The bloody things were multiplying alright and at a tremendous rate. Clara leaned over the fishtank and peered at the proto-amphibians the Doctor had been working on. She had various issues with them, first that they were weird looking orange things and had three eyes which she was fairly certain he hadn't intended them to have, but secondly that he insisted on growing them on the kitchen table, something to do with regulating their temperature and environment. Mainly though they just stared at her when she was trying to eat and it was frankly creepy.
'Ah there you are!' the Doctor said cheerfully, crossing the living area to meet her by the tank. 'Aren't they doing well?' he leaned down to go eyeball to eyeball with one of the frog-things. It stared back at him and then opened its mouth wide to make a resonating belch.
'Well?' Clara exclaimed, 'They've got three eyes each, and there's dozens of them.'
'Yes, something went a bit awry with the DNA transmogrifier,' he admitted referring to the Anushri terraformation gear he had been experimenting with, 'I think it's easy enough to rectify.'
'Well can you rectify it in the garage?' Clara asked, 'I'm fed up with them on the kitchen table and they make that awful croaking sound at night.'
The Doctor straightened and gave her one of his best looks. Clara sent reinforcements to her heart lest he melt it with his puppy dog eyes.
'They need the stable environment, and the company…'
'They don't need company they are frogs! And anyway they are producing their own company, there's at least twenty of them in there now there were only two yesterday.'
He frowned, 'Yes I think that bit of the DNA went awry too…'
Clara pointed at him, 'Get rid of them.'
'Right…' he chewed his lip.
'Now.'
'Well I was just going to nip to Bleniphet III to acquire some…'
'No! No more weird animals!' Clara declared, 'At least not until you've sorted out the frogs. And the insects. You're running before you can walk. I do not want to look out the window and see huge alien beasts lumbering round the garden, it's getting like Jurassic Park out there. I want bunny rabbits and butterflies and normal things.'
'Normal things are boring Clara, there's such a huge variety of…'
'No! This is not a zoo, this is our home.'
The Doctor pursed his lips and looked disconsolately at his frog collection. She could tell he was about to try and sell her the new acquirement from Bleniphet III.
'It's only a little alien,' he tried.
Clara sighed. Here it comes.
'How little?'
'About the size of Fido… very tame….very affectionate.'
Fido the Gallifreyan Maltheus popped his head up and scrabbled onto a kitchen chair at the mention of his name. He panted enthusiastically and looked from Clara to the Doctor and back again as if awaiting their command, and then he got distracted by the frogs and began batting one of his many paws along the side of the tank making them leap and burp at him.
It wasn't fair, bringing Fido's name into it. Clara was completely soft on Fido as she was on anything small fluffy and dependent. And if she was OK with having Fido the eight legged spider dog what harm could another little cute alien pet do? Clara tried to avoid the Doctor's gaze, knowing she would become putty should they lock eyes. She folded her arms and looked out the window, vaguely aware of him hovering telepathically outside of her consciousness being adorably childlike and enthusiastic and gently prodding with his mind for her permission.
She held out for about a minute.
'Fine!' she exclaimed, 'I'll get my shoes on, but after we get whatever it is you're getting, you are sorting the frogs!'
He grinned widely, kissed her cheek and made for the front door, the blue of the TARDIS visible outside, 'You won't regret it, in fact you will love it, back soon!'
'Oi I'm coming too!'
'No need, no need, I won't be long, you just relax…'
'But…' Clara spluttered, 'You didn't let me come last time either…'
'Ten minutes… you won't even notice I'm gone,' and he was out the door.
Clara watched as he trotted down the path, irritated for a moment that she was being left behind. It wasn't the first of these little jaunts he had taken recently without her and she was beginning to wonder what he was really up to. If he was just collecting specimens for their planet she was fairly certain she would have been able to tag along to pick between the purple lizards and giant birds, after all she had gone with him on much more perilous trips before now.
But he was protective, ridiculously protective in the last few weeks and had more or less ordered her to stay home. At first that had annoyed her too, gone against her naturally adventurous nature and independent streak and then….
Clara saw the TARDIS doors swing shut and couldn't help but smile. Did he know? Was this his way of looking after her? She couldn't stay annoyed because deep down she knew soon she would need him more than ever. She listened to the hum of his mind in the back of hers, always respectful of her privacy, always just out of earshot unless she specifically invited him in, but surely he had felt it? Maybe that accounted for his mood.
