The Doctor drummed his fingers impatiently on his leg, one foot tapping an irregular beat on the tiled floor. He never once took his eyes off of the sleeping woman that was nestled under the duvet in front of him drinking in every detail; every smile, every frown, every sleepy mumble that she made. It wouldn't be long before she woke up, and he wanted to enjoy the ignorance on her features before he spoilt it. Should he really tell her what he had learnt? He had to. Clara would want to know. Even if he didn't tell her straight away she would wheedle it out of him one way or another and she'd no doubt be furious that he had kept something this big to himself. No, he would tell her the moment she woke up. She'd prefer it coming from him sooner rather than later. All too soon Clara began to stir, duvet rustling as her round face peeked out from within the folds of the fabric.
"Hello, sleepy-head." He said warmly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips at the sight of her bedraggled hair and dopey expression. He could never stay depressed around her for long, her very presence enough to calm him, to soothe almost every wound he had. Not all, but most. There were some wounds that even Clara couldn't completely heal. The Doctor quickly slammed the door shut on the bad memories that were threatening to surface and instead watched her as she slowly blinked sleep out of her eyes. Even with her make-up smeared and red, puffy eyes she was still one of the most beautiful people he had ever clapped eyes on.
"Did you miss me?" He reached out a hand to brush a few runaway strands of hair behind her hair but stops when he notices how terrified of him she looks; body shaking, arms crossed protectively over her chest a look both parts horror and fear etched into her features. She's afraid of me, he realised with a jolt. The Doctor raised his hands upwards, palms outward in the universal symbol for 'I surrender' and took a sneaky look at the bedside table where he had left the souffle. It was eaten, the note next to it read and re-folded neatly. Even if Clara hadn't seen them there was no reason for her to be acting like this. He had expected her to be angry for leaving her, not scared that he had come back. As much as Clara scared him when she was angry, the Doctor would prefer her to be like that than the crushing alternative that was in front of him.
"Clara, it's me." The Doctor said slowly, extending one hand slowly like a vet would when approaching an injured animal to gain it's trust. "The Doctor." Clara flinched and recoiled from him, pulling the duvet right the way up to her chin. The Doctor was panicked and hurt. What had he done wrong? He had rescued her from the Testing Facility, definitely not a bad thing. Okay, so he had been a little too late to stop permanent damage from being done but he was doing everything in his power to make it up to her. Not for his own peace of mind, but for her's. Clara's life always came before his, no matter the situation. Her life was worth more to him than all of his put together. He returned his hands to his legs, rubbing them against the rough fabric of his trousers nervously. Across from him Clara pushed her hands into her hair and lodged them there tightly, gripping so hard that the Doctor swore he could hear a few of the roots ripping free of her scalp.
"Please Clara. Tell me what's wrong," he begged, hands twisting awkwardly in his lap. He desperately wanted to pull her over to him and wrap her in a hug, but he knew that would just freak her out even more and make the situation worse.
"What's wrong? Oh, you know what's wrong." Clara laughed bitterly inbetween sobs. She looked insane. "You kidnapped me, injected me with some drug...thingy, then just when I think I've finally escaped from you you waltz right back into my life impersonating one of the few people that I love-"
The Doctor's hearts skipped a beat. Could she actually love him? He pushed the thought aside quickly. Now was not the time for this, not when Clara was collapsed in tears in front of him. She might not have meant love love anyway. She more than likely had meant it as a friend. What worried him more was who she was talking about. It sounded like the man had come back while he was gone, which would explain why Clara's tubes had been missing from her arm when he came back from the hospital. If he comes back here again, no, if he goes near Clara again, I won't be so merciful as I was last time we met, The Doctor silently promised. He knew who it was. It had been obvious from the first time they spoke through the sound system, but he'd been to intent on finding Clara to pay any attention. If he had, he might have just been able to get her out of the Facility unscathed. Yet another mistake to add to the very long list in his head.
"-and you expect me to fall for it every time and do as you say! I'll tell him, I swear! Just leave me alone!" Clara's eyes met the Doctor's and his hearts shattered. She looked sad, scared, hopeless but still defiant, all at the same time. The urge to hold her and calm her down and to never let go was overwhelming, but instead he got to his knees on the floor. Begging her. Clara looked surprised for an instance but then replaced it with her 'I'm-really-not-impressed' look that the Doctor usually saw when he was trying to impress her. Which was often.
