A/N: thank you so much for your feedback! the truth is finally out there and let's just say clara is mad...

He didn't dare to address her his word.

He didn't try to get her to talk to him.

He didn't comment on the silent tears that pathed down her cheeks, tracing single lines across the skin that failed to notice them — or, perhaps, didn't care about them.

He didn't ask her if her heart was hurting just as much as his.

The clock marked long hours passed without the verbalization of a single word, from either parties. The Doctor, just like her, was sitting on the floor, his back to the mattress of the bed, his body just a few inches away from her, however no physical contact had been established. He wouldn't endeavor something she wasn't ready to give him.

Clara hadn't moved; at all, ever since she first lost control over her physique. She hadn't moved, she was trapped inside her own frame, and yet her mind was traveling so fast it longed desperately for a second of rest. She couldn't stop thinking about it; about everything he had done and everything he had risked.

She couldn't stop feeling her heart thundering inside her chest, slamming against her walls and trying to break free. Knowing she would have damn well done the same thing, had she seen him on the edge of his own destruction.

For the thought alone of losing him caused her—his—heart to accelerate, anxiety and fright propelling its beating. She understood, even though she failed to find in herself the kindness to forgive him for being so stupid. She understood, because she would have done the same thing.

A long exhale escaped her slightly parted lips, attracting even further the attention of his that already fully belonged to her. Like sets of magnets, her eyes found their way to his, not at all surprised to find him already looking at her. Like the cosmic of existence, the black hole inside her eyes was swallowing all the universe held inside of his. For the first time in minutes, hours, eternities, they glanced at the glimpses of the soul that escaped from one another's lids.

He didn't cry her name, like he would have under any other circumstances. She didn't call for him, like she would have whenever she came across him feeding himself on the image of her. Their silence was their greatest weapon.

Clara was only unsuccessful to comprehend why the simple sight of him, standing in front of her, having given all of himself in for her, brought serenity to her new heart. Unconsciously, her fingers traced her pulse, it assuring her that she was alive. Because of his sacrifice, she still had a pulse, a beating heart that allowed her to be alive.

She was alive because of him. She was alive for him. Everything she was, everything she ever stood for; always because of him, always for him. A single tear escaped the duct of her eye and wetted her apple cheek; a tear symbolic of all her love for him.

And loving him hurt.

She wondered if his soul ached just as much as hers; however, she wouldn't ask.

The scene unfolded in front of her was nearly poetic; the misty layer that blanketed his vision was finally converted into droplets stubborn enough to path into his skin; tears originated in the pain of seeing her suffering. His hand was quick to weep them away, following straight towards his hair as an excuse for his sudden movement, hopeful that she hadn't noticed his display of emotion.

Even though she had, she was already too troubled dealing with her own feelings. Even though his silent cry was confirmation enough of her questions; loving her hurt him.

She wished she could rub his pain away. She wished she hadn't gotten into that stupid crash and had both their lives changed forever. She wished the Doctor would have only gotten to the hospital after she had perished. She wished she could silence her love and her hatred for him, for what he had done. She wished she could give him back his heart so she wouldn't have to live with the weight of it.

For it felt heavy inside of her chest.

"I can't just say thank you and move on, Doctor."

The sound of her voice startled him. Her eyes were bright and puffy and he could see the mirror of his heartbeat in the pulsating vein of her forehead. He wanted nothing more than to reach her and beg for her forgiveness — he wasn't entitled of that, he had already erred her enough. "I know, Clara."

Clara bit her lower lip hardly, in desperate attempts of keeping her emotions to herself. She had already controlled herself so far, amidst all the cruel and truthful thoughts that had pathed her mind; she wouldn't allow him to see her break down. "Am I even human anymore? Or am I just… a hybrid?"

The Doctor shivered at her choice of words, however he forbade his brain from chasing after the prophecies that would always haunt them. "You're human to the soul, Clara," he prompted, "And Time Lord to the essence."

She brought her legs close to her chest, hugging them and shooting him a deadly glare when he intended to approach her and offer her unwelcomed comfort. "Is that why I've been feeling so different than the ordinary ever since? I mean, my body… It's not a common human body anymore."

Sighing loudly, he restrained himself back and looked intensely at her. "You're a hybrid, Clara. The changes happening in your body are completely reasonable."

Her pupils dilated amidst the dark. "Is that why I'm always cold? My hands, they're always freezing. And I'm just getting used to it, but is it because of your low temperature body?"

"I see no reasons why it wouldn't," he nodded.

She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, her chin seeking for solace and resting between the gap of her knees. "I've been having all these feelings and sensations that don't belong to me. Why? Are they your emotions?"

The Doctor leaned forward, until his head reached lower than her small height frame, trying to come as close to her as he could without disturbing her personal space. Her chocolate eyes appeared even more slimy from that angle. "Emotions are made of chemical reactions that travel through our entire bodies. For some reason I can't explain, our hearts are still linked and whatever mine feels, so does yours. Whatever yours feels, so does mine."

She processed his sentences in a long period of silence, hollow breaths escaping her half open lips in the meantime. Uninvitedly, he rested his forehead against her legs, his body close to the floor out of his surrender for her, his hands gently creating locks around her ankles so she wouldn't fade away from him. He was tired from missing her. He was praying she would find it in herself to forgive him.

For the longest of times, her breathing was everything that could be heard in the tenseness of the room.

"How… How long?" Clara pondered right after abruptly pulling her head back, voice stuck in her vocal chords, hands slightly trembling in front of the mouth they tried to hide.

Pouting, he raised his head to glance at her, even though she didn't have it in her to restore the eye contact. "How long, what?"

