Well, the title of this chapter says it all:D

You guys are in for a treat. I think. I sort of like how this turned out. But it's also sad. AND I'M SORRY, I HAD TO DO IT, I HAD TO REFERENCE IT... you'll see what I'm talking about when you read this.

To Guest (Whovianeverlark17): of course I used your prompt! It was a great prompt and very fun to write. I'm glad you liked it.

Read on and enjoy. Reviews are appreciated; I like to know what you thought. This was a very interesting prompt, and I made it as fluffy as possible:D

Prompt from RosaBlythe: "GIGGLING FISH"

At first, Clara thought she was dreaming. The scene before her eyes was just too fantastic to be real.

But then she remembered that her best friend was the Doctor. She could travel the entire universe with him. Anything could happen.

She remembered what had happened earlier. There had been a portal of sorts. And of course, the Doctor, being the Doctor, had stepped through it, taking her hand in his, pressing it, smiling at her with his eyes instead of his mouth. She'd had to follow.

And now they were here. But where was here?

Clara slowly turned her head, taking in her surroundings. Her movements were sluggish, restricted by something thick and fluid.

Water. Yes, she was in the middle of the ocean. Her brain seemed to be moving slower than usual as well. It took her several seconds to realize that she was breathing normally, and that her clothes were dry.

The surface of the water was far above her head, rippling with patches of sunlight. Vibrant corals and multicolored streams of kelp stretched in every direction as far as the eye could see, undulating with barely visible movements. Clara suddenly felt something pressing down on her, a heavy, odd sort of feeling, as though she knew something was there but she couldn't figure out what it was.

Understanding finally dawned on her. She was feeling the presence of life.

As soon as Clara had realized this, she became aware of small, darting flashes of moment. Her heart thrilled as she realized that they belonged to fish.

The fish were everywhere. They swarmed through the kelp, hid behind the corals, darted through the water like a pulsing rainbow of rippling scales. TARDIS blue, soft pink, verdant green; every hue was represented here. Clara's world was an explosion of color, and she could have cried with joy from the beauty of it all.

A soft noise reached her eyes, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. It was the fish; they were laughing and giggling as they chased each other in circles. The sound was light and musical and burbling, like flutes and brooks and rain all at once. Clara, who found herself, for some reason, completely unperturbed by the sound of giggling fish, realized that the beauty of the noise had brought tears to her eyes.

Suddenly a warm hand reached out and brushed the tears from her eyes, lingering on her eyelashes and caressing her cheek. "Don't cry," a familiar Scottish voice murmured. "Why are you crying, Clara?"

So he'd somehow figured out a clever way to speak underwater as well as breathe.

Clara looked through the halo of rich brown hair that surrounded her head, waving as the currents pushed it back and forth, and saw just who she expected to see. The Doctor.

It took her a few seconds to find her voice, and when she did, it was soft and husky. "Because... it's just so beautiful," she managed to say, reaching up and slipping her fingers into the Doctor's.

His waistcoat bobbed in the current as he silently stared at her. Feeling suddenly emboldened, Clara stared deep into the Doctor's eyes. "Can I tell you something?" Three words were running endlessly through her mind, etching themselves into her consciousness. She had never before been able to work up the courage to say them, but now she felt safe, and calm, and at peace. Her worries had drifted away upon an ocean of serenity.

"I'm listening, Clara Oswald. I'm always listening."

Something about his tone of voice made her feel as though he already knew what she was going to say, but the words tumbled out of her mouth anyway. "Doctor," she breathed, savoring the syllables. "Doctor... I love you."

The Doctor smiled at her, a soft, slow smile. He opened his mouth to respond...

... and then the scene changed.

Clara knew now that she was dreaming. She had suspected it before, when she had told the Doctor those words she could never actually bring herself to say in real life, but now she never knew for sure.

The world was black and lifeless. Clara was standing on nothing; surrounded by nothing. The Doctor had vanished. She was alone.

But when she glanced down, there was someone lying facedown at her feet. Clara crouched down, assuming the person was asleep. "Hello?" She shook the person's shoulder. "Hello, can you tell me where I am?"

No response was forthcoming. Growing annoyed, she rolled the person over.

It was Danny, and his cold face and still body were matted with blood.

Clara gave an involuntary cry of shock and stumbled backwards. Tears welled in her eyes. "Danny? Danny, wake up!" Blinded by a veil of tears, she shook his prone form, but her efforts were to no avail.

A dream, the still rational part of her consciousness hissed. Wake up, Clara. You're dreaming, stupid. Wake up.

