Quick thank you to the lovelies who reviewed/followed/favourited. To the anonymous review asking if this was going to be a Doctor/Clara story, it will be. A bit angsty, and possibly upsetting (for me at least), but a couple whouffle cuddles is needed until the 50th.

I don't really have a whole lot to say, besides thanks, and a quick apology for not updating, as I'm pretty lazy and new school and stuff.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

"Oswin, can you hear me? Oswin?" the Doctor begged his unconscious patient as he pressed two fingers to feel her pulse. He sighed in relief at her beating heart, even though it was pounding a bit too rapidly for his liking. He hovered his cheek above her mouth, watching as her chest stuttered with each choked breath he could hear.

He tilted her head back and opened her mouth a bit further in hopes to make her breathing easier. Cradling the back of her skull in one hand, the Doctor reached up and pulled and oxygen mask from the shelf with the other. He secured it over and mouth and nose, and gently brushed some hair from her face.

She looked absolutely fragile, and he wanted to do something, but he wasn't able to do much else, besides make sure she was still breathing, until Doctor Jones arrived. And after that, there wasn't anything the Doctor could do for her.

Sighing, he bent over to get a better look at her. Crimson liquid stained her cheeks, as well as her mouth and chin. Her hair was matted and stuck to her forehead, which held a light coating of sweat. His eyes traveled down her neck, also splattered with blood, and noticed a bruise forming from under the neckline of her dress. It painted her collarbone a sickly blue and black colour and reached towards her shoulders.

Doctor Martha Jones hustled through the door and into the small room, followed by two nurses. The Doctor backed away to allow her some room to examine the small girl, whose breathing quickly became choked as she lurched up and coughs racked her body. The Doctor already had a hand bracing her back, and rubbed circles between her shoulder blades. Martha's eyes met his briefly, panicked as well as confused. Her patient pulled off the oxygen mask before Martha had a chance to grab it, and tried to sturdy to girl so she wouldn't fall.

One particular cough had Dr. Jones freezing momentarily in surprise and she had to close her eyes to avoid getting blood in them. She ignored the stains on her lab coat and grabbed hold of her plastic tub one of the nurses handed her.

"Her names is Oswin," the Doctor explained, still rubbing her back and holding her hair as she sputtered into the bowl Dr. Jones was holding. "She came in not long ago, she was hysterical and said that she didn't know where she was."

"Shock? Amnesia?" Martha offered. "Could be either or, she's obviously been through some trauma. But I won't know more until I can get a look."

The Doctor nodded, shuffling closer to the bed in order to allow the nurses to elevate so that it sat in more of an obtuse angle, rather than flat. He allowed Oswin to lean back and made his way over to the sink. He noticed that his hands were shaking when he went to rip off some paper towel. He prayed for them to stop as he wetted the paper under luke warm water. He wasn't usually involved with trauma cases until after all their physical needs were taken care of.

He made his way back over to the bed and gently wiped at some of the blood on her cheeks. Her eyes were exhausted and barely opened, unfocused. His thumb swept over her eyebrow and her brown eyes rolled to look in his direction.

Martha had begun cutting away at the cotton dress, causing Oswin to shiver at the cold temperature of the room. Pulling the dress away, Martha exhaled heavily. The Doctor knew that she was sighing but in the medical field, they had to be subtle about it in order to not alarm the patient. He averted his eyes from Oswin's and let them land on her chest.

His former suspicions were confirmed by the bruising of her upper chest. Instead of the former blue/black, there was a distinct green/yellow factor to it, as well as a few minor cuts. The entire area was swollen and the cuts were still relatively fresh, so he had to assume they were deeper than appeared, or the whole ordeal happened in recent hours.

Martha's hand replaced the Doctor's on Oswin's face so that the young woman would focus on her.

"Oswin," she began gently, "We're going to keep you on the oxygen mask until we get a clear picture of what's going on inside your body, okay?" Oswin nodded and winced at the movement. She remained still as Martha put the mask back on. "We're going to take some blood for some tests, as well as take an x-ray. These nurses here are going to take you to your own room and get your some pain killers, how does that sound?"

The Doctor could have sworn he seen a small smile on Oswin's face that mirrored Martha's. The nurse began wheeling the stretcher out of the room and through the hall.

"What do you think it is?" the Doctor asked.

