was so ordinary, so human. Just some blurry lines and a tiny, unformed speck. His thumb brushes over it gently, smiling.
"Just four months…" he muses to himself, unable to tear his eyes from the picture. "You're so little. But perfect, of course. Just like you mum."
He sighs, a sad smile briefly crossing his face. "She's sleeping right now. Long day." His voice cracks on the last two words. "She'll be alright."
The room grows silent again. Oh, there were so many stories he wanted to share. He'd hold his little girl, rocking her to sleep, and tell her about the madman and his impossible girl who ran away to the stars. He'd tell her how special and beautiful she was, how she looked more like her mum than him. With his luck, she'd be ginger. And he was going to show her every star, every planet and galaxy…
"The things you'll see…"
There was definitely a flutter. It was tiny, barely there, but he could still feel it.
The Doctor had both arms wrapped around Clara, who was snuggled into his side, mumbling in her sleep. He'd never been much for sleeping – it was a silly human habit – but with Clara he was willing. More often than not 'sleeping' turned into kissing and other pleasant things, but when she finally drifted off he'd stay with her instead of tinkering with things. It was peaceful, and somehow his mind managed to quiet during those hours. That was how he'd felt the little psychic brushes against his mind.
It wasn't even another mind; no matter how primitive, if it was an entire, whole being then he would've known. It was just… something. Something instinctive that he knew he should recognize, but didn't.
"You're staring again." Clara looked up at him, eyes half-opened, a sleepy smile on her face.
He chuckled. "Maybe."
She sighed contentedly, propping herself up on her elbows so she could give him a quick kiss. "You could go do things if you're that bored."
"I'm not bored!" he whined like a child who'd been told someone was going to take their teddy bear away. The Doctor pulled her into a tight hug. "I'm fine with you right here. It's nice…"
"I'll bet, considering I've got nothing on."
"Clara!"
She giggled. "Oh, now you're a prude?" Clara slid her legs of the bed, in search for clothing. "Didn't get that impression last night. Or the night before, and the night before that…"
"Clara!" he protested again, blushing. "It's not like that! And I'm not a prude. I was just saying that I don't spend all night ogling you."
" 'Course not." She sauntered over, putting her hair into a messy bun as she sat on the edge of the bed. Her fingers ghosted over his face briefly before she kissed him again. "Love you."
That was a new word, one they'd started using after Trenzalore. He liked the ring to it, especially when he said it to her.
"I love you too."
"Might want to get some clothes too," Clara advised, heading for the kitchen. "Unless you know planets where they're banned."
He found his usual suit scattered about the room and hurried to gather everything, especially his bow tie. It was still bothering him, that little brush against his mind. Still, it'd gotten a bit fainter since Clara had left, so maybe he'd just imagined it.
That was when it hit, and he sprinted out of his bedroom at top speed, bow tie undone.
Clara was bustling about while a kettle sat one the stove. It took her all of five seconds to turn and ask, "Doctor?" as he skidded to a stop.
"It can't be!" he said, eyes scanning her body. "It can't be, I'm just imaging things…"
He fell to his knee, hands sliding hesitantly up her legs. For a second Clara was almost certain that he was trying to get into her knickers again, except… there was an expression of awe and reverence gracing his features. "Doctor?"
He'd rumpled and pushed her dress so that it was gathered just above her waist. "You are!" he said at last. He could feel it; a tiny little life, like a light in his mind. "I can feel her."
"Feel who, Doctor?" Clara asked him. "I don't…"
But why else would he be talking to her stomach?
"Oh."
The Doctor beamed up at her, nose nuzzling the skin of her stomach before kissing it. "Yeah. I didn't know what it was, at first."
"You said that you could feel 'her.' How do you know…?" she was still stunned by the news, but that detail hadn't slipped past her.
He shrugged. "Just feels like a girl."
"We're having a girl!" Clara said, the full weight of the news hitting her. Her knees gave out and she collapsed in his arms, tears of joy streaming down her face as she kissed him. "Stars, we're having a baby."
"Yeah," the Doctor agreed, holding her even tighter. "We're having a baby."
"You know, if you stay down there much longer I'm going to get the wrong idea."
Clara was lounging in one of the multiple garden in the TARDIS, the Doctor taking his time in peppering every inch of her skin with kisses. She'd mean to just relax and read after a particularly bad bout of morning sickness, but he'd seemed to have other ideas.
That is, until he stopped at her stomach.