"Change back. End this sick game." She demanded.
"I can't." The Doctor replied softly, gazing into her eyes, inwardly admiring their size and shape. Clara held it for a second before looking past him at the dirty souffle dish on the side, eyes welling with tears. She opened her mouth to speak but the Doctor cut across her. He had a feeling that if he didn't he wouldn't get a word in edgeways.
"I can't change Clara, because I am me. No funny business, I swear." After a moments hesitation he reached across and laid his hands on top of hers on the duvet. She tensed, but didn't pull away. "I'm sorry he got to you again. I was stupid, so stupid, to think that he wouldn't come for you. The TARDIS is only a small obstacle when it comes to him. This is all my fault, I'm sorry Clara." He shook his head ruefully, fingers tracing the faint lines in the soft skin of Clara's palms. "I took you with me to protect you and look what happened." He whispered. The Doctor felt physically sick about what he had let happen to her. But when he thought about it, deep down, he had always known that he would have ended up hurting her one way or another. Something like this always happens, the constant curse that he subjects all his friends to. Why? Because he was old, and selfish, and couldn't bear the thought of travelling alone. In a way it would have been much easier if he had ignored the enigma that was Clara Oswald and left her on Earth to live out her life happy, with friends, a constant job and maybe a family of her own one day. Sure, she had the job, but he had effectively ended the rest of her normal life the moment he asked her to travel with him. He would rather be dead by his grave on Trenzalore than subject her to this. Clara deserved better than what he could offer, however much she may deny it. But no, he had to whisk her away to see the universe and fling them headfirst into danger at every turn. He really hated himself sometimes.
The Doctor had no idea he was crying until Clara wiped the tears away tenderly with her small, soft hands. Her expression was unreadable but the Doctor was pretty sure he had managed to convince her by the way she was erasing the rapidly falling tears with steady fingers, her breaths slow and calm through her mask. His Clara was back. They stayed silent for a few minutes, the only sounds being the beeping of the moniters and the occasional sob on the Doctor's part. Eventually the tears stopped and Clara removed her hands from his cheeks. The Doctor pouted and chased them with his own to place them back but she dodged out of his way with a small laugh, draping them over his shoulders instead. The Doctor laughed with her and grabbed ahold of her waist, pulling her as close to him as the tubes would allow, her feet dangling off the bed. He placed his hands awkwardly either side of her thighs for balance all to aware of the space, or distinct lack of it, between them. Clara's arms tightened around his neck.
"It's not your fault," she said quietly, "you couldn't have known he was here."
"I shouldn't have left you in the first place." He argued.
"You had to. Don't beat yourself up about it, okay? I'm shaken, yes, but fine. Just don't leave me like that again."
"I won't." He promised, kissing her forehead.
She smiled. "Good. Speaking of you leaving, that New New Earth place. What did you do?"
The Doctor got the feeling that she was trying to change the subject to something a little less heavy. If only she knew.
"It's New New New New Earth, actually." He corrected playfully.
She rolled her eyes and swatted his arm."You knew what I meant. Now tell me what happened."
"Yes, Miss." He teased her. He had missed their friendly banter.
Clara scowled and wriggled out from his arms. "That's it. No more hugs for you until you tell me what you were doing."
"Why? What do you think I was doing?" The Doctor made a grab for her but she scooted away from him, giggling.
"I dunno." She replied, shrugging. "You tell me."
The Doctor made a mock angry face at her and sat on the bed with his back to her. "C'mere, you." He growled, dragging her by her ankle towards him gently. She squealed and shook her leg free.
"Nope. Not until you-"
"Okay, Okay, you win." He gave in, flapping an arm in her direction. He could never last long in a fight against her.
"I always do."
He smiled briefly at her before staring down into his lap. How was he going to tell her about the results? He couldn't find the right words. How could anyone in this situation? As if she had sensed what he was thinking about Clara hugged him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder, comforting him.
"Whatever it is you can tell me," she whispered, "I won't judge."
He placed one hand on her arm and rubbed it while he thought. Just tell her.
"I took a sample of your blood to a hospital there. They ran some tests, found out what was wrong." He said finally, running the hand that wasn't occupied through his hair.
"And?" Clara prompted.
He sighed. "There's no cure for what he infected you with."