"Your recovery," she whispered, "How long were you confined in the TARDIS until your body learned to survive with one heart only?"

"Clara, I don't—"

"Enough lies!" her tone increased strongly.

His knuckles scratched his eyelids, his head now having taken the previous place of hers, perfectly firm between her knees. "About… About a year."

She emitted a gasp of horror, pulling herself away from his touch by unexpectedly standing up only to run away from him — she could have easily hurt him amidst her brutal movements; she didn't care. "Damn you, Doctor. Damn you."

"It wasn't that bad," he tried to soften, judging better to remain down at the floor. "I was asleep during most of it, letting my body repair itself. The TARDIS took really good care of me, so I could properly heal and take care of you while you healed."

Clara's eyes were lifeless. "You're trying to make it okay, but it's not. Nothing about this is okay."

"Why isn't it okay, Clara?" he snapped, at last getting back up. "We're both alive, Clara. Alive. Isn't that all that matters?"

Clara felt completely small when looking up at him. Regardless of her short height, she would always feel so tall, imposing an authority that her petite self never provided. Not that moment, not when she was feeling so naked in front of him. "You sacrificed yourself! That's not in your job description! I never asked you for that!"

He leaned on his palms on the bed. "My duty is to keep you safe."

"Safe? Nobody's ever safe, Doctor, I never asked you for that," she lectured and then frowned at her own words, "Oh god."

The Doctor bent down until their eyes reached the same height. "Oh god, what?"

"Is that what this is about?" she almost gasped, in disbelief. "You were feeling guilty because you weren't there during the accident? Because I crashed when you weren't there to catch me and keep me safe?!"

His face muscles tensed up. "Had I arrived at your place earlier, you wouldn't have been in that bike to die, Clara."

"We face death every second of our lives, Doctor. I could have had a heart attack in the middle of the night for all I care and you wouldn't be there to save me from myself," she stated, fighting the urge to hide her head in her hands. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to blame yourself for something you had no control over."

He offered her a weak smile. "You blame me."

"No," she pointed a finger up, "I blame you for what you did, not for what you couldn't have possibly done."

He landed on his arse on the mattress of his bed. "You know what, Clara, you keep saying I sacrificed myself for you, blaming me for being stupid, but it's not like you haven't done the same. It's not like you haven't given up your life so many times, to save me. That's no different than what I did."

Clara's eyes watered up immensely; she was sure she was drowning. "That's not fair."

He huffed a puff of air. "I guess it's not. But this doesn't change the fact that I have a duty to save your life. At least that one time."

Uncertain of why, Clara took a seat by his side. Suffocating from her heart's need to forgive him, even if her head still remained in a different page. "I hate you for doing this, Doctor. I really do."

The Doctor crossed his legs in front of him. "Didn't you once told me that hate is too strong of an emotion to waste on someone that you don't like?"

Closing her eyes, Clara laid her ear on top of his shoulder pad. "I never said I disliked you, Doctor," her words barely made it past the lips that formed them, "I guess that's why it's so hard."

He nodded. "I'm sorry."

"I thought we were past the lies already," she groaned, tiredly.

Frightenedly, he rested his head against hers. "I really am sorry that I've saddened you, Clara, I hate being the cause of your sorrows. But I'm not sorry at all for doing everything I could to guarantee your survival. How could I be?"

Suddenly, Clara freed herself and stood up. She was trying her best to keep her tears inside, but she was sure her face was denouncing her. She demanded, "Get up."

He obeyed her command silently — he knew better than not to, especially when she was already crossed. He remained still, towering over her, studying every single of her traits while he waited for whatever she had in mind.

Hesitantly, she curled her fingers around the fabric of his tee. Without giving any further notice, she pulled it over his head, making way to his bare chest. Tossing the shirt to the floor, her eyes remained glued to his skin.

And the Doctor impeded himself from calling her name.

Carefully, Clara ran the tip of her fingers against the single line that pathed between his chest. Feeling the scar underneath her touch, the scar that had been the result of how far he would go for fear of losing her. "It's just like mine."

He bowed his head, "Yes, Clara."

Her eyes squeezed due the descending of her brows. "You shouldn't have it, Doctor. Why didn't it heal? Don't you have a superior healing capacity?"

The Doctor looked down at her hands in his torso. "I don't know, Clara. Perhaps I didn't want it to disappear."

"Why?" her nose wrinkled. "That's silly. Why would you want a constant reminder of everything that you've lost?"

"Is that how you see your scar?" he questioned, knowing she wouldn't respond when her lip started to shake in the air and she broke the eye contact. "I didn't lose anything, Clara. This is no more than a reminder of everything that I gained. I gained back the person for whom I care the most."

Clara leaned her forehead between his collar bones, her palms flatly displayed on opposite sides of his abdomen. "I want to be mad at you but you make it so hard, Doctor."

The Doctor chuckled, his thumb meeting the beginning of the red incision in her bust before it disappeared into her top. "I'm sorry to disappoint you."

Shyly, her arms met around his neck, pulling herself close to him. "Why is it so comforting being next to you?" she repeated the question from before the truth was outed. "It feels like… coming home."

He quivered, naked underneath her words. "Familiarity, Clara," he explained, "Being near you brings our hearts together, creating a new rhythm of their own."

He brought one of her hands to the vein of his neck, the other, to her own pulse. Clara focused on them for a few seconds, before her lips turned into the hint of a smile. She glanced at him and spoke in clichés, "Two hearts that beat as one."

His lips mimicked the movement of hers. "Perhaps that saying was written especially for us."