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Chapter 9

Clara found him exactly where she thought she would, in his studio, painting furiously and for a long time she watched him getting lost in his art. He looked beautiful like this, sad but utterly beautiful. The Doctor sat on his stool with his waistcoat unbuttoned and the good trousers Missy had given him stained with paint. Clara somehow knew that she would be furious about this. His hair was messy, like it always seemed to be and the lines on his face appeared to be slightly deeper when he was concentrating.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly so as not to startle him.

The Doctor stopped for a moment but soon continued to paint. "No," he replied.

Clara nodded. "That's fine. Just know that if you do want to talk that you can tell me. Whatever it is."

With a sigh the Doctor placed the spatula aside and stood up from his stool, facing her.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, "I shouldn't have left you standing at the gallery."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. That painting Missy displayed was very personal and I got upset when I saw it again. But that is no reason to just leave you standing there."

"Doctor," Clara wasn't sure why she was asking this but suddenly she had the urge to, "Can I hug you?"

He frowned at her. "Hug me?"

"Yeah."

"I, erm," he spluttered as she stepped closer, "I don't usually have a physical relationship with my muses."

Despite his protest Clara took one last step and placed her arms around his neck.

"Make an exception, okay?" she whispered.

"Okay," he said back.

At first the touch on her back was light and reluctant but after a moment he fully closed his arms around her back and pressed her closer. He didn't move for a long while.

"How does it feel?" Clara asked kindly.

He paused. "Feels good," he admitted.

When he finally let go of her Clara noticed that his hands were shaking.

"How long has it been since you've slept? Properly slept, I mean."

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak but then probably thought better of it. Clara rolled her eyes. Speaking to Missy and Amy about him today had made one thing very clear to her: the Doctor needed her more than he let on and she was going to do her best to make sure he didn't neglect himself over his art. She needed to be his reason and hold him back when he was going too far.

"You need to sleep," Clara said determinedly, "Go and put your pyjamas on."

He raised an eyebrow. "You've learned a lot from Missy after just one meeting."

"Well, you did what she told you to do and now do as I say. Put your pyjamas on and go to bed."

"What about sketching you in your dress, huh? We haven't done that yet," the Doctor objected, his voice lighting up.

"I'll put the dress back on tomorrow and you can sketch me then. I'm prettier in daylight anyway."

Suddenly the Doctor seemed very uncomfortable and she thought there was something on his mind that he didn't dare tell her.

"I know something that helps with the nightmares," Clara said gently, "It has always worked for me so far. We can try that if you like."

Finally the Doctor agreed and walked off to the direction of the bathroom while Clara just changed into more comfortable clothes and then waited for him by his bedroom door. Eventually he emerged from the bathroom and Clara thought it was strange that he had seemed so tall and impressive on the day she had met him and now he appeared so small and fragile, almost broken. He stopped when he saw her.

"Are you, erm, are you gonna sleep in my bed?" the Doctor asked, now back to being uncomfortable.

"No," she smiled, "I'll just wait until you fall asleep. Unless you want me to stay."

The Doctor didn't reply as he made his way past her into the bedroom and lay down on his bed, placing his glasses on the bedside table while Clara settled down next to him.

"Just find a comfortable position and-" Clara stopped when he lay on his side, his hands tucked away under his head and he was looking at her intently, a smile curling around the corners of his lips. It suddenly occurred to her that she was in bed with him. Actually lying in the same bed. Naturally this would call for so much more than what Clara was going to do.

She brushed the thought aside. Clara had managed to suppress her attraction to him well the past few days, realizing that if it was ever going to happen it would have to happen slowly and at his pace.

"So," the Doctor asked, "What's your magic trick?"

"Close your eyes," she told him gently.

"But what if I'd rather look at you? Your face is. . . calming."

"My face is not going to help you sleep, now close them."

Finally he did as he was told.

"Imagine you're barefoot and you're walking across a meadow," Clara said as quietly as possible, her voice nothing but a whisper, "The grass is so green and so soft. There's not a single twig or a stone. It's almost like walking on a fluffy carpet. And you breathe in the air and it's so clean, like the rain has washed away all of the dirt and the dust and you can smell the flowers. The place is beautiful. Can you see it?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"It's warm, but not too warm. The temperature is just exactly right and the sun is shining. Feel the sun on your skin, Doctor. There are trees and mountains in the distance. The birds are singing and there's a river close b-"

"No," the Doctor said all of a sudden.

"No?"

"No river."

"How about a lake? Or a pond?"

"No water."

