Doctor
Oh Clara, I'm so sorry, I never knew you were so sad. Clara, I'm so sorry I never helped you. I mop up the blood with toilet roll and flush it all down the toilets along with all the blades I can find, even the ones she wrapped up in her make up bag. It took me a while to find them all, 11 in total. The sonic was on a go slow as well, what is wrong with all my stuff today, first the TARDIS, now this, not to mention my wardrobe was a lot further away than I last remember it being in the TARDIS, it's like they don't want me to help her. Well fuck you, I love her and no one can stop me. I realize my thoughts: I love her, I love her. I always have done, just never been able to admit it, I smile to myself. She's sleeping so peacefully, so beautifully, oh Clara, how could you hate yourself so much. How?
I find some bandages in the cupboard under the sink and take some wet tissue to wash her cuts. I gently bandage them so not to wake her, winding them up her delicate arms, how could she do this to herself, how could she hide it so well? Not just her cuts, but also her feelings. I remove her blood-covered jumper and dump it in the sink, her tee shirt underneath seems fairly clean and so do her trackies. I lift her up cautiously and pull back the duvet, which doesn't have a cover on it, and lay her down. I kiss her in the forehead, which is hot and sweaty against my cool lips, but I don't care, she's wonderful. Kneeling beside her, I stroke her hair and stay with her for the night.
Angie comes in about an hour later asking what's going on, I just say she's not feeling to great.
"Well she got the best doctor for the case," she says winking, "Artie and I are staying at friends' houses tonight, is that ok?"
"Yep, fine," I reply,
"See ya," she wonders off shutting the door behind her. I swear I soniced that door locked. Stupid screwdriver. Oh well, Clara's safe now and that's all that matters.
The next morning, she wakes up, I get her a cup of tea and some jammy dodgers, but she doesn't eat.
"What's wrong?" I ask her.
"Can we talk in the TARDIS, I think it might be a bit more private," I hold her hand as she makes her wobbly way outside. I sit her down on a sofa and I slump down next to her after flicking the lights on and getting a few heaters going, I always forget how cold England is.
"What's wrong" I try again holding her hands looking right into her eyes, "I need to know, Clara, I can help,"
"Don't look at me like that," that hurt, but I'm confused, "I'm such a small part of your life, only on Wednesdays, once week you see me, that's all. You have River, you love her, I saw, in you time stream, you love her,"
"Clara, me and River had something, a long time ago, but not anymore. Every Wednesday, as soon as you leave I fly to next Wednesday, I take a short cut, Clara, I love you," I breathe.
"Don't lie t-," I cut her off with a kiss, pressing my lips against her holding her round her skinny waist, she kisses me back, full of passion, full of feelings that she's been hiding for so long. Her lips are soft, but firm, just as I imagined. She slowly pulls back, tears rolling down her cheeks, "I thought, I could never be good enough," she whispers.
"Clara, you are more than good enough," I say.