He was irritable, Clara thought as they waited. Unusually so, she knew from experience. They were held up in a room, the smell of disinfectant only working her nerves into a worse state than they'd been the past few months, as they waited for a technician to enter and take a probe to her swollen abdomen to give them the news. She tried to smile because today should be a day of celebration, but she looked up at the frown on the man beside her and the way his shoulders stood tensely, almost pointed at the ceiling; his arms held tightly in a V to where his hands were clasped together just below his waist.

Clara wanted to call his name because the Doctor was standing with his eyes closed, his mouth pushed into a wrinkled circle of skin, and his brow lowered just enough for her to wonder if he was pained by being there. Standing in a normal hospital, in a normal obstetrician's office, looked upon as a normal man instead of the ageless time traveller he'd always been on this planet. Clara wanted to call his name because he should be looking at her, he should be holding her hand or caressing her cheek or telling her not to worry.

She wanted to call his name to know if wanted to be there at all.

The thought had plagued her from the moment she watched a digital readout on a thin piece of plastic tell her the one thing she'd thought would be impossible. After two week of laughing off the nausea and ignoring the odd cramping and telling herself the missed period was simply due to stress, or her inability to count days because of her travels, she'd wanted to assure herself all of the amusement was just that. Except it was exactly what made sense and at the same time made little sense at all.

"Pregnant," he'd repeated as she stood across from him on the console, her heart thudding angrily in her chest as she watched him flip a few switches and press some button, eyes immediately shooting up to the screen, and she imagined he was merely confirming because his head fell and he nodded against his chest, then offered a weak smile. "Would you like to rest?"

Two more months of awkward trips and sideways glances and the assertion that it could self-terminate because of their mixed biology's, Clara found herself almost ignoring it while on board the Tardis, something the Doctor seemed happy to join in on. Except it was her skin that began to shift outward and it was her body that began to demand things of her and it was her mind that continually drifted back to the tiny life growing in her womb that held onto her and then lightly began to flutter their occasional hello's just the past week.

It was her that cried when she left each night with a simple wave.

It was her who fell into a lonely bed.

"Doctor," she finally croaked, left hand sitting firmly against the side of her small stomach, the right reaching tentatively for his, fingertips grazing his skin just as he looked to her and then turned towards the door that opened.

Clara turned her attention to the man who entered and she gave him her best smile. Her most hopeful smile, and he returned the favor. He offered a youthful grin against the lines of his face and the pepper colored hair. She verified her name, her birthdate, her obstetrician's name and he typed into a computer while the Doctor remained silent beside her, watching with a scowl she tried to ignore. As did the technician who readied the gel on her stomach and then began to slowly shift the doppler over her skin.

"First time Grandfather," the man offered curiously.

"I'm the father," the Doctor retorted angrily and Clara finally let her smile drop – they were the first words he'd said all day. They weren't how she hoped she'd hear them.

Clara pinched her lips together to keep them from shaking, but she knew her chin sat trembling just beneath them, betraying whatever control she thought she might have in that room. Taking a long breath, she promised herself she could cry later because she didn't want her first view of her child to be marred by the disappointment of its father. Except that very thought sent two silent droplets rolling over her temples and into her hair.

She watched the screen, the black and white static of her uterus as the doppler searched and then finally found the fetus that shifted subtly before her. Clara laughed at the rounded little head and the thin arms and legs and the fingers that waved about as the technician tried to get her a clear photo. He laughed with her and then asked, "Do you want to know what you're having?"

But Clara knew. She looked at the small person she was making and she sighed, "A girl."

And then the Doctor asked abruptly, "Could I have a moment with Clara?"

The technician looked to her, concern etched into his every feature, but she nodded shortly and he set the doppler back in its holder, standing to leave the room, the door closing gently behind him. The Doctor watched the door and then he rounded the bed slowly, sitting quietly in the seat the technician had just abandoned and Clara looked to the ceiling, feeling her heartbeat quickening as she took in his somber response.

In greyscale, her daughter was the most beautiful thing in the universe to her. More outstanding than any colorful star cluster or bustling planet or exotic species. In those shoddy black and white pixels that couldn't ever paint a full picture, her little girl had made her heart swell with so much love she thought she might burst.

