Thank you for the reviews :) Now, enjoy this peaceful chapter hehehe.

Chapter 11

The Doctor felt restless after the incident with Clara but at least he could find comfort in the thought that he had made the right decision. Clara was confused and grieving and surely their closeness within the past few days had only aided to making her act like she had just now. The Doctor himself was torn; he cared so deeply about her that these new dreams and thoughts confused him because they wouldn't fit in the picture he had of their relationship. The cabin fever was to blame, of that he was sure.

Once he realized that sleep wouldn't come the Doctor left his bedroom and upon passing the room Clara would probably be sleeping in now he briefly considered going in to apologize to her, though what for he couldn't really say. Instead he dragged his body downstairs under the shower where the warm water felt somewhat soothing on his glowing skin. He was still too hot, too wound up even though his earlier arousal had abated the Doctor could still feel it lingering deep inside like a nagging, distracting presence and so he decided to do as Clara had suggested and have a private moment. As he cupped himself in his hand he tried to ban the thought of Clara from his head entirely, even though she still tried to invade his fantasies.

It was still dark and raining outside when he dropped down on the sofa and switched on the telly, not really feeling tired but soon the boring, emotionless voice of the weather reporter lulled him to sleep.

"Wakey wakey," Clara teased and when the Doctor opened his eyes the first thing he spotted was a bowl of cereal and a steaming mug of coffee. The scent already filled the air and the Doctor scrambled into a sitting position.

"Why did you sleep down here?" Clara inquired curiously as she sank into the cushions next to him, her own mug firmly in her hands before she took a careful sip.

The Doctor brought his hands to his face, rubbing at his eyes and letting out a tired groan. "Excellent question. My back is asking me the same thing," he growled and heard Clara giggle next to him. That was a good sound. At least she wasn't sulking or mad at him.

He withdrew his hands and turned around to be able to look at Clara. She looked tired as well, as if she hadn't gotten a good rest either but at least she seemed to be in a more cheerful mood. After last night he had feared the worst.

"I'm sorry about what happened last night," he apologised sincerely and Clara turned around to face him, her eyes wide and alert.

"It's okay," she reassured him.

"No, it's not," he took a deep breath before he reached for both of her hands. He just felt the need to say something, to explain himself. He couldn't stand the thought of what she might think of him, "Clara, I care very deeply about you, I always have."

The Doctor felt her hand twitch in his own, as if she had thought about pulling away but then changed her mind. "I told you that I will keep you safe but that, last night, that's not part of that."

"I get it," Clara said, keeping her voice low and her eyes on him, "You have a duty of care."

"Exactly," he inhaled sharply, "I just don't want you to get the wrong idea or be mad at me."

Clara let out a soft laugh. "I'm not mad. I was, for a bit, now I'm not."

"Good," he whispered before he bent forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. He heard Clara sigh when he pulled away and finally he turned towards the breakfast she had prepared for him.

Suddenly Clara giggled again, making the Doctor turn around once more. But she stared straight into her bowl of cereal, laughing as she took a spoonful.

"About time I bury that fantasy, I guess," she chuckled.

The Doctor cocked an eyebrow at her, not really knowing what she was referring to. "What fantasy?"

Clara turned around, smiling at him. "The fantasy of you and me. I've always kind of had that, even as a teenager. But I know now how silly it is."

Even though her words were plain for even him to understand it took the Doctor a moment to actually grasp their meaning and then it hit him – hard. Clara actually wanted him. She had wanted him last night. Suddenly he seemed more confused than ever.

"We have to stick together now, I guess, so funny business from either side would just complicate things," she said, munching her cereal.

That reminded him of something he had considered the night before while he had dozed off on the sofa and it seemed like the perfect timing to bring it up.

"I've been thinking about that," the Doctor cleared his throat, "I think we should relocate."

Clara head shot around, frowning. "Relocate as in find another place to stay? Why? This seems ideal to me."

The Doctor gave her a light smile. "I was actually thinking about going to a different country. America or the European mainland."

He watched as her feature froze and Clara looked at him in shock as if he had suggested something utterly stupid. "No," she said quietly after a while, "I want to stay here, in England."

"Think about it," he prompted her, "If we went to France or Germany or Spain we wouldn't have to hide all the time. We could do it like we're doing it now, rent a small house or flat, but we could actually move around. I thought you liked travelling."

"I do," she replied, still not over the shock of his suggestion even though the Doctor didn't fully understand what had shocked her in the first place, "But I need to be here."

"Why?" he asked her.

Clara didn't say anything for the longest time but he watched as she took a couple of deep breaths before finally she spoke again. "I want to know who killed my father," Clara replied determinedly, "And I want them dead."

The Doctor exhaled sharply, letting his head sink. He should have known she wouldn't give up so easily, he should have known the subject would come up again sooner or later.

"Clara, there's still time," he explained because he knew that telling her to forget about her revenge would lead nowhere, "Once we're out of reach for the people who are looking for you I can call Kate and ask if she knows something. But after Donna I don't want to risk it. I don't want you anywhere near Kate or any of the others."

"Why? You said she could be trusted," Clara argued.

"I said that, and I also said that about Donna and you know how that turned out. The key you have, it's a temptation," the Doctor gently shook his head, "I'm not sure anyone would be able to resist."

"You are," Clara said, staring straight at him, "Even I want to go and get that deposit box because with the contents I could take revenge, I could find my father's killers and deal with them but you said no. Why?"

"Because I have never wanted that sort of power, that many responsibilities!" the Doctor almost yelled at her, "And I know you wouldn't want them either. I have no plans, no ambitions, I just want to keep you out of danger!"

Clara breathed in deeply, her eyes wandering around the room for a moment. She was considering something, the Doctor only wished he knew what it was. If only she would drop the subject of revenge. As long as she tried to poke around the matters she was still in danger, more danger.

Finally Clara came to look at him again and from her eyes alone the Doctor could tell that she had made a decision. "If I come with you, will you promise to help me find my father's killer?"

"And kill them?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"No," Clara said abruptly, "That is my call."

Not if he had any say in it.

"Alright," the Doctor found himself agreeing, even though he didn't mean it. He would deal with her anger later, first he had to get her out of the country, "We will go to France and we will find out who murdered your father."

"Promise?" she asked.

"Promise," he grumbled.