And she tried, she really did, but she couldn't tear herself out of her nightmare. Clara began to grow desperate. Wake up! she screamed at herself. Wake up!

Two more bodies appeared, and she didn't need to turn them over to identify them. The first one was the Doctor, his hand outstretched, as though he had died holding someone's hand. There was a piece of blood-splotched paper lying next to him. Even from a distance, Clara could tell that it said, in his distinctive, spidery scrawl, YOUR FAULT, CLARA.

"No," she wept. "No..." She turned around, seeking some form of escape, but she instead came upon the still figure of the third person, clad in a plaid skirt and black stockings. Brown hair tumbled down her shoulders.

A shiver ran up Clara's spine. It was her.

"Oh, yes," a malicious voice whispered in her ear, her own voice, twisted by hatred. "Clara Oswald. Trusting Clara. Innocent Clara. You thought you were so special. The Doctor said he would save you. He said that to everyone else that he sacrificed, and now, it's your turn. You threw away your life, thinking he would find a way to save you... and look at yourself now..."

The malicious voice faded, and a new sound reached Clara's ears. It was a scream, a scream of agony. But there was no one else here...

Then she realized that she was screaming. She screamed and screamed until her throat was raw, as lances of agony stabbed her entire body, until she could scream no more. And then a torrent of black smoke poured from her mouth, and she felt her soul and identity slipping away, and her last thought as she fell to the ground like a wilting flower was,"Doctor..."

"Clara! Clara! Wake up!" Rough hands grabbed her shoulders and shook her, jolting her into wakefulness. Clara gasped and shot out of bed, her eyes wild and her hair tousled. Dried tear tracks shone on her cheeks.

"Doctor, Danny, I'm sorry," she cried, fresh tears leaking from her eyes. "I'm... wait, what?" A cool breeze wafted into her face from her open bedroom window, and she realized that she was blessedly awake.

"You screamed," a low voice told her. "You were screaming in your sleep, so I woke you up."

Clara stared at the Doctor, looking both at him and through him, remembering how horrible his dead body had looked. "I'm fine," she announced, forcing a playful smile. "What are you doing here, eh?"

"Watching you. I... watch you in your sleep sometimes," the Doctor added awkwardly, a dull flush tinging his cheeks. "Just, you know, to make sure everything's okay. Only on some nights though."

Despite herself, Clara's lips twitched in a smile, a real one this time. She was slightly freaked out, but mostly touched. That was just the sort of shy, sweet thing the Doctor would do. "Only some nights?"

He knew then that there could be no more lying to his Clara Oswald. She knew him too well. "Maybe every night," he admitted reluctantly. He searched her face for another smile, but it didn't return. His companion's eyes were fractured and haunted. "What happened?" he asked softly. Some people might laugh at nightmares, but not the Doctor. He knew only too well the potency of dreams.

She sighed shakily as the events of the dream forced their way back into her memory, and leaned wearily against her pillow. She knew then that there could be no more lying to her Doctor. He knew her too well. "I died," she murmured softly, her voice fractured with pain. "Because I traveled with you. Black smoke came out of my mouth and I just fell over and died. And before that, I saw bodies... Danny's, mine... yours..." Her voice trailed away.

The Doctor steeled himself, leaned forward, and placed a tentative hand on Clara's shoulder. Without hesitation, she grabbed his hand in hers and pressed it to her cheek, leaning onto the Doctor's chest. A single tear leaked out of her eye, rolled down her pale cheek, and dropped onto his velvety coat.

A stab of sorrow buried itself in the Doctor's hearts. He could stand and watch as empires crumbled around him; he could look on as his enemies perished; he could brave the mental and physical turmoil of his own regenerations. But this, this, was the one thing he could not bear to see. He could not stand the sight of his companions, particularly Clara Oswald, in tears.

The Doctor made a split-second decision. He had been sitting on the chair that he'd dragged to Clara's bedside, but now he perched on the edge of her bed and slid his arm around her petite frame, pulling her closer.

Clara listened to the familiar, soothing beat of his hearts, finding that the steady sound calmed and comforted her. But there was still one worry that she could not get rid of. She shifted her head so that she was staring into the Doctor's eyes, searching them for answers. "Doctor, is traveling with you going to kill me?" They had reached the point in their relationship where she could ask him questions like that and receive honest answers.

The Doctor pursed his lips and bowed his head. He'd heard a story once, hundreds of years ago, about a TARDIS that could predict the future by sending its inhabitants dreams and warnings. He'd thought it was just a silly rumor, but... maybe, just maybe... his TARDIS, his own, beautiful TARDIS... could do that too?