"I don't really have enough information to make a diagnosis just yet. But by the looks of the bruising, it's definitely trauma. I don't know exactly what caused it, but there may be some breaks or fractures. Punctured lungs, causing the blood. But by the looks of it," she gave the Doctor a solemn look, "it wasn't an accident. It took a lot of force and hit such a precise area. She was beat."

Hours later, the Doctor had finished having lunch with Rory and had begun making his way to his patients. He had a session with a young boy who suffered from Vascular Dementia after having a stroke. The boy, as well as his family, was having trouble coping to the disease and had sessions with the Doctor to help work on the skills the boy would need in order to live normally.

"Doctor Smith?"

His whipped his head around at the sound of his name, which came from the secretary at the front desk. He gave a cheery smile and spun his long limbs comically in order to turn himself around. The secretary, a young blonde named Trish, giggled at his antics. He tried to appear casual as he leant on the desk surface, but ended up slipping a few inches to the left despite himself.

"Dr. Jones asked me to find some information on Miss Oswald, so here ya go," Trish informed, handing the Doctor a folder full of paper.

"Oswald isn't my patient," he pondered, fingering the corner of the folder.

Trish shrugged and began stapling some sheets together. "According to Dr. Jones, she is now. Also, I contacted the family. Dr. Jones already talked to them, but take a look through her folders. The family should still be here, probably in the waiting area. Maybe they can help."

"You, Trish, are a rock star."

She grinned, "I try. Oh, and Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"I put in the phone numbers of her previous doctors and such. I recommend you give them a call."

The Doctor nodded, flipped open the folder, and made his way through the winding halls of the hospital. He read through her basic information, and found that her name was not Oswin, and was in fact Clara. He was confused as to why she would lie about her name. Clara was a nice name; pretty and elegant. French in origin and meant "bright". Although without knowing the girl, the name may have been misleading. He wasn't sure.

She hadn't lied about her last name, though. Only daughter to Dave and Ellie Oswald, born November 23rd, 1989. Next to her mom's name, in brackets, read "deceased".

Okay, the Doctor thought, if it's just her dad left, there's not much family to ask.

He reasoned with himself that there may be a step-mom, or girlfriend. Maybe a step-sister or brother. But in her contact info there was nothing listed, nor was there a next-of-kin. So she wasn't married.

Stepping into the elevator, the Doctor flipped through the rest of her files. She had no records, only basic information, as well as photo ID and a list of names of previous doctors. He recognized one; David MacDonald. He was well known for the major breakthroughs he had with his patients, as well as scientific discoveries of their illnesses and ways to treat them. The Doctor had always been a fan, or since he went to school for psychology. Doctor MacDonald was a well-used example in schooling.

The elevator dinged, signaling someone's destination. The doors open and a familiar nose was the first thing to catch the Doctor's attention. Smiling at his friend, the Doctor side stepped in order to make room in the lift.

"Long time, no see," the Doctor mused, causing Rory to laugh. The two stood side by side, watching the buttons light up on the panel.

"Yeah, well, I would still be hanging out with the coma patients. But Strax has me running errands," Rory explained with an annoyed edge to his voice.

The Doctor nodded in understanding, turning his head so he could look at Rory. "Blimey, that man needs to rethink how he treats people."

"I was checking the stats on a patient and he comes up, 'How's the boy doing?'. The patient was a seventeen year old girl, and her family was sitting right there."

"The man is as simple as he is short. Have a problem? Take it up with Vastra."

Rory swayed his head left to right, as if weighing his options. "She scares me, too."

The Doctor clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Buck up, mate." The elevator stopped and the doors opened. "This is my floor, see you later, Rory."

He missed the small wave Rory had given and began the stroll to his office. Folder at his side, the Doctor focused on the mystery that was Oswald. He refused to call her Clara, because that wasn't how she identified. And he wouldn't call her Oswin because that wasn't who she was. The only name she kept was her last, and that is how she would now be referred to as.

A whirl of black hair to his side stopped him in his tracks.

"Doctor Jones?"

She quickly spun to face him, stethoscope hanging loosely around her neck. She raised her eye brows in sign that she acknowledged him.

"I was about to call Doctor MacDonald about the Oswald girl. And since you have had the most handling of her, as well as speaking to her family, I was wondering if you would care to accompany me."

Her grin widened and she began leading the way to his office. "Would love to."

