Clara hadn't told him, but he knew – spotted the test haphazardly tossed into a bin in the bathroom closest to the console – and as he urged her to get along with the Tardis, he couldn't help but look her over. Her skin seemed radiant, cheeks filled with a light blush as she made her way around for the second time and gave the controls at her right a light tap of appreciation. And he couldn't help but smirk when she finally relented, letting him usher her towards the machine, sandwiching her between himself and his Tardis with a bit of a blush himself as he began instructing her.
He would ask her, he just needed the right moment.
The explosion knocked them both off their feet, but while the Tardis had deposited him outside, it had taken Clara further into her – protecting her from whatever the Doctor should be putting an end to just outside. That's what the Doctor did: protected the women in his life, wasn't it? He gave the men who came to salvage the Tardis a welcoming smile and then he trapped them inside with an angered clap of his hands and a menacing stare because in that moment he couldn't care less who they were or what they wanted or what their story was.
"Salvage of a lifetime – you meant the Tardis; I meant Clara."
He scanned absently as they moved along; as something moved alongside them. The Tardis continued shifting her path, keeping her out of harm's way and, unfortunately the Tardis was seeing the men he travelled with as a threat to Clara. It both relieved him and irritated him because he understood that the Tardis knew her condition and she thought the best thing to do would be to keep Clara from him. Keep Clara by herself when something was lurking around after her.
Except he was able to pull her through, relieved despite the blows she delivered.
Of course she was right, and he imagined she was thinking about raising a baby in a ship that had mysterious zombie creatures running about. He still wasn't quite sure what they were, he just knew that while they were a threat, he had to get to the engine room and he had to get her through hell to get there. Hell in which she questioned him in a way she'd never done before; hell in which she looked at him as though he were a stranger. Hell, in which he felt the life drain out of him as he imagined her dying because he thought It'd be a good idea for her to pilot the Tardis with minimal shields.
Hell they barely survived and turned him right around on her.
He supposed the rage came from the notion that she'd left the test in the bin on purpose. That she'd wooed him for nefarious reasons he still didn't understand and was using the product of that to manipulate him further, doubling the doubt he carried that she couldn't possibly be as perfect for him as he found her to be without there being something amiss. But the fear in her eyes as he accused her was genuine and the terror in his hearts as she almost stumbled over the cliff nearly brought him to his knees as he pulled her to safety. And as he held her, as she gripped him tightly and he lifted her on tip-toe and then buried his face in her shoulder, he knew she was absolutely perfect for him.
She was Clara; just Clara; just his Clara – and she was carrying their baby.
They exchanged a smile, just before they jumped and somehow it floored him that she trusted him so implicitly that she'd be willing to risk her life – their lives – on a hunch. Or die with him because of it. That's what she did though, wasn't it, he considered as they drifted into the open space over the cliff and when he landed, his stomach sank, seeing the bits and pieces of the Tardis engine floating in suspension of time. He peered to his left as she curled her hand around his, feeling the roughness of her burn against his palm and he knew how much it had to hurt her, but she put his comfort ahead of hers.
He looked into the crack in time, deciding to put her ahead of his.
Clara walked off the console floor, small shake of her head as she went into the first corridor and he considered following her, comforting her because he knew there was so much on her mind. And he wanted to ask her, but he didn't want to risk causing her pain. The day had been wiped from her memory, but the test still sat in the garbage bin. Except like with all things that went through the cracks; what emerged was never quite the same and he didn't understand how, or why, and the thought was what kept him on the console long after she'd gone. Because maybe it was the exposure to the radiation, or maybe it was the stress of the day, or maybe it hadn't been right the first go around.
But a few hours worth of time hadn't been the only thing erased.
