Kneeling in the middle of the bright and untidy room, a laugh easily escaping her, Clara watched the almost four-year-old girl bouncing around, saying goodnight to all of her toys. It was a nightly routine, something she indulged because she was a child – a child being as innocent and wonderful as she should be at almost four, in spite of everything she'd seen in her short lifespan.
For a moment, the smile on her face dropped, remembering the tears and the frowns and the shouts of fright she'd seen and heard from that little girl, but then she met her eyes. Eyes that carried the shape of her own, but every bit the brightness her father's had to offer. Eyes that had seen every corner of the universe and still asked quietly and excitedly to continue looking.
"Mummy," the girl questioned her boldly, "What are you thinking about?"
It always amused her, the little touches of Scottish in her daughter's tiny voice, and the way those eyes could fill with worry over her in much the same manner as her father's. The way she never quite asked Clara how she was feeling when she noticed her becoming emotional, simply what she was thinking. Because it was something her father would do.
On a sigh, Clara thought to that old man, probably tinkering away in the Tardis in the living room. She smiled then, raising her arms up and waiting for the little girl to offer her a bright smile before bounding towards her to land against her chest with a light hum.
Eyes closing, arms wrapping around her gently, Clara asked, "Are you excited about tomorrow, Ellie?"
She began to stand, feeling her daughter lay her head down against her shoulder as Clara stood at the center of the room, swaying slightly until she could feel the day's tensions easing out of the girl's muscles. Ready, she knew, for a good night's sleep. And thankfully on a more human schedule than she'd expected after the first few months of her life.
Glancing down, she found Ellie's eyes peering sleepily up at her, head nodding slightly, small grin on her thin lips. So much her father's daughter, Clara always thought happily. "Yes, mummy," she told her quickly before giggling as Clara moved towards the girl's bed. She sat, cradling her little girl and watching the question forming in that beautiful mind. Because there was always a question there, just behind her lips, and Clara was always excited to hear it.
She gave her pale cheek a light caress and prompted, "I know you're thinking about something really big – and you know we always say it's not good to go to bed with something that," Ellie chimed in, "Big on your mind," before they laughed together and Clara nodded, "What is is?"
Taking a long breath, the girl picked at her fingers and shifted slightly against Clara, comfortable in her arms in a way Clara knew she'd be outgrowing soon. She hated thinking it, that her little girl wouldn't be so little for much longer and she waited while she mulled it over, giving her the time to think of just the right way to ask the question she was holding onto.
Knowing they now had an audience, watching curiously, leaned into the doorframe.
"What was it like," Ellie began softly before looking up to finish, "Before I was born?"
Smiling, Clara brushed the long dark bangs off her daughter's forehead and she admitted, "Scary, I think." Ellie's thick brow lifted and Clara told her, "Your dad and I, we had loads of adventures, all around the universe."
"More than now?" Ellie asked, looking surprised.
Clara nodded, trying to remember it all. There were so many years to remember – the ones with the Doctor and the ones without and everything they went through to find each other again – and she looked over the child's face. It was round, like her own, but pale, like the Doctor's, and she touched a small scar just above her right eyebrow, saddened to know it wasn't from falling off a bike or stumbling while learning to walk.
"More than now," she finally breathed.
"How come you don't go on as many adventures?" Ellie shot, head tilting slightly against her arm.
Poking her small nose, Clara admitted, "Because one day we found out we were going on the biggest adventure of them all, one that would last a lifetime, and it was very scary.
Eye widening and glancing around quickly before landing her gaze back on her mother, Ellie asked softly, "What adventure was that?"
Clara's grip on the girl tightened a moment and she bent slightly to whisper, "You."
She watched Ellie's brow knot as her lips pursed together, considering her words and she gave her a small shake, one her daughter understood meant she wanted to know what she was thinking – because Ellie had a terrible habit of thinking too much and speaking too little, something Clara knew she got from her parents. Emotions remained, unfortunately, bottled, and Clara prompted her often, not wanting her daughter to grow up incapable of discussing them.
Something her and the Doctor worked on daily, she thought with a grin.
"I scared you," Ellie finally told her sadly. She looked away, lips trembling as she uttered, "I'm sorry."
"No," Clara laughed, "No, no, baby, you don't scare us in the way that Cybermen or Daleks or Zygons scare us – you..." she considered it, watching her daughter's eyes return to hers, watching her intently and waiting patiently for the explanation. "You scare us like anything new and beautiful and special."
"Mummy," Ellie stated firmly, "I'm going to get a lot of new things tomorrow and none of it scares me." She shrugged and then told her nervously, "I don't understand."
Smiling down at the child staring up at her with concern, she told her, "We were scared we wouldn't be good at taking care of you and that became the most important thing to us both." She curled Ellie's hair behind her small perfectly rounded ear, and then Clara ran the backs of her fingers over Ellie's warm cheek. "You are the most important thing in the universe to me and your dad and we were scared because we wanted to be the very best for you."
