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Chapter 13

She felt numb, so numb, hardly aware of how tightly his arms were wrapped around her, hardly aware of his face pressed against her hair, hardly aware that he was muttering her name over and over again.

"I've got you," he breathed, tightening his grip around her, "My Clara, I've got you."

The Doctor was crying in earnest now and slowly the heaviness of what she had done was starting to dawn on Clara. She wouldn't have jumped, not ever, not really. But for one moment there had been the temptation of the possibility that she could and that he would have cared. It had been a powerful feeling, almost godlike. It hadn't been right and now she felt terrible about it.

"I'm sorry," Clara whispered against the fabric of his jacket, "I'm so, so sorry."

There was no reply from him other than quiet sobbing. God, if she could turn back time and undo what she had just done she would. Clara hadn't meant to hurt him like this.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," she said, "I didn't mean to scare you. I wouldn't have jumped. I just. . . I don't know. I'm sorry."

"It's my fault," the Doctor said after a while, "It's all my fault. I do this. I don't want to but everyone around me just breaks and I can't stop. I just can't be alone but things like this, they always happen. Everyone I'm with just ends up broken."

"Not me," Clara replied immediately and finally closed her arms around him as well, "Not me, Doctor. I was broken before I met you. It's not your fault. If anything you fixed me."

Suddenly the Doctor pulled away and held her at a distance, looking at her through red eyes, apparently unable to believe what she had just said. "Fix you? That's what you call this?"

"I meant what I said. I was practically dead before you came into my life. There was no adventure, no joy, just boredom. I was going crazy," Clara reached for the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer, "With you, for the first time, I feel like there is more than just existing."

For a moment Clara thought he would kiss her, she truly believed it would happen out of sheer relief that she was unhurt. But the Doctor just kept staring at her.

"Please, can we start over?" she begged him, "I don't want this to be the thing you remember about our weekend in Paris. The concert, the restaurant, that was wonderful. You were wonderful. I'm so sorry I ruined it. Please, let's just forget it ever happened."

After a moment the Doctor nodded but his expression had taken on an angry tone. "Promise me you will never do anything like that again. Promise me!"

His hands were still on her arms, shaking her and his grip was starting to hurt.

"I promise," she replied.

"God, Clara," he breathed in relief and before she knew what happened he had wrapped his arms around her once more.

Clara had no idea how long it lasted this time but at some point she was starting to feel a little cold. And tired. Very tired. Whatever had happened earlier seemed to have drained her from her previous burst of energy and now all she was really craving was a bed and a warm duvet.

"Doctor," Clara whispered after a while, "Can we go back inside?"

When he released her from the embrace and looked at her the Doctor seemed utterly broken. She couldn't say what was going on inside his mind but Clara didn't have to. It was all her fault. When she reached out to take his hand there was no protest, he didn't even flinch as she touched him and started leading him back downstairs and once back inside he seemed reluctant to let go again.

"I think we both need some sleep," Clara concluded as she took off her jacket.

The Doctor nodded. "Yeah, you're right. You can have the bed. I'll take the sofa."

"Don't be silly. It's a huge bed. We can both sleep in it," Clara paused, "Unless you don't want to?"

Something crossed his mind, Clara could see it being reflected on his face. Was it relief? She couldn't quite tell.

"I thought you wouldn't want to," he replied.

Clara kicked off her shoes and took the hair slide out of her hair, shaking her head until it fell unto her shoulders before she crawled under the duvet, still wearing her evening dress. She wouldn't wear it again this weekend so it didn't matter if she wrinkled it and Clara was way too tired to change into her pyjamas by now.

The Doctor obviously had the same thoughts. He simply took off his glasses, shoes, jacket and bow and settled on the bed next to her. They remained looking at each other for a moment before he reached for her hand and pulled it up to his chest, resting it right above his heart.

"Let's go back to the meadow," the Doctor whispered gently, "We could have a picnic there, watch the noisy fawn."

"Yeah," Clara smiled as she closed her eyes, "That sounds lovely."

Clara thought she would sleep immediately but suddenly the Doctor spoke again.

"You were wrong about one thing, Clara," he said softly, "We're not nothing. Quite the contrary. We're everything."

Clara opened her eyes for a moment but saw that he had his closed.

"Every single person you saw from up there is important. They all have their life, people who love them, hopes and dreams and fears and nightmares. It's true, in the grand scheme of things we might seem small but as an individual we're all irreplaceable," he paused, "Nothing could ever replace you or me, no matter what came before or what will come after."

OOO

Clara woke up when she felt the Doctor twist next to her and she sat immediately to realize that he was having a nightmare again. He was tossing in the sheets and there was sweat on his forehead and he was whispering her name in his sleep. Gently Clara placed her hand on his cheek and he woke with a start.

"Shhhh," she calmed him, "You were dreaming again, Doctor."

He stared at her in the darkness.

"I'm here," Clara whispered, "I'm fine, you're fine. Think about our meadow. We're there right now, having a picnic."

Before Clara could react his arms were around her, pulling her against his chest.

OOO

The Doctor must have slept through the rest of the night Clara assumed because when she woke up again the sun was shining and they had shifted in their sleep. He was still holding her, her back pressed tightly against him. It felt wonderful, he felt wonderful, gentle and warm and safe, with his entire body touching her, his arm wrapped her around her waist. And he smelled good, too. The more Clara woke up the more aware she became of all the details of their embrace. She was holding the Doctor's hand against her chest, his face was nuzzled so sensually against the skin of her neck that Clara was beginning to wish he would turn her over on her back, kiss her and make love to her. She loved the feeling of him all over her body and she was sure she would love the feeling of him inside of her even more. Now that Clara came to think about it. . . didn't the area into which her arse was pressed feel a little. . . hard?

She shuffled a little closer to him to see if she was right but her movements seemed to have woken him as the Doctor soon started shifting next to her. Clara suspected he would immediately release her and put some distance between them but it didn't happen.

"Good morning," he whispered into her ear as if this was something they did regularly, as if nothing had ever happened the night before.

"Good morning," she replied, a smirk on her lips, "Feeling good?"

Clara wanted to clap her hand over her mouth. She should have asked him if he had slept well or anything but that while his pelvis was pressed against her arse.

He paused for a moment and then drew his arm back and sat up on the bed next to her. Clara turned around, looking at him.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, "I know you've had the nightmares again."

"I, erm, I'm fine," he hesitated a moment, as if he was torn, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Clara replied, smiling, "Don't worry about me."

Still the Doctor didn't seem quite convinced.

"I'm fine," she reassured him, "Forget what happened yesterday. I have no idea what happened there, I can't explain it but I know it won't happen again. I'm sorry that I scared you, that wasn't my intention."

"It's my fault," the Doctor said and looked down, "People, they change around me. I've seen it happen before. But you've only been with me for two months, Clara."

He looked back up, right into her eyes and she could see the pain on his face. "It's too soon."

Clara wasn't sure what to reply. "Maybe," she paused, "Maybe if you told me about your past, about what happened with the others-"

"No," the Doctor replied sharply.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because some things are too painful to talk about," he said and jumped up from the bed, "I'm going to take a shower."