If one thing was for sure, the Doctor had very weird sleeping habits. He would stay up with her for weeks at a time (she was a ghost; she did not need to sleep) then just collapse for hours at a time. It was weird, but strangely comforting that he was almost always there to keep her company.

She liked watching him sleep, she wasn't sure why, but it was peaceful and tranquil to see the man that never stops moving stay in one place for such an amount of time. She would usually help tidy up his stuff and she would hear the almost inaudible snores coming from the resting being in the other room. It was nice.

It had been two months since he moved into the manor house trying to save who ever had sent him that mysterious note, and he wasn't any closer to saving whoever the hell it was now than he was when he first arrived. She was still in the process of warming up to him, he was a new face, still, and she wasn't really that articulate on the social interaction part of being a not-fully ghost.

She was trying, though. She was attempting to tell him, she just wasn't sure how to tell him the exact details, because her death wasn't too squeaky clean. She could tell him the straight forward way or the roundabout way, both not pleasant, to say the least. He was her friend, and she knew that she should trust him with this stuff, but she didn't want him to look at her any differently if he learned the truth about her death. She was no saint, that's for sure, and though she did some very dreadful things, she didn't deserve the punishment of death.

"Oh, Doctor," she sighed to the sleeping man, "what am I ever going to tell you?" she waited a second, waiting for him to barge through the living room and into the kitchen, asking her what in the name of some weird creature she had never even heard of before she was going on about. But that didn't happen, and for that she was a tiny bit disappointed but grateful.

:::

:::

She went back in to check on him; he was still lightly snoring and a little drool had started to run down his face. She giggled at the notion; she hadn't seen someone drool in years. (She's going to bust him about this for the rest of his life if she can) She sighed, wishing that she could take a well overdue nap.

"You lucky bastard" she muttered to him, even though she knew that he wasn't listening. She wondered where his mind was now; he was probably on some made up planet or some long dead ex-girlfriend's place. (She doesn't know why, but the thought about ex-girlfriends makes her angry) She doesn't feel the rom become cold around her. She doesn't see the Doctor spring out of sleep. She doesn't hear him when he asks if she's alright. She hates to admit it, so she doesn't; she denies that she's jealous. She denies that she would be disappointed if he saved other women just like he claimed to come to save her.

She knew that he did, with such a long life time it's very hard to not be saving (dead) damsels in distress. And she realizes that she's being stupid and selfish, and the last time that happened she got herself killed. She calms herself down, and it's only then does she notice that he's shaking her and shouting to her with worry evident in his voice.

"Doctor?" she asks, "Why are you shaking me. I'm alright."

"Clara, you just made the temperature drop thirty degrees. It's freezing in here now! Something is not okay! You can tell me; I'm your friend."

"What?"

"You made the temperature drop just now when you were standing there looking as if you've seen a villain!" he said, trying not to push her over the edge.

"I swear I don't know what happened." She lied with a fake look of terror on her face. She wasn't going to tell him of what she had been thinking. That would just be embarrassing. (Though, knowing his childish tendencies, he might possibly be more embarrassed than her if she did happen to spill the beans on herself. But, she wasn't going to take that chance)

"Well," he deducted, "Whatever you were thinking about must have made you angry enough to make the room go below freezing." Damn right, thinking about him and ex-girlfriends made her angry (She wasn't exactly sure why) but she had something, or someone, else that made her just as angry as that – her sister.

"I was thinking about my sister." She lied through her teeth in a low faint whisper.

"Sister?" he asked, then stopped, "If this is about your death, I don't want to push you, Clara. I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you to do anything."

"You're not forcing me to do anything." She responded then continued, "Oswin Oswald-Pink, the younger sister of the late Clara Oswald, is a bitch. She was younger by a year, and she tormented me throughout my childhood. My parents hated her, my grandparents hated her, but I always somehow managed to have faith in her; I thought there was some sort of goodness in her." Clara laughed, "Well, when I was seventeen, I caught my boyfriend, Danny Pink, cheating on me with her, and I lost it. I hit him over the head with a lamp, which gave him a mild concussion, but that asshole deserved it, and I picked up a pair of scissors off the floor, whatever the hell they were doing there beats me, and I want to stab her. She had always been the stronger one, so I failed. But she does have an ugly ass scar on her face now."

He was sort of looking at her like she was some sort of rare tropical disease, but the tiny smile told her that he was sort of enjoying her Get To Know Me! Story.

"My parents didn't really care too much that I tried to kill her, honestly, the looks my dad gave me when the cops brought me home looked like something of pride." The doctor snorted.

"She was that bad?"

"She's the devil, I swear." She laughed, "So the next year, I stayed in my room and she didn't come to visit me once. That was probably the best year of my life. She visited me on my eighteenth birthday though, that was strange; she had an apology cake and everything. I let her in and we had a great day. The cake was fucking delicious, I shit you not. She asked me to look at the stars with her on the roof. I was suspicious, but she had never been this nice to me before, and it was my birthday, so I was like what the hell."

"Then what happened?" he asked, he looked as if he was on the edge of his seat; the suspense was killing him.

"We looked at the stars for a bit, and it was actually really nice. I told her how much I liked it and it was one of the best birthdays I had ever had. Then she stared laughing manically and picked me up. Oswin started telling me about how much she hated me, blah blah blah, something about how she was pissed that she wasn't getting any of the inheritance because she was such a bitch that even her own parents hated her, she blamed that on me; I wasn't sure why, and then she threw me off the roof and I smashed my head in when I hit the ground. The end."

"How isn't she in prison?" he asked.

"She told the authorities it was suicide."

"God, Clara, That's terrible."

"I tormented her every day from the grave while she was here though, so that sort of makes up for it."

"I don't understand why you're here." He said and sighed.

"Me neither, Chin. Those church people promised me paradise and all I got is this huge ass house."

He gave her a hug and her heart, which still beat for some odd reason, jumped a bit.

"We'll figure this out, Clara." He whispered and kissed the top of her head, which wasn't doing her heart any good, "I promise."

And she knows that he's making a promise that's going to be very difficult for him to keep.

LONG TIME NO SEE!

im really sorry I haven't been able to update this in a while. There most likely wont be an update this weekend, its Tech(hell) week in the play that im in and that means I wont get home till like 12 every night then I have shows this weekend and the next so I don't know, don't expect another update for two weeks. could be less could be more, it all depends on my schedule.

Please review and favorite and follow because it lets me know if its even worth writing this weird ass piece of fiction.

bleuboxes