December 14th

The next day wasn't nearly as difficult and downcast as she'd initially expected. Maybe she wasn't sure what she'd been expecting. It wasn't like she foresaw the Doctor lying around depressed all day. No. He wasn't her. He was much, much stronger. Even in his moments of utmost pain, he never truly allowed it to show - at least not unintentionally. Sure, there was the odd tear that escaped every now and again, the glassy fixed gazes on nothing in particular, but overall he held onto that mindset that forbid him from any type of emotion bleeding through. So no. The day wasn't downcast. The Doctor wasn't moping around with emotionally pained groans. He wasn't wallowing in self pity. He pressed on, just as he always did. Just as he always had to do. Maybe it was another 'curse of the Time Lords', Clara thought. Or maybe, he was just an impenetrable brick wall.

He definitely used to be a wall alright, but Clara was beginning to think that the wall was on its way to becoming just forgotten wreckage pretty soon. It was tearing down. The Doctor's wall emotion seemed to slowly be breaking down. Even though Clara had opened up, resolved the majority of her internal suffering, and overall reached her healing, she still had that wall put up. She didn't want to show her emotions. Not ever.

But maybe the Doctor would change that. Because from what she saw, lately he just seemed less and less - well - impenetrable.

"Its your move."

Clara had been sitting hunched over in thought from her place on the sofa for an exceptionable amount of time. At the sound of a voice she looked up, took a sip of her tea, and set the cup back down on the table in front of her. "What?"

"Its your move." The Doctor repeated simply, burying his hands deep in his jacket pockets and swaying indecisively from side to side before settling on the sofa next to her.

She shifted over to get a proper look at him, crossing her legs beneath her and resting her hands in her lap. "To do what?"

"Well," He looked away for a brief moment, clearing his throat. "To talk."

"I already told you everything." She informed him with the slight tilt of her head, and her lips hitched upward in a confirming smile. "Nothin' else to talk about."

His expression remained the same, showing his discomfort and disbelief. "Where's the boy?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you know where he is?"

"What would make you think that?" Clara's voice raised a notch out of surprise, and her eyes widened. "I told you he ran away."

"But you just seem... so..." His mind raced for the right word, but Clara beat him to it.

"Accepting?" She blinked a couple times, and lowered her head.

The Doctor drew in a nervous breath and nodded. "Yes... Accepting. Clara," He hesitated. "Do you know something?" She shook her head. "Anything?" He prompted, but when she failed to reply again, he didn't know what else to say.

"Doctor, " She stammered, bringing her hardened eyes to his. "He's been gone for weeks. The police have been searching... I've been searching. They haven't found anything." She pressed her palm against his mouth when he opened it to speak, shooting him a silencing look. "He's been through a lot. And I mean a lot. Doctor, he died, then came back. His family is dead, he's in a different country, living with someone he doesn't know," She shook her head. "I'd be surprised if he was even still alive." She sighed, leaning to the side against the back of the couch. "The police said they'd be surprised too."

"So that's why-"

"It was easier to accept him being dead than not know if he was dead or just... suffering." She forced a smile. "So yeah. That's why."

The Doctor felt the need to apologize, but as soon as he opened his mouth his words were interrupted by a lengthy yawn. He shook his head to clear it and blinked a few times, earning a little chuckle.

"When was the last time you slept?" Clara asked, tone soft, more than happy to switch subjects.

"Oh, a week or so." He waved a dismissing hand in front of his face. "I'm not due-" His jaws stretched wide a second time, and his eyes dropped. "-yet."

"I beg to differ." Her lips quirked into an amused lopsided smile. She leaned over to pat his shoulder, standing as she did. "Get some sleep." She heard him huff behind her back. More of a scoff, really.

"Oi." She turned around and pointed her finger in his direction, brow furrowed threateningly. "Not playin' around, here. Get some sleep."

"You're not my mum." He reminded with a smirk, rising to his feet and brushing his hand over her shoulder as he walked past. "I don't need to sleep." He stopped and leaned against the doorway as another yawn protested.

"Yeah, whatever." Clara shoved him through the doorway. "You can sleep in my room if you want, so long as you actually sleep."

"Clara." He whined, dramatically throwing his head back and pushing against her. "I don't want to!"

She leaned against him, using as much force as she could to push him further inside her bedroom. "Get in there!" She managed to catch him off balance for just enough time to shove him onto her bed and slam the door shut behind them. "Sleep. Now."

The Doctor groaned loudly in protest, but peeled off his shoes and removed his jacket without further protest. He shot Clara an indignant scowl, trying to remain on top of things when still, he knew, he was in desperate need of sleep.

"You big baby." She teased, joining his side and lifting the blankets for him to easily slide in, ignoring the confused looks she received. "Get some sleep." She smiled with satisfaction as he lowered his head to the pillow, turning over to hide his embarrassment at succumbing so easily to her wishes. "See you in the morning."