The Doctor felt Clara freeze behind him. He turned around and pulled her into his lap, resting her head on his chest while rubbing her back in circles. "We have the best doctor working on the case, but..." He sighed again as Clara looked up at him. Tears rolled slowly over her cheekbones and left tracks streaked down her face. Oh, Clara. He took her oxygen mask off and unplugged it from the tank. She reached out for it but he held her back. "You don't need it anymore," he told her as he removed one hand to brush away her tears.
Clara nodded. "I know. It's just that it was kind of reassuring."
He dropped a kiss into her hair then continued to rub her back. He could feel some of the muscles were rock hard with tension and so he massaged them until she relaxed into his hand. To be honest, Clara wasn't freaking out as much as he thought she would. In a way, it worried him. Shouldn't she be having a breakdown by now? Then again, that might have just been him overreacting. He couldn't expect her to act to the same extreme that he had. Still... He pinched her chin lightly between his thumb and fore finger, lifting it so he could see her properly.
"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.
She nodded slowly. "I think so."
"Sure?"
"Yep." She turned her face back into his chest. "It seems surreal, like its just a bad dream and I'll wake up and it will be Wednesday, you banging my door down to take me away."
The Doctor smiled sadly at her. "I wish."
Clara sighed then buried her face into her hands. "Oh God," she all but wailed, "what are we going to tell my Dad? He's already lost my mum and-"
"Shhh, calm down." The Doctor told her. "We'll tell him when you're ready, OK?"
"We?" She half gaped at him.
"Yes, we. Why, do you not want me? Here, I mean." He cursed himself for his slip up, but she didn't seem to notice.
"I thought that now I'm ill that you wouldn't, you know...want me onboard." She said in a rush.
The Doctor frowned. "Of course I want you onboard. We can't go travelling for a while though, not until you're feeling better."
Clara grinned. "Fine by me."
"While we're on the subject of you feeling better, I have some medicine for you," he said, producing a paper bag from his pocket.
"I thought you said that there wasn't a cure?"
"No, there isn't." He dropped a couple of the round grey tablets into a glass and filled it with bottled water one handed. "These slow it down. Drink up." He passed her the cup and she gulped it down, pulling a face.
"Tastes disgusting. Figures." The Doctor laughed and took the cup from her, placing it next to the note and soufflé. Clara yawned.
"Tired?"
Clara nodded.
"Off to bed with you then."
"I seem to spend most of my time in bed nowadays." she grumbled.
"You need to rest so the medicine can work." The Doctor said sternly. He gently pulled the tubes out of her arm and she gasped.
"Clara?"
She waved a hand. "It's OK, I'm fine. Just feels a little weird without them." She tapped her elbow.
"Well, if you're sure..."
"I am." She yawned again. "Sorry." He laughed and picked her up, moving her back up the bed to her pillows and tucking her in.
"Good night." He whispered, pulling the duvet up to her chin and kissing her head. She shifted under his touch and mumbled something to him that he didn't quite catch. He waited a few seconds so if it was important she could say it again, but she said nothing. He shrugged to himself, walking away. If it was important she'd tell him when she awoke. The Doctor was almost to the end of the bed when a pair of fingers brushed his wrist, making him pause.
"Don't go."
He turned around to look at Clara, forcing himself to remain cool and collected, when in reality he was throwing a mini party in his head. Clara was sat bolt upright, one hand outstretched for his. He took it immediately, his other hand grabbing his chair and setting it down next to where she was laying.
"I-I- you don't have to-" Clara face flushed with embarrassment.
"It's OK, Clara, really. Of course I'll stay." He sat down, taking her hand in both of his. She smiled and burrowed back into the bed.
"Thank you."
"Anytime."
He traced nonsensical patterns into her hand as she fell asleep. He had no idea what he was doing, but judging by the contented look on Clara's face she seemed to like it. He leaned forward onto his elbows and a strip of black ink on Clara's arm caught his eye. He frowned, pushing back the duvet to expose a row of Gallifreyan symbols. Gallifreyan symbols that spelt the name of the man that the Doctor now hated the most. Fenric.
A/N So you finally know who it is! I'm guessing that most of you don't know who he is, so for you guys, heres a website (basically, its Wikipedia Doctor Whoified) with the history on just who the hell this really evil guy is and why he's got it in for the Doctor (because to explain it all on here would take at least another ten chapters): wiki/Fenric
-Jazz
