Clara followed The Doctor back into the TARDIS from the train yards and shut the door quietly. He had already paced ahead to the console and was keying in the coordinates to her flat.
Clara was still stinging from his backhanded compliment. You were an exceptional Doctor, Clara. Goodness had nothing to do with it.
Clara turned from the closed door and felt a sharp pain in her side. It was sudden but disappeared the moment she straightened. She walked to the console a little gingerly.
There was an awkward silence before The Doctor pulled the lever and sent the TARDIS off in a flurry of light and sound. It was only a short hop from Bristol to London and it landed after only a few seconds.
The Doctor leaned heavily on the console and looked down. He didn't seem pleased.
She waited for a moment for him to say something. Perhaps a goodbye? When he didn't speak, she turned on her heel to leave. The stab of pain was back. Clara tried to ignore it as she walked towards the door, her breathing a little shallow.
"Clara?" he asked looking up.
She stopped and turned slowly to face him.
"What's the matter with your back? I've seen Cybermen move more fluidly than you."
"Nothing," she said innocently. It wasn't a lie; her back was fine. The bag on her shoulder started to slip and she reached up to adjust the strap. Clara winced but turned it into a nervous smile to try and hide it.
The Doctor was not fooled. He rounded the console pinning her with an intense gaze as he pulled the sonic screwdriver out of his jacket and started scanning.
"It's fine, Doctor. Don't make a fuss," she said stepping away from him.
"Don't make a fuss of what exactly?" He moved behind her scanning her back. When The Doctor found nothing he moved towards her side.
"I'm just a bit sore, that's all."
He took her left wrist and raised her arm to let the sonic investigate closer to her side. An excruciating pain shot through Clara's ribs and she pulled away from him. It knocked the breath right out of her and she stood panting, holding her side protectively.
"Don't.. touch.. me!" she hissed. Her face was thunderous and she looked like she could slap him.
"Clara, let me help you," he said gently, palms out as a gesture of trust.
She steadied her breathing, the pain dissipating slightly but she still kept her hand around her torso. Her eyes were watering and she blinked the tears away just so she could see straight.
He scanned her with the sonic again, eyebrows raising slightly as he found the cause of the problem. "You've fractured your ribs Clara." He switched the sonic off before discarding it onto the console with a little more force than necessary.
Clara couldn't meet his gaze. She felt slightly ashamed that she wasn't invincible. After all her knocking about with The Doctor, this was a timely reminder that she was a breakable human being, without the luxury of seemingly endless regenerations.
The adrenaline of the day was starting to wear off and she felt suddenly very weary. The Doctor lifted her bag carefully off her shoulder and sat it down on the floor. She didn't realise he had gently guided her to a jump seat until she was being eased down onto the chair.
Clara didn't argue when he slipped the jacket off her shoulders. The Doctor crouched down beside her and pulled her shirt up at her side to just under her bra strap. A patch of red, slightly swollen skin indicated the site of the fractures.
"Did you do this falling out the window with that Fluorescent Pudding Brain?" he asked as he gently palpated the area.
She winced and he immediately ceased his prodding and dropped the shirt. "No, I think it was when we jumped off the train."
The Doctor stood up to his full height and looked down at her sitting stiffly on the chair. Clara looked even smaller than usual.
"And I suppose the train was moving at the time?" he asked.
"Of course." She didn't meet his gaze, finding the floor suddenly very interesting.
The Doctor rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.
"Doctor, if I hadn't been on that train I wouldn't have found the TARDIS on the tracks," she said attempting to justify her recklessness.
Clara winced as she stood up awkwardly holding her side. "And if I hadn't found the TARDIS, you would have suffocated by now and The Boneless would have kept flattening everything. I just saved the world remember?"
"Fair point," he conceded with a nod. "Now, let's get you home."
Clara sat on her bed back in her flat. She carefully rested her foot up on her knee as she attempted to remove her sneakers, trying not to move too much. The sharp pain was back and she found herself holding her breath to ease it.
Clara began pulling at the laces as The Doctor returned from the kitchen with a glass of water. He placed it on the bedside table and threw down a packet of Solpadeine Max that he'd found in a drawer.