But that would mean that Clara could die. The Doctor's hearts clenched. No, no, that could never happen. It was a dream, that was all. Nothing more. He would fight to protect Clara Oswald until his dying breath; he had a duty of care.

And so he told her what he knew she wanted to hear, and what he needed to hear. "Clara Oswald," he announced, looking deep into her wise brown eyes, "I will never let you die as long as we are together."

Clara knew that he meant every word. Smiling, she raised her hand and traced it along his jawline, cupping his cheek. The Doctor placed his hand over hers and held it there, admiring the hugeness of his hand versus the smallness of hers, and the play of the moonlight on her pale skin.

After a few minutes, he pulled away. "It's 2:37," he announced. "Time for you to get back to bed."

Clara laughed, tucking in a fold of her blue nightgown. "How do you always know what time it is?"

"I'm a Time Lord. Obviously."

Clara pushed her pillow down and lay back on it, pulling the sheets up to her chest. "Stay with me," she murmured simply. Despite her light tone of voice, the Doctor knew that it was a plea, not a command. "Please."

He nodded once and placed his hand on the bed. She stared at it for a few seconds and then slid her arm out of the covers and grasped his hand in her own.

Eventually Clara's eyes shut and her breathing slowed, and the Doctor knew that she had drifted to sleep. Just to be sure - he didn't want to do what he was about to unless she really was asleep - he fished his sonic screwdriver out of his coat pocket and scanned her prone form. Her peaceful smile never wavered as the buzz of the sonic sliced through the air.

Yes - Clara really was asleep. The Doctor stowed his screwdriver in his pocket and contemplated his companion's sleeping form. Then, with his other hand, he reached out and tenderly began to stroke her hair, running his fingers through her smooth brown locks. This was something he only felt comfortable doing when there was no one around to catch him in the act. He normally wouldn't show such affection to anyone, but he knew that Clara needed it. Clara was different. Clara needed affection more than anyone else he'd traveled with had.

Clara shifted slightly in her sleep and inadvertently rolled over to face him. The Doctor sighed gently as he placed his palm on her cheek, a peaceful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

An idea struck him. Withdrawing his hand, he grasped the handle of his screwdriver once more and changed the setting to Dream.

This was a setting he had never considered using before. It allowed the screwdriver to pick up the brainwaves of people while they slept and read their thoughts and emotions in their dreams. And it could transmit those signals directly into the mind of the user, effectively allowing whoever was using the screwdriver to experience other people's dreams inside his own mind.

A sharp buzz sounded as the Doctor scanned Clara again. Within seconds, it had picked up on the signals that her brain was emitting as it created her dreams.

The Doctor listened to her dream for a few minutes, and a sad sort of smile creased his lined face. He bent and placed a gentle kiss on Clara's smooth forehead. "I love you too," he murmured in a halting voice.

Then he got up and exited the bedroom. The TARDIS was waiting in the living room, its stark radiance sharply contrasting with the rest of the dimmed flat. Casting a final glance at Clara, the Doctor stepped inside his time machine and shut the door.

He leaned against the console, staring at nothing, his eyes unfocused and far away. And he could not bring himself to move for a very, very long time.

Meanwhile, a breeze stirred Clara's face and she cracked an eyelid open. She frowned and sat up. The Doctor had been here... where had he gone? And he had said...

An incredulous smile touched her face. Had she been dreaming, or had that really happened? She settled back against her pillow and was asleep a few minutes later, the Doctor's murmured words whispering themselves over and over again in her mind...

I'M SO SORRY FOR THE FACE THE RAVEN REFERENCE... I HAD TO. IT MADE ME CRY TOO. I just really wanted to explore the idea that Clara might have nightmares after traveling with the Doctor. But it was cruel of me to make her dream about something that actually happens to her later... poor Doctor, he didn't know he wouldn't be able to protect her forever... /goes away and cries/ Anyway, I do hope you enjoyed the fluffiness that ensued!

Now, I have no more prompts left to write, so unless someone gives me one I have decided to use these four prompts given to me by someone not on this site. The prompts are Bananas, Glass, Procrastination, and Erasers. Please let me know in the comments which of these sounds most interesting so I know which one to write first (or give me a prompt of your own, because those take first priority). Also, I would love your opinion on what kind of special story I should write as a thank-you for 50 reviews. What appeals to you most?

As always, reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated. See you next time. Allons-y!