Hello, everyone! It's me again! I know it's been a while since I've last updated but as of late, things have been hectic. (I got my first part-time job a week and a half ago, and with that on top of studies and extra activities, it's been a little hard to keep up with writing time.) But today, I was able to squeeze in this quick chapter!

Enjoy!

Hidden Message Ten.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

His TARDIS wasn't listening to him again. It usually took him where he needed to go – and that would always be Clara's apartment. (Actually, that was usually the default setting. The Doctor supposed he could always try to program the TARDIS into taking him someplace else, but he never got around changing that setting. He privately liked the idea of being able to show up in Clara's apartment in times of danger – the thought always reassured him, especially on bad days.)

But today, every time the Doctor poked his head out of the TARDIS, he wouldn't find Clara's small bedroom or her colorful sitting room. He wouldn't smell the shampoo Clara always used or the lilies that sat on her windowsills.

Instead, it'd be the smell of wet earth and over-pollinated flowers that would hit him first. The sunshine would blind him temporarily – and then, once he blinked away the dots in his eyes, he'd survey the land to find that he was standing in the middle of a cemetery. Naturally, the first time the Doctor showed up there, he stormed back into his TARDIS and tried to go back to Clara's apartment.

But the stubborn machine wouldn't go. It'd keep returning to this damn cemetery, and so, with a dejected sigh, the Doctor forced himself out. He marched across the slightly damp ground, carefully making his way past the gravestones before taking a good look around.

The cemetery, for the most part, was completely empty. The Doctor spotted a young couple standing above a grave, their heads huddled together and silent tears streaming past their cheeks. The Doctor was careful to avoid them completely, though he managed to catch a glimpse of the gravestone they were crying over. (A child. Stillborn, if the Doctor was deducing correctly. It was a painful and pitiful sight, and the Doctor was more than relieved to move past it.)

The Doctor kept walking through the lines of the grass, occasionally turning around to see if his TARDIS was still there. It always was, and with each look the Doctor gave it, it seemed to grow in haughtiness and amusement.

You're missing it, the TARDIS seemed to say. Come on, old man – look at what you're missing.

"What is it?" the Doctor asked exasperatedly at last, flinging his hands up in the air. "You brought me here for a reason – so what is it?" He spun around on his heel, looking over the cemetery once more. HE had yet to see anything truly useful to figuring out why he was standing there…

And then the Doctor heard footsteps. Quiet, tentative ones at first – but then they sped up, making the Doctor turn around to see who this possible intruder could be –

"What are you doing here?" Clara and the Doctor asked in unison.

Clara stopped short. "I asked first," she said, her hands digging into her coat pockets. "So you have to answer me now."

"The TARDIS brought me here. Wouldn't stop doing it, for some reason." The Doctor didn't miss the way Clara's eyes flicked over his shoulder. A sad smile curved over Clara's lips, and for a moment, her eyes softened.

"Did it now?"

"It did. I was on the way to your apartment – but you're here now. Must have tracked you."

"Because that doesn't sound spooky at all," Clara deadpanned, though her remark didn't hold any of its usual sarcasm or charm. She looked up at the Doctor tiredly. "And now what are you doing?"

"I suppose it's all a part of the mystery. What are you doing here?"

Clara fell silent. Her head bowed forward, and suddenly, the Doctor felt something cold grip the bottom of his stomach. Of course, he thought to himself. Stupid, silly Doctor. They were standing in a cemetery. Clara was here. The TARDIS kept showing up in this place.

"Who was it?" the Doctor asked quietly.

"My nan."

"…oh." The Doctor remembered Clara's grandmother – she had been a sprightly woman with unnaturally bright eyes. And in some ways, Clara shared the same dry and gentle wit her grandmother had. Though the Doctor's meeting with her had been brief, he vaguely remembered rather liking her.

"My dad and Linda are…back home, trying to entertain the guests. I wanted to spend some time alone." Clara's face turned up to the sky, and despite the fact that there weren't any visible tears, the Doctor could still see how Clara's eyes were shinier than usual. Clara, the brave soul she was, only scrubbed at her face briefly before laughing halfheartedly, "It's stupid. I had meant to take her out to lunch this weekend. I called her last week, too, but she just…took a nap. And just..." Clara's voice softened. "My dad says it's better that Nan died peacefully, but –"

Clara didn't bother finishing the rest of her sentence. She rubbed a hand over her eyes again, and the tip of her nose slightly red, she added, "I'm not in the mood to go anywhere today, Doctor."

"I understand."

"So you go and have adventures on your today, yeah?" Clara's lips pressed together into a tight smile. She made a waving gesture with her hands. "Off you go."

The Doctor stayed rooted to the ground. "You're not okay."

"Obviously."

The Doctor was still. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said at last.

"Please," Clara replied, kicking her shoe against the gravel. "I've been hearing that all day. And I suspect I'll be hearing more of it from people when I get home." She shrugged her shoulders, adding, "I'll see you later, I suppose."

She started to walk past the doctor, but just before she could vanish beyond the gravestones completely, the Doctor called after her, "Would you like me to stay?"

Clara paused. The Doctor had to jog up to make sure that she wouldn't suddenly walk away.

"Clara?"

Clara's voice was small.

"Yeah, alright."

The Doctor stayed.

A/N - As always, reviews would be much appreciated (especially since I've been out of action for a while now). Constructive criticism is alright, but flames are not!