She was already awake when she heard the wheezing of the TARDIS in her living room, but she hadn't gotten out of bed.
She hadn't seen the point, really. She wasn't needed anywhere today, and she just didn't want to move. Her head was pounding, she was nauseous, and her nerves were going crazy.
She'd barely slept last night anyways, and that tiredness was yet another reason not to get up. Thinking of ways to tell the Doctor she was pregnant might've been the hardest thing she'd ever had to do, and none of her ideas had seemed right.
"Clara?" he called out, and she couldn't help but smile sadly at the sound of his voice. He had a way of making her feel better, even if he was at the center of her problems.
Footsteps echoed through the apartment as he approached her bedroom door, rapping on it quietly. He'd always respected her privacy, and she couldn't help but wonder if that might've stemmed from a past incident with a companion. Walking in on changing? A bath? Sex? Or maybe he was really just a gentleman. The world may never know.
"Claaaarraa? Are you awake? Humans sleep too often, you should be," he started with a call and ended mumbling.
"Yes, Doctor. Come in," she said softly, moving her blanket up over her stomach. Of course she wasn't really showing yet, but she couldn't be sure.
He opened the door swiftly, and she allowed herself to smile again at the sight of him. Red lined coat, all black otherwise. Messy gray hair tumbling down gently, content expression. It had only been a few days, but she had missed him.
"Ah. Still in bed. Someone's lazy," he teased, stepping into the room.
"Sorry. Wasn't expecting you," she replies, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard.
"You're always expecting me. Middle of class, you're ready to go. Right before a date, ready. A very punctual human. Uncommon," he said with a wave of his hand, looking down at her.
"Mm. And to what can I owe the pleasure of seeing you?" she mumbled with a yawn, ignoring his anti-human ranting.
"Boredom. I could've just traveled to Wednesday, but I figured I'd just plop in now. Surprise you. I hear being spontaneous keeps it interesting."
"When is it not interesting? Almost every time I see you I'm running for my life," she replied with a tired smile.
"Adrenaline and adventure probably get tired out after a while," he said, scooping up a discarded show off the floor and examining it. One of the things she loved about him - always busy.
"You've been their best friend for over 1,000 years. You'd be the judge," she sighed through stretches and yawns. He probably wanted her to get up and go with him, she assumed, but she was almost certain all of her loose shirts and dresses were dirty. She'd have to figure something else out.
"Suppose so," he replied, turning the high heel upside down. "How is this efficient? Such a skinny heel, you'll fall and break your ankle if you're running."
"Why you don't run in them, Doctor," she mutters, standing up slowly and walking into the bathroom. Her head continued to pound, throat constricting with nausea, but she couldn't let him know.
"Why own them if you can't run in them? Get yourself some trainers. 'Tenneis.' Sandshoes. Something practical," he yells over to her, plopping down on her bed.
Something about his action caused her heart to skip a beat. It was enough seeing him in her bedroom to send thoughts flying to her head, but seeing him on her bed drove her a bit mad. But of course the cause of her pain and sweat came from sex, and that was the last thing she wanted to think of at that moment.
"Let me shower and get dressed. I promise you that the shoes will be 'practical'," she replied playfully, closing the bathroom door. He could occupy himself for a few minutes. Otherwise she'd never be able to get this headache under control.
Digging through her cabinet, she manages to find herself some painkillers. She swallowed them with some water from the tap before turning on the shower and closed her eyes. She wasn't sure how in the hell she'd manage to go anywhere right now, but she couldn't exactly tell the Doctor that she was suffering from some shitty morning sickness.
She could hear him messing with her things while she lathered up, doing everything in her power to wash the pain away. There was nothing he couldn't see out there anyways - all hints of the baby were gone. And she'd always been a sort of open book with him (aside from now), and she trusted him to know about things going on in her life.
"Humans are so slow," he complained loudly through the door, and she smiled at the thought of him leaning against it, waiting for her.
"Five minutes, Doctor. You can wait five minutes," she scolds, rinsing off.
"But five minutes for you is 1,000 years for me."
"You're a timelord, you can handle it," she stepped out of the shower, drying herself off and wrapping a towel around her hair. The warm water had helped her headache, and she knew that once the ibuprofen kicked in that she'd feel even better. The urge to vomit still kicked at her throat, however, and she wasn't sure she could keep it down much longer.
Grabbing her clothes off of the counter, she gets herself dressed quickly and opens the door. He sat on the floor by her bookshelf, flipping through pages of Slaughterhouse Five waiting.
