Yeah, so, erm, this is a new account on here, and I've hardly written anything in a few years or so, so basically this is a warm up to try and get myself writing again. I personally think it's pretty terrible, but whatever. It's a weird little post-Trenzalore drabble-y one-shot that I might continue but probably won't. So… yeah.
Five days.
It had been five days since they went to Trenzalore.
In those five days, she hadn't spoken a word, hardly ate a thing, and rarely left her bedroom. She didn't do her hair or change her outfit. The few times that she did go to sleep, she would be haunted with nightmares of her echoes, confronted once more with all the times she'd died in pain and agony, always for one man.
He didn't know what to do. He had wanted to talk to her, to comfort her, but seeing him only caused her more pain. So instead he sat outside her door, in one of the TARDIS's empty corridors. He didn't sleep at all and rarely ate. He simply sat there, attempting to guard her, to save her from the nightmares, but he was only a man, and no man can stop nightmares. So he simply sat there, wanting to cry but not being able to, listening to her screams and sobs and regretting ever introducing himself to her.
Two more days passed, and on this seventh day, Clara stepped outside of her room. She looked at the Doctor, sitting up against the wall, who had in turn looked up at her, tears in his eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out except for a little squeak. The Doctor stood up quickly. Clara squeezed him into a hug and erupted into tears. He simply held her close and whispered reassurances.
"It's okay, it's alright now, promise, you're okay, you're safe." His voice had cracked, and he too began to cry, although for an entirely different reason than Clara. Clara cried because she was hurt from all the painful memories she had lived through; and the Doctor cried because his Clara wouldn't be okay for a long, long while, and he blamed it entirely on himself.
He laid her down in bed and held her hand until she fell asleep. When she screamed and cried and began to tremble six minutes later, he gently shook her awake and out of her hellish nightmare. She cried once more, and he sat on the bed with her, stroking her back softly, both of them locked in a comforting embrace.
Eventually she became too tired to cry, and simply held onto the Doctor, a burden weighing her heart down in her chest. She rested her head on his shoulder, as she had so many times before Trenzalore. She closed her eyes, envisioning all the adventures her and her Doctor had been on- from Akhaten to Yorkshire, fighting evil and saving people. And slowly, an idea formed in her head- it was a simple thought, but nonetheless, it gave her hope. She began to believe that she would forget about this one day, that the usual adventures of the Doctor and Clara would continue, and that she would heal as time passed. She dreamed that one day, she would look back at these few painful past days and be able to smile, proud of what she had overcome.
But until that day came, she would just keep slowly healing and dreaming of her shimmering tomorrow, in the hopes that better days were coming.
So.. yeah.. That's about it. If you really take a strange liking to this piece for a reason unknown to me and will die if I don't immediately continue, feel free to review or whatever. Yup. That's it. Bye.