There were twenty seven sets of eyes staring up at her the next morning, all curiously awaiting instruction as they fidgeted at their desks, legs swinging in some spots, pencils tapping lightly in others. None spoke as she looked out through the windows at her right from where she stood, leaned into her desk, and after a few minutes of silence, she smiled and then turned to look them over. They weren't perfect, they weren't even polite sometimes, but they were all a little bit hers. At least for that year.

"I'm sorry," she told them honestly, "You need a teacher right now, don't you."

Enid raised his hand sheepishly, dark eyes set in a worried stare, and when she nodded, he stated, "It's alright if you don't want to be a teacher today, Miss."

She expected a laugh to rumble through the room, but they all simply nodded their agreement, remaining obediently in their seats as she grinned. "Thank you." She sighed and then explained, "Someone, someone who I thought was a good friend, they hurt me."

"Did they hit you, Miss?" Lily shot angrily.

Clara shook her head, "Not that kind of hurt, Lily, the sort that hurts on the inside – remember when we talked about hurting with words and how that can hurt just as much, or even more, than hurting with hands?" The girl nodded and Clara looked over the students to watch them all give small nods, remembering the lesson from the very start of term as she told them, "They had to go to the hospital."

"Did you hit them, Miss?" Seamus gasped.

She managed a small laugh, head shaking again, "No, Seamus, their heart got sick." She shrugged, not wanting to explain it further. Clara clasped her hands together as she told them, "And now I'm a bit torn because I feel angry, but I also want them to get better."

Trevor exhaled roughly, "I know the feeling. 'S like when my dad tells me I'm useless, then complains his back hurts from work – sometimes I want that pain to get worse so he knows how I feel, but that's wrong, isn't it, Miss. 'Cause he's my dad."

Pushing off the desk, Clara raised a hand and beckoned him quietly towards her, watching him look to the side before she called, "Trevor, come here."

The boy stood slowly out of his desk and walked towards her nervously and she could see it in his eyes – he thought he was in some sort of trouble. Always did, and now she knew, just a little bit, why – why he acted out and why he shrugged it off when she scolded him. How could her scoldings compare to the judgment of his father. She stepped into him and cupped her palms to his cheeks, raising his face to meet her eyes as she told him sternly, "You are loud, sometimes boisterously so, but you're strong and you're funny and you're brave, and one thing you are never going to be is useless. And you have such a big heart. If it's alright to say so, I love you dearly."

His cheeks went warm in her hands as he replied quietly, "If it's alright to say so, Miss, I love you dearly as well."

She laughed, feeling her eyes well up as she pulled him into a hug after a small nod. Clara looked to her students and she offered, "Every single one of you is so very loved." She watched them smile, a few tearfully as she raised one hand and breathed, "How about one big hug, I could certainly use one. Everyone, come on."

Chairs skidded as they leapt from their desks and rushed to crowd around her and Trevor, and she laughed as she listened to their laughter and their quiet whispers of praise for their classmates. Because Clara had taught them to find the good in each other and to never forget to say it aloud. She cried because Maddie should be surrounded by classmates, offering her love and acceptance.

And a few minutes later, she wiped at her face and she smiled down at them, and raised both her arms to state, "Alright, back to your seats, let's get to work."

A few hours later she was on the Williams' couch, a mess of sobs, a tissue held tightly in her hand, Amy sitting beside her rubbing at her back and encouraging her with a strong, "This'll be good for your sinuses."

The words made her laugh, and she straightened to blow her nose, falling back into the cushions behind her as she shrugged several times, not quite knowing what to tell her friend. One hand flapped up as she exclaimed weakly, "I don't know why it hit me so hard today – I was almost fine yesterday."

She could see Amy considering it just before the other woman winced and told her quietly, "Because you talked to him," before adding hesitantly, "Because you haven't talked to Maddie."

