Trigger Warning: Self Harm

The first time that Clara found him, it broke her heart. It was not to be the last time that she would find him like this but that first time it was the last thing she expected of him. There would be times later she would find him like this and she would sigh in sadness, knowing that he couldn't help it. But this time…..she didn't know what to do.

Clara had woken up in the night, to the distant sound of an alarm going off. At first she had thought it was part of a dream. She had heard a distant beeping sound in her dreams and it had followed her to her waking. As she sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, seeking as always the light of her comforting nightlight, she realized that the beeping sound continued. Thinking something might be wrong, Clara got out of bed, putting her dressing gown on and walking out into the hallway of the TARDIS. She followed the sound of the noise and found it coming from the console room. She looked around the room, under the console calling out the Doctor's name but he was nowhere to be found. The TARDIS wasn't moving strangely so she didn't think they were crashing or anything, but she figured it wasn't a good thing if she was making this noise.

Clara pulled her dressing gown tighter around her as she wondered where the Doctor was; she should get him to make sure the ship wasn't going to blow up or anything. She checked the kitchen and the library, the places she most likely found him, but he wasn't there. Clara hoped that he hadn't taken one of his trips where he suddenly disappeared on her, nowhere to be found. She couldn't explain why but she was beginning to grow uneasy; for some reason she thought this blasted ship was making her nervous. And she didn't like it.

Clara made her way to the Doctor's bedroom, hoping he might be there. He rarely slept but she figured he might actually be sleeping tonight. She knocked on the door but there was no response; when she knocked harder there still wasn't a response. She tried to door and found it surprisingly unlocked. What she saw when she entered the bedroom made her heart ache.

The Doctor was sprawled out across the bed in half a stage of undress. His bed was rumpled, the covers still on the bed but messed up as if he had moved around a lot. His shoes and trousers were discarded on the floor, his socks hanging off his feet. His jacket lay by the door and his bow tie hung on his neck loosely. It was as if he had begun undressing and had forgotten to finish. When she moved closer she could see what had distracted him and she became extremely sad.

The Doctor was lying back on the bed, his right hand clutching his sonic, his left arm stretched out across the bed. His sleeve was pushed back and three deep cuts were etched on his arm. A towel with dark red spots lay beside him, more blood dried on the cuts themselves as if he had fallen asleep while they still were bleeding. Pain was etched on his face, as if even in sleep he was being tortured.

Clara put her hand over her mouth as she stared at him in horror. Why would he do this to himself? Sorrow gripped her heart as she looked at the self-inflicted wounds, wondering how much silent pain he must be in to hurt himself this deeply. She sat down on the bed beside him, taking his injured arm in her hands. She wanted to clean his wounds, to make them better but she didn't want to wake him. She had no idea he would do this to himself and she could only assume that's because he didn't want her to know. Though she wished that he would tell her, she knew he probably wouldn't; so, instead she settled to sit down beside him and hold his hand while he squirmed around in his uncomfortable sleep, staring at the gruesome cuts and thinking about the pain that caused them. She had known for a long time that something was going on with him; he wouldn't be acting the way he had lately if he hadn't. But he wouldn't let her in, wouldn't let her see what had changed him so much.

Clara was not expecting it when the Doctor jumped violently in his sleep. His eyes popped open and his head whipped around as he took in his surroundings. A panicked look crossed his face, as he tried to suck in enough air. "Get out of my head…get out of my head…get out…" he was muttering under his breath, almost as if talking to himself; and he seemed terrified.

"Doctor…wake up" Clara said, shaking his hand. "You're alright…you're fine"

The Doctor sat up, ripping his arm from Clara and staring off into some danger that she couldn't see. "Get…..out…..of…..my…..head!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, terror and panic on his face as his hand wrenched in his hair and pulled. He crumpled on himself like a puppet without strings, gasping for air.

Clara was afraid to say anything but also afraid of not doing anything. It was an alarming episode and she was beginning to think the Doctor really had more issues going on than she had previously thought. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Doctor…are you okay?" she asked tentatively.

Several seconds passed where the Doctor remained silent and motionless. Then, without warning his head snapped up and he whipped around to face Clara, a mad, almost manic look in his eyes. Clara felt her heat speed up wondering whether he was awake or not. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked angrily. Clara noticed his flushed face as he pushed his sleeve down quickly to cover his self-made injuries.

"I…..I was worried" Clara stuttered out. "The TARDIS was beeping and I didn't know if it was something important" Clara's eyes drifted down to his arm and the covered cuts. "Doctor…..what's going on with you? Why did you-"

"Get out" The Doctor burst, not letting Clara finish the question he knew was on her lips. "Get out of her right now"

Clara paused, despite the dangerously dark look in his eyes. "But Doctor, I'm worried-"

The Doctor grabbed her by the arm and pulled her closer, his eyes boring into hers like daggers. "I said leave…..and I'm not going to say it again" he said dangerously, pushing Clara toward the door. She didn't want to comply but knew that he was not going to talk so she stumbled toward the door, returning to her bedroom though she knew sleep was now out of the question. She couldn't ignore the fact that the TARDIS' strange beeping had stopped on its own.

The Doctor sat in his bed, his cheeks flushed from embarrassment as he looked at his half unclothed state, the blood on his sheets. He cursed under his breath at the TARDIS; she had done this on purpose. There was nothing wrong with her; she'd woken Clara up in purpose to 'check on him'. He scowled; he had no need to be 'checked on'.

The Doctor discarded what was left of his clothing, staring at the deep marks that were left on his arm. He should clean them up but he didn't want to; he wanted to see the deep red stains covering the cuts. He wanted to remember the pain and the punishment that had prompted the cuts; he stared at them in horror and triumph, feeling the war go on inside him.

The Doctor curled up under the blankets on his bed , curling into a fetal position. At first he felt like crying, then he felt like laughing. The war inside his head was too much; he didn't know what to feel.

"Get out of my head!" the Doctor called out pitifully, his hands over his temples. His breathing ragged out and his hearts raced. That voice in his head, the one that had gotten louder, called for his blood again. He looked at the scars on his arms and forced himself to not add to them.

Upgrade…relax and you can be upgraded…..

"Shut up!" The Doctor said desperately. He clawed at his face for the metal that was once there but it wasn't there now. Nothing physical remained; only mental the scars were left.

"Help me, Clara" the Doctor whimpered into his pillow but he was too late; he'd sent her away. He cried into his sheets, feeling the emotions of the night overwhelming him.

"Please help me, Clara"