The Doctor didn't say a word as he took hold of her shoe and slid it off her foot, letting it drop to the floor. He motioned for her to give him her other foot and he made short work of the laces. The second sneaker soon dropped next to the other.
The Doctor handed her the glass before pushing two tablets out of the blister pack and onto her hand. "You will take two of these. No arguments Clara."
She threw the tablets down with a sip of water. Of course there would be no argument; she was in agony. Even the slightest of movement caused a biting pain that made her blink back tears.
"You know for a Doctor, you have a lousy bedside manner."
He raised his eyebrows and looked down at her. "I won't coddle you, Clara. Call your boyfriend if you want a cuddle." The Doctor took the glass out of her hand. "Where's your phone?" he asked bluntly.
"Please don't call Danny," she said wearily.
"I'm not calling PE. Visiting hours are over." He held out his hand expectantly. "Come on, hand it over."
Clara reluctantly pulled the phone out of her pocket and held it out to him. The Doctor took it and turned it to silent with his sonic screwdriver before placing it on the bedside table.
"Soldier Boy can come over and canoodle with you tomorrow. Nothing too energetic though. Doctor's orders." He pulled the duvet back and patted the mattress as an invitation for her to lie down.
"Shouldn't I wrap my ribs in a bandage or something?" she asked looking up at him.
"That's rubbish first aid. You don't wrap fractured ribs. Come on." He pointed to the bed. "Head on pillow. Now."
"I don't think I can," she said quietly. The very thought of moving anywhere made the blood drain from her face. She gritted her teeth and tried not to think about the jagged edges of her rib bones grating together.
He sighed in exasperation. "Clara, you can't sit up all night. Now lie down so I can ice it."
Clara carefully scooted up further along the bed. She slowly crawled up onto the mattress and fell toward the pile of pillows. Her arms were wrapped around herself and she was breathing in shallow little pants as the stabbing pain shot through her.
The Doctor raised his eyebrows then tilted his head, studying her for a moment as she lay in a foetal position. She really was in a lot of pain. The sooner the pills kicked in the better.
"I can't ice your ribs like that. Kindly untangle yourself," he said making a circular motion with his finger towards her.
When she didn't move he took the liberty of assisting her, gently straightening her limbs until she was reasonably untangled, face still buried in the pillows. "Seriously Clara, I could go to Gallifrey and back in the time it takes to get you into bed."
Her head turned more towards him as she straightened on the mattress. He caught a glimpse of fresh tears on the pillow. Five foot one and crying.
His face softened a bit and he tried to offer her some comfort. "The codeine will kick in soon and reach peak concentration in about an hour." He brushed the hair out of her face as she swallowed thickly, trying to clear her throat without coughing.
By the looks of things it was already starting to work. Clara's breathing seemed to slow and she looked a bit drowsy.
"Your gastrointestinal tract is absorbing the codeine as we speak. Actually as I speak. You're not doing much speaking at all which quite frankly is a refreshing change from the usual."
He continued his commentary on the process of codeine conversion as he gently rolled her over on her side, one hand on her hip and the other on her shoulder.
"The codeine then turns into morphine in the liver, by a helpful little enzyme called CYP2D6."
Clara found her eyes drifting shut as The Doctor went on and on about enzymes and metabolisers and other medical jargon she didn't care about.
Sensing her disinterest, he left for a moment to look for an ice pack. She could hear him fumbling around in the freezer. When he returned she heard the soft sound of the ice pack being bent into a more malleable shape before he placed it on the offending ribs under her left arm.
Clara shivered slightly as the cold shot through her. The Doctor took his cue and pulled the duvet up and settled it around her shoulders.
"Call if you need me," he said taking the phone from the bedside table and putting it next to the pillow beside her.
She didn't answer. He leaned over and saw that her eyes were fully closed. The Doctor brushed the hair out of her face again, tucking the lose strands behind her ear.
He lingered for a moment at the door, considering whether or not he should stay. The Doctor drummed his fingers on the door frame quietly before deciding to retire to the TARDIS.