I was born to save the Doctor.

Clara woke up screaming, and for the second time, Elijah came to her aide. He didn't question her, just climbed into bed next to her and wrapped his arms tightly around her. Almost like he did this every night.

"I'm here." He whispered to her, and her tears began to slow, but she could stop the hysteria bubbling out of her mouth. She became aware of her surroundings all at once, and was relieved to find it all in shades of blue, no orange, no spirals. No falling. She gripped his shirt tightly, and tried to fight against the rising nausea. No, she told herself, I'm safe. Elijah has me. She tried to forget it, but something nagging at the back of her brain told her that she was an imposter, that this was all fake. That everything in her life was fake.

She closed her eyes tightly, and concentrated on how he was stroking her hair, because he made everything better.

"What was the dream about?" he asked soothingly.

"I was falling." She whispered, "and I didn't even know who I was. I was trying to save someone." The flash of a face, and a frantic scream of 'Clara!' rose to her mind. "Someone important." Someone all to important.

"Who?"

"You." She said, but it didn't seem right. It had been his face though, she was certain of it. But the name Elijah didn't fit it. No, the man in her dream's name had been like music, and it had come back to her while she fell.

"I'm here, I'm safe." He promised her, and she fell asleep in his arms.

She decided to still go to work, when she woke, even if she did awake with her tearstained face pressed against Elijah's t-shirt. He must have not gotten much sleep the night before, because he didn't even stir at the insistent beeping of her alarm clock. She quickly slipped free of his grip and turned it off, stepping into the shower.

The hot water did little to clear her muddled thoughts, and she got dressed in a haze, putting two socks on one foot, and her shirt on backwards. Once all of her clothing items were in the correct places on her body, she continued the rest of her routine, making sure she looked presentable, and shoving a bagel into her mouth.

Elijah's jacket hung on a peg by the door, next to hers, and after a moments contemplation, she chose that one. She slipped on the dark brown jacket, (like the one he wears in Closing Time) and left the house in a hurry, hoping that their present guest wasn't disturbed.

Reinette, unlike River, had decided to stay for the duration of the week, and Clara could already see the beginnings of cracks in the Doctor and Rose's relationship. Rose was only ever at home after nine P.M, and disappeared into her room. She left at 8:00 every morning, and dropped Clara off some coffee on her way to work. She hardly talked to John, and Clara didn't even know if they were sleeping in the same bed together... anymore.

While she was driving up to the school, she peered up at the sky, a small frown etched on her face. Dark purplish clouds glared down at her, and she couldn't help but feel the ominous tingle up her seemed to be warning her. There's a storm coming.

She pulled into the parking lot, and nearly fell over as a huge gust of wind shot into her side. She quickly ran for the door, ignoring all of the students amused looks as she barreled past them. She righted herself once she reached the halls, heading towards her classroom with a calm, under control attitude. The weather was against her then.

Clara sank down into her desk, and with a small smile, bent to straighten the picture of her and the Doctor… Elijah. They had just hiked Mount Trenzalore, and Clara could see the sheen of sweat on both of them, could practically taste the fresh air, could hear his laugh on the wind. And that made everything okay, as long as she could see his face. Everything. She did realize she was turning into one of those physcotic romantics who only cared about their boyfriend, but, she supposed, it was okay to be happy sometimes.

The bell went off before she could react, and she leaped to her feet, quickly scrawling the 'Quote of the Day' on the board. She liked first period. They were quiet, their sleep deprived minds finding no urge to chatter, and they usually got the best grades.

She still wished she was at home.

Amy?" Clara asked, looking up from her desk, to see her Scottish friend moving through the crowds of departing kids. The period had just finished, and she looked warily up from the quizzes she was grading. What was up with these Ponds and disturbing her work schedule?

"I need your help with something." Amy said, and Clara slightly crinkled her nose, Amy's 'helping' usually meant something dangerous. And Clara didn't want to risk her life, not when she just had fallen in love with Elijah.

"What does this entail?" she asked calmly, and Amy narrowed her eyes, her hand going to her bag, reaching for something.

"You remembering." She said briskly, pulling out a gun, and pointing it at Clara's head.

Clara's mouth opened in a shocked gasp, her eyes going wide. Amy didn't look okay, her hair was in tangled knots, and the shadows under her eyes looked like someone had taken paint and smeared it on her face. The gun which she held trembled, and Clara was scared. More scared than she had ever been.

