Thank you for the reviews, guys! Seriously, thank you so much! Now, when will the domestic bliss end and danger hit?

Chapter 9

When the Doctor woke up he was surprised to find the bed next to him empty. He leaned back into the pillows and sighed, wondering what he hell he was going to do with Clara. They couldn't share a bed forever but he found it so incredibly hard to say no to her. Yet he was afraid that something might happen if they continued to be so close. He didn't really trust her to make reasonable decisions after what she had been through, and he didn't trust himself because he knew he would do about anything to make her happy. A glance at the clock told the Doctor that it wasn't even 8 am and suddenly he started to wonder what Clara was doing up so early so he decided to have a look. However when he was about to reach for one of the new shirts he had bought he couldn't find it where he had left it. He put on the plaid trousers and a different, plain shirt but he still couldn't see the one he had laid out the night before anywhere.

The whereabouts of his shirt soon became clear as he stepped into the kitchen and found Clara at stove, wearing it along with his socks.

The Doctor cleared his throat. "I think that is my shirt," he commented as he stepped closer to have a look at what she was doing. He had thought she would be preparing breakfast but now he wasn't so sure anymore.

"Sorry," Clara mumbled, whisking the dough, "I just put on the first thing that I could get my hands on. It's comfortable and I put all my new clothes in the washing machine. I hate wearing them when they smell new."

He sighed. "Alright, you can keep it for now. What's this?" he asked her, pointing at the dough.

"I'm making soufflés," she replied.

"A bit extravagant for breakfast, don't you think?"

He was hoping to coax a smile from her but Clara's features remained cold, thoughtful.

"It's a distraction," Clara explained after a while, "I woke up an hour ago and it was too earlier to call my gran so I decided to do something."

The Doctor placed his hand on her shoulder to make her turn around and he realized that she looked troubled, to say the least. It seemed as if the truth was finally beginning to dawn on her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked and when she had opened her mouth he interrupted her before Clara had the chance to say anything, "Don't say you're okay because I know you're not. That's okay, that's normal."

Clara inhaled deeply. "I should be with my grandma. She shouldn't have to deal with this on her own."

"No," the Doctor said sharply, "They will expect that. You're safer here and your grandma wouldn't want you to put yourself in danger."

She looked up at him with her big, sad eyes and suddenly he found his heart melting away. If he could take all that pain away from her he would but the Doctor knew that she would have to face these demons on her own.

"Call your gran, tell her you're safe," he told her gently.

Clara nodded. "What do I say when she asks me where I am? Who I'm with?"

"Don't tell her. It's enough if she knows you're with friends and that you're safe and sound."

The Doctor released Clara from his grip and she reached for her phone and then proceeded to walk towards the front door – where she slipped on his boots and coat to go outside and make her call. The Doctor had almost laughed. She looked so ridiculously small in his oversized clothes and yet there was something sweet about it.

To take his mind off Clara's looks the Doctor switched on the kettle and grabbed a yoghurt from the fridge before he settled on the sofa. He switched on the telly just in time for the news.

". . . have dropped since 2012 but I say we can do better than that," Harold Saxon explained to a mass of newspaper and press employees. The Doctor knew that man as he was most likely to become the next prime minister.

"This country should focus on both its strengths and its weaknesses. And by using our strengths we might just overcome our greatest weaknesses, which is the future. An increase in arms exports will not only secure more jobs but also boost the economy."

The Doctor frowned at the television set and suddenly a feeling of uneasiness was beginning to creep up on him. He remembered overhearing Dave talk about Saxon and his plans for the future, which involved other things than just an increase in weapon exports. As far as he knew several associates had approached David Oswald with the plea to stop Harold Saxon. But since Dave was now dead there was nothing standing in his way.

"Doctor?"

He turned around to see Clara standing next to the sofa and she had tears in her eyes. She looked so fragile and small right before she sank down on the couch next to him, flung her arms around his neck and broke out into violent sobs.

The Doctor muted the telly and turned his attention to the crying woman next to him, gently wrapping his arms around her back. He gave her all the time she needed to calm down and suddenly he realized he didn't even mind hugging her that much anymore. In fact, he was actually starting to like it.

"How did it go with your grandma?" the Doctor asked softly after a few minutes when Clara had stopped shaking.

"Terribly," Clara breathed, "She's so in shock over dad I can't. . . I should be with her."

"I know, but it's not possible. We talked about that," he whispered, all the while gently caressing her hair.

Suddenly Clara tore away from his embrace and looked straight at him, her eyes red but full of determination. "I'm going to kill whoever did this," she said, "They're going to pay for what they did to my father and my friends."

The Doctor could do nothing but stare at her. She was so angry, so fierce right now as she was saying these words that he didn't think he could reason with her. But he had to try because there was no way he would ever let it get that far.

"Clara-"

"No," she said strictly, "Don't Clara me, don't treat me like a child who doesn't have a say in anything. I have the key, remember? I am the head of my father's organisation if I choose to be."

"That is not how your father would have wanted it, Clara, and you know it," the Doctor replied, raising his voice, "And you won't want that either once you can see clearly again. Clara, please, don't make any rash decisions. Your father just wanted you to be safe, not-"

"My father is dead," Clara almost shouted, "He is dead and you answer to me now, not him!"

Her words hung in the air and for a moment the Doctor was truly lost for words. He would never help Clara become the head of the organisation because whoever had killed him, they would try the same with Clara and he would never let that happen. She would never be safe and that was the only thing Dave had wanted to her, the only thing the Doctor wanted for her. He wouldn't let her rise to her father's position or let her become a murderer, not while he was around.

"I'm gonna finish the soufflé," Clara said and abruptly rose from the couch to head back into the kitchen.

The Doctor sank back into the cushions and sighed. This was going to be more difficult than he would have thought.