The two waited on either side of the Doctor's desk, phone on speaker in the middle, on hold with the receptionist until Dr. MacDonald finished with his client. Martha fiddled with a cup of pens and pencils and the Doctor signed some more papers that he had lying around.

A click was heard from the receiver followed by a thick Scottish accent. "Hello?"

"Doctor MacDonald?" the Doctor asked. Martha rolled her eyes and gave him a look as if to say Who else would it be?

"Yes," Dr. MacDonald answered, if not skeptically.

"It's Doctor John Smith-" he jumped when Martha punched him in the shoulder playfully, "-as well as Doctor Martha Jones, that hurt. We're with Queen Charlotte and Chelsea's Hospital in Chiswick. We're calling regarding one of your clients."

There was a brief rustle on the other end of the call before, "Client?"

"Clara Oswald," Martha answered before the Doctor could open his mouth.

"Oswald?"

"Clara, yes. It was listed in her file that you were her therapist. She was your client, wasn't she?" the Doctor asked, eyes scanning over Clara's papers again to double check.

"She was, yes. It's just," Dr. MacDonald sighed audibly before finishing, "I haven't heard that name in a while."

"Why not?" the Doctor asked.

"I haven't had a session with her since she was 18 and about to go to college. She was fine, then. Ready to learn. She was dismissed stable," he explained.

"Miss Oswald came into our hospital this morning covered in blood. She has a pulmonary contusion caused by what we believe to be foul play," Martha interjected.

"What I'd really like to know, Dr. MacDonald, was why she was seeing a therapist?" the Doctor asked.

"Clara has Multiple Identity Disorder, Doctor Smith. She's had it since she was a kid, but didn't begin seeing me until she was in her early teens. Four years later, I get a call. She's going to college a couple towns over and wouldn't be able to come in anymore. We had a few meetings after that, she was stable and good to go. I didn't even have to prescribe anything."

"That would explain why she said her name was Oswin," the Doctor concluded.

Doctor MacDonald cursed, "Oswin?"

"That would be one of her personalities, wouldn't it?" Martha asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"How many personalities does she have?" the Doctor questioned.

"When she was seeing me, she only had two. Clara and Oswin. I suppose over the years she could have gotten more. I've only ever had encounters with Oswin," Dr. MacDonald began. "I'll send you her files. Don't let her out until I get down there. Keep her in a controlled environment where you can keep an eye on her, got it?"

"Come down here?"

"I'll drive down this weekend, that's when I have time off. It'll be best if there's someone she knows is there, as well I also know her personalities."

Martha and the Doctor shared a look. "I don't think that'll be necessary, Dr. MacDonald. We have Dr. Smith here, he's a fully capable psychologist."

"It might be helpful, Martha," the Doctor chimed in. "To have someone with experience with Oswald. And Dr. MacDonald is the best of the best."

"I'll drive down Friday, and be at the hospital the next morning. Does that work for you guys?"

"Yes it does. Thank you, doctor," the Doctor finished before hanging up.

Martha squinted her eyes at him and crossed her arms. She didn't move from her chair when the Doctor stood. He paused when he was standing next to her, only for a moment, and then walked out of his office, expecting Martha to follow. She did, seconds later, but had to jog a few steps to catch up.

"You've spoken to the family?"

"Yes," she breathed. "I only explained what trauma she had. Punctured lung, broken ribs. Nothing that can't be healed. She's on a ventilator, for now. She can probably be switched to an oxygen mask tonight, if she's up for it. Should be talking by tomorrow morning."

The Doctor nodded, continuing down the hall. "Was it just her father there?"

Martha shook her head. "Turns out, she's been a nanny for the past two years to a family friend. Her father is on his way, but as of now, it's just the family she's been staying with."

"Do they have any idea what could have happened?"

"They didn't, no. But I asked them to think about it, and if they could remember anyone who would want to hurt Clara, to tell me."

They stopped outside the door, which was cracked open just a bit. They were able to make out a young, curly hair boy and his teenage sister. The father stood over the young boy, a gentle hand placed on his shoulder. The Doctor stood up taller and straightened his bowtie.

"Well," he grinned. "Geronimo."

