Work Text:
Clara is the reason he’s fighting, but the lacuna that is her is growing inside him, until he’s just carrying around a Clara shaped void in his personal hell. He retreated into his mind when he needed her. He’d stand behind her, kiss the top of her head softly, like he wished he could, but when he came out of his own mind he found it felt even more empty, no Clara, no warmth pressed against him and no breath ticking against his neck as she buried her face there, he had been so determined to make her warm, because when she was cold if felt like she had when he had her in his arms in the Trap Street. He looked over the portrait before he ran as far as he could, eighty two minutes wasn’t that long a time, but he could make it work, he closed his eyes and relaxed, just for ten of those precious minutes he’d allow himself to retreat, and come back even more affected by the lacuna inside.
He faced Clara’s back as she wrote and wrote, he wished she’d just speak, he walked over, fingers through her hair, a soft kiss, and a whisper about how he should have protected her better, he didn’t normally hold her, but she deserved more than just his words, that was all he’d given her when she was alive by his side. He wished he could stay for longer but after the ten minutes he had to eat, then sleep, even if it was just for fifteen minutes. He looked over the room he’d ran to, large and almost except for a bowl, he ate as fast as he could and curled on the cold floor, closing his eyes tight, the floor wasn’t comfortable but he hadn’t slept since Clara died, and he didn’t know how long ago that was, didn’t know how long he was here. He slept, fifteen minutes exactly, and then ran, time to try and find something useful, to distract himself from the lacuna.
He found room twelve and collapsed, his body didn’t agree with his brain, he couldn’t do anything and he felt oh so useless, he wished she could hold him but he knew he was alone, with the emptiness and the veil, he tried to get up and he couldn’t, he wanted to lose, he’d done so much and Clara wouldn’t be there at the end of it, no matter what he did, she wouldn’t gently hold his face or kiss his forehead or fill the gap in his hearts.
When he finally gets out he can’t say he feels relieved, it feels like something’s missing and he knew why, his Clara was gone, gone and never coming back, unless he could change that.