There was just the smallest of bumps there – it was barely even visible. The Doctor was talking to her stomach, muttering nonsensical words in Gallifreyan.
"What are you telling her?"
He paused to glance up at her. "Nothing, really. Just… Gallifreyan. She is part Timelord, she ought to know the language."
"Doctor?"
"Yeah?"
"She's also two and a half months old. I don't think she knows any language just yet."
The Doctor left one last kiss on her stomach, crawling up to kiss her. "She's smart, like her mum."
"Hardly." Clara blushed at the compliment; lately it seemed like he could find no fault with her. Not that he had before.
"You are smart, and beautiful, and funny." The Doctor insisted.
"But I'm going to be huge." Though, she figured, it would be better than the morning sickness.
His smile grew even wider. "And you'll be even more beautiful."
Clara drew him closer, smiling despite herself. "Are you saying this because you're afraid I'll get mood swings?"
He didn't answers, hands tracing lazy circles on her hips instead. Their kiss deepened, becoming more passionate, until it was the last thing on her mind.
With time the bump grew bigger, as did mood swings and strange cravings. A half Timelord, half human pregnancy would be strange, he explained, though he'd never expected the cravings. To his utter delight, he'd woken up at three in the morning to find her making fish fingers and custard.
Other times it was less fun. Once he'd brought up the idea of making soufflés together and she'd burst into tears and was inconsolable for nearly an hour. Morning sickness got worse too, until one morning of kneeling in front of the toilet became the morning and the afternoon.
"I hate this," Clara groaned, knuckles white against the rim. Her skin was pale, her hair stuck to her forehead by sweat. "Shouldn't it be better?"
She looked so hopeful that it broke his hearts. He'd given her every safe medication he could think of and it'd only gotten worse. "I don't know, love. I'm so sorry."
She sighed. "It's not your fault."
The Doctor reached out for her, letting her rest against him for a moment. "I wish I could fix this. Maybe we could try something more…. human-y?"
"Human-y?" Clara asked, smiling faintly. "Like what? Mint tea helps, or so I've heard, but I've already tried it."
"I don't know." He admitted. He hated being so helpless when she was suffering. "There's got to be something."
"How about we sit here, and you hold me just like you are now?" she suggested. "That's all I need. I promise."
So he did.
He couldn't help but notice that things seemed to grow worse, not better. Clara couldn't keep any weight on with the constant morning sickness, and she grew increasingly unhappy, until almost every mood swing had her crying over something. It was strange, seeing his impossible girl so broken. Wasn't pregnancy supposed to be one of the most wonderful things in the world?
But, the Doctor reasoned, it was just different because the baby wasn't entirely human. He'd known from the start that it might turn out for the worst, but when it actually did he couldn't quite believe it. All he could do was hope that Clara and his little girl would be alright.
The steady flicker in his mind stayed, and as his baby girl formed a mind, he could even feel her emotions. She seemed to feel whatever Clara felt, though there was always a sense of hopefulness coming from her no matter how bad things got. He knew she'd be absolutely perfect.
After a particularly hard day in which Clara had dissolved into tears because she'd gotten lost in the TARDIS (a common occurrence even for him), then been sick the entire afternoon, they were both curled up next to each other in bed. The Doctor was holding her close, humming softly to her when he felt something very wrong. It was almost like there was an absence in his mind, a hole where something belonged…
And he knew.
He didn't need to hear her confused mumbles as she shifted in his arms, telling him something was wrong. He didn't need to watch as she sat up, kicking aside the covers and crying out at the sight of crimson running down her legs, staining the sheets.
He'd known as soon as he'd felt the light in his mind go out.
So he sits there, legs swinging as he stares teary-eyed at the picture. He knows he should be with Clara, but she's asleep, and the overwhelming grief and guilt he feels when he sees her is too much sometimes.
"I would've given you everything." He tells the empty room, silent tears tracking down his face. "Shown you every wonder the universe has to offer, and loved you more than anyone in the world." He sighed. "But I'm just a selfish old Timelord, and I never realized how dangerous it would be…" how dangerous it would be to have children with a human. How it would never work out, and he'd subconsciously known.
He clears his throat. "I love you. I know that I never really met you, but I still do. You would've been brilliant."
There's no one to answer him, and he settles into silence as a galaxy is born.
You were just a small bump unborn
Four months, then torn from life
Maybe you were needed up there
But we're still unaware as to why