Clara nodded slowly and she reached out a hand for the cup of water Amy had brought her, bringing it to her lips to take a gulp before gasping and hissing, "Stop bringing me Vodka!"

"You need Vodka!" Amy shouted in response. "Someone in this house should drink it," she added on a groan, putting a hand out to tip the glass towards Clara's lips, nodding her approval when she took another small sip. "Clara, you're upset because somewhere in that broken, but beautiful, heart of yours, you forgive him, and you hate yourself for it."

"I shouldn't forgive him, he lied to me," she argued.

"You lied to him," Amy countered.

Clara frowned, responding curtly, "I haven't lied."

On a shrug, Amy corrected, "Well, you lead him on, I mean, tell me you wouldn't have dropped him like a frog if you'd seen this Doctor fellow in the real world."

Biting her lip, not knowing if that were true or not, Clara looked to Amy, who was staring down at her stomach, hands smoothing the fabric of her blouse over it, searching for the bump that had yet to appear. She smiled then, telling her gently, "You know it's too early for that."

Nodding, Amy answered, "Don't try to detract from your problems, Clara. We're gonna talk about this whether you like it or not." Her friend looked to her and sighed, "You know what he did was wrong, and you know what I believe about men and mistakes."

"They'll apologize and then make them again," Clara stated while nodding. Because Amy had been firm on the matter before, during a time Clara thought she might forgive her ex-husband's indiscretions and abuse; when she'd tried to explain them away with a bad childhood and a confused adolescence.

"That's right," Amy said with a point of her finger.

"Because Rory never made a mistake?" Clara shot.

Lips pursing, Amy allowed, "Oh, he's made mistakes, but there are a few unforgiveable ones he knows well he shouldn't make, and lying is right there under cheating and taking my mozzarella sticks when we're out at dinner."

She wanted to smile, but her heart hurt. She took another sip of Vodka and then set the cup down on the coffee table, dropping back before leaning into the woman beside her, nestling her temple into her shoulder and sighing as Amy's cheek rested against the top of her head. It was odd, the feelings that plagued her. She wanted to hate him, but she didn't. She could almost understand, but she didn't. She wanted to feel more than bruised and sad, like some dumb puppy who just got popped with paper roll for digging up a plant she wanted, even though she knew she shouldn't have.

"Clara, it's gonna be fine," Amy assured her.

"What do I tell Maddie?" She asked. "She's gonna ask about the Doctor when I go into that dream world and I don't know how to explain this without hurting her." Clara swallowed roughly, incapable of keeping her voice from breaking as she continued, "He was supposed to help her build trust and instead he's going to ruin that. And he knew that he would..."

"Oh, sweetie," Amy growled, lifting her arm gently to pull Clara into a tight hug, "You're going to tell her the truth, as gently as possible, and then remind her that people do stupid things. Sometimes they even do stupid things for the right reasons, and that there's still good in the world worth coming back to."

Her lip trembled and she bit it, but she knew it was too late. Clara dissolved into a mess of sobs against Amy's chest and she gripped her tightly as she thought about her little girl, lying just a floor removed from John. The Doctor, she thought sadly as she sniffled and hiccupped, who had promised her the world, could potentially destroy it for her. Clara inhaled a ragged breath as Amy rubbed her back, and then she explained, "I let myself trust him, I let myself trust both of them..."

"And you thought that'd never happen again, remember?" Amy kissed the top of her head and told her calmly, more calmly than Clara had ever heard Amy speak, "You'll get there again one day, Clara, I promise you."

She nodded, and then offered lightly, "You've got the good boobs thing happening already."

Amy laughed with her and declared, "Thank you, baby!" Then she gave Clara's shoulder a good grip and sighed, "I wonder what Rory's doing right now."

Clara smiled, "Probably changing a bedpan and wondering the same about us."

