Guys, thank you so, so much for the reviews and comments and messages and that sweet but slightly 'loud' Tumblr post :D I'm so glad you like this story and I almost feel bad for torturing you. Almost.

Chapter 21

Clara had known that online dating wouldn't be easy. She had expected to go on a date with a guy or two with whom she wouldn't hit it off immediately, but she had never thought it would be this hard.

Her very first attempt had been a guy who had talked about nothing but sports. He had asked her a couple of questions, but Clara didn't think he had listened to her for long enough to actually register her response before he started talking about football again. Clara's second date had been a truly lovely 40-year old who had immediately pulled out his wallet to show her pictures of his four children. By the end of the meal Clara had learned everything about them, and also his ex-wife with whom he was obviously still in love. The third guy had stood her up and never even apologized for it.

After him Clara had decided to take a break from online dating and instead went out on the hunt herself. While getting the last vaccinations for Cookie she had asked her not too bad looking and very friendly vet out on a date, who had been flattered, but uninterested – because he was already in a long term relationship with another man.

Frustrated at her failure to find someone Clara had once again logged into the online dating database and spotted something she liked. He had hardly made anything about himself public except for a few of his interests and favourite books, which was what had caught her attention. So she had written him and now she was heading to the restaurant to meet the man himself.

When she arrived at the restaurant Clara could already see him sitting at the table and peeling the label off a wine bottle. She was 10 minutes late.

"I'm so sorry," Clara apologized when she had finally reached the table and extended her hand, "I know, I know, being late to a date makes a terrible first impression, but the bus was late and I walked to a different station and, ah, anyway, I am here now. Here and sorry."

Ronald – that was his name – shook her hand reluctantly, but he looked slightly scared.

"You're mad, aren't you?" Clara asked contritely as she sat down at the other side of the table, "Please say you're not mad. It really wasn't my fault at all. I left home in time. I swear, I'm gonna make it up to you."

"No, it's. . . it's fine," he replied in a low voice and his eyes wandered back to the peeled off label.

An awkward silence spread over the table and Clara was glad when the waiter arrived to take their order. She had been to this restaurant once before and knew what she wanted, but Ronald seemed a little indecisive. Finally he ordered what Clara was having as well and the waiter left their table.

The silence however stayed.

Finally Clara opened her mouth. "I'm sorry, does something bother you?" she asked.

"No, it's fine, really. I don't talk much," he replied.

"Not much is quite the exaggeration."

Finally Ronald looked at her. He was cute, but now Clara could see that he was also extremely shy.

"I'm not really used to women making the first move," he explained, "It all happened so fast, I mean, we only started talking online three days ago."

"So you're saying you would have preferred waiting?" Clara raised an eyebrow. This was definitely going to be a new one and somehow she couldn't really see this working out. He looked dead scared of her.

Ronald hesitated.

"No, I think," he paused, "I think you are a little too much for me."

"What?" she said louder than she had intended.

Slowly Ronald rose from his chair and grabbed his coat. "I'm sorry, I really am."

"What do you mean I am too much for you?" she asked angrily.

Ronald looked utterly uncomfortable. "You. . . talk."

Clara stared at him in confusion, but before she could say anything else he had thrown a bill on the table and dashed out.

She didn't know whether to be mad or burst into laughter. Of all the guys she had met through online dating she swore it couldn't get weirder than this. Maybe it hadn't been such a great idea, maybe she should just do it the old fashioned way and wait for the right person to come along. But then her mind wandered back to the Doctor. Even after 3 months he still hadn't vanished from her memories and Clara couldn't take the fact that he still lingered on her mind any longer. She had to find someone new, and she had to find him as soon as possible to finally get over the Doctor and Clara wouldn't give up until she had.

OOO

"Where the hell have you been?" the Doctor could hear Missy shout from the distance and he groaned.

