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Everything happened so quickly. Clara was in a whirl, her body hot and tired. She was whisked onto the TARDIS, the comforting hum of the ship welcoming her as she stepped aboard. Moments later, everything went fuzzy, her body heavy and eyes falling shut. She never fell to the metal grating on the floor. Strong arms kept her upright, holding her close.
This couldn’t be the Doctor. He wouldn’t touch her like this, wouldn’t brush the hair from her eyes, wouldn’t hold her this way. It absolutely couldn’t be him. There was such a profound tenderness in that touch. No, it couldn’t possibly be him. Tenderness wasn’t a thing that he felt anymore. Or at the very least, if he felt it, he never showed it, and least of all to her. He was all jagged points, spiky these days, and made of jarring, stark lines. Beautiful, she thought, but dangerous.
Her lashes fluttered for a moment, eyes slowly opening. There he was, though. He was standing in front of her and holding her gently. She sighed at the sight, eyebrows drawing together.
“Clara.” He said her name like it was a prayer, and it never ceased to steal her breath. Maybe she was wrong. But still, he was so spiky these days. Maybe there was delicacy there beneath the surface, though.
“I’m fine,” she attempted. “I’m just fine. I’m okay.” She felt like there were a handful of marbles in her mouth. It was tough to get the words out, but she tried nonetheless.
He chuckled at that. “No, you really aren’t. You’re… You’re hurt.” Then, even softer now, he added, “You need a doctor.”
She almost laughed. As it was, a smile found her lips. “I have one, thanks.” For good measure, she patted his chest.
“Not me,” he said, momentarily amused. “I meant a real one. Seeing as we’re aboard the TARDIS, however, you’ll just have to make do with me.”
Her eyebrows pinched together. “You are a real one. The definitive article, you might say. The original one. Don’t be silly.”
She nearly squealed as he lifted her into his arms, all in one swift motion, and carried her off towards the hallway. “Let’s get you to the medical bay,” he said by way of explanation. “I need to check your vitals.”
Despite the pain, she was blown away. He didn’t do this anymore. He didn’t like touching. This version of the Doctor wasn’t the cuddly sort. He shied away from all of it.
“Doctor,” she managed, bouncing in his arms. The disbelief was apparent in her tone. “Put me down, please. I can walk on my own.”
His response was a soft, gravelly thing. “I don’t care what you say. You’re on the verge of passing out, and you’re injured. Something’s wrong, but I’m entirely sure what it is.”
After a bit of fussing, she let an arm wind around his neck and settled in as he carried her. Her cheek came to rest against his chest, eyes falling shut.
“My heart is hammering away,” she gasped. “It hurts.”
He tilted his head down to look at her properly now, and sighed. “Relax for me. It’s anxiety, lingering pain, and concern. I’m not surprised.”
She almost felt compelled to add, ‘And you. You’re carrying me, touching me.’ She held her tongue, feeling a bit silly. Wouldn’t that just ruin things?
Clara’s fingers played with the collar of his jacket, holding on for dear life.
He surprised her then, turning to murmur to her. “I’m telepathic, remember,” he murmured. “Be careful what you’re thinking right now, Clara. I am touching you. Skin on skin contact always does it. I can hear your thoughts. It’s not on purpose. You’re just… so loud in that mind of yours. I’ve heard you this entire time. I wasn’t going to say anything, but—”
She was instantly mortified. She didn’t say anything at first, only laid her cheek against his chest again and closed her eyes. “God, I’m sorry.”
As they slipped into the med bay, he made a noise. “Don’t be. It’s quite alright.”
He placed her on a bed, as delicate as could be, and brushed a hand over her shoulder before running a slew of scans. She let her eyes fall shut, listening as he began speaking.
“I wish you thought better of me,” he admitted. “I’m not such a monster.”
Her eyes opened to find him already looking at her. She didn’t quite know what to say to that. Before she could put a coherent thought together, he continued.
“I’m still the same man,” he said. “I’m here. All here. They’re inside of me, every one of the faces I’ve worn in the past. The face might be different, but the hearts aren’t.”
He turned away from her with furrowed brows, attention focused on the computer screen. He sighed and she felt the emotion in such a small gesture. A hand rubbed at her face. “I’m sorry, Doctor.”
Making a soft sound, he continued typing one-handedly at the computer. “Stop apologizing, Clara. Perhaps I’m the one who should be sorry.”
He returned to her side with a syringe, then began rolling her shirt sleeve up. “Focus on me,” he suggested. “This won’t hurt, I promise. But I know you aren’t a fan of needles, so I’d rather you watch me, instead. Don’t look, okay?”
He gave her an antidote to the toxin in her system and squeezed her hand afterward. A healing pad was placed over the needle mark and she felt a warm, tingling sensation just over the area.
