Clara finished the third chapter of her book and closed it with a gentle smile. Her eye had been drifting for the past hour between Jane Austen's words and the sleeping Timelord on the floor in front of her. She was still sick with worry over him, but he'd been quiet and peaceful so far. Now, though, he was beginning to stir again. Clara could only hope that he was going to let her take care of him. She hated when he brushed her off, especially when it was something serious.

She knelt beside him as his eyes fluttered open, and smiled at the way his hair was still sticking up all over the place. The gauze on his forehead had a red spot where he had gashed it earlier, but it was small and healing rapidly. She turned back to his eyes and stroked his hair gently with her thumb. "How do you feel?"

"My head doesn't hurt. But my chest still feels like a bus hit it."

She gave him a pitying smile. "It wasn't quite a bus, but yeah you got hit pretty hard. Should I scan it just to make sure you're alright?"

He gave her a face that was less than enthused. "It's just a broken rib or two."

She rubbed his arm. "Well, you can never be too safe, right? That's what you told me last week when we went to that anti-grav show."

"That's because," he said, "I have a duty of care."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "And right now I have a duty of care for you. Hold on."

He rested his head back on the pillow, whining, "Clara, no, it's fine."

But she was already opening the Console panel, searching through its contents. "Aha!", she exclaimed, pulling out the med scanner. "Why've you got it all the way in the back?"

He muttered, "So you won't go looking for it every day."

She went back to his side and knelt high above him, running the scanner over his body. As she passed it over his chest, her eyes widened. His teeth set in a grimace for what was coming next.

"Doctor, you've broken five ribs, not two! Bloody...when were you going to tell me?"

He shut his eyes and leaned into his blanket and pillow. "It's fine. I'll be up and at 'em in a day or two."

Clara shoved the scanner in his face, right in front of his eyes, which he hesitantly opened. "Really?", she said with her voice rising a few pitches. "It says here you need medical attention. Stay here. I'll be right back."

She stood and he muttered, "I'm not planning on going anywhere."

She spun around and gave him her scariest teacher look. He nestled deeper into his blanket until she turned back around and headed off for the med bay. Then he looked up at the rotating Time Rotor, listening to the TARDIS yelling at him inside his head.

Clara tore her eyes away from the Doctor and stomped down the steps toward the med bay? Wiping furiously at her eyes. Why did he have to be so difficult all the time? Why couldn't he just let her help him every now and then? Maybe tell her the truth every once in a while?

She entered the pristine med bay and gazed around the white, bleak space, mentally asking the TARDIS for some clues. Then she rifled through the cabinets, haphazardly pulling open drawers and leaving them and opening the cabinets with such force that she almost broke a few of the little handles. Silently, she apologized to the TARDIS, but the ship seemed to sympathise with her more than anything.

When Clara returned to the Doctor, she set the pile of medical tools on the floor and ripped his blanket away without hesitation. He groaned as he opened his eyes again to find her glaring at him. In the corners of her brown eyes was a soft glimmer of worry. Then the Doctor felt her cut through his shirt and jacket with a pair of steel scissors, revealing his chest. Her eyes suddenly appeared more cross than glimmering.

"Clara! That was my favorite jacket. I won it in a contest on Future Mars."

Going over to her toolkit, she murmured, "Then you shouldn't have lied to me."

He silenced himself at her words and instead simply watched her. She was picking up two medical tools that made him uneasy. "Did she say those were necessary?"

"Yes, hold still."

He made to sit up, but she held him down firmly. "Wait, Clara, do you know how to use that?"

"Yes, she showed me. Lie back."

She set the first tool over his ribcage. It was a thin rectangle that acted as an instant X-Ray. Clara stuck it to his chest with medical tape and then picked up the second tool, which looked almost like his Sonic Screwdriver but with a different, all metal tip. She brought it over his first broken rib and she finally noticed how heavily he was breathing. Her eyes and her voice softened, and she touched a hand to his shoulder.

"Hey, it's alright. You ready?"

He took a second, and then nodded, forcing his breathing to be slower and more even. Clara pressed the button on the device, watching the tip light up blue, and waited until the same blue glowed around the rib. Then, slowly, she pulled the device upwards. The rib did the same, rising up until it was back in its proper place. Clara turned off the small device and let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and looked at the Doctor's face. Sweat was beading down his forehead rapidly, and his eyes were closed.

"Alright," she said, "four more to go."

The next rib was easier, and the process went without conflict. After the third, the Doctor was grimacing, sucking in a sharp breath every few seconds. As Clara started the fourth, he cried out suddenly in pain, and she instantly paused in her work. Tears glistened in his eyes, and she could hear his teeth chattering. Softly, she cupped his face in her palm.

"It's okay. It's okay, we'll take a break."

He met her eyes. "No," he gasped, "no, keep going. Can you just…"

She saw his fingers shift, and she took hold of his hand in her free one. "Of course. Okay."

As she fixed his fourth rib, she felt him almost breaking the fingers of her left hand. As soon as she was finished, she gently extracted his hand from hers and rubbed her fingers to make sure she was alright, then she stroked his eyebrow with her thumb. "There's just one left. It's not as bad as that last one."

