She kept to herself. She didn't unnecessarily speak out. She held her gaze downward. She kept her demeanor lowered. She remained vulnerable. She remained crestfallen. She was different.
The Doctor found himself watching Clara a bit more closely than usual. He wasn't entirely sure why, he just had...a feeling. He got those feelings sometimes. Didn't really have much to go off of half the time, but the feelings always seemed to follow through.
Something was different about her. Something was off. He wasn't sure what, but despite the changes in their relationship, it didn't change the fact that he'd known her for a long time. And he knew her quite well.
So when Clara finally emerged from her bedroom aboard the TARDIS that morning, the Doctor found himself staring blankly ahead, at war with himself whether or not to speak out. He felt like he should. It was a bit of a nagging feeling at the front of his mind, but meanwhile his subconscious protested against it. It wasn't any of his business, nor was it his area in the...er...comforting matter. "Good morning, Clara." He found himself muttering simply, a bit more gruffly than he'd originally intended.
"Hey." She said softly, tripping a bit over her over-sized pyjama bottoms. She flopped down in the jump seat with a lengthy yawn, crossing her arms over her chest and bundling the dressing gown closer to her body.
"Sleep well?" The Doctor asked warily, busying himself with the controls so as not to meet her gaze. He kept his ears pricked and alert for her reply, listening for the slightest waver in her voice, hoping, yet dreading at the same time he'd be able to detect something wrong.
When all she gave was a small noise of affirmation, he felt like he couldn't take it anymore. He didn't need any sort of confirmation, did he? He knew her. He knew when something was wrong - he always had. Most of the time, far more times than not, he'd simply dismiss any sign of abnormality, insisting that everything was perfectly fine, even though each time he knew everything was most definitely not. Maybe it was time to change his approach.
"Clara." He coughed out, voice oddly hoarse with nerves. He cleared his throat with a bit of a wince, fingertips tapping lightly at one another. "Are you okay?"
She glanced up at him, eyebrow slightly quirked upward. "Yeah. Why?"
"Oh, no reason." He dismissed, waving a hand in front of his face for show before returning his undivided attention back to the controls. Then the attention started splitting up again. "You sure?" He turned his head to glance at her from over his shoulder.
"Everything's fine, Doctor." Clara gave him a sort of lopsided smile. "I'm sure."
"Planning on telling me why you're so insistent on staying the night in the TARDIS lately?" He finally questioned, spinning around to lean back on the console and cross his arms with an intimidating stare. "And why I've not seen a real smile on your face in days? Honestly, Clara. How blind do you think I am?"
Her breath caught in her throat and the Doctor could see her physically tense, as if the subject were so delicate she didn't dare mention it.
"Tell me what's going on." He insisted.
Clara sighed, head lowering for a split second before she allowed her gaze to flicker up to his. "Danny and I broke up."
The Doctor's shoulders sagged and he rolled his eyes, huffing. "That's all?" He questioned incredulously.
"Yeah." She muttered, crossing her legs up on the jump seat and glancing away. "That's all." Her hands clasped together in her lap as she took a sudden interest in her mother's ring, twirling it around on her finger as she burned under the Doctor's gaze.
"You had me worried!" He told her, striding up to her side and looking downward with fierce, pale green eyes. "I thought something was seriously wrong, with the way you've been moping around and all."
"I'm sorry." She mumbled with irritation, voice as unapologetic as it could get as she rose to her feet with a scowl. "If its so horrible having me stick around, I'll get out of your hair."
The Doctor watched her walk away with a frown, fists clenching at his sides while he gritted his teeth. "Wait." He muttered, just before she reached the door.
Clara spun around with crossed arms and a contorted scowl. "Not all humans are as emotionless and heartless as you are, Doctor!" She hissed automatically, stomping up to him without the slightest waver in her stride. The Doctor flinched. "I'm allowed to be sad!"
"Never said you weren't!" He defended, hands raised in readiness to ward off an inevitable attack. "I just expected something a bit more...devastating."
"Oh, you insufferable-" She broke off, already searing with anger, but forcing herself to calm. "Whatever."
The Doctor expected her to stomp away. Expected her to storm off, muttering something about heartlessness. Expected her to slam the door. Expected her to never look back. But she remained in place, hands twitching at her sides irritably before she settled for leaning up against the console at his side. "I loved him." She found herself admitting softly. "I thought he loved me too."
He looked down, face screwed up with confusion. His expression was one that awkwardly said, there there, not exactly knowing what to do or say in that precise situation. "What happened?" He finally asked.
Next thing he knew, Clara was ranting about the past few weeks she'd been with Danny and what a jerk he had turned out to be in the end. She continued on for what felt like multiple eternities, but was in reality a mere few minutes. The Doctor propped his chin up with his palm, eyes lulling closed as he listened to her go on and on. Finally, her lecture drew to a close.
"Sorry." She muttered, noticing his lack of attentiveness and interest. "Needed to get that out."
"Its fine." He replied with a sniff, avoiding her gaze with an awkward tremor in his hands.
"Sorry I snapped."
"Yeah, you should be. It was quite hurtful." He announced, fluttering his eyelids with mock-offensiveness, eliciting a light giggle from Clara.
"I tend to have that affect on people." She added, laughter quickly faltering. Accordin' to Danny, at least."
"Don't listen to that pudding brain. Always lying, that bunch." The Doctor told her with an uncharacteristic encouraging manor. "Least you've got me."
Clara found herself faintly smiling, hands finally settling at her sides. "Suppose I do."
He tensed up when he felt a light pressure on his shoulder, looking down to see to top of Clara's head dangerously close. It rested against his arm, her eyes closed with contentment. He opened his mouth to protest, but never managed to allow the words to escape his lips. With a sigh of defeat, his muscles relaxed, as he supported her weight in allowance of her full leaning on his side.
Oh, whatever. He thought, not bothering to stop the arm that was beginning to drape around her shoulders. He relaxed into the closeness, accepting the intimacy for the first time. If it gave her a bit of comfort in her sensitive human mind, who was he to argue?