"Okay, there's just the meadow then and the trees and the mountains and the singing birds. And you've got your easel with you and your painting supplies and you sit down to paint the landscape," Clara paused, giving him time to imagine it. This was the place she always imagined to go when she was suffering from bad dreams and she had added the painting for him because she thought it might soothe him. She watched as a soft smile spread across his lips, "You paint the sky because it's the bluest you have ever seen in your life. Just a white cloud here and there, no chance of rain whatsoever."

Clara waited for a moment before she said anything else. His breathing had slowed down already and she wasn't sure if he hadn't fallen asleep already.

"Go on," he mumbled and Clara could tell that sleep wasn't far away. She was actually getting kind of drowsy, too. After all, it was what she always imagined when she was about to sleep.

"There's a doe with her fawn. They've come galloping down the hillside from the forest and they're grazing on the meadow right in front of you. They're not even scared. The little fawn is curious and it comes closer, just close enough for you to see it properly and include it in your painting."

She paused but this time there was no reply from the Doctor. He had finally drifted off and Clara hoped that he would sleep through now for a couple more hours. He definitely needed it. Afraid to wake him if she moved she decided to stay for a while longer and didn't even notice that she, too, was falling asleep.

OOO

The sun was already shining through the bedroom window when Clara woke up and she half expected the bed next to her to be empty but when she turned around there he was, still sleeping peacefully. Clara smiled when she spotted him and quickly glanced past him to the clock on his bedside table. It was 8 in the morning. They had both slept for 10 whole hours. Happy and a little pleased with herself Clara rested her head back on the pillow for a moment, her eyes on the Doctor. Right now she felt so close to him even though he would probably freak out if he woke up and found her still in his bed. She wanted to touch his face, kiss those lips that were still somehow smiling in his sleep and mess up his hair just a little bit more. So Clara decided to quietly get out of bed and sneak down into the kitchen before she did something she would probably regret.

She found a waffle maker under the sink and, feeling pretty hungry, decided to mix together the dough for breakfast while the coffee maker was working it's magic. Just when Clara had emptied the bowl to the last drop onto the waffle maker she heard steps coming down the stairs.

"I've been looking for you," the Doctor said. Clara turned around to realize he was looking so much better now that he had slept. There were still dark circles under his eyes and it would probably take a month of sleep to get rid of those but his skin tone had already taken on a healthier look.

"I made breakfast. Do you want some?" she asked with a smile and with a nod the Doctor sat down at the kitchen table.

He actually sat down at the kitchen table for breakfast. No protest. No suggestion they could just as well eat in the studio.

"How did you sleep?" Clara asked sincerely as she placed two plates, the coffee and the waffles between them.

The Doctor grinned at her. "I can't remember the last time I slept so well. I didn't have a single dream. Not one. Your little trick really worked. Thank you."

"My pleasure," Clara replied, sticking her fork in the first waffle on the stack.

"You slept in my bed, didn't you?" the Doctor asked after a moment.

Clara thought about lying for a moment but the way he looked at her told her that he knew.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. I just fell asleep."

"It's okay," he reassured her.

The Doctor also reached for a waffle and took a large sip from his coffee mug.

"So, what's on the schedule for today? Do you want to sketch me in that dress from last night or do something else?" Clara wanted to know.

"You know," he began, "I've been thinking about taking a little break from painting today."

Clara's eyes widened in surprise as she looked at him.

"Really, how come?"

"I have been living in London since I was 22 and I have never set foot into Madame Tussauds."

"You know that's a crime you can go to prison for, right?" she asked jokingly and the Doctor grinned.

"Would you like to go with me? Leave the sketchbook at home, just you, me, poking the Queen a little?"

"I'd love to," Clara agreed, "It's been ages since I've been there. It's gonna be fun."

"Good," the Doctor smiled at her before he turned his attention back to the waffles on his plate.

Clara felt that something had changed about him, about the nature of their relationship. Amy had told her about how wonderful her time with the Doctor had been and she had given her the impression that leaving him hadn't been an easy decision to make. A part of her wondered what the Doctor had been like with her, whether he had taken her to the London Dungeon or elsewhere, whether they had done other things besides painting together. The look in her eyes had certainly seemed like it.

"Doctor, can I ask you a favour?"

He looked up at her. "Well, that would depend on the favour, don't you think?"

"Tell me something you have never told any of your muses before."

The Doctor remained silent for a while and Clara started to doubt he would answer her at all.

"When I imagined the place you described last night," he said, "I imagined you there with me."

It wasn't something Clara had expected to her and not even something he could have told a former muse even if he had wanted to but she figured that at worst it was a start.