*See end for Author's Note

"Sweetheart?"

Oh. Speaking of poisoned arrows...

"Can I come in, or…?"

Sighing, she got up from her spot on the floor and opened the door. John had obviously been leaning against it and had to grab the door jamb to prevent from falling into her. "Sorry, I…"

She tried not to think about how very Doctor-like his valiant effort to appear casual was as he righted himself, hands clasped behind his back, then shoved in his pockets. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

Grasping the door jamb, she contemplated the man standing before her and wondered just how much he would continue to act Doctor-like. And whether it would make it easier or harder to keep her distance. "Yeah, I'm okay, just…needed to um, collect my thoughts. It was all a bit – much." Her other hand still held the ring and she let it drop to her side.

"Oh." His forehead creased. "So…does that mean you're…" His toe stubbed at the doorway, as if to determine whether any part of him was permitted entrance. "…staying or…not?"

"Yes." Her reply was automatic, uttered without thinking it through. "I mean…I am – staying. But…" Her mind raced. "I'm gonna need time. And – space. Now that I know everything, it's just…" She sighed, searching for how to say what she needed to. And then – she realised she didn't have to bend the truth at all. "I thought things were different between us. And now I know what they are – exactly what they are. I mean…the man I knew before –"

"I'm still him," he interjected, pleading.

Clara smiled wistfully. "I know you are. Cause he's in there…somewhere. But things have changed – you're also not him anymore. *You've* changed. And – it's just something I need to learn. How to be around that man."

John leaned against the door frame, his hands jittery within his pockets. He shook his head. "I don't understand. I thought you said you accepted me - all of me. Even the parts I didn't like." There was a desperate edge to his voice.

Clara almost reached for him before remembering she was still holding the ring. His restlessness was infectious. "I do. I meant it. But…there's a difference between thinking and feeling something and knowing how to...live it. And that's why I'm gonna need some time." She tried for a smile, hoping she'd struck the right balance between conviction and reassurance.

"And space." He glanced pointedly into her room. "I assume that means that you'll – still stay in here?"

"Yeah," she answered quickly. "For now," she added when her answer worked like gravity on his features. "And – that also means that I'll need to be the one to um, initiate any –"

"Intimacy?"

"Touching," she clarified, eyes wide. "Contact."

He stared at her in disbelief. "Any at all? I can't…embrace you or – kiss you?" His longing was unmistakable. "Or stroke your hair or…hold your hand?"

She swallowed, her heart speeding up at such a display of unabashed yearning for her. "You can. Just…you have to let me be the one to initiate it."

He let his head fall onto the side of her doorway in a swoon, the perfect representation of a love-sick puppy. "Can I ask?"

God, he was going to make this so difficult. She nodded. "Yes."

His eyes wandered openly between her eyes and her lips. "So…can I kiss you?" His voice was softly enticing.

He became the flame and she the moth when he looked at her like that. She felt herself give a twitch of her head, a barely imperceptible shake. "No." Her voice was no more than a breath. She cleared her throat, finding more sound. "Not yet."

His head lolled then drooped, starting to take his shoulders with it. Clara couldn't help herself.

"But – we can hug."

His face lit up with overjoyed relief and then his arms were around her, almost pulling her off the ground. Her fingers dug into the unfamiliar material of his suit jacket, and she buried her nose in it, trying to find the underlying Doctor smell beneath John's aftershave. John's hands grasped at her back, her hair, her neck, whilst letting out sighs that ranged from wisps of air to sounds that bordered on moans. Clara could feel that spark ignite, as the intimacy of their embrace recalled her earlier conditions for contact. Releasing him, she ran a hand self-consciously through her hair, smoothing where he'd mussed it. Finally forgetting about the ring, it fell from her hand and clattered to the floor.

"Oh…!"

She was about to scoop it up but John was quicker than she was, stooping and picking it off the floor before raising slowly, ring in the center of his palm, the same question on his face.

Clara stared at it, feeling the weight of how each second dragged for him, and she reached out for it, grasping it between thumb and forefinger. Bringing her other hand up, it mimicked the first, held between both thumbs and forefingers. On impulse, she brought it to her lips and kissed it, meeting John's eyes meaningfully. Hoping it was enough of a response for him.

It seemed to be, for he nodded, smiling softly at her. "Well…" he began, pursing his lips together in a smirk. "I suppose you know where to find me."

Clara returned the smirk, before she gradually closed the door, nothing more to say.

She sat on her bed and returned to studying the ring. She couldn't wear it – she knew that. But…she couldn't not wear it, either. Glancing about her little room, she searched for a solution, her hand continuously shaking it as though it were hot. It was an impossible thing - that was certain. Perhaps it was fitting, then: an impossible thing for the impossible girl.

Spying a glinting object on her bureau, she felt herself smile as the solution presented itself. Picking up the simple gold chain, she threaded the ring through it before placing it round her neck. After a moment's thought, she dropped to her knees, digging in the satchel again. Finding her prize, she undid the clasp on the necklace, threading the second item through before replacing it on her neck again.

She stood in front of the mirror and appraised her make-shift necklace. Staring at it, she thought about John's melancholy musings from the previous day about his plight as the Doctor. She'd insisted he was wrong at the time, but…maybe it applied to her, too. Maybe you really did have to choose: the name or the heart. One of these was supposed to represent her heart, but she was wearing it in name only. The other had given her the name that solidified her in his life – the Impossible Girl - but was where her heart lie. She ran her fingers over them before squeezing tight, an unexpected lump in her throat. A wedding ring…and a TARDIS key. Two things she could never, ever have together again.

*Author's Note: I know – another shorter chapter, but I promise the next ones will be longer and packed with more…stuff. Also just another reminder, it's officially M now so that means anything M is fair game (for this story, that means sexytimes) – you've been forewarned. ;) Thank you again to all who follow, favorite and give me feedback – I love hearing your thoughts and opinions, especially when y'all bring things up I haven't even thought of (which many of you have done)!