Without looking to the Doctor, she stated blankly, "I won't kill her." She shook her head, repeating adamantly, "I won't."

The Doctor gave a light gasp and she turned to see the red of unshed tears that tainted his eyes as he stared at her, taking several breaths before exclaiming, "I would never ask you to do such a thing, Clara."

"You don't..." Clara began before she swallowed and finished, "Care."

He laughed then, a soft huff of nothing as he watched her before he spoke softly on a breath that broke her heart, "I don't care."

Clara hissed in response, "It's been two months of you even not acknowledging she was happening. That she happened at all! Aside from confirming with a scan from your bloody Tardis, you've made no effort..." she trailed and laid her head back down, telling the holes in the ceiling, "It's as if you wanted her to just go away. Pesky little accidental nothing interrupting your plans."

Beside her, the Doctor was silent, and she lifted a palm to her eyes, covering them as she breathed, promising herself she wouldn't cry. She would not cry. And then she felt the gentle pressure of the doppler back on her stomach, and she heard the Doctor working at the machine before him. Clara slowly lifted her fingers and glanced at him as he watched the screen, searching out the fetus she carried until they were looking at her floating there. Her movements had slowed, hand occasionally twitching with a reflexive opening or a small sway.

"I was afraid," the Doctor admitted, turning, but not entirely meeting her eye, he quickly corrected, "No, Clara, I wasn't afraid – I was outright terrified." His eyes drifted back to the screen. "This is a life. A life begun by accident, a life begun during a night of the timid exploration of a set of thoughts that gave way to a set of words and then a set of events... A life that took a bit of your human and a bit of my alien and created her and I didn't want to..." he dropped his head and Clara watched his shoulders rise and fall. "I didn't want to look forward to her, knowing she could end at any moment." He lifted his head and stated, "But look at her."

Staring at the back of his head, Clara held her breath, understanding just a bit. But her apprehension had drifted away as they days ticked on, replaced by anticipation of the knowledge that she would be a mother before she knew it. It had been replaced by a new kind of love after a shower as she delicately rubbed lotion over her growing bump, humming to herself, and then telling the baby inside of her all of the ridiculousness of her day. It had been replaced by a determination that she was prepared to birth and raise her child alone if the father wouldn't help her.

"Doctor?"

"Look at her. So very little and already so much her mother's daughter – strong and stubborn and absolutely stunning," he laughed. "Look at her. Growing against all odds, and thriving in spite of what the universe might say is possible." He turned and gently whispered, "Look at her, Clara. She's brilliant."

On a warbled laugh, Clara nodded and replied, "I know."

He pointed, eyes shifting back to look at the girl there, as he gave the screen a set of taps, "She's going to be an adventure. She's going to be stardust come together into the perfect little package of curiosity and cleverness and she's going to be..." his voice ended and he turned to look at her, finishing almost breathlessly, "She's going to be ours, Clara."

"Ours, Doctor?" She tested.

Bowing his head a moment, laughing at his knees – knees Clara didn't realize had been shaking – the Doctor laughed to himself, and then he looked to her again, head tilted with a calm smile before he assured, "Yes, Clara, our little girl."

Taking a short breath, Clara asked, "Could we hear her?"

"Ah!" he exclaimed, finger coming up to gesture at the air before he brought it down onto a button, and his eyebrows shot up at the sound of their daughter's heartbeat, pounding and swishing away around them. And then he turned and moved the doppler and his mouth fell open.

Clara listened, and she finally asked, "She has two hearts, doesn't she?"

"Yes," he stated simply.

"Then we should probably leave before they hear that," Clara suggested.

"Yes," the Doctor agreed.

"But we could watch her just a bit more, right?" She questioned lightly.

He turned to look at her, a smug grin spreading over his lips. Clara watched his eyes spill over then, a simple set of tears over a joy he'd refused to allow himself – a joy she knew he'd continue to deny himself until he held that tiny hybrid of perfection in his careful hands. She nodded to the silent apology written in those eyes, for being so distant for so long; she smiled at the promise she saw growing, that he would do better for them. She laughed as they listened to the distinct sets of beats, steadily pounding away, and he answered, "Absolutely."