In truth, he was staring at an IV bag of saline held firmly within his grip, and making his way towards a bedroom in which still laid one John Smith. Rory tried not to curl his lip as he approached the open door, stepping inside silently to see the man sleeping there, tempted to kick the underbelly of the bed to jolt him awake. Shouldn't he be used to being awake all night, he considered, logging into a computer and scanning the bracelet that hung on John's wrist; shouldn't the guilt of his actions keep him awake? He typed, listening to the beeps until he rounded the bed to flick a switch and shut it off, moving back to change out the IV and type in vitals and updates.

"You turned it off," John muttered. "It was helping me sleep."

"I don't care," Rory shot.

Eyes opening, John looked to the man beside him, "You're her friend, aren't you – Rory, is it? Your wife's the one expecting, isn't..."

"Look," Rory spat, interrupting him, "I'm here on loan for a few shifts this week from emergency, just changing your bags and then I've got others to attend to."

"No small talk then," John understood before asking, "Is it because you're busy, or because of who I am?"

Rory leveled a frustrated stare and stated blankly, "Bit busy."

Nodding, John sighed, "Because of who I am."

"You think you're clever, don't you." Rory typed roughly and knuckled a few options on the touch screen monitor before looking to John, sizing him up. He'd left the room the night before, asked another nurse to fill in. Professionalism be damned, he had to catch Clara, make sure she was alright, and work on other patients that didn't make him want to punch them in several spots that wouldn't be pretty. Rory gripped his sides and asked, "Do you even understand what you've done?"

"I've betrayed her trust," John supplied readily, eyes rising to meet Rory's before he added, "Which is unforgiveable." He looked away and said, "I've betrayed the trust of a child..."

Rory tossed the empty bag into a hazardous waste bin and twisted back to watch John as that other man's hands gripped together in a mess in his lap. "Did you think it through, when it started? Plan it out? Was it fun to watch as it played out in her mind and then in your home? Is that what it was to you – a game?"

"No," John shouted, steely eyes lifting to meet Rory's. "It was an accident; it was a mistake."

Eyes closing a moment, Rory gasped, "How could you do this on accident?" He clapped the back of his right hand into the palm of his left, "You knew it was her – she wasn't hiding behind some facade like you were! Don't tell me this was an accident because that's complete rubbish and we both know it!"

"I didn't want to hurt her!" He shouted. He shook his head and watched Rory's eyes widen slightly as his body straightened, and John continued before the other man could interrupt, "I thought it would be safer for her if the fantasy stayed inside of her head and the reality remained in the real world – that wasn't the accident, that was the mistake."

"Then what was the accident?"

"Falling in love with her." John offered a weak huff of a chuckle before telling him honestly, "I thought she could never love me in return."

Rory did a half turn, laughing at the darkened room before pointing and offering a frustrated, "Yeah, well, maybe you should have gotten to know her first, you'd have understood that woman has more love in her heart than..." he trailed, hand coming up and then dropping away. "She doesn't deserve this."

Head toggling, John agreed, "No, she doesn't – and I'll leave her be."

"No," Rory groaned angrily, "No, you won't leave her be, don't you understand." He took a step towards John and grunted, "She loves you and you've broken her, you don't get to just walk away from that as though you'd done nothing wrong."

John shrugged, arguing, "What should I do then?"

On a nod, Rory suggested angrily, "You get thrown out when she's sick of seeing you on your knees in apology. You get punched in your smug stupid face and you apologize again for hurting her fist. You find some way to explain this to her where she doesn't spend months blaming herself because she will. She'll question the DeepDream Institute and she'll remove herself from her daughter and then she'll blame herself for losing that because she couldn't be smarter; because she couldn't protect herself, or, more importantly her child." He paused to take a harsh breath, "She couldn't protect her daughter from you, John. Do you have any idea what she's been through these past few years?"

"Yes," John shot, "Yes, I do."

Bending forward, Rory bellowed, "Then why in the hell did you do this?"

"Because I thought I could help!" John shouted back.

"Well," Rory growled, "Job well done, mate. Superb!"