"Amy what the hell are you doing?" she demanded, but instead of sounding direct and firm, her voice was shaking, her tone weak. "Remember what?" her fingers grasped for the pepper spray in her purse, but she realized that she'd never put it back in after accidentally spraying Jack in the supermarket the other day...

"No questions." Amy snapped, and she gestured towards the door, "Shall we?" Clara, not understanding anything anymore, stepped up, and Amy shakily put the barrel against her back. They passed through the halls, but no one stopped them, possibly thinking two friends were going for coffee. They couldn't see the gun pressed to her back.

Braveheart Clara. Elijah's voice echoed in her mind, but she didn't remember hearing those words ever escape his mouth, still it helped calm her mind. Her legs were still shaking as Amy took her to her car, and shoved her in the backseat. Clara's face hit the seat with a thud, and the door slammed, preventing her from running. The car took off with a screech, and Clara's attempts to rise from the seat were thwarted as she was thrown back against the plastic coated seats. She could feel the car's speed from her position, and she gripped the seat with trembling fingers, her eyes screwed shut.

This would all be dream, she told herself. She would wake up screaming any second, and Elijah would be there. He would make it better. He had to.

He didn't come. Amy shoved her out of the car, and she hit the dirt with a thud, her palms scraping against the uneven ground. She straightened up, and her eyes widened when she saw they were in a graveyard. Amy wasn't going to kill her was she?

It had begun to rain, as if the world was crying, as if it was fighting against what Amy was about to do to her. The rain began to soak through her clothes immediately, and she could barely see the flash of red hair through the down pour.

"Remember!" Amy shrieked, and Clara immediately backed up. Her back thudded against a grave stone, and she nearly fell over the top.

"Amy, I don't understand." She said slowly, her voice careful. Amy didn't look sane. She didn't look right. She looked… terrified.

"The Doctor." Amy said shakily "because I can't do it anymore. I can't be alone!" her eyes were popping. "and I can't stop myself!" she added, but the last bit sounded forced, as if Amy had to struggle to get those words out.

"Doctor?" Clara said slowly, the name stirring something inside her. A memory.

"Clara who?" he asked her, as if to avoid anything else she had to stay.

"Doctor who?" she countered, her voice raising up mockingly.

"Oh, dangerous question."

"What's wrong with dangerous?"

Clara's hand went to her head, her eyes widening. Where did that come from?

"Doctor who?" she said, but the words felt to familiar in her mouth. Doctor.

"So that's who."

"Daleks!" Amy shouted, but it didn't seem like a random guess, it sounded planned, planned and effective, and Clara fell to the ground, her hands going to her eyes, her temples bursting with pain.

"Stop." She begged, as flashes of screaming and his cold eyes filled her mind. Oswin, I am so sorry, but you are a dalek. He hated her then. Hated her down to her eyestalk. You dreamed it for yourself because the truth was to terrible.

It was like a door had opened though, and she couldn't stop the flow of memories pouring out of her like water, and she wanted to scream, and scream, and never stop. She opened her mouth, and a high shriek filled the air. Amy was next to her in a moment, her hand going to Clara's shoulder, but she shoved her off.

She did this. Amy did this. Clara raised hate filled eyes up to the ginger woman, staggering to her feet, every sensible thought obliterated by the pain. Elijah's jacket was soaked, and it lay heavily on her shoulders, making her balance uneven. "Why me?" she screamed, through the loud claps of thunder and flashes of lightning. She could remember everything now, remember who she really was, and she hated it. She was so happy, had been so happy, and now every memory of death, every memory of pain, echoed throughout her head. She was breaking into a thousand pieces, and she didn't think she would ever land.

"I didn't want to do it like this!" Amy sobbed as well, and Clara looked at her in bafflement. Only then did she notice the tears streaming down the other woman 's face, the look of horror in her eyes. "I can't control.." she broke off with a gasp. "You have to make him remember." She gasped out, her feet back pedaling.

"Who?" Clara asked, moving closer to the frightened girl. She had never found it in her heart ot be to extremely mad at someone in pain.

"The Doctor! You're the only one." Amy was sobbing now, and through the rain, Clara saw her raise a gun to her chest. The gun looked black, so black in the light from lighting, and Clara knew what she was going to do.

"AMY NO!" she screamed.

Crack.

The red blood was very bright against the rain.

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