OK, first off, 373 views. I could not be any happier! Second, this chapter is a little shorter. It's mainly a filler chapter. I'm going to update tomorrow for sure and maybe again later today if if can. Enjoy and please review!

As per usual, I don't own the BBC, Doctor Who, or any of it's affiliated characters.

"Come on, run!" Clara glanced back over her shoulder and saw The Doctor, not running, but standing, waving his sonic screwdriver in circles. "Doctor, come on! This is the part were we do the running!" She ran back to him, grabbed him by the hand and pulled

"But Clara, there are dragons here! Real, live, dragons!"

"Yeah, real, live, FIRE-BREATHING, dragons! Dragons with short tempers and long claws and sharp teeth, and we've just disturbed their nests. Hungry dragons that want to eat us!" She pulled at his hand again and reluctantly he started running.

"Now you know why I like catacombs so much! Never know what your going to find!"

Clara shot him a glare. It wasn't his fault they had overshot Paris and ended up on a planet that actually was a catacomb. Now that was cool. Clara had seemed quite impressed. At least until they had fallen through what they thought was a rock. They had fallen into an enormous egg, and plunged into some sort of sticky viscous fluid. And even better yet the egg had a creature inside, a creature the size of Clara. And then Clara had screamed, and all Hell had broken loose. The tunnels were illuminated with a sudden burst of flames, and that's when they noticed the dragons, who had woken at Clara's scream. And that of course was why they were running. He made a mental note to visit this planet again without Clara, maybe while she slept.

Suddenly they were inside the TARDIS. They leaned against the door, red-faced and panting. They could hear the roars of angry dragons outside. He noticed Clara was still holding onto his hand, and he smiled to himself. She must have forgiven him for that morning. She plucked at her skirt with one hand, grimacing at the squelching sound the fabric made. She took both hands and started wringing out her hair, and he immediately missed the warmth of her hand in his.

"I'm going to go wash this off OK?" She smiled over her shoulder and walked away. He felt his hearts skip a beat. He shook his head and wandered off to find a bathroom. He pulled his bow tie off, and smiled when he saw it wasn't wet. His shoulders had been out of the goo, but Clara hadn't had any such luck. When she fell, she had gone completely under. He'd had to hold her up by her waist to keep her head up. He laughed when he recalled the look on her face when he'd pulled her up, spluttering and flailing and covered in goop. He finally found what he thought might be a bathroom and he opened the door. It was a bathroom, but it was occupied. He caught a glimpse of Clara's midsection as she pulled her dress over her head. He quickly backed up and closed the door

He turned, flustered and walked the opposite direction, the image of what he had just seen burned into his mind. He saw the curve of her hip, the way her shoulder blades stuck out, the slight concave of her stomach. He stopped in the middle of the corridor, there had been a scar on her stomach. A massive, silvery scar that stretched from her left shoulder to her right hip. He wondered what could have caused it. It was too jagged to have been a surgical scar, and 21st century humans didn't have and surgeries that would require an incision like that anyway. He wracked his brain. Maybe she had done it to herself? He quickly dismissed the thought, it was the wrong angle to be self inflicted. He felt a flood of anger in his chest. Someone else must have done it to her.

He found himself at a different bathroom, and this time he knocked. He stepped inside and quickly shed his clothing, anger still boiling in his stomach. He stood under the stream of water, ignoring the sting from his arms. He would find out what had happened. But he couldn't ask her, she'd want to know where he had seen it. He stepped out of the stream and dried off. He opened the wardrobe that had appeared and found among a few other things, a fresh bow tie. He dressed and set out to find Clara.

He wandered through the corridors, his thoughts hiding somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind. He walked around a corner and found himself colliding with Clara. She let out a small "oof" and stumbled backwards. He quickly grabbed her shoulders to steady her.

"Sorry, didn't see you there." She giggled.

"Quite alright Clara, I was just looking for you." He wondered suspiciously if their collision had been quite so accidental as it seemed. He suspected the TARDIS had twisted the corridors a bit. He noticed Clara had found some clothes, albeit a little big. She was nearly drowning in her red cardigan, her hands swallowed by the sleeves.

"You were looking for me?"She looked up at him expectantly.

"Yes, um, I just wanted to know if you had any requests for dinner." He fumbled with the words, he was terrible at lying

"No, if we stop off someplace we'll just end up running again. I'm just about done for the day I think." She smiled apologetically.

"Quite alright. I've got a recipe you'll love anyway." He smiled and bounced off to the kitchen

She smiled after him and headed to her room. She flopped onto the bed and thought of her half-formed plan. She knew The Doctor didn't sleep, or at least, not much. She'd once asked him what he did while she slept. He'd merely gestured around the room and said simply, "I wander." She'd taken that as a sign to change the subject

When she was 15, she'd stayed at home for a week by herself. The days were fun, she would come home and watch telly and practice souffles and read. But the nighttime... She couldn't sleep. She wandered the halls, every creak and groan of the house making her heart beat just a little faster. She'd ended up locking herself in her room and crying in her closet. She'd felt so alone and it had been horrible. She could only imagine what it was like for him, night after night in those endless empty corridors. She made up her mind. He wouldn't be alone tonight.