There was an owl hooting somewhere in the distance and Clara had focused her attention on the noise as she sat on the park bench rubbing absently at her right thigh. Just behind her shoulder, she could see the glow of headlights approaching from a car that pulled up to the curb and shut off and she looked to her lap as she waited for her father to make his way across the sidewalk and over the dewy grass to stand at her side. She could hear his keys shifting against his palm and when he finally spoke, sinking his keys into his pocket, it was with a fear that made her exhale painfully, "Clara, it's one in the morning – is everything alright?"
"I know," she told him simply. She looked up to see his shoulders sag as the anxiety melted off his features, morphing into a look of sorrow while she elaborated, "I don't remember yet, but I know."
He dropped onto the bench beside her and leaned his elbows into his knees, pressing his face into his fingers and when he finally shifted back up and turned to look at her, she saw the same look on his face she'd seen in the Doctor's and it made her turn away, looking out to the empty playground as he asked, "Are you alright?"
"Dad, I'm…" she trailed, taking a small breath before finishing, "I'm ok, for now, but…" Clara frowned, lips coming together tightly as she looked back at her thighs. She could hear her father's small breaths beside her, could almost feel his stillness as he waited, and when she continued, she did so softly with a disappointed tilt of her head, "You both lied to me."
Dave remained silent, taking in the way she sat calmly, turning her gaze out towards the swings gently swaying in the breeze and he watched the tear that fell over her left cheek. He wanted desperately to reach out and swipe it away, but he squeezed his hands together in his lap instead, knowing she was holding onto her temper by the tone of her voice. So much like Ellie that way, he thought with a sad smile.
"We fought about it," he admitted, "Went back and forth about whether we should tell you and then when we should tell you and we both felt like it would only stop your progress. Thought, if you knew, you'd just sort of wither."
Clara cleared her throat and offered, "Then you both think I'm weak."
"No," Dave countered adamantly, "We both admire how strong you've had to be through this; we just both know everyone has their limits."
"And losing a baby would be mine," she uttered, the words sounding broken to her own ears before she shifted and gestured, "I lost fifteen years of my life and every day I've had to reconcile that fact. Every day I was asking questions, wanting to know more while the both of you stood by harboring these secrets. Things I deserved to know." She took a breath, and then told him, "The Tardis, the travelling, the fact that my husband was an alien – and this? How could you two hide this? A baby, dad; my baby!"
Bringing her hands up, she wiped at her face, sniffling hard against new tears as she went back to rubbing her thigh, sore from too much walking, feeling a twinge of guilt that she was yelling at her father when she'd barely spoken to the Doctor. Maybe she thought her father would be easier; she knew it was. Clara shook her head and stood despite her aching foot and legs and she listened to her father apologize twice before she heard the creek of the bench as he rose. Clara turned to watch him shake his head with a frown, one that she hadn't seen in so long she'd forgotten he could be so sad.
"Clara," he began, but she shook her head.
She sighed and told him, "Dad, I'd rather have known than wondered – because I knew you were both keeping something from me – did you really think not knowing would be less painful?"
Taking a deep breath, Dave called, "We thought it wasn't worth the heartache, Clara – knew when you finally did remember, it would break your heart."
"My heart is broken now," Clara cried, feeling her resolve crumbling. "I love you both so much and I trusted you to take care of me because I knew I couldn't do this alone and all the while, knowing something was missing… knowing something was wrong and you both lied to me."
Dave took a step forward and Clara shifted back, eyes going wide as he released a breath, as though her motion had been a physical blow, and he pleaded, "Clara, please, I'm sorry and I know he is too – we messed up, sweetheart."
"You messed up," Clara laughed weakly as fresh tears rolled down her hot cheeks. "This isn't overcooking the turkey at Christmas, dad. This is not telling me I miscarried a child."
He nodded solemnly and then dropped his hands to his sides, hanging his head and after a moment of silence, he uttered, "What do you want to know?"
"What?" Clara breathed.
Raising his eyes to meet hers, he nodded, "You're angry and you have every right to be and I want to make that right by telling you the truth – the absolute truth, Clara. No more lies; no more secrets," he told her with a small wave of his hand before pointing to the ground, "Right here and now, it ends." And then Dave asked again, slowly, "What do you want to know?"
Clara stared at the grass at his feet a moment, eyes widening with fear knowing her father was resolute, and knowing whatever she asked, she would get that answer no matter how much he thought it would hurt her. She swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat because she didn't even know where to begin, so she started by asking delicately, "Did you know, before the crash. Did you know I was pregnant?"
"Yes," he told her automatically. "You were at almost nineteen weeks," he laughed, "Just barely showing and you were so worried about that, about whether the baby was developing normally."
"Because he's an alien?" Clara interrupted.
He nodded, "Yeah, you hadn't told him you were worried though; he still doesn't know about that because you made me swear I wouldn't tell him, even though you knew we didn't talk too much anyway."
She huffed a laugh he mirrored and then she nodded, "Was it…" she began, shaking her head before lifting it boldly to ask, "Was it normal?"
