The week from Thursday, 26th December 2013 to Wednesday, 1st January 2014 was the longest Clara Oswald ever lived.

The Doctor had dropped her the day after Christmas, which was fine because it had let her avoid a quite upset family waiting for explanations on a naked Swedish boyfriend. She phoned to her dad and invented some excuse anyway, just to save some appearance. Not that she cared much. Once home, she sat abruptly on the sofa and let herself sink into it. Her heart felt empty in a way she couldn't quite describe. She closed her eyes and tried to form the image of the Doctor in her mind. The eleventh, with floppy brown hair and that ridiculous chin, a fez and a bowtie. The twelfth, with greying hair and ice-blue eyes and his short temper. She missed the younger Doctor, so much, but she knew that the older was just the same man…more broken than the eleventh when her Victorian echo had met him, but still the Doctor. She was already…fond of him. And how couldn't she, when he had saved her twice already…

Oh, she was angry with him of course, but fear was overwhelming anger now. She trusted him when he said he would come next Wednesday, but the irrational fear of him never coming back never left her, all week long. Just because it wasn't so irrational: he had lied to her twice, so her brain wouldn't let her calmly hope and wait for him, no. It had to torment her with such worries. She kept telling herself it was silly, they had argued yes but nothing that was bad enough to… or was it?

The whole week long Clara kept going on like this -Christmas holidays meant no school, so no distraction with work for her- just wandering nervously all around her apartment with no purpose at all, burning a considerable number of soufflés and dreaming of the younger Doctor regenerating or of her argument with the older Doctor or of her, sitting on the doorsteps of her own house, looking at a wristwatch, waiting in vain for him.

Finally, Wednesday arrived and she found herself sitting outside just like in her dreams, trying to take deep breaths and keep calm.

'It's not time yet.'

'It's early.'

'He'll come.'

She kept trying to reassure herself.

Her heart skipped a beat as she heard the familiar sound of the TARDIS. She distinctively felt her heart clench and then expand, and she smiled in spite of herself. Without noticing, she was already standing and had taken a step towards the blue box.

The Doctor stepped out of the time machine with a fluid, lean move and a serious, calm expression on his face.

Clara had promised to herself that she still had a dignity, that she was angry with him and wasn't going to simply run into his arms as if he were a missing piece of her soul… but she did exactly that. She ran towards him and flung her arms round his neck. Her legs hurt in the effort of tiptoeing him, but she didn't care.

He didn't hug her back, at first. He kept his arms crossed between their bodies, pretending he was still angry, that he didn't need that simple physical contact, that he hadn't missed her like a thirsty man misses water… but he wasn't that capable of resisting her, in the end. He broke the embrace only to pull her in a new one, holding her as tight and close as he could. She buried her face in his chest and he rested his head on hers, revelling in the scent of her hair. After a while he pulled her away to look into her eyes.

"You see, I came for you, dear."

Clara sensed he simply wanted to hear 'you were right, Doctor. You always are', but she was so happy she didn't have a clever answer in that moment.

"You did."

They parted, but her hand remained in his. The next thing Clara expected was an apology for his sharp words one week before, but the apology didn't come.

"Shall we go, miss Oswald?" he asked instead, a little half-smirk on his face.

Clara hesitated. She had a feeling that he wasn't apologizing because he was firmly convinced he had been right, not simply because he was acting like nothing had happened. That worried her, because she thought that he had been wrong, but she didn't have the strength to argue again now. That was the problem with him: all her resolutions always flew out of the proverbial window. She sighed softly.

"Yes. Yes. Let's go," she said.

~oOo~

Clara never got the apologies she had been waiting for. To speak the truth, in the following weeks she never heard the Doctor apologise for anything, not even a little "sorry". "Please" and "thank you" were rare: he usually took what he wanted, he didn't need permission and often took things for granted. It was tough for her, at times. He had the shortest temper ever seen, quick and stormy in his anger and everything but forgiving: this face truly deserved the name of 'Oncoming Storm'. He tried to be different with her, but he hardly ever succeeded and they often ended up arguing anyway: Clara would try to make him reason, but he was stubborn and proud and would never listen to her advice -or to the advice of anyone else- or admit he was wrong in any way.

He was utterly impossible sometimes.

Nonetheless, Clara fell in love with him all over. He had a lot to give, when you got to know him. She almost immediately fell for his bravery, his self-confident attitude -overconfident, very often- and for his deep blue eyes that were never afraid or embarrassed to stare into hers. He was an old charmer, he was, always gallant with her beyond his usual involuntarily harsh ways… not that he actually did anything gentle or cute especially for her like the young Doctor used to do, but she liked the way he cared for her… he protected her, he always tried to keep her safe -even though it became annoying sometimes, when he just worried too much- and Clara liked feeling safe. He even took his companion's side when the ship 'bullied' her -Clara's words- often arguing with his box, not caring about the random landings and nasty tricks the Old Girl would provide as a revenge. He didn't do feelings -as he kept saying- but with her he did his best to try, in a clumsy way that was simply adorable in her eyes.

She could swear that she had tried to re-establish the flirty attitude she had used with his younger self, but he simply didn't let her do anything of that kind. There was no being bossy or sassy with him, because he only needed a look straight into her eyes to melt every hint of self-confidence or sassiness Clara might have possessed. And he never let her know what he felt. She used to get a glimpse of his feelings for her when he was the brown-haired Doctor, but now, now he had those deep blue eyes that managed so easily to hide whatever he felt or thought… as he showed her once more, one day in a far too familiar Victorian London.

