A/N: Well, school has unfortunately began again which means less writing time for Lisa. I am going to wrap things up within the next few chapters. Expect 11 chapters from this fic. I love you all xx.

Chapter 9: Kill her.

The Doctor did not sleep at all that night; he simply wrapped his arms around Clara and basked in her beauty. Although he realized he could not have her for the rest of his life, he was grateful that he had this one great night with her. He pulled her in closely, and she sighed as a response. Knowing that she was the safest she had been in a while, he felt perfectly content just lying with her.

Looking at the clock, he realized it was almost 11 in the morning. Sometimes, staying awake while distracted could go by faster than sleeping at all. Managing to rip himself from underneath the covers, he tip toed through the bed room consciously trying not to wake Clara. After closing the door lightly, he ran to the kitchen in an effort to make Clara the perfect breakfast. Pancakes made with blueberries tucked inside of them, eggs scrambled to perfection and of course fish sticks and custard for him. He desperately wanted to attempt to make Clara the perfect soufflé, but did not know when she would wake up. Soufflés are extremely temperamental, which unfortunately means making one as a surprise is almost impossible. After slaving over bowls and pans for an exasperating fifteen minutes, the Doctor was finally done.

Luckily, soon after the pancakes were on the plates, Clara snuck out of the bedroom. Hair up and still in her pajamas, she looked up at the doctor with a smirk on her face.

"You made me breakfast, Doctor?"
"You looked so peaceful, and I was… hungry" he muttered, embarrassed.
"Sure you did" Clara responded, knowing that the Doctor just wanted an excuse to get out of an awkward situation.

The Doctor glared at Clara, noting the sass in her comment towards him. She looked beautiful; she looked tired and messy, but beautiful. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a bun, with loose strands sliding down the sides of her face. He noted her dark red night gown, which accentuated the natural curves that composed her body. She was gorgeous. Everything about her was radiant.

Apparently he was staring at her, because she started to look concerned after a while. He couldn't help but notice how her eyes sparkled as she chuckled at him, or how her lip curled up, or how her nose crinkled when she looked at him questioningly. He was most definitely infatuated by her, but she needed time to cope, even if that meant having sex with him as soon as her husband died. She was wonderful last night, she was wonderful always, but the way she felt and the warmth she gave him last night was incomparable. He quickly stopped himself shyly as he found himself smiling like a lunatic across the breakfast table from Clara. She was looking at him as if she was scared, yet enthused. Like she knew what he was thinking and enjoyed it, but at the same time looked extremely awkward.

"Doctor, is everything okay?" she snapped at him, hoping to get him out of the trance he was in.
"Oh, what" he stammered as he fixed his bowtie, "Yeah. Everything is peachy".
Clara giggled, "Yeah… alright".
"Oi. Shut up" he responded as he walked away from the table.
He seemed pretty adamant about leaving the table, but Clara stopped him dead in his tracks when she asked, "do you have eggs in here?"
"Eggs…" he turned around, looked at her, and grinned. "Thinking about making soufflés?"
"Precisely. You could help if you'd like" she responded.

The two of them pranced back into the kitchen immediately, both eager to get started. The Doctor had never watched Clara cook before, and was interested to see how she would get started. She whizzed around the kitchen looking for ingredients; she searched through the cabinets, around the drawers, through the refrigerator and even under the sink. He couldn't help but think how cute she looked when she was determined. The crashing of pans and silverware disturbed his train of thought. Once he came back from his daydream, he realized she had pans lined up along the kitchen. She preheated the oven and moved the ingredients for the soufflés over to the pots and pans. Clara sighed in relief as she looked at all of the ingredients in front of her.

"You done?" he retorted, hoping to spark something in her.
"Not quite. Of course, you have to help me with this part." Clara answered, grabbing the bag of flour. She quickly threw it to the Doctor and demanded, "Open it".

He looked at her speculating, but eventually listened to her and ripped open the bag of flower. Little did he notice, but Clara had found her way next to him and soon enough she was dipping her finger into the flour bag that was in his hands. She then proceeded to poke his nose and left a trail of white powder along the side of his face. The doctor gasped a bit, but then reacted by grabbing a handful of flower and wiping it along her jawline. He then put down the flower and picked her up and flung her over his shoulder. In between laughs, she struggled to get down claiming she, "wanted to start the soufflés" and, "couldn't stand heights". After gaining a bruise from Clara's flailing and the oven being successfully preheated, he put her down.

"We're never going to get this done if this keeps happening" Clara lectured.

The Doctor mocked her relentlessly in a high pitched voice as his hands waved in front of his face and he emphasized the words "never" and "this". Clara simply rolled her eyes and poured the precise amount of sugar into the dish. The Doctor eventually joined her and helped measure out the exact contents and put them into a giant mixing bowl. They added, stirred and correctly portioned the two soufflé ramekins until they were sure they would get the tiny little soufflés correct. After both were done, they slid them into the oven and sat down at the large table situated in the middle of the TARDIS kitchen. Both of them were licking the remaining contents of the bowls, when Clara noticed something.

"Doctor- I feel a bit dizzy…"
"You probably shouldn't be eating chocolate, then. Not good for your stomach".
"No…" she stuttered, "It's not that. I just feel woozy". She said as she closed her eyes.
"Clara, let me take this" he replied, reaching out for the bowl in front of her.
"Doctor, I don't understand" she cut off, her face now growing pale, "what's wrong with me?"
"Oh Clara!" he whimpered, now running over to her side and stroking her forehead, "you'll be fine. I promise".

Clara had grown used to throwing up in the past few months, but recently the spurts had been more sudden and violent. She ran out of the kitchen and down the hall of the TARDIS. The Doctor followed clumsily after her, not knowing what was wrong, or where she went. He assumed she had run to one of the bathrooms or one of the many bedrooms inside of the TARDIS. Searching through the rooms, he did not find Clara in sight. Her designated bedroom was empty; and he searched every known bathroom on the TARDIS as well as all of his former companion's bedrooms. He immediately became scared for her life. Although she was only throwing up, something more serious could have been happening. He walked down the hall of the TARDIS and found his own room unexpectedly with the door open. As he looked inside, Clara was huddled into a ball underneath his bed sheets. She looked so pain stricken, like everything inside of her was killing her. He knew immediately that he had to bring her to the TARDIS control center so that sexy could fix whatever was wrong with her.

Walking over to her, he placed his hand on her cheek; she was overheating. Slowly and carefully, so Clara did not get offended, he placed a hand over her heart; it was beating rapidly. If he did not get Clara to the TARDIS soon, whatever this illness was could end her life. He placed one hand under her neck and the other at nook of her ankle and cradled her in his arms gently. She did not budge, so he sped to the control room as fast as he could. Clara, now mumbling, was still in his arms as he approached the control panel.

"Sexy I beg of you" he gasped, clearly out of breath, "please help her." He kissed Clara's temple, now knowing he was at the mercy of the TARDIS. Sexy was now scanning every element of Clara's frame, examining her heart rate to the different bones all around her body. Eventually the green lights stopped and she came to a conclusion. Clara was not going to die yet, the pain she was feeling was from an entity inside of her. An evil entity, one put there through force by a demon. It was a baby, her deceased husband's baby, who wanted nothing more than to get out of Clara and kill the Doctor.

"Sexy, that baby is going to kill Clara!" the Doctor said, sounding exasperated. He thought about what he could do to possibly prevent the baby from killing the woman who meant so much to him. He tried to think of a way to get the baby out of her without using violence. The baby wanted to cause harm to everyone but its father, who was already dead. Although it was against his better judgment he sighed, "Sexy, we're going to have to kill that baby".