"Go for it," he muttered, eyes closed and voice ragged. Clara easily brought the last rib back into place, and then tossed both of her medical tools back into the pile.

Next, she picked up a bottle of purple goo the TARDIS had given her and squeezed it onto her fingertips. Awkwardly, she touched it to the Doctor's chest. He gasped at the sudden coldness, and looked up at her in confusion.

"It helps it heal faster, apparently," she explained, massaging the good over his hurt ribs. He winced slightly, but made no sound or movement of protest. She finished up and closed the bottle of goo, then picked up one last thing.

"She wants you to take this medicine."

He eyed the dark liquid suspiciously as Clara poured it into a little cup. As she brought it close to his face, he leaned away, sniffing it and making a face. But Clara was prepared. She put a hand gently behind his head and tilted it up, then brought the medicine to his mouth and poured it through his lips. He almost spit it out in disgust, but Clara had her teacher face on again, so he swallowed without argument. Clara smiled.

Just a moment after the Doctor had taken the medicine, his eyelids suddenly became heavy, his eyes blinking slowly. "Clara…"

He eyed her curiously, unable to feel his limbs, or decide where he wanted to look. He couldn't tell whether his mouth was open or not. All he saw was her big brown eyes, and her soft, comforting smile. Then he felt her hand on the back of his head, and was suddenly resting against his pillow once more.

"You need to rest for an hour or two. Then we can have tea and watch a movie or something."

He tried to reply, but forgot what he wanted to say. He opted instead to lean closer into Clara's hand and let her stroke his hair until he dozed off.

Clara watched as the Doctor grew more and more relaxed, until finally his arm dropped to his side and his eyes shut completely. He was breathing deeply and evenly, sounding much better than before. Clara pulled the gauze off his head revealing healed wounds, and kissed his forehead. Then she returned the blanket to cover his chest, and took one of his hands in both of her own.

"Oh, Doctor," she said, watching him sleep peacefully. "What am I going to do with you?"

She kissed his knuckles, and then sat holding his hand for many minutes, her knees growing sore. As she sat, she finally let her tears flow freely, adrenaline gone, and the day catching up with her. She knew they always lives dangerously, but never had she seen that danger more clearly than today, on a silly little village street, because of a silly little car. Softly, she chuckled a watery laugh.

"That would be you, hit by a car. It's not a bloody Dalek or Cyberman that gets you, it's a stupid, ordinary car."

She shook her head and squeezed his hand tighter. Then he squeezed back, just a little, and she smiled. His eyes fluttered open, unpained and bright. "Clara," he said, getting his voice back slowly. "Did you give me a sedative?"

She chuckled. "The TARDIS said you needed rest."

He tilted his head back, looking at the TARDIS Console, and smiled. "Of course she did."

She squeezed his hand again, and he turned back to her. "Are you alright?", she asked.

"Yeah."

He made to sit up, but Clara grabbed onto his arm tightly. He slowly extracted her fingers and sat up fully, wincing only a little. "I'm fine. Told you; a few hours and I'm right as rain."

Clara let go of his hand and got to her knees. "Only because I helped you."

"Yes," he said, sobering. "Yes." He met her eye. "Thank you."

They shared a smile, and then he jumped to his feet. Clara's eyes widened, but she smiled as she noticed he wasn't limping or wincing as he danced around the Console. He pulled a lever and the ship took off. Then he looked at her with wide, adventurous eyes.

"Where to?"

"Somewhere without people or cars."

He pointed at her. "I know the perfect place. Mountains made of trees and oceans made of soap bubbles. You wanna see?"

"Sounds amazing."

He chuckled, dialing a few numbers into the coordinates. "What's amazing is the flying wildebeest. That's a story for the grandkids."

Clara walked around the Console and stood behind him, then wrapped her arms suddenly around his waist, holding him to her chest with her eyes closed, face leaning on his back. The Doctor turned his face halfway toward her.

"You still owe me a new jacket. This one's all open in the front."

She murmured into his jacket back, "You and I both know the TARDIS makes these by the dozen."

"Alright. But I need to go grab one before we land."

She tightened her grip on him. "I'm not done yet."

"Okay."

He stopped fighting and let her rest against him for another minute. Then, quietly, she said, "Doctor?"

"Yes?"

She came around his side and looked up at him. "Please never put me through that again."

He wrapped her in a hug of his own, which she took with a bright smile.

"Never again, boss. I promise."

Her eye turned stern. "Look both ways. Twice."

He nodded. "Yes ma'am."

"And tell me when you need help."

"Clara, I promise."

She rubbed his shoulder gently. "We've both got a duty of care."

"Yes; yes we do."

They were silent for a moment, then the Doctor's eyes drifted awkwardly toward the staircase to the intricate TARDIS corridors. "Clara? Can I get dressed now?"

"Go for it."

He went off back to his room as Clara leaned heavily against the Console, breathing in slowly. Finally there wasn't a weight like an elephant on her chest. She smiled as she tried to imagine the planet they were heading toward, and then picked up her Jane Austen again to read while waiting for the Doctor. It could be scary sometimes travelling in the TARDIS, but God was it worth it.