“What just… What just happened to me?”
Her voice was soft and it prompted his gaze to find hers. She almost couldn’t look at him. Guilt was eating her alive, knowing that he knew how she felt about him now. She had no idea what had happened to her, though, and she needed answers.
“Right... Let me start off by saying that you’re perfectly safe now. Just a few minutes ago, though, you were actually dying from a sting from the Traxius plant. I had no idea that it was so deadly to humans. If I knew, I never would have brought you there to visit the gardens. You’re fine now. That’s a promise, really. It’ll wear off in a bit. Everything is okay. You’ll feel lousy for the night. I want you to stay here with me. I’ll keep a close eye on you.”
They watched each other for a moment, the enormity of the situation settling over her. She rubbed furiously at her face, trying not to shed any tears. He saved her life.
“Why were you so casual about it?” asked Clara, astounded.
He sighed, arms crossing over a slim chest. “If I panicked, you would have done the same. I had to remain calm. Believe me, in here—” He paused, pointing to his chest. “I was frightened.”
The room was a bright white, sterile and clean, with a few medical beds spread about. Machines and medical equipment were all around. The Doctor was leant against a tall pole in the center of the room, hands slipping into his pockets. It rose up and up, connected to ceiling joists and rafters for support, and Clara withered beneath that gaze of his.
“I’m sorry for worrying you,” she said. That wasn’t quite right, though. It wasn’t enough.
He crossed the room to her bedside, hands itching to touch her. He held back, fingers rubbed together at his sides. His expression was one of ache.
“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know.” Reaching out for her, he finally laid a hand over hers and squeezed. “Relax for me, Clara. The dizziness will pass.”
She sighed. “I feel warm. It’s horrible.”
The Doctor helped her to sit up as she shrugged out of her leather jacket. He placed it aside on a white chair, and then let her lie back again.
“I want to tell you something,” he said, eyebrows drawn together. “I need… I want you to understand how I am, the sort of man I am now.”
She was stunned. “Doctor—”
“No,” he interjected. “Listen, please. Just listen. I’m not him anymore. I know that, as much as it hurts you. I’m a different man. But I’m… I’m the same inside.” He reached for her hand as he leant over the bed, letting her fingers brush the area between his hearts. “I’m the same inside.”
“Yeah, you are,” she breathed. Their eyes met, and she willed the dizziness to fade away. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”
Her apology meant little, which she knew, but she still felt the need to say it.
He tittered at that, almost amused. “You aren’t the first, you know,” he said, “and you’re unlikely to be the last. I’ve been questioned before. I’ve had many friends, many companions, who wondered if when I changed I was no longer me. But I am. Every time, I am. I’m still me. It’s so hard to explain my people to a species that couldn’t possibly understand, only because you don’t experience anything equivalent. And I’m not talking down to you when I say that. I’m not. It’s only the truth. We’re very different. Different cultures, different species. I don’t know how to help you see it.”
She had never heard him speak so honestly about his people before. She stared, wide-eyed, and listened.
“Everything he felt for you is still in here,” he elaborated. “I’m still him, and he’s me.”
Maybe the changes in his personality made sense. It dawned on her then, with the time he spent on Trenzalore. She would have changed as well, and in many ways, same as he did. He spent so many years fighting to save lives, only to keep losing and losing. He lost everyone. If she had been with him, well… He would have lost her as well. It wasn’t fair. But then again, life never was.
He didn’t say anything else. He couldn’t bring himself to, but his fingers remained on her warm skin, still pressing her hand to the space between his hearts, and his expression contorted from the feelings it stirred within him. He heard those errant thoughts from her.
“I really am sorry,” she expressed, eyebrows drawn together.
He released her fingers, coming to sit at the edge of her bed. Settling there, he glanced down at her. “I’ll say it again, then. You don’t need to be. You’re human, and I’m not. We’re different. But I just… want some understanding between us. It’s not something I ever wanted to discuss. I thought you knew. I hoped. Apparently, I was wrong.”
She itched to reach out for him, but she thought it might be a bit much. She didn’t want to ruin this, not when he was actually opening up to her for the first time since his regeneration.
Sitting up now, she ran a hand down her face and over her neck, wishing she felt better. The antidote was working its way through her system, but she still felt atrocious. She probably would for the rest of the day, like he said.
“I didn’t know,” she said. “I certainly hoped as well, but I didn’t know. One never assumes when it comes to you, Doctor. That’s Mistake Number One, and I’d never make it.”
“He loved you.”
It was a simple statement, but it stole her breath away as the words poured from his lips. His eyes couldn’t quite meet hers, and she breathed deeply, suddenly eeling faint.
“I…” She couldn’t even complete the thought, couldn’t bring herself to say any more.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he said with a nervous titter. “Surely, you knew that much, Clara. But I’m still him.”
