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Chapter 26

"Sorry, I'm a little out of practice," the Doctor apologized as he pulled her closer to his chest. Clara leaned against him, sighing happily.

"It's okay," she said with a smile, "We can practice some more later."

"Marvellous idea," he replied and bent down, placing a kiss on her cheek. His lips moved on to her ear and she heard him whisper something into it.

Clara turned around to look at him in confusion.

"Is that. . .?"

He nodded. "My name. No more secrets, Clara. Now you truly know everything about me."

For a moment she didn't know what to say. "Can I still call you Doctor?"

"I don't see why not," he shrugged, "Everyone does."

Clara settled back into his arms, but her great mood had somehow vanished.

"I'm so sorry, Doctor."

"For what?" he asked.

"I let you down. I should've been here for you, in fact, I should never have left. I feel like I'm responsible for everything. You've been so loving and generous and in return I lied to you because I was afraid you would think. . . well, exactly what you ended up thinking."

"It's not your fault, Clara. I could have listened to you instead of my own fears and insecurities. None of what happened is your fault. And Ralph was right. I need to learn to deal with my feelings rather than dull them."

"How exactly did it happen?" Clara asked carefully. She felt like she needed to know.

"Gradually," he replied simply, "When you left I had this problem with my back. I took something and it helped and I, I was okay. It didn't cause anything for me. What I feared would happen, that I would suddenly start craving the drugs and the alcohol again, that didn't happen and I thought I was okay. I went out with Ralph, someone offered me something, I took it. I felt great. A few days later and dared to have a few drinks and still nothing. I didn't even realize it was turning back into a problem until Christmas."

"Why? What happened at Christmas?"

"I had promised Ralph and Cynthia to come over for lunch. I was late and hungover, she called me and I realized I didn't even know it was Christmas at all. I had completely lost track," he explained and Clara thought that there was more that he wanted to say, but the Doctor kept it to himself.

She didn't need him to tell her. She knew. She knew that he probably considered getting help, but that he saw no reason. Only the Doctor was too much of a gentleman to say that it was all because of her.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, but I will from now on," Clara said sincerely and sat up to look at him, "I'm gonna call work and quit. I will find something here in Glasgow and I will never, ever leave you again. If you still want me to, I will move in with you. You don't mind cats, do you?"

The Doctor smiled. "I absolutely want you to," he paused and raised an eyebrow, "Cats? Why cats?"

Clara stared at him insecurely. "I might have adopted a cat. Her name is Cookie and she is absolutely no trouble at all. You will hardly notice her."

He chuckled. "I'm fine with the cat."

The Doctor closed his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest and sighing.

"Clara," he breathed, "Clara, Clara, Clara. I am so glad to have you back and I hate to ask this of you."

"Ask what?"

"Ask you to leave."

"What?" Clara almost cried out in disbelief. She struggled free of his embrace, looking at him. She must have heard him wrong, "I'm sorry, what? Correct me if I'm mistaken but I just thought you asked me leave."

"I did," he sighed again, closing his eyes. He seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden, "Go home, or stay at Ralph and Cynthia's for a few days but you can't stay here."

"I just said that I am not going to leave you again, you agreed I could move in and now you're kicking me out?" Clara demanded angrily. What in God's name was wrong with him?

"I don't want you to leave, Clara," he replied, his voice jittery and fearful, "But I need to get clean again. I've been using a lot of things in the past three months and I want to stop. Now that you're here I want to stop but it's going to take a few days. You can't be here when I go through that."

"No!" said furiously, "I'm not leaving."

The Doctor took a deep breath. He looked utterly lost now. "You don't understand. I've been through this once before and it's nasty. I can't let you see me like this."

Clara's features softened a little. He was being an idiot – again. But she wouldn't let him. She was never going to leave him in trouble ever again.

"I'm staying," she insisted, "I don't care that it's gonna be tough. I want to help you."

The Doctor groaned and struggled into a sitting position. "You already helped me, Clara. You are the reason I want to stop this. Please, do this for me. Ralph and Cynthia will take you in. You have no idea what I will be like. I won't be myself, Clara. I-" he paused, "I'm afraid you will hate me."

"I don't care."

"You aren't prepared. Even Missy wasn't prepared last time. She left me and locked me up and that's what I intend to do again. Just a few days, Clara and it'll all be over. But please, leave. I don't want you to see me like this."

Clara reached out and took his hand. She noticed how cold and slightly sweaty it was. "No way," she said calmly, "I will not leave. I don't care what you will say to me, I know it won't be you talking. Doctor, please, let me stay with you. Tell me it would not be easier for you if I stayed here?!"

He sighed. "It would. But-"

"No but. I'm staying," Clara decided and leaned forward to kiss him, "Now let's go downstairs and get some breakfast."

Since her own clothes were still downstairs in her suitcase, Clara grabbed one of the Doctor's shirt to put on while he got dressed as well. He trailed after her as she made her way into the kitchen.

"God, your fridge is more than empty. I'm gonna have to ask Ralph to do some shopping," she said while retrieving a few eggs and some ham that she dearly hoped wasn't past the best-before-date.

Clara turned around to look at the Doctor but he didn't seem to have listened to her. He was paler than before and his eyes were glued to the bottle of Scotch on the kitchen table.

"Are you okay?" she asked carefully.

"No," he replied in a low voice as he sat down at the counter, "It's starting."

Clara stepped forward, grabbed the bottle from the table and quickly emptied it into the sink before the Doctor could say another word.

"We better get rid of anything even remotely tempting in this house. Just tell me where everything is and you don't need to worry about it," Clara said, hoping that her insecurity didn't show. She had told him she would stay, but she had no idea what was going to happen. The Doctor looked utterly miserable and now she noticed that his hands were starting to shake, no matter how much he tied to hide it from her.

"You can still leave," the Doctor said, "I won't blame you if you do."

"Not an option," Clara replied determinedly, "Now tell me where everything is and I will get rid of it."

With the Doctor's help Clara started to gather everything he had accumulated during the past few months. She found bottles of all sorts of alcohol, mostly Scotch, a few envelopes containing pills of which she didn't even want to know what they did and even a small dose a white powder that she strongly suspected to be cocaine. She poured it all down the drain and sighed when it was finally done.

"Was that all?" she asked, her arms akimbo.

The Doctor rose from the kitchen chair and walked over to her, turning on the tap.

"Leave it running for a while," he told her.

"Why?"

"Just trust me," the Doctor said, "I'm gonna take a shower."

"Okay," she breathed nervously, "Breakfast will be ready when you come back down."

As soon as the Doctor had left the room Clara sank down on one of the chairs. He looked so drained and miserable that Clara couldn't help but wonder if she had made the right decision. If things got out of hand she could call Ralph. He would be there for them, but she wasn't sure if she was really prepared for what was to come.