"Oh, bugger off!" John snapped. "She knew damned well what she was doing. I've wronged her, I'm fully aware of that, and I've wronged her daughter, but don't pretend that her past pain excuses her actions."

Taking another step closer, Rory gasped, "How dare you claim she had fault in this. She did nothing wrong except trust you, and the only reason she did was because you lead her to believe you could be trusted." He shook his head, "We thought maybe this would be good for her; Amy thought it would be fun, because Clara deserved to have a little fun, but we would never have encouraged that if we had even the slightest idea of what you were doing."

John bowed his head, taking a long breath and he reached to his left, pressing the button that let him listen to the gentle beeps of his heartbeat, quickened slightly in that moment, but steady. He gestured and he offered, "There's only hindsight now, isn't there." He smiled. "I wish it had gone different, Rory, I truly do."

Kicking the base of the bed lightly, Rory pushed his hands into his pockets and questioned quietly, "What would you have done differently?"

"Perhaps I might never have stepped in at all." He shrugged. "I've been doing this for almost thirty years; the face – the persona I'd created within those dreams – had helped so many people, and I knew my time there was coming to an end." John looked to the ceiling and then smiled to Rory, "Almost a year in those dreams, so many disconnects and erratic vitals in her file and no one had ever thought to step inside and say hello. A friendly face here and there to let her know she wasn't alone." John frowned. "Everyone keeps their distance; everyone does the minimal work to get by and Clara and her daughter were victims of that." He shook his head, "Her file came across my desktop by chance and I couldn't simply stand by while she wallowed in that sadness and I thought," he laughed, "I thought foolishly that I could help her."

"And you didn't think anything of it to simply continue what you'd been doing, with the face thing," Rory stated, one hand coming up to do a circle around his own face.

John smiled, "It had allowed me to help so many times before, why not for her? Why not for Maddie? If I had known what it was going to turn into, I would have shown her, but at some point it became too late, and I should have," he twisted his hands into fists in his lap, "I should have shown her, but I became afraid."

"That she would reject you," Rory supplied

Eyes widening, John replied, "It stopped being about my rejection long ago. I became afraid everything I had worked to help her with – trusting others, letting her walls down, laughing and allowing herself to be free of all of those restraints she'd built for herself – that it would all fall away."

"And now that's happened."

Nodding, John sighed, "I hope, for her sake, she can heal from this."

"And what of you?"

Smiling up at him, John tilted his head and offered, "I don't deserve to heal, do I Rory – said so yourself," he pointed up at the door, "She should come in here and sock me on my crooked long snout for what I've done."

Rory bowed his head, shoulders tensing as his body bent slightly, and then he lifted his eyes to look John over as he asked plainly, "What did you think would happen, John? Honestly, just tell me that much."

"The Doctor would fade away," he replied with a smile and a little wave of his fingers through the air. He let that hand fall heavily into his lap as he explained, "I was going to remove him from the equation, I just worried about the consequences with Maddie."

"So you kept up the facade for her," Rory understood. He stood, knuckles white atop his grip on the bed rail as he watched John nod. "You were willing to sacrifice everything with Clara to help Maddie."

He shrugged, "My fear is she's in that coma of her own will; too terrified to return to this world for fear she'll lose control – too much like her mother for her own good." John turned away. "Clara told me once they say she has only has a five percent chance of recovery, but I think they're wrong. Doctor assume they know too much. And I thought if I could alleviate those fears, just a little bit, she could prove them wrong and lift her odds enough." He huffed an angry breath to finish, "Just enough for her to come home."

"You're an arse," Rory spat, but he smiled at John when the man glanced at him, shaking his head and making his way around to the computer again. "And now you're an arse with a hypertension condition."

John watched him punch a few more buttons before the screen changed and he told the man quietly, "I don't want her to forgive me, Rory; I just want her to move forward with her life because you're right, she doesn't deserve any of this." He smiled sadly. "She deserves someone better."