She sucked in a quick breath, her head spinning. “Do you—?”
“I always have,” he explained, “and I always will. That should calm your nerves.”
She watched in a combination of shock and horror as he reached out for her, a long-fingered hand brushing along her cheek. He drew her closer, turned towards her now as he bent for a tender kiss. Her eyes fell shut and she melted into him. He was soft where she thought he was hard, warm where she assumed he was cold and unfeeling, and delicate where she believed he was incapable. Ignorance would be her downfall someday. Ignorance and assumption.
When he drew away, his thumb drew a line across her jawbone, eyes following the movement. She struggled to pull in a ragged breath. Her gaze fell to his lips, astounded with his actions. With them, really. It took two, after all.
“That hasn’t changed,” he mused aloud, a wee smile touching his features. It softened him, the skin around his eyes wrinkling in a way that she found incredibly charming.
“Wait. We haven’t actually kissed before,” she said, bewildered. “Unless there’s something I’m missing, of course. But that was… That was nice.”
He laughed, beside himself. “We have. Not this version of you, true enough. One of your echoes. She was a marvel, same as you. They’re all you, Clara. Do you see the correlation here?”
She hummed at the revelation. “Lucky girl,” she teased, a hand finally settling over the lapel of his jacket. She patted his chest, adding, “I can consider myself lucky now as well. And I do. I see it. They’re all me, my echoes, same as your other faces are all you.”
Blue eyes settled on her face, expression warmer than she could ever recall seeing.
“Could you still… Would you still want this?” asked the Doctor, motioning to himself. “With all my faults, with everything I’ve gone through since we met, and with this face?”
As heavy as the question was, as much as it meant to her, Clara wasn’t sure how to respond at first. She was lost for a moment, staring up at him with a winded expression. What he was asking her for was almost too much to bear. He wanted her complete and total honesty. So, in the end, she gave the only answer she ever would have.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I do. You’re him, he’s you, you’re every one of the faces you’ve worn. It doesn’t matter to me what you look like. It really doesn’t. Whether you’re a man or a woman. None of it matters. I’ll always feel this way. Sorry I stumbled a bit. That’s on me. I think I can be excused for that. But I wouldn’t have let you kiss me if the answer wasn’t a resounding yes.”
Putting her ego aside, she reached for his hand. He let her, which was enough to marvel at, and he waited as she put her thoughts together. When she continued to speak, he listened carefully.
“I… I wasn’t at my best when you changed. You probably needed me more than ever, and I wasn’t kind to you. I wasn’t a very good friend. For that, I’m sorry. I’d like to change that now, if I can. I want to fix things. Let me make up for it.”
His smile might have started at his lips but she was breathless by the time it reached his eyes. God but he was beautiful. She faltered for a moment, unable to speak. She really had meant to say more, but whatever was on her tongue died as he leant down for another, slower kiss. Her eyelids fluttered closed, fingers clutching the lapel of his coat. His mouth was warm and welcoming, and it felt a bit like coming home.
His lips were lethal, she mused, but they were so wonderful.
He peppered her jaw and chin with kisses afterward, hands cupping her face. As he kissed the space between her eyebrows, she allowed herself a soft chuckle.
“I thought you hated touching, Doctor?”
He hummed thoughtfully. “Try spending centuries alone, keeping everyone at arm’s length. I lost, and lost, and lost. This feels like a win right now, though. I’ve rarely felt such joy.”
The low burr of his voice left Clara shivering. Her forehead came to rest on his shoulder and she let out a shaky breath. “I’m so, so sorry about Trenzalore. I wanted to be there with you. I wanted to help you. I know now that it would have been pointless, but the sentiment remains.”
His nose dipped into her auburn hair. “Thank you.”
It was all that he said, but it was everything. He meant the words, she knew, and they settled deeply within her. They nestled in, making a home for themselves. She only drew him closer, unable to help herself.
“Can we sit in the Library for a while? I don’t feel so well, but I promise I’m not going to pass out. This room is too sterile. It’s making me feel worse. I’m queasy from all the bright lights.”
Rising to his feet, he lifted her into his arms. This time, there came no protest from Clara’s lips. She didn’t mind. Drawing her to his chest, he carried her off in search of the Library. He nudged the medical bay’s door open with his backside, heading out into the long dark hallway.
“Some reading, relaxing, and a bit of tea?” asked the Doctor. “That sounds nice.”
She nodded. “Yes, please. Maybe with a fan on me. I’m so warm.”
Adjusting his hand beneath Clara’s knees, he cast a quick glance down at her. “Of course. That’s a good idea. Whatever the lady wants.”
They were headed towards another adventure, but it was something different this time. Life had just changed drastically for the pair. Wasn’t that beautiful in its own way?