"Take me back, please," he said to Ralph, who held him up because his feet had given way under him. Not his fault, he had told his friend, the earth was moving too fast. For some reason Ralph hadn't bought that.

"Oh no," Ralph replied, "That's your problem. Not mine."

Finally they had reached the front door of his house where Missy was already waiting for them.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?" Missy gave him a smack over the head, "You've got a concert tomorrow!"

"Ouch!" he stumbled away from Ralph, holding the spot where she had hurt him, "Why's everyone mad at me?"

Now Missy turned her anger towards his friend. "What is wrong with you? Why did you let this happen?"

"This is not my fault!" Ralph replied angrily, "I was already in bed when he called me to pick him up. I had no idea! I'm the bodyguard, not the babysitter."

The Doctor let himself fall back against the wall. "I'd like to point out that I am not a baby."

"Fine," Ralph spat, he was really furious now, "I'm done with this. I'm done picking up your drunk ass from parties. I'm done trying to tell you to to eat and sleep and get dressed. You say you're not baby, well, then start behaving like the adult you are and get yourself under control!"

The Doctor only stared back at him. He had no idea what to say to him, no idea why Ralph couldn't see that it wasn't so easy.

"I'll take care of him," Missy finally said, "Go home, Ralph. Just make sure he wakes up in time for the concert tomorrow."

Ralph nodded and turned around, walking away without saying another word. The Doctor had no idea how Missy managed to shuffle him inside, but a few moments later he found himself sinking back into one of the beanbags. He tried closing his eyes, but the room was spinning. The pills he had taken at the party wouldn't let him sleep anyway. There was no point trying. When was the last time he had slept? He couldn't sleep. He would only dream of Clara and that was the worst form of torture.

"Doctor, it's time you snapped out of this," Missy said harshly, "Everyone's allowed a relapse, but this has got to stop now. We've done it before, we can do it again."

"Just leave me alone, Missy. I don't need your help," he said wearily.

"It's that woman, isn't it? The journalist," she said, "It's been three months. I doubt she even remembers you."

"Thaaaanks," he drawled, "You always know exactly how to make me feel better."

Missy walked around the room and settled behind him, her hands sliding over his shoulders and massaging them gently. "You know I'm not your friend. I'm not here to pamper you. I'm your manager and as such I care about you. I want to help you."

"This is helping me," the Doctor insisted, "I can't stand this pain. I just want to cut it out. Forget her."

"There are better ways to get over her. Healthier ways," Missy whispered into his ear as her hands slipped across his chest.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, barely aware of her touch at all.

"You are just lonely," she explained, walking around the beanbag to kneel down in front of him, "Let me make you feel less so."

The Doctor didn't understand what she was talking about until her hands had reached the zip of his trousers. He stopped her.

"I don't want that," he said calmly.

"Okay," Missy replied, getting back on her feet, "Just tell me when you need me."

"No," the Doctor repeated wearily, "I don't want you. I just want Clara."

"Well, Clara is not here," Missy said brusquely, "And she is not coming back because, in case you have forgotten, she was a journalist who only intended to spy on you. I think it's time you realized that you're just not cut out for love. It has brought you nothing but misery."

He buried his face in his hands. His mind felt all wrong, all of his thoughts and memories were scrambled and he was still missing Clara. It seemed worse than ever.

"You need sleep," Missy reminded him, "You need to sober up for the concert tomorrow."

"I can't," he groaned, "I don't want to."

"Fine," she finally said, angrily, "Do what you want. If you fall off the stage, don't expect me to pick you up."

The Doctor flinched when Missy slammed the door behind her. She was right, he needed to sleep, but he was scared. He didn't think he could take another dream about Clara and himself being happy together, and yet that was what he dreamed about whenever he closed his eyes. It was killing him, knowing it would never be like that again. He missed her. He missed her so much that it almost drove him to insanity.

He bent forward to reach for the bottle of Scotch beneath the coffee table. If he blacked out he surely wouldn't dream at all.