"Then you don't need to be scared, mummy – you or dad." Nodding, Ellie confirmed, "Because you are. The very best in all of everything."
The girl climbed up to hug her fiercely and Clara closed her eyes, inhaling her daughter's baby powder and the light perfume Clara's father had given her for Christmas and she grinned, feeling the heartbeats that drummed calmly against her chest. She stood and laid her daughter down, pulling the sheets to her chin and watching the small knowing smirk the girl gave her. These were moments she wished she could talk to her own mother.
To ask her if she'd ever been so frightened.
Because Clara knew there wasn't a single thing she wouldn't do for the little girl who smiled back up at her. And she knew she'd already done so much no person should have to have. Kneeling beside Ellie to stroke at her hair, watching those light eyes grow tired, Clara admitted, "I still get scared from time to time, because it's hard work, keeping us all safe, but do you know what I remember, Ellie?"
"What?" The girl whispered.
Smiling as she watched her daughter struggle with sleep to listen, Clara quietly told her, "The first time I felt you kicking in my belly; the first time I knew how strong you would be." Ellie smiled and stifled a giggle. "My beautiful little girl," Clara sighed, brushing a hand over her chest before laying it there to count those beats on either side of her palm, the way she did on so many nights when she'd been an infant, worried those two hearts would stop.
Clara could remember so many nights, unable to sleep as she watched her baby take breath after breath. She could remember the Doctor's warm presence, just beside or behind her, rubbing at her shoulders, or offering a hug, promising their little girl was perfect. Absolutely, he had assured, perfect.
Watching Ellie's eyes close and then slowly pull back open, Clara told her confidently, "These are the best days of my life, with you and your father. I don't have two hearts like you, but every beat of my heart is for you. Every beat until the very last is like song in my ears because of how very much I love you and how very glad I am to have you." Her daughter's cheeks went pink
"Mummy?" Ellie asked quietly.
"Yes, baby," Clara replied in kind.
"For my birthday tomorrow," she began on a sigh, eyes blinking shut, "Don't be afraid."
With a smile, Clara asked, "Why not, Ellie?"
The little lips lifted into her father's grin before she breathed, "Because I love you so so so much. More than all the stars in the universe." Her eyes opened, lazily looking her over the way her father often did, giving Clara the same smile he often did, as she searched for her hand to bring to her chest to hold tightly as she let her eyes drift shut again, this time for the night.
Clara sniffled lightly, raising her free hand to wipe at her eyes just as the Doctor knelt beside her to give her shoulders a quick rub and she laughed, telling him honestly, "Every sacrifice we ever made is worth her."
He made a noise of agreement and Clara reached to spread the girl's hands, bending to kiss them lightly before laying them against her stomach, watching her take a long breath and closing her own eyes. Listening to the exhale against the sound of her own heart – the beating of which she'd never grow tired of hearing since it had returned.
"And I know you're scared," Clara told him without turning. "I know you're more scared than I am, because of what she is, but for tomorrow – for Ellie – let's push that aside and worry about giving our girl a good birthday."
Feeling him stand, she bent to press a kiss into her daughter's forehead, and then she stood to look into the Doctor's eyes, smiling because she found their daughter their now. In all of the sadness and all of the happiness and all of those questions rattling around in his mind, she always saw their child reflected back at her and she felt the butterflies in her stomach as she stepped into him to give him a light kiss.
"To the universe, she's the Hybrid, and in some respects it probably keeps her safer," the Doctor told her calmly, before nodding and letting his hands round Clara to pull her closer and lift his brow to tell her, "But she's just our daughter to me."
Laughing lightly, Clara stated, "Our perfect little girl."
"Who can't clean her room," the Doctor lamented.
"Or tie her shoes," Clara groaned, "In spite of the daily lessons."
"Perhaps she prefers them untied," he pointed out. "We should get her sand shoes, the sort with no laces."
"And until then? She's gonna trip on a planet one day while we're running, Doctor," Clara stated, chuckling.
The Doctor looked to the girl and Clara watched the warm smile that spread over his features. It was his smile that calmed her; his constant assurances that he would do everything in his power to keep them safe. Even if it meant less adventures. Even if it meant regeneration. Even if it meant an Earthly child. She laid her ear to his chest, listening to the calm double beats, just like his daughter.
"She is the very best of us, isn't she, Clara?" He uttered before sighing contentedly.
Clara nodded, and she looked to a clock on the wall, one that told her it was nearing two in the morning. She laughed, looking to the girl who would only need those few hours sleep and then she waited, watching the minutes tick by as the Doctor held her, doing the same. Until a click that brought two sixteen in the morning, and they both whispered quietly, "Happy Birthday, Ellie," before leaving their girl to her dreams.