The Doctor had been working on the boiler, trying to fix it. Actually, the proper word should have been improving, because it had not needed fixing in the first place. He only needed something to do, something to kill the time with. The universe is so big and ever growing and ever changing, and he was stuck there, in a common home, in a ordinary everyday life – if you didn't count the force field which held them hostages from the rest of the world. He had been in a similar situation before. It had seemed like a long time ago. Amy and Rory had not been stuck in a insurmountable New York of the past by a Weeping Angel, yet. It had been the year of what Amelia had called "the slow invasion". Life had seemed to have reached a weird balance between his life and their lives, but he had known all along that it was to fragile to last. It was normal for him, everyone left him sooner or later. It was normal, but it's not something he could get use to. But what was the point of being more than a thousand years old if he stopped caring. He could not stop caring after the Ponds had been taken away from him, either. For a while it had felt like it was one loss too many. He had felt so broken inside ha had not found any better solution than shutting the rest of the world out. He couldn't help but smile. Where would he be in that precise moment if it hadn't been for his impossible girl? She had dragged him kicking and screaming down of that cloud and now he had no intention of letting her go. He felt so alive and that was probably the reason why ha was so restless. Every minute that passed was a lost chance to see what else the universe could show to him and a lost chance to bring Clara with him.
Clara. He had always thought it was such a beautiful name.
And then he tried to shake off his mind the images of the way she looked at him sometimes, and the way that made his hearts beat.
He was so lost in thoughts and busy working on the boiler, that he didn't see the phone lighten up. It was the strange feeling that something was wrong which usually saved him from dangerous situations that made him stop soon after and look around. He saw the missed call by Clara. This alarmed him, even though it might have been simply a mistake. He ran up the stairs, his hearts beating fast again, but this time not because of a happy memory. He landed in the living room, and the first thing he saw was Angie sprawled on the couch. He flanged himself towards her and immediately reached for her pulse. It was there and he could see her breathing, but they were shallow breaths. Clara and Artie must have been in danger, too. What was happening? He smelled the air and gasped. How stupid he had been. He had not realized that the force field had not been calibrated properly and the air had gone missing, a little bit at the time, moment by moment, until there was nothing left for them to breath. He hadn't noticed because he had very different needs than humans have and because he was stupid. He hadn't noticed that their tiredness was caused by lack of oxygen. He grabbed his screwdriver from the pocket of his coat and run forwards, looking quickly for the right app. He flung the door open and stumbled outside with his hand raised high, the screwdriver pointing to the sky.
He heard a reassuring buzz coming from the item in his hand that meant that he was managing to adjust the air to Clara's and the Maitland's need. He took a long breath and filled his lungs with the air which was starting to come new and fresh. Following a sigh of relief, he rushed back inside. He checked quickly on Angie, still sprawled on the sofa. He reached for her pulse and looked at her chest moving up and down. The Doctor smiled and grabbed for the blanket nearby and covered her with it, tucking her in. He found a cushion and put it under her head, trying to make her comfortable. When he lifted her so to position the pillow, Angie moved a little but she didn't open her eyes. That meant that she wasn't unconscious, but simply sleeping. He stayed next to her for a while, looking at her, monitoring the moving of her chest, which was getting more decisive and secure by the second. He could feel her breathing deeper breaths and thought that he had made it in time and what a miracle life was, how wonderful and how fragile at the same time. But that was also what made it so precious. They had come so close to losing their life and it was all his fault. He tried so hard to keep everyone safe , but, really, no one was ever safe with him. She wasn't safe. His Clara. His impossible girl. He had put her in danger once again, and this time without even making her leave the house.
He left the teenager to recover in the living room and, on his way up he found Artie lying on the stairs. He worryingly pressed two fingers against the boys neck and smiled feeling the beats in response. He leaned even further to hear the boy inhaling and exhaling in a perfectly normal rhythm. He must have adjusted by himself just like his sister. He stared at him for a few seconds, with a sad look on his face. He should be more careful when it came to Clara and the children. The guilt caused by this thought stabbed him painfully like a sharp knife. He picked him up gently and carried him up the stairs. He would leave him to rest in his bedroom, the same place where he had woken him up that same morning, very early. It seemed already like a long time ago. The boy felt so light, like a spirit, but he knew he was safe. He had got to them in time. Now there was only Clara left to check upon. What if something had gone wrong with her, for some reason? Every step he took, he could feel his own hearts increasing their speed, pounding mercilessly in his chest as if trying to burst free. He became almost unaware of the body he was holding in his arms, the only thought in his mind, which was more than used to multitasking, was focused on Clara. He couldn't stop thinking that he didn't know for certain if she was safe, yet. He started feeling incredibly impatient and the urge to check on her as soon as possible. Almost shacking , he left Artie on his bed as gently as he could before marching towards the attic, where he knew he would find her.
He crossed the space which was left between them as if he was in a dream. He wasn't really conscious of his body moving, his legs seemed to walk by them selves, but he could sense very clearly the sound of drums coming from inside his chest, while all the rest seemed, all of a sudden, so silent. He almost threw himself towards the bed where he saw Clara lying. He grabbed her face with his hands and begged her to be alright. He reached for her pulse and he was relieved to feel it regular. He tried to take a deep breath and to calm himself. He couldn't believe how uncharacteristically irrational he had suddenly become. He fell to the ground and on his knees he hugged Clara tightly but also sweetly, he didn't want to wake her up. He knew how important it was for her to rest.
"You're OK", he sighed happily, "everything is going to be OK".
He rested his ear to her chest and closed his eyes to the rhythm of her heart and he couldn't help but think that it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He staid in that position for an indefinite quantity of time. It felt as if it was a few seconds, but he knew, because of his infinite knowledge of time, that it had been longer than he would ever admit to anyone. He forced himself to lift his head, but he didn't nudge away from that position. His face was close to hers, but It was a position he had gotten used to. It felt as though he didn't need any personal space with her. He felt comfortable to be that near to her. He liked taking her hand and stroking her face and embracing her tightly. It all felt very natural. The way she smiled at him and the way they interacted gave him goosebumps and a tingly feeling at the pit of his stomach. In those moment a voice in his mind that he couldn't control told him that he was crazy about her, but that was not something that made him comfortable.
He pressed a long and gentle kiss to the girl's forehead. He brought her face close to his own, his thumbs stroking her cheeks, creating small circles on her tender skin. He lips looked so soft and welcoming. He thought about their kiss in Victorian London, the one she didn't know about. He had been caught by surprised, so aghast that he had tried to pull away, scared. It would have been a good kiss if he hadn't, he thought. She was sweet and beautiful and that make him recall that kiss more and more often as time went by. He would never confess that to anyone, though. Ever.
And now she was there, so fragile and yet perfect. He looked at her with tenderness and, before he could stop himself, or even think about what he was doing, he leaned slightly forwards and he kissed her.
