AN: Sorry it took so long to give you this second chapter, but here you go. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for the lovely reviews, keep sending them in. This is my first story so any advice or suggestions are greatly appreciated. Sidenote - I couldn't help but add a little reference to the 12th Doctor at the end cuz I'm so not ready for him to regenerate :) I don't own Doctor Who or any of the characters [if I did, whouffle would be canon (even though I believe it's canon anyway) ] ;)
A Piano and A Painting
The room was dark; lit by a small fire crackling softly. Clara's eyes gradually fluttered open, focusing on the gentle flames. Too exhausted to do much else, she lay there watching the light; marvelling at the delicate shapes forming. She suddenly noticed the faint sound of music coming from outside the room. Clara stirred out of bed and started to walk out when she looked around the room and realised she was not in her room but in the Doctor's room. She had never been inside his room before and it struck her intriguingly how simple the room was fashioned.
There was the fireplace and a small wooden mantle frame above it. An old clock hung on the wall ticking sharply. A vase of flowers sat on the little bedside table. Aside from that, the most prominent of decorations was the large bed. A true centrepiece of exquisite silk and luscious pillows, all embroidered with what Clara recognised as Gallifreyan. Clara smiled. She felt closer to the Doctor somehow, in knowing he had allowed her to be here, in his place of peace and solitude.
She stepped out into the corridor of the Tardis, focused again on the sweet music drifting to her ears. Following the song, she was led to a room she hadn't known even existed. A large hall with high domed ceilings and elegant stonework on the walls, much like in a museum, she thought. In the middle of it all was a grand piano, and much to Clara's surprise, the Doctor was playing it. So consumed in the music, he didn't notice Clara.
"I didn't know you can play," Clara whispered, startling the Doctor. "Clara? Oh, Clara," he rushed to hug her. "You're okay. You're okay," he muttered frantically, tightening the hug."I've missed you too," Clara chuckled. "Doctor, I'm okay. I'm fine.", she said tenderly. Slowly releasing Clara from his embrace, he looked at her and smiled. "Clara Oswald, what would I be without you." "A little less paranoid?" she teased.
Walking to the piano she noticed a painting standing behind it. "Oh Doctor", she gasped turning to him; the look of astonishment and awe present in her eyes. "I missed you, Clara," he said easily. "It's me on a painting. You painted me. Actually, properly, painted me… It's beautiful." she said, still dazed at the thought of the Doctor taking the time to draw and paint her to such likeness. "She's been keeping me company. It's painfully lonely sitting in this room the whole time you've been sleeping." "Doctor! You sat in here the whole time!", she was shocked. "How long was I asleep for?" "Hehe…" the Doctor fiddled with his bowtie, desperately trying to come up with a good answer. "A little while?". Clara gave him the scary questioning glare he'd been slightly anxious to see. "About...3 weeks?" The Doctor held his breath waiting for Clara's reaction.
"About 3 weeks! Doctor! You sat here on your own for about 3 bloody weeks!" she continued to glare. "Ok, ok… It was exactly 3 weeks." "You idiot! I'd have been perfectly safe on my own being in the Tardis, you could have gone out and done stuff! I know what you're like on your own and bored, it drives you insane. It isn't good for you and you know it!" she exclaimed. "Well I wasn't alone was I?" The Doctor said looking at the painting as if begging that Clara to support him.
Clara's expression turned from aghast to slightly amused. "You really are a madman, you know that?" she said wrapping her arms around the Doctor and hugging him tightly. "3 weeks talking to a painting, so you." she giggled in his ear. "I played that piano too." "What were you playing before I came in? It sounded so good." Clara asked, letting go of the Doctor. "It's a song I wrote...for you. I missed seeing you, so I painted you. I missed hearing your voice, so I wrote a song." At that, Clara found her eyes welling up with tears.
"Have I made you upset?" the Doctor said, immediately worried. "No, you daft timelord," she laughed. "You really missed me didn't you?", "Did you think I wouldn't? You are everything to me Clara, everything," he said, with honesty and something else Clara couldn't be sure of in his eyes. She looked at the piano. "What's it called? The song." "I think that it's called… Clara."