"See? That wasn't so bad," she mumbled, pulling socks up onto her feet. Grabbing those 'efficient' shoes he'd mentioned, she walked over to him and sat down on the floor, facing him.
"I'll be the judge of that," he grumbled, closing the book and sliding or back into its place. "So. Cocktails on the moon?"
As much as she wanted a drink (and she did), she shook her head. Tying the laces of her Converse, she bites her lip to help keep the waves of nausea back.
"Alright..gardens of Sontar? It's a lovely place when they aren't at war," he muttered, more to himself than anything.
"Mm...sounds lovely," she said quietly, putting all of her focus into holding back what rumbled in her stomach.
"You look terrible. Worse than usual," he said, reaching his arm over to her. Resting his hand on her arm, he leans down a bit to be level with her head.
"Thanks, Doctor. You really know how to make a girl feel special," she teased back, trying to make herself appear like everything was fine.
"Your body temperature is warmer than it should be. Sick?"
"I'm alright. Just a cold," she said, slowly rising to her feet. His hand fell slowly, sliding down her arm, but he attempted to hide it by standing as well.
"Are you sure? You're a fragile species, we could postpone."
"Doctor, I'm fine-"
And then was running to the bathroom, kneeling down as quickly as she could and throwing up into the toilet.
"Oh, Clara.." he sighed, following her in. He leaned down next to her, placing a hand on her back and comfortingly moved it up and down to soothe her.
She hated this. Hated the fact that she had feel so terrible, hated that she couldn't let it out, hated keeping something so important from him while he was only trying to help.
After it was over, she moved back, closing the lid and flushed it away. He kept his eyes on her, concerned, but backed away as she moved to brush her teeth for a second time that morning.
"I highly doubt that's a cold. Likely the flu," he said with a frown, leaning against the doorframe. She was thankful for the toothbrush to be a reason for her silence and she nodded silently.
"Get back into bed. I'll bring you some water - hydration is important. Fluids. Lots of fluids," he muttered, walking off toward her kitchen. She sighed, wiping the water off of her chin and dragged herself back to her bed, kicking her shoes off.
It was too late to pretend to be fine. She knew she could only ride out the "I'm sick" excuse for so long until she had to tell him.
He was back in a moment, handing her a glass of ice water and she took it thankfully. Even with the mint of the toothpaste, the taste in her mouth disgusted her and she was happy to wash it away.
"Anything else? Soup? Tea? TV remote? Cell phone?-"
"I'll be fine. Thank you," she cut him off, setting the glass on her nightstand and sinking back under her comforter.
"I can go if you'd like. Sickness can lead to irritability, you might want to be alone," he explains with a shrug. She could see in his expression that he didn't want to leave her like this, and she made a mental note of what a fantastic friend he truly was.
"That's alright. I like the company. I've missed you, Doctor," she mumbled and pulled the blanket up over half of her face. His hand moved to the top of her head, softly smoothing her hair back and she noticed the pain in her head was almost entirely gone.
"Good. The flu might wind up turning into something else. You're not a difficult species to kill off," he smiled comfortingly down at her.
It's not the flu, she was tempted to say. She didn't want him to worry about her, not over something that was natural. She knew she would be fine.
Noticing a change in her expression at the mention of her sickness, he cocked his head a bit. "Maybe I should run some scans. Make sure it's nothing worse."
Her eyes widened a bit as she imagined him scanning her only to see what she as hiding. "N-no! It's nothing, I know it."
"Aggressive...too aggressive," he spoke quietly. "What's going on here, Clara?"
"Nothing, just the flu. I uh..I already went to the doctors office a bit ago," she lied.
"You were in your pajamas a bit ago. And if you knew it was the flu, you wouldn't have told me it was just a cold before. You're hiding something."
Oh no. No, no, no, he was piecing it together. She could see it in his eyes, she could feel it in her bones.
"I..." she couldn't think of what to say. Countless thoughts and scenarios of how she'd tell him in her head, out the window. Not that any of them were anything like this.
"Clara...are you sick? I-I'm sure I can find something, we can make you well-"
"N-no...I'm not sick. I'm perfectly healthy, don't worry.." she reassured him, looking up into his bright eyes, hating the concern and worry in them.
"But you're vomiting, what could cause that that wouldn't mean you're sick-...oh. Clara."
She bit her lip, feeling tears start to form in her eyes. He knew.
"Are you...expecting?" he asks, his voice and face quickly absolved of all emotion. If he was hiding anything, he was certainly doing one hell of a job.
"Yes, I...Doctor, I'm pregnant."