With Fragile Promises (Doctor Who Fanfiction)

Prologue and Chapter One: How It Started

From the moment she collapsed he knew something was wrong.

  He didn’t mean to get distracted and caught up in the events afterwards. He didn’t have much say in the matter. If he had his way, Clara would always be his number one priority, through and through. Looking back, he wishes against reason that he had’ve fixed her then and there, and let the universe solve its own problems.

  But it didn’t work out like that. He had lied to himself. He had lied to Clara. He said everything was going to be fine. He’d said she was going to be fine.

  Looking at her now, he’d obviously never been so wrong.

  This was all wrong. All of it. He couldn’t lose her like this – no, he couldn’t lose her. Not ever. This couldn’t be real.

  What he couldn’t comprehend (and he didn’t think he ever would be able to admit it) is that he’d been slowly losing her all along. Ever since she stepped into his timeline and she collapsed into his arms for the first time.

  Now she was barely there at all. It was like looking at the blazing sun and feeling the familiar heat warm your skin but slowly, before you even know what’s happening, the fog starts to steam up the horizon until your skin is left cold and you’re staring at a blank canvas with only memories to convince you that the warmth of its rays had been real.

  Yes, it was like that. But so much worse.

  And he couldn’t even begin to think what it felt like for Clara.

  Chapter One: How It Started

  Every time his fears were confirmed, his figurative heart broke a little more, gradually creating a spider web of cracks ready to fall into pieces.

  He monitored Clara, secretly, after the events of Trenzalore. Just to make sure she was as healthy and fine as she promised him she was – it’s not that he didn’t trust her. He didn’t want to lose her.

  The first few nights on the TARDIS weren’t good at all.

  Clara was more shaky and jumpy than usual, but otherwise, she appeared to be completely herself. Perfect Clara. He led her to her bed that night and made sure she was comfortable. Her hand lingered on his a fraction of a second longer than it usually would as he went to turn away. Noticing the small gesture, he stopped in his tracks.

  “I can stay,” he offered, hoping for selfish reasons that she would say yes.

  Clara rubbed her eyes tiredly. “I’m fine, Doctor. Really. Stop worrying. I’m fine.”

  He nodded, not completely convinced but understanding she was exhausted of his fussing. “I’ll be down the corridor if you need me.”

  He left.

  But he didn’t return to the console room like he said he would. No, definitely not. He sat on the metal ground outside her door, his head leaning against the metallic wall as he stared up at the ceiling. The TARDIS was listening in, he was sure of it. Perhaps it was a sign of how serious their recent situation had been that the TARDIS wasn’t teasing them like she usually did, by hiding Clara’s bedroom or doing something similar. She was quiet and patient, waiting if the Doctor needed her urgently – a bit like what the Doctor was doing with Clara.

  A few hours later he started to hear a shuffling and a muffled sigh from inside Clara’s room. The Doctor sat upright and pressed his ear against her door. Was she okay? Was he being too over protective?

  It was the hushed and shaky breath that made him open the door.

  There was Clara, so small and lost in her bedcovers, crying silently into her hands, while giving her pillow a gripping, desperate hug. The Doctor was by her side in a matter of moments, gently pressing her head against his chest and stroking her hair in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. He was whispering kind words of support as he struggled to hold her together, afraid that if he were to let go, she might drown in her own tears. Her tears were aplenty for such a small thing.