He was so utterly different these days. Relaxed, energetic, joyful, full of optimism. His hair had grown out into thick silver curls and he had given up on his severe magician's outfit, replacing it with a comfortable hoodie and relaxed plaid trousers. Half the time he looked like he was wearing pyjamas and to be fair half the time he was, there was little of great import to get dressed formally for.
Six months had gone by since Christmas, since the Anushri planet and the fateful day she thought she had lost him forever and every one of those months, those days had brought her happiness, there in their cottage, on their planet, constructing it just the way they wanted, spending the hours and minutes on things that mattered to them.
The Doctor had blossomed to build his home at last, a job he had done half heartedly in fits and starts over the centuries but which now consumed him because he had someone to build a home for. The lonely world he had created in memory to Gallifrey was now filling with life; flora, fauna, birds, bees and strange frog things and maybe…. Maybe something, someone else.
Clara placed one hand over her belly and pressed her lips together in concentration. Maybe there was another special living thing waiting to join the others in their world. She couldn't yet be sure and as such she hadn't said but… she felt it somehow, inside, and it made her heart leap.
She could skip a few little trips, what did it matter in the grand scheme of things?
'Go on Doctor,' Clara said to herself fondly as she watched the TARDIS dematerialise in their garden, 'Go collect whatever little alien thing you're wanting, we'll be here…'
XXXXXXXX
The room was stifling, warm and muggy. Something had gone wrong with the planet's bio-thermastat again and the whole environment had increased in temperature by ten degrees. Normally she could just get the Doctor to tweak it, but he wasn't here, the empty portion of the bed reminding her of this fact insistently.
Clara spun under the covers and tried to wriggle herself into a more comfortable position. She thumped onto her back and kicked at the sheets. She was sure that the contrast between the balmy summer night and the freezing planet they'd last visited was causing havoc with her body temperature, she hadn't been able to settle for days. The Doctor had made her swaddle up in so many layers it would be of no surprise if her hypothalamus was confused about the environment.
Oh who was she kidding? It wasn't that. Or the bio-therm. She prodded her belly 'Your fault,' she said wryly.
It was 3am. It was always 3am she'd noticed, not that time really meant anything at all when you inhabited your own personal planet and made all the rules, but it was technically 3am and Clara was as alert as ever. Lying there awake, too hot too cold, wondering what he was up to, wondering if he was safe. Didn't he realise how frantic she got despite herself when he was away for days on end on a mystery tour that didn't involve her? Didn't he sense her inner control freak couldn't cope with the not knowing?
Didn't he see how much she cared about him?
She was a lot less calm and philisophical at 3am. And he was infuriating.
No he was Impossible. Her ninety year old dream crab induced self had been right, he was Impossible. She wondered why she had ever thought this… they… could work.
Clara winced at her own thoughts.
No, that wasn't true, that was just her anger speaking. Her anger and her insane hormonal need to have him near. They did work, they worked so well, but only when they were together. By herself she became victim to her doubts worries and insecurities. He tended to become victim to aliens.
She spun again under the sheet and contemplated giving up on sleep entirely.
How long had it been this time? A week. A week was about when she started to worry, worry generated from boredom and loneliness. A week when irritation turned to concern and she began to wonder if he'd ever come back, if something had happened. So far, nothing major had, it was mostly a case of piloting the time machine into the wrong week or getting his dates mixed up. Once it was a mild disagreement with an unnamed alien which ended in a nasty looking black eye, but nothing ever truly serious.
Clara turned over and stared out of the window at the faintest light of dawn already beginning to alter the planet's sky. Orange of course, like Gallifrey, dual sunned. She thought of the number of dawns she had seen back on earth, when the light shone a different colour; palest, most fragile grey blue light. Like his eyes.
She thought of his eyes and the last time she saw them, warm with easily expressed affection, pupils wide with love. She could see it in him now, wondered why it had taken her so long to notice and why they had wasted so much time. Wondered why she couldn't see before.
Just… just see me.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to stifle the increasing worry and sadness. And then she heard it. That mechanical groaning wheeze that could only be the TARDIS and the room flickered around her with its light. Clara sat up a little in the bed and shielded her face from it, harsh and bright in contrast with the dawn.
She was going to kill him. First he vanishes for a week on a venture to collect a baby alien and now he lands in their room in the middle of the night when she had specifically forbidden him to plant the TARDIS in the cottage… they had a driveway… and a garage and…
The TARDIS lurched and managed to bang off the antique pine wardrobe and Clara squealed. Now he was trashing the room with his unruly time machine. She scooted up the bed in case it went for her next.
