Chapter Text
She cried.
She cried so hard, and for long. She couldn’t stop crying.
She cried even harder than she did for Danny.
She cried as much as she did for her Mum.
When that day came, she was not prepared in the slightest for the news she was about to receive. When those few words were spoken ‘She passed on’, she knew that she was done. Done with trying to stay positive, done with trying to remain calm, done with trying to keep it hidden.
Clara was done.
3 weeks earlier
Clara had been anxiously biting her nails and staring at the console, trying to grasp reality. Trying to hang onto what was left of her dwindling control and she was doing it pitifully.
“Ah, what has got the great Clara Oswald in a fix now? Could it be the pile of ungraded quizzes on the desk, or perhaps the disordered chaos that her flat has become a victim too-”
Clara blinked but didn’t move.
“- Oh wait, no… I bet it’s the strangely compelling, masculine figure that stands before her?”
Clara squinted and felt the corner of her mouth twitch. She closed her eyes and breathed out a huff of air through her nose while trying - and failing- to suppress a smile as it tried to escape through her lips.
She moved her head a bit, so she could fit the silhouette of the man who had disrupted her thought process in the corner of her vision.
“Well that got you out of your stupor. Now,” The Doctor said as he moved closer to Clara, “Why are you acting differently.”
Clara moved so her back was resting on the edge of the console, fully allowing the Doctor to fill her line of vision with his confused expression and stiff posture.
“Who says I am acting differently, Doctor?” she questioned him and pinned him with a look of one raised eyebrow, paired with a crafty smirk. She was trying to hide the hurt and sadness, covering it up with cheekiness.
The Doctor scoffed.
“You humans and your silly blindness to your emotions. You think that you hide it so well, that you have a calm face and subtle exterior tells. Some may fall for it, but as for someone who changes faces, learning to see past the exterior becomes second nature.”
Clara visibly flinched at his comment. Though said with not very elegant words, his point makes Clara feel a sliver of faith.
When people put on masks to hide what they don’t what others to see, there is always that little bit hope that wants someone to notice. Wants someone to see the turmoil or sadness that the façade conceals, they want support and comfort for the pain that they are feeling. That is what Clara equated her current feelings too.
Clara saw the Doctor start to turn around, most likely from the prolonged silence that Clara’s internal debate caused. She took a step forward, pushing herself off the console.
“My Gran hasn’t been doing well lately, Doctor.” She sighed out and watched as the man in front of her rotated his body back around in her direction. “I got a call from my Dad about 2 weeks ago saying that she had gone to Blackpool Victoria Hospital. I hadn’t heard him that shaken in a long time, not since- when Mum had…“ Clara stopped with a small gasp at the realization of her words; silence filled their conversation then.
“Clara.”
The Doctor looked at the small brunette that had her head tilted towards the ground. He watched as a glimmer of something fell to the floor, only realizing after he heard a sniffle that it was a tear. The Doctor would never admit to what had happened next. If one would argue his dispute would be that it was because of the woman that stood before him.
Clara found herself within the hold of a black holey jumper, with arms soon wrapping around her back. The sudden embrace caused Clara to gasp and grasp the cloth that was now pressing into her face. She felt more tears fall from her eyes, betraying what little control she was trying to fool herself in believing that she had. She moved her arms around the Doctors body, burying her face into his chest, trying to absorb his warmth and soaking in the feelings of comfort and safety.
“Clara, tell me what’s wrong.” The Doctor said into her hair. His timber voice rumbled throughout his chest and flooded through Clara. She clasped his sides tighter, not wanting to tell him and knowing that when she did, he would release her of this warm embrace. Clara felt the Doctor begin to stiffen up and unwrap his arms, so she hurried out an explanation.
“It’s my Gran and she hasn’t been doing well. My Dad and I are not sure what is going to happen but the doctors don’t think that there will be a positive outcome."
Clara ended her sentence with a choked sob and more tears escaping against her will. She tried to hide her face in his jumper, but the Doctor pushed her away at arms length. He used one hand to grasp her chin and lift it so her eyes would meet his.
“Why didn’t you say something before, Clara?”
Disbelief and frustration flashed in her eyes. “Why didn’t I-” Clara scoffed and tried to twist out of the Doctors grasp. She looked him dead in the eyes. “You want to know why I didn’t tell you, Doctor? Hmmm? Cause maybe I didn’t want to bring it up, so it couldn’t be on the table for you to mock or nag about. Perhaps I wanted to forget about it and try to take my mind from it. Maybe I just want a friend who would help me through this and not keep me at arms length.” Clara looked at the hands clutching her forearms and let her anger seep away to sadness. “Maybe I didn’t want you to think that there was something wrong with me and leave.” She whispered. The Doctors expression was unreadable.
Clara sighed. “I’m sorry … I- I didn’t mean to yell- I am just so…” but she was cut off by the Doctor pulling her close again. “Doctor you don’t need to-”
“I am not sure you get a vote, Clara ” The Doctor replied, intentionally using her own words against her. He felt her body sag into him, her wariness winning over her brain.
The Doctor kept his hold around the short woman while he tried to contemplate all that had gone on. Clara’s Gran was not doing well and Clara was trying to cope. Apparently she thought that he wouldn’t care what she was going through. The Doctor felt offended, but his brain soon corrected him, reminding him of how he had treated Clara. He had pushed her away after he regenerated, after he saw how she couldn’t get over the changing of his face. He was hurt and sad, he was left … wishing, hoping- but … then Christmas happened. They both realized what they had and they ran. She opened up to him and opened up to her, even though the touching still took a little getting used to, he was more than happy to do it with Clara.
The Doctor felt Clara shift in his arms as he returned back to reality. He didn’t know how long they had been standing there but from the deep breaths that reverberated from Clara, the Doctor guessed long enough for her to fall asleep.
He smiled to himself because he was holding a sleeping Clara, even though he would never do it in front of her. He leaned down and put his right arm under her legs and scooped her up. Clara’s head lulled to the side and rested against his chest. The Doctor opened the TARDIS doors and walked to Clara’s bedroom, knowing how tired she was and glad that she was finally sleeping.
He laid her down under her covers and watched her sleep for a few moments before he realized what he was doing. He brought the covers to her chin and he left the room quietly. As he walked towards the main room in her flat, he started to notice how messy it was. Everything seemed to be in disarray. Clothes and shoes scattered with papers and books on the floor, bills and children’s exams strewed out on the table. The Doctor, for reasons he did not know, started to clean the flat. He grouped up the papers and put away the books, started a load of laundry and finished grading the left over exams. Hopefully, Clara wouldn’t be too mad about that, he couldn’t see why though- these children didn’t seem to know proper English. After he was done the cleaning, the Doctor went to the TARDIS and started to work on her.