Scene 35

Ten days after returning to Earth.

Clara was aware of a crying sound. Someone was weeping.

She woke.

Her own flat, an orange glow on the wall from the street lamps, through the curtains.

Arms held her, her head against a skinny chest.

The tears were her own.

He was there. Her Doctor.

Beside her, surrounding her.

Taking her face in his hands, he pressed their foreheads together.

Images of falling water, a cascade, a smell of fresh rain.

She breathed deeply, letting the feeling wash over her. Cleansing, purifying, soothing.

He remained in place until she was calm.

Sinking into sleep once more.

Waking again, later, it was still dark.

She was alone in the bed, but she could hear movement, coming from the kitchen.

The rattle of cups. The kettle.

Drowsy, she waited.

Moments later he returned, with mugs of tea.

"I thought you'd be awake soon." He remarked.

Setting the cup on her bedside table, he climbed onto the bed beside her, on top of the duvet.

Propping himself on pillows against the headboard as he sipped from his own mug.

She sighed and curled against him.

Burrowed into his side, listening to the duel heartbeats.

All the previous week, since he returned with her to Earth, he barely left her side.

She slept a great deal, and that, he decided, was a good thing.

Heal from within.

The Tardis was in the corner of the living room.

But remained firmly locked, apart from mealtimes.

At first she almost seemed to skirt around him, keeping her distance.

He found himself watching her constantly, looking for any sign that she might need him closer.

He slept on the couch, leaving her room as her own private space.

A place to be alone with her thoughts if she required it.

Often he felt those thoughts, a jumble of confusion and pain. He wasn't sure that she was aware he was sharing them, he was scared to tell her.

Frankly, he was scared all round.

He didn't really know quite how to deal with her, it was new territory for him.

Tip-toeing around her, frightened to say too little...or too much.

What was the right thing to say? What did she wanted to hear?

He was terrified she'd come to the decision not to travel with him anymore, because he honestly didn't know if he could stay on Earth indefinitely, yet he could not contemplate going off and leaving her behind. He was torn...

The Tardis made soup. Kept them fed.

Neither left the flat.

Surprisingly he did not feel stir crazy, even after those initial days, where normally he would be champing at the bit, for excitement, freedom.

Instead he felt cocooned. Wrapped in a little bubble. Safe and content.

Just him and Clara.

The evening of the fifth day, curled side by side on the couch, he'd been reading aloud to her...

from Dickens' David Copperfield.

Her eyes were closed, head resting sleepily on his shoulder.

As he finished the chapter, and closed the book, she sat up, tugging at his arm.

"Come to bed." She whispered.

He looked down into her brown eyes, his own suddenly moist with tears.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure Doctor. I need you. Here..." She touched her chest over her heart, "and here." She put her hand to her head...

She still wanted him. The relief...it was overwhelming.

His hearts ached for her.

He picked her up, carried her. She giggled, but he was deadly serious.

Laid her gently down atop the covers.

Kissed her, slowly at first, then deeper, let it turn tender.

Should he touch her? What was the right thing to do or say now?

He began to weep.

"I love you, My Clara."

It was the best thing he could possibly have said. She yearned to hear it.

Despite his fears, he'd got it right.

She raised her head, although in the half light she couldn't really see his features properly.

"Thank you for being here. Doctor. I love you too."

He crawled into the bed beside her, held her to him, as close as he possibly could.

His body screamed at the touch, the intimacy of the moment, it made him tremble.

He needed her so desperately, with his mind he told her so.

Her mind replied,

"I know."

He spoke to her, softly...

"On the 456 planet...I dreamed we were on Gallifrey, together. When I was captured, and you'd been taken away. I never dream about Gallifrey. I never dream, come to that."

"You slept?"

"Yes...deeply. The dream was so strong. We were there for the Commitment Ceremony, the joining. I was so happy, the happiest I've been for longer than I can remember. Then you faded, and I lost you. You were calling, but I couldn't get to you. Couldn't reach you. It was horrible."

"I was calling you too. All the time. When I was in that booth thing. I didn't stop. I just yelled and yelled, with my mind. I imagined our foreheads touching, and I cried out for you."

"I heard you. We are connected Clara. Bonded. Here." He touched his own head. "And here." A hand to his chest.

"Always... Always...Gods, I wish I could take you to my home. I wish we could be joined there. Properly."

The admission was a stark realisation of the truth. It came out almost before he'd formed the thought.

"We can be joined Doctor. We don't need any ceremony."

"But I'd like something...something, official."

He sat up then, taking both her hands, holding them to his chest, against his hearts.

"Clara, will you be one with me? Keep to me? Join with me? Or marry me? If that's the way you express it here?"

As he spoke, anxious, tense, he slid half of the dual ring he always wore from his finger, and placed it onto the ring finger of her left hand.

It was a little large, but he held it there, bringing it to his lips and kissing it tenderly.

"Will you be mine Clara, as I am yours?"

"I will Doctor...I will."

Her eyes were shining.

She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him crushingly, hot tears against his face.

"That's all I want." He whispered, "Just you to be with me. Us together. We don't have to travel. Not if you don't want to. We don't have to do anything. I'll stay here till..."

"But I love to travel with you Doctor. We have all of time and space. We should enjoy it, make the most of it. While we can. Life is short. Everything ends, Doctor, but we have the now. That's what counts. The here and now. We should focus on that."

He smiled, but it was tinged with sadness.

Pulling herself up, from the bed, she padded through to the kitchen,

"Wait there..."

He could hear a chink of glass and the fridge opening.

She returned with a bottle of champagne and two flutes.

"I was given this for my birthday, I've been saving it for a special occasion. I guess this is it."

He took the bottle from her, with a smile, removed the wire cage and the foil, and, with deft fingers, popped the cork, the fizz bubbled into the glasses as he poured.

Clara picked up her flute and gestured him to do the same.

She clinked them together.

"To Us and the here and now!" She beamed.

"And all of Time and Space! " He replied.