It lurched again and for a moment seemed as though it might topple, suspended on an edge at forty five degrees before it tipped backwards onto its base with a thump, let out a gurgle and fell silent.
She groaned. If they had been on earth he'd probably have woken all the neighbours now. Small mercies then at least but she still wasn't impressed. Clara folded her arms and glared at the doors. He was probably in there all too well aware of how mad she was going to be with him and rehearsing some sort of excuse. She glared harder willing him to show himself. After a few moments she heard a shallow thump from within the TARDIS and cocked her head at it. What was he doing?
A scrabbling sound and another thump and the door edged open just a fraction.
Steam.
Clara raised her eyebrows, generally steam was not a good sign, but there it was eking out of the crack in the door and wafting across the deep pile carpet.
'Doctor?' her angry body language softened a little with concern.
The gap widened a little and there was a crunching sound from within, like someone stepping on broken glass. The door jammed a little and she saw it judder, be tugged back before she caught his silhouette against the red interior emergency lights of the time machine.
Oh God what had he done? Clara scuttled off the bed and crossed the floor.
'What's happened?' she asked quickly.
'Clara…' he sounded exhausted.
'Come out of there,' she beckoned urgently, 'Come on!' she reached in and grabbed a stray wrist, pulling him into the darkness of the room, he staggered once, almost tripped on the edge of the TARDIS and then stood before her somewhat limply, head down. She watched as he passed his free hand over his face tiredly. Even in the gloom she could see he was a dishevelled mess, his hair somewhat wild and his jacket missing. Clara squinted at him.
'Where have you been, what have you been doing? Look at the state of you!'
'It's a long story…'
'It always is… except it isn't. Planet. Angry aliens. Am I in the right area?'
'More or less, some details missing but, more or less.'
There was a pause, interrupted only by the dim crackle and hiss of the damaged TARDIS interior.
Clara stared at him, 'You're not going to give me the details?' she said with a modicum of surprise. He always gave her the details whether she wanted them or not. Often at length in the middle of the night or historically when she had a particularly large pile of marking to do.
'Not right now.'
'But you still felt the need to crash land in the bedroom at 3am?'
'Is that the time…?' he asked wearily.
'Yes! I was asleep!' Ok she wasn't asleep she was lying there worrying about him but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of that knowledge.
'Sorry,' he said meekly.
She opened her mouth and then Clara hesitated. 'Sorry?'
'Sorry I um… I had a bit of trouble programming the co-ordinates.'
'Don't you always,' she grumbled and sat on the bed, secretly just relieved to have him home but he didn't move from the centre of the room and again she cocked her head curiously. 'Are you just going to stand there?' she asked. She caught his profile turning towards the sound of her voice.
'Um…' he said.
Clara reached out and flicked on the bedside light, blinked against it, focused on the Doctor.
'Oh,' she said, her eyes moving over him. 'You look…'
'Bit of a mess I suspect,' he said, his eyes on the floor.
'Just a bit.'
The hoodie had seen better days, its zip broken and its pockets torn. She tracked her gaze up his arms where his pale skin could be seen through clusters of rips in the material, pale except for reddened areas, grazed and cut, the blood drying in the gaps. There were rips too in the plaid material of his trousers and he looked for all the world like he had been crawling through a very angry bramble bush, his knees caked with dirt and mud and his hands covered in tiny scratches. There were scratches on his face too and a nasty cut above his left eye which had streamed blood over his cheek at some point before drying out.
Clara stopped being angry at him, she could reserve that for later, when she was finding out the details, right now he just needed some patching up. She was used to that, make him some tea, force him to have a shower and get changed, rejuvenate him enough to confess his latest adventure. Ultimately she cared, it was always her downfall.
She sighed and pushed herself upright from her knees.
'You need to clean up,'
'Yes…' he said hesitantly.
'I'll make us some tea.'
He still hadn't moved.
'Doctor? Come on, you can't stand there bleeding and dropping mud on the carpet all night, you're lucky I don't just make you sleep on the couch.' She approached him and he flicked his eyes up to meet hers, except they didn't meet, they looked past her unfocused. Even in the dim glow of the bedside lamp she could see something was wrong.
'Doctor?'
'You might need to…' he started. She watched as he lifted one scratched hand slightly and search the air briefly before finding her arm, his grip immediately tight. 'I need a little help,' he explained, and she watched as his sightless eyes scanned for her unsuccessfully, 'I've gone blind.'