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Chapter 17

On Friday afternoon Clara had made up her mind. After not seeing the Doctor for a week and only speaking on the phone for a few minutes each day she was sure that he felt something for her that went beyond his normal feelings for a friend and muse and she would do her very best to coax him to admitting it. He had video called her every single night, not asking her to come over to his place but definitely wanting to, looking a little more tired and unshaven each time and but Clara had been determined. She had pretended to be busy with school work and promised him she would come home with him after the art class on Friday. She just knew that there was something between the two of them, something the Doctor was too scared to act upon. Maybe it would help if he missed her a little.

Clara had just gathered her art supplies and closed the door behind her when her phone rang.

"Hey, grandma," she greeted her happily, "What's up?"

"Well, I was hoping you would tell me that. I was also hoping you'd call me earlier."

"About what?"

"I don't know," her grandmother said teasingly, "Maybe the man who was at the hospital on Sunday?"

"Oh, you mean the Doctor. I told you, he is my art teacher," Clara replied but she knew she didn't sound nearly convincing enough.

"Really?"

She sighed in reply. "Grandma, honestly, I'm not sure what the Doctor is. We met at art class and he invited me to his house to paint me and that's basically all we've been doing since. Hanging out, talking, painting."

"He took you to Paris."

"I know, grandma, I know," Clara replied, "Listen, I have to go. Art class. I'll see you in the hospital on Sunday."

OOO

When Clara arrived late in front of the room where the art class usually took place she found a surprise waiting for her. All of the students were standing in front of the closed door, checking their watches and one of them shook his head and angrily trudged off.

"What's going on?" Clara asked the first student she approached.

The woman shrugged. "I don't know. The Doctor has yet to show up. We've been waiting for 15 minutes."

"Hey!" another one of the students came walking towards them, "I asked at the office. He's not there and they haven't heard of him all day. That's not like him, is it?"

Clara thought her heart had missed a beat when she heard the news and immediately she started to wonder what the hell had happened to the Doctor to make him miss the one day he was teaching classes.

"Sorry, guys, I have to go," Clara said to her fellow students and quickly turned around to leave the building.

She almost ran all the way to his house and when Clara stepped inside, using the key the Doctor had given her, she found herself standing in front of a strange woman.

"Who are you?" Clara blurted out immediately although now that she was taking a good look at her it became more obvious who this woman was and what she was doing here.

"I am Carmen, new housekeeper," the woman said in a friendly tone, her Spanish accent heavy, "You Mrs Smith?"

"Oh, no, I'm not his wife. Just a friend," she said, "Where is the Doctor?"

"Upstairs in studio. Tell him cleaning is finished, please."

Carmen threw her another smile before she reached for her coat and closed the front door behind her. Clara was relieved that apparently the Doctor was here and well so she decided to go upstairs. When she entered the studio she spotted him immediately, sitting on the floor, leaning against the sofa. His head had fallen backwards and he was still clutching his sketchbook in his hands. Clara shook her head before she came to kneel next to him.

"Doctor," she said gently and reached for his hand. He woke up with a start and needed a moment to realize what had happened. Then he closed his eyes again and groaned.

"You can't sleep on the floor, Doctor," Clara told him and took the sketchbook from him to take his hands, helping him up. He fell back on the sofa immediately and when he looked at her Clara decided not to tell him that he had missed his classes today. He really looked like he could use some more sleep.

"Didn't realize I had fallen asleep," the Doctor admitted with a weary smile, "Couldn't really sleep last week. I just painted."

Clara scanned the room and recognized the new paintings, almost all of them being portraits of her. Apparently while she had kept him at arm's length during the last week the Doctor had kept on painting her over and over without taking enough breaks to sleep or to eat.

"Come on," she said with a sigh, "Let's get you to bed."

"Are you staying?" the Doctor turned to look at her and he seemed a little surprised.

"Of course I'm staying," she told him gently and raised her hand to his cheek, cupping it softly, "Someone's gotta look after you."

Eventually Clara took his hand and led him downstairs into his bedroom where he promptly fell onto his bed and closed his eyes.

"Have you eaten today?"

The Doctor furrowed his brows but his eyes remained shut. "I, erm, I'm not sure."

Clara sighed. "I'll go downstairs and get you a little something," just when she turned around she remembered the housekeeper, "Oh, by the way, Carmen said to tell you she's done cleaning for today."

"Carmen?" the Doctor asked, now looking at her.

"Yes, Carmen, the new housekeeper. I suppose Missy hired her?"

Clara was met with a blank stare.

"Try to sleep," she told him calmly, "I'll get something to eat."

To her surprise the kitchen was fully stocked, probably thanks to Carmen, and so Clara prepared a small pile of sandwiches, already eating one on her way back upstairs. Yet when she stepped back inside the bedroom the Doctor was already sleeping peacefully. Clara put the plate down on the bedside table and pulled the duvet up to the Doctor's chin. He looked almost happy in his sleep.

Maybe it had been a mistake trying to keep him at a distance for a while, especially after what had happened in Paris and they had gotten so much closer on a physical level. The Doctor had told her from the very beginning, he told her he got very attached to his muses, friends, whatever he called it. He had obviously missed her. And if Clara was quite honest she had missed him, too.

Lifting up the duvet Clara climbed into bed as well and curled up next to him. Without waking up properly the Doctor wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to his chest.

"I've missed you, Clara," he admitted sleepily.

"I've missed you, too."