"What's wrong, Doctor?" Vastra asked. "Did Strax ask you to play 'grenades' with him again?" It was impossible not to notice the glares the Time Lord was reserving for the Sontaran.

"No, he exists. Stupid talking potato." He had always had this habit, to insult species when he was cross. "We had the misfortune to land in the midst of a Sontaran war weeks ago. I am not in a very Sontaran-friendly mood."

Clara peeked out of the window, the known sight of Paternoster Row only visible in the cones of light projected by the street lamps. After yet another random landing of the TARDIS, which had taken them to 1894 London instead of 3000 b. C. Egypt, the Doctor and his companion had met Vastra, Jenny and Strax investigating a mysterious case. After hearing some of the story, the Doctor had become interested and they had followed the trio to Paternoster Row to have some rest before carrying on their investigation at night.

"So basically this man died... and simply walked out of his tomb the morning after?" the Doctor asked.

"Not exactly," Vastra answered. "He was executed on Wednesday, but the following evening he was seen in some dark alley in Croydon and another woman was found dead a few hours later."

In the last weeks, seven women had been brutally killed after -apparently, despite what the Victorian society wanted to believe- rape, in the London district of Croydon. The man, who went by the name of John Ruperts, had been caught near the area of the last murder and therefore arrested as possible culprit. He had eventually confessed and he had been sentenced to death.

"It could be a coincidence. How are we so sure it was really him who has been seen?" the Doctor objected.

"It could be. And we aren't. But I don't believe in coincidences," Vastra said.

"Neither do I. That's why I shall help you in your investigation tonight."

"Very well, your help is appreciated, Doctor. I suggest to leave now; what time is it Jenny?"

"Almost 10 o'clock, madam."

"We'd better go, then," the Doctor stated.

They headed towards the door, Vastra and Jenny first, then Strax and eventually the Doctor and Clara. The Time Lord turned to close the door behind himself, when he noticed his companion.

"Where do you think you're going, young lady?" he asked her, looking genuinely surprised.

"W-what do you mean?" Clara asked, already sensing where this was going.

"There's a rapist serial killer roaming around, don't you dare think about going out. You stay here."

There. Typical. It had happened before. This Doctor wouldn't let her take any risk. Of course, staying with him was itself a risk, but he tried to spare her any danger that he thought would almost certainly present itself.

"What? I'll be with you, I'm not risking anything! Jenny is younger than me and she's coming anyway!"

"Jenny is a well-trained warrior."

"I'm not harmless!"

"Don't be silly, Clara, you know what I mean. Plus, I'm not responsible for Jenny Flint. I'm responsible for Clara Oswald." He was raising his voice now. He was prone to anger and had be in a bad mood all day long, after arguing with the Old Girl and landing in the wrong place as a consequence. "Don't you understand that I'm just trying to protect you?"

The Doctor had needed months to admit with himself what he would never admit with her: he wasn't able to protect her. The Daleks, the Sontarans, then Ancient Rome, Mars, future New York. Again and again. Something separated them, and every time she ended up risking her life. And every time his hearts skipped several beats and his breath stopped and he got a foretaste of what he would feel if he really were to lose her. Every time he had arrived just in time, but he wasn't good at timing: what if one day he arrived too late? He wasn't going to let that happen.

"I'm not a child," Clara retorted sharply.

"Of course you aren't, but you are my companion and you're under my protection. I won't let you risk your life. I'm not changing my mind, you won't come with us."

Of course, he was too selfish to just leave her home and never come back the next Wednesday. He couldn't stay without her, even though he would never admit it. So he did his best to keep her away from danger.

He pushed her lightly, back inside, and grabbed Strax by the back of the collar of his shirt, pulling him in the house with Clara.

"You'll look after her, you won't do anything incredibly stupid and you won't let her follow us, got it?"

"Yes, sir!" Strax answered promptly.

"Good dwarf."

"Doctor!" Clara yelled, trying to stop him before he closed the door, but he ignored her and closed the lock by sonicking it.

She got a glimpse of his eyes before he disappeared behind the door. They were of his usual, perfect light blue-grey and, as always, they didn't betray any emotion.

The Doctor turned to find Vastra and Jenny staring at him.

"What?" he asked roughly.

"If you allow me, Doctor," Jenny said, "Clara will hate you if you keep cutting her out."

"I prefer her alive but cross than happy but dead, if you allow me! Now let's go, I'm sick of hearing what everybody thinks about my behaviour."

~oOo~

Clara behaved. She always behaved. Listened to the Doctor. She was born to save him, so she was born to be a good companion: 'don't wander off'. But now he was pushing her too far. He was leaving her behind. She couldn't accept it, and went mad with concern knowing that he was alone. She wanted to be with him, look after him… and she was in love with him and so wanted him safe. She wanted to make sure he was safe. Normally she wouldn't do this, no. She wouldn't come up with a plan to fool Strax. But now…the Doctor had changed, and she was changing too.

"Are you in need of something, boy?"

Clara ignored Strax confusing genders once again, and instead pretended to be worried.

"Strax! I was upstairs when I heard some guys talk in the street below… I opened the window and listened to their conversation… they were planning to steal your personal stock of grenades! You should go to check on them…"

"Revolting human scum! My grenades!"

With that he stormed off, heading to some room in the house where he kept the guns, and Clara rapidly took the key hanging on the doorknob and opened the door. She bit her lower lip nervously. She knew Victorian London, perfectly, and could assume where the Doctor had gone: either Croydon or the prison cemetery, to check the tomb of the murderer. How he would react with her for disobeying or with Strax for being a retarded potato dwarf was a mystery, and was what somewhat scared her.

Collecting all of her courage, she took a deep breath and stepped in the street.