Dave's bottom lip shook as he nodded, "Perfectly normal, Clara." Then he laughed hoarsely to add, "Aside from the two hearts." He lowered his gaze to the ground.
Clara managed a quick chuckle, turning away and pressing the knuckles of her right hand to her nose. She looked to her father, watching the tears that dropped off his chin at either side of his face and she questioned, "What was it? Did we know? What…"
"A girl," he croaked, taking a breath and straightening, "I wanted to see her, Clara, but the Doctor insisted she had to be incinerated immediately because of her biology – didn't want her falling into the wrong hands – and I agreed."
She took a step sideways towards the bench, hand reaching out because she felt her knees might buckle underneath her and she found herself holding her father's arms, being lead back to the seat as she sighed, "A girl. I had a girl."
Her father remained silent and his hands didn't move, simply held her as she stared at the wooden planks that comprised the back of the bench, considering that fact. Clara would have had a daughter if she hadn't crashed and now she wouldn't even have a gravesite to mourn her because she imagined he would have taken those ashes to the sun. The only good thing he could do for the baby girl they'd lost – make sure her remains weren't used for some heinous purposes.
"Can you give me a ride home," she murmured after a moment. "I've been walking for the better part of four hours and I don't think I could get back on my own."
She could see his head nodding out of the corner of her eye before he asked, "Do you want to spend the night with me, Clara, give yourself some space from him."
She laughed through tears and shook her head, turning to look at him to reply, "Space, no. I think him and I need to talk – I think it's time for us to talk – get us sorted out."
He wordlessly took her hands and helped her up, letting Clara lean against him to walk back to the car and once they were inside, he remained silent as he drove, occasionally looking over at her as she quietly cried. She hated them both for what they'd done, but she could understand why they'd done it – could understand it had been a difficult decision and she knew, Clara knew with all of her heart, that they'd felt the guilt of that decision every single day. She'd seen it in their eyes; in the way they looked away from her sometimes, as though looking at her reminded them of something and she'd always thought it was that they felt they'd let her down.
The Doctor allowing her to take the motorbike.
Her father for allowing her to decide, without her husband, to amputate her leg.
Them both for not doing enough for her through her recovery.
Dave pulled his car into the driveway and he sighed, turning to watch her as she stared up at the house with a shake of her head, "He should have told me before this," she lamented, "Before we moved into a house," she turned to her father and smiled weakly, "All of those empty rooms we'd talked about filling – we talked about children, dad." She swallowed roughly and nodded, "And I already know which room would have been hers because he stares at it the same way he stared at the spare room in the flat – he lingers when he passes the door – and knowing why… we could have shared that, even though I don't remember yet."
"Clara," her father interrupted, waiting until she brought her eyes up from the spot between them, "Don't beat him up too badly, he pretends to be strong, but he's already broken inside."
She laughed lightly, offering, "Listen to you, defending him."
"I know what that loss is like – how it sits in your mind and twists at your heart," Dave responded, releasing a shuddered breath when her lips dropped with understanding. "After your mum, only thing that kept me sane was knowing I still had you. You're allowed to be angry at us; we expect you to be angry at us," he laughed, "Maybe we hoped that would help you overcome the sadness. We're a little dense, us men."
She reached out for his hand and gave it a squeeze, admitting, "I'm afraid to go inside."
"Why's that, Clara?" Dave asked quietly.
Shaking her head lightly, Clara tried to smirk, but her lips simply pushed together in an awkward line as she turned her attention back to the house. She didn't want to admit to her father that she was afraid to hate her husband over this. Clara was afraid to look him in the eye and see the apology there and not care, even though she understood his intentions had been pure. Mostly, she was afraid of exactly what they were afraid of: that she would remember and it would destroy her.
Her father's hands both clasped around hers and he stared down at them as Clara looked back at him and she could see him wrestling with words, his grip tightening before he finally uttered, "Don't hate him." They fell into a silence that felt like it might last forever before he took a small breath and continued, "Don't hate him, Clara and don't dismiss his feelings, as much as it hurts yours. Don't turn your back on him because he..." he raised his eyes, bright red now as he nodded, "Listen to him; talk to him… let him explain and let him grieve because he hasn't been able to, Clara. He's wanted to and he's put it aside for you, so please, be there for him now. Understand that he never meant to hurt you and understand that you need to forgive him now, as hard as that might seem, because when you remember it, Clara? When you feel it so much there's nothing else and you think the world might just end, he's going to be the one to bring you back into it. He'll be the one saving you, Clara. So you go in there and you do what you do – you save him first."
Clara understood his meaning as she considered the frown her lips were set in and the way his eyes now stared at them, urging his own up into a pained smile. She watched him blink as heavy tears dropped rapidly over his cheeks before he nodded to the house, the words 'go on' mouthed simply as he slipped back, releasing her hands. Pushing the door open, she stepped out, wincing against the soreness in her leg, and she took a long breath before taking the first step.