The story deepends and we go on. . . thank you all for reading and reviewing :)

Chapter 8

Clara was a bit late to painting class, having taking her time selecting a dress she was going to wear the next day to the gallery but she knew that she would be heading to the Doctor's house afterwards and wasn't sure whether she would find the time to return to her own flat. She was about to rush into the classroom at the same time the Doctor walked around the corner so she stopped and waited for him. He smiled and seemed absolutely happy to see her. Also his beard had finally gone.

"Hey Clara," he said enthusiastically, "Ready to get bored with the dry theory of drawing and painting?"

"I doubt it's gonna be boring," she smiled back at him as they headed inside.

It was a little boring as she soon found out but the excitement with which the Doctor talked about it made it seem a little less so. Clara actually learned a lot about materials, painting techniques, different tools and ways to use them. She couldn't wait to actually try some of them out.

Driving home afterwards in his car the Doctor told her about the earlier classes with his art students and asked about her day, how things were going with Danny and if this student of hers – Courtney Woods – was okay. Clara was a little amazed that he remembered all of this, the man that had forgotten to go grocery shopping for weeks. He seemed to be in a good mood today, eager to get home and tell her about the ideas he had for new paintings. When Clara insisted on dinner first he barely protested at all and she was already looking forward to an easy and relaxing weekend with him.

OOO

The gallery owned by Missy was called The Art Garden of Eden and was within walking distance of the Doctor's house. On the way he explained to her that she was celebrating the reopening after having spent months on the renovation of the entire interior.

"I'm gonna make you look so stupid," Clara said as they walked around the last corner and she spotted the gallery's name in the distance, "I don't actually know much about art."

The Doctor started to laugh. "Art isn't an exact science, you know? Just admire the pictures, make small talk, that's all these events ever really are. I'm curious which ones of my paintings Missy chose to display this time."

When Clara stepped inside she was a little overwhelmed by the brightness of the rooms. They were all white, plain white, and the room seemed a jumble with walls in all sorts of places and small sitting areas in front of some of them.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the Doctor drawing his sketchbook out of his pocket.

She turned around. "Tell me you didn't bring that thing here to sketch me."

"What?" he looked up as if she had asked him something completely ridiculous, "You look beautiful in this dress. I want to-"

Gently she reached for the book in his hands and he froze slightly under her touch. He stared at her for a long moment.

"But that smile, the way you smile right now. I want to sketch you like this."

"Proposition: I'll keep the dress on after we get back to your place and smile for you and you can sketch or paint me after the event. Alright?"

Finally he let go and Clara took the sketchbook from him and slid it into her purse.

"Look what the cat dragged in," a sharp, female voice said to her left and Clara turned around to see two women approaching. She didn't have to guess that the one in the tight, black pencil skirt and the attitude of a pure winner was Missy, the owner of the gallery. She sure looked very proud. She was also in the company of a slightly nervous looking woman that Clara thought must be about her own age. She was also very nicely dressed, though in a style that didn't quite appear to be her own and her face was framed by a pair of glasses.

Missy's attention turned towards Clara and a sneer spread across her face.

"Ohhhh, you've got a new one, haven't you?"

Missy turned around and waved towards a waiter distributing glasses of champagne and a few moments later the Doctor and Clara were both handed a glass.

"Yeah," the Doctor said, "This is Clara. Clara, this is Missy. I told you about her already."

"Don't believe a word he says, dear," Missy said, giggling, "This man is as observant as a blind sloth."

Clara heard the Doctor groan and suddenly her eyes fixed on the other young woman who was standing a little behind Missy and seemed to be utterly fascinated by the Doctor.

"And who are you?" Clara asked her kindly.

"Oh," Missy said, "This is Osgood. My girlfriend. And a huge fan of your work, Doctor."

Missy placed her arm around Osgood's waist and led her closer to the group.

"Girlfriend?" the Doctor asked, baffled, "Since when? I mean, since when are you-"

"Since your massive cock ruined me for other men, of course," she replied, rolling her eyes, "Since always, silly, which you would have known a long time ago had you ever paid any attention to me at all."

Clara's eyes widened a little and she tried very hard to keep her reaction under control even though she almost choked on her champagne. Missy definitely seemed like the kind of woman who was not to be crossed and Clara now really understood why their relationship had ended. She could imagine only too well how often they must have clashed.

"Missy, what happened to my housekeeper?" the Doctor asked out of the blue, "I haven't seen her in weeks."

"I left you like five messages about that on your phone if you ever bothered to check them."

"Well, I'm here now, so tell me."

Missy shook her head. "She quit after she found you unconscious on the floor the third week in a row. She said she thought you were dead and got scared and that she's definitely done with you. I left you messages with suggestions for a new one but you never got back to me about that. Now I know why."

"Why did she find you unconscious on the floor?" Clara's head turned towards the Doctor and again she was worried about him. Was he sick and didn't tell her?

"I wasn't unconscious. I was sleeping," the Doctor told her calmly.

"And with sleep he means he passed out over his paintings cause his body gave up. You're new, aren't you?" Missy asked.

Clara was too shocked to say anything at the moment but luckily Missy took advantage of the silence that had spread over the group.

"Why on earth are you wearing this ridiculous polka dot shirt by the way? I thought I told you to leave the rags at home."

"These aren't rags. That's one of my best shirts," he objected.