Hours later, the Doctor paced his room. His shoulders slumped forward and his hands were clasped behind his back, deep in thought. The family, the Maitland's, were less than helpful. The father had been the only one with any knowledge of Clara's mental illness, and claimed that there had been no incidents. The Doctor believed that the return of Clara's MID had been from the trauma, but he still had no idea of what had happened. He had asked Angie and Artie, the children, if Clara had mentioned fighting with anyone, or if she had any exes. Both had come back a negative, and the whole mystery was keeping the Doctor awake.

Running a hand through his hair, he ran to the kitchen to grab his keys and tweed jacket. Rory was seated at the island, spoonful of oatmeal halfway to his mouth. He didn't question the Doctor, instead offered him an amused facial expression at his friend's antics.

He slammed the back door shut, storming to his car. He unlocked it quickly, and it shook with the force he opened the door with. He stood by the open door and shooed a hissing cat from his car. He jumped in and stuck the keys in the ignition and started the vehicle. He waited until the animal was somewhere in the bushes before driving.

He sang along with whatever trash pop was on the radio, not even bothering to change it. The drive was quicker than normal, mostly due to the fact he was borderline speeding. He stopped in front of a townhouse and pushed open his door.

Running through the gate and up the steps, he began knocking loudly on the door. Lights went on in the neighbor's house, and a moment later, in the house he was currently punching.

The door swung open and he almost his the person behind it.

"What do you want, Doctor?" Amy almost yelled, sounding angrier than she was. Her fiery red hair swung against her back. The Doctor grinned at her spirit.

"Come along, Pond. We're going for a drive."

The duo lay on a grassy hill just outside the city. The sky was clear, which was only slightly rare, and the stars shown in stark contrast against the night. The Doctor had his hands clasped over his stomach, Amy mirroring him. It was almost tradition for them. If one was having an exceptionally hard time, they would go to this hill at night and think. They would almost always go with the other to keep them company, and offer an ear.

"Look at the moon, Amy. It's full" the Doctor instructed, pointing a finger at the orbiting globe.

"So?" she wondered, eyes flicking from him to the moon.

"It looks like your face."

She slapped his shoulder, with more force than he felt needed, but he blamed that on her Scottish fire.

"What's wrong, raggedy man?"

When he turned his head to the side, he found her already looking at him intently. They studied each other's features momentarily until the Doctor spoke.

"Shouldn't I be asking that?"

Amy visibly tensed and quickly turned her face back to look at the sky. "Some things happen, Doctor. People fall in and out of love all the time. Can't you just accept that?"

The Doctor watched her as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "I have," he admitted. "I have watched many people fall out of love. I have seen people been forced out of love. I have been one."

"Doctor-"

"I've seen so many relationships crumble. Right in front of my eyes and I couldn't help them. But, Amy, you aren't those people. You don't just fall out of love. I've known you for so many years and not once have you ever looked at anyone the way you look at Rory. Even last night, when you guys met up to tell me about it. You still look at him like that. You aren't 'just not feeling it'. What is it, Amy? What do you think you're protecting him from?"

By the time he finished talking, she was facing him again. The corners of her mouth pulled down into a frown and tears were threatening to spill out of her eyes. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and he followed. His eyebrows furrowed while waiting for her next move. She sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve.

Swallowing, she began, "Rory and I have been trying for a baby. And I was so sure this time, I could feel it in my bones. And so we went to the doctors and they told us it was a false positive. So I went back and got them to run some tests and-"

Amy stopped talking as she choked back tears. She fiddled with her hands in her lap as realization dawned on the Doctor.

"You can't have children," he finished. She sadly nodded and gave a watery laugh.

"He's always wanted children and a family. I can't give him that."

"Hey now," the Doctor said, reaching over and grabbing her hands. "If there's one thing Rory wants more than anything, it's you. Whether it's children or a dog or something, he wouldn't have a family without you."

He was kneeling in front of her now, eyes boring into hers.

"How can you be okay?" she whispered.

He quickly pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around her. "I'm always okay, I'm the king of okay."

Minutes later, when she pulled back, she gently patted him on the shoulder. "Sometimes I do worry about you, though. I think once we're gone you won't be coming back here for a while. And you might be alone. Which you should never be. Don't be alone, Doctor."

I have no idea where I thought this chapter was going to end. Probably with some whouffle, but I think you can expect that with chapter 3. The whole thing with Amy and Rory's divorce is taken out of Asylum of the Daleks, so I wanted to keep the reason the same as well.

Next chapter we'll find out more about Clara