"It used to be. In the 90s," Missy said and pointed towards a door, "There's a suit in the back room. Go and put that on!"

After a moment of reluctance the Doctor finally growled but trudged off into the direction of the door. Now Missy's attention was completely devoted to Clara.

"So, you're the new muse, huh?" she asked, scanning Clara with her eyes, "He's got good taste. He always had."

"Is everything alright with him?" Clara found herself asking, "He seems. . ."

"Scattered? Oblivious? Crazy? Obsessed? Yes, dear, but his art sells. He's really good at what he does and he tends to forget everything else over it. He's always been like this," she sighed, "He's a nice man, he's sweet, a talented artist but he needs someone to have an eye on him from time to time. I'm glad he's got you. Been too long since his last muse and I was growing a bit tired of being his babysitter."

When Missy noticed a couple to her right appearing interested in one of the paintings she excused herself, dragging Osgood behind her and leaving Clara standing in the middle of the main room of the gallery. She decided to have a look at the paintings while the Doctor was changing but soon noticed a woman standing in front of one. A woman with long, red hair. Cautiously Clara approached her.

"Excuse me," she asked, "Amelia?"

When the woman turned around there was no denying that she was actually the one in the paintings Clara has seen at his place and in the classroom. She looked just as beautiful in person and soon she smiled at her.

"He still calls me Amelia, doesn't he?" she extended her hand to Clara. She noticed that Amelia sounded Scottish as well, "I usually go by Amy now. Amy Williams."

"I'm Clara Oswald. I've seen you in the Doctor's paintings. They're marvellous. I loved the one in the barley field."

An expression of recognition washed over Amy's face and her smile widened.

"You're his new muse, aren't you?"

Clara nodded, blushing just a little. She still hadn't gotten used to being called that and especially when other people were saying that about her she still felt tremendously special.

"I'm so glad he's found someone," Amy said sincerely, "I told him that he shouldn't be alone. Took him a while but I'm glad he's found you."

"I don't think I fully understand yet," Clara admitted, laughing shyly, "What it means to be his muse or his whatever."

"I've been his muse for three whole years and I still don't understand," Amy laughed, "It's just the thing that he does, I guess. He just falls in love with someone at first sight and decides that he wants to have them around. It's a great feeling though, and a great compliment to be someone's centre of attention, especially if that someone is the Doctor."

"When you say he falls in love," Clara paused, wondering if she had actually heard Amy right, "Does that mean you and the Doctor were. . ."

Amy suddenly looked horrified at the suggestion. "Oh no, God, no," she laughed, "There was nothing between us. Nothing like that. I'm not even sure he does that, if you know what I mean."

Since the Doctor had told her that Missy was his ex Clara assumed that that was something the Doctor indeed did, but apparently not with all of his muses.

"Listen," Amy said, her voice suddenly a lot more grave than it had been a moment ago, "I feel I have the responsibility to warn you. I got the same warning from one of his former muses, Sarah Jane, and I was really grateful for that because when the time came I was able to make the right decision."

"Warn me?" Clara asked.

"The Doctor is great and he is amazing and generous and kind and you should feel honoured that he chose you because it means that you're special, but be careful. Don't depend on him. Don't let him become the only thing in your life, don't let your world just revolve around him because he's the Doctor and one day he'll lose interest, he'll find a new muse, he'll move on eventually. Don't let him leave you with nothing."

Clara swallowed. She had already suspected something like this but the way Amy spoke about it made her wary and it also made her realize that she had only met him a week ago and he had already become a part of her world, a great and exciting part. Clara hadn't considered what would happen if she went in deeper and he someday vanished out of her life.

"Do you regret it?" Clara found herself asking, "Do you regret being his muse?"

Amy smiled. "Absolutely not. The years with the Doctor were some of the best years of my life and if I had to make the decision all over again I wouldn't do anything differently. The fact that I left him to get married had nothing to do with the way he treated me. I just thought that for me it was time."

"Who gave you the right, Missy?!"

Both Clara and Amy shot around when they heard the Doctor yell in a different corner of the gallery. She spotted him in front of a painting, Missy next to him. Immediately she went to see what was wrong and Amy followed her on her heels.

"That painting is private!" he bellowed, "I gave it to you because you liked it, not so you could display it for everyone else to see!"

"Calm down!" Missy yelled back at him, "I'll have it taken down tomorrow, okay? No need to get all worked up."

"Great," he said angrily, "And when you've done that you can burn it. I never want to see it again!"

"Doctor, what's going on?" Clara asked him but he just turned around and stormed out of the building without saying another word.

Clara was about to follow him when Missy grabbed her arm.

"Leave him," she said, "He'll go home. He'll calm down. Eventually. Give him time."

Clara realized that Missy was probably right. She took a deep breath and turned around to have a look at the painting that had caused this row. It was dark, a lot darker than what he usually painted. It depicted a blonde woman standing alone in a whirl of grey and black. Everything about this painting was blurry except her and Clara guessed it must have been a former muse. Another one that had left him.

"Amy, do you know who this is?" Clara asked her.

The redhead appeared next to her and shrugged. "I have never seen her before in my life. Not in person and not in a painting either."

"That's odd," Clara said, lost in thoughts.

"Listen, if you want to talk or hang out and gossip about the Doctor," Amy said and smiled again, handing her a small card, "You can call me. Maybe you'll need advice one day, or just someone to talk to who knows him."

Clara took the card out of her hand. "Thank you."