The True Extent of Fear

Not Alone

She woke the next morning beside him.

He was still sleeping, and she watched as his chest faintly rose and fell. She could feel his warm breathe lingering on her cheeks.

She suddenly stiffened and sat up slightly, as she realised that she couldn't remember how he got there...

He stirred, and smiled at her.

"Morning. You okay?"

"Was I really drunk last night...?" She said anxiously. "Cause I don't remember us... Did we..." She hesitated.

He suddenly became very shy, scared that he may have offended her by sleeping beside her without her knowledge or consent.

"No! No... Not at all! I just... Sorry... I..." He stuttered, rapidly climbing off the bed and practically falling to the floor.

"You had a nightmare." he explained, rubbing his palms together, that were now sweaty with embarrassment.

"I remember..." Clara nodded slowly. "I was running. I... I can't remember what from. Or what to. All I can remember is that I was running. And I was alone."

The Doctor sat back down on the edge of the bed warily, and placed a hand against Clara's cheek.

"It's okay. You're not alone. I'm always here for you, and I will never let anything happen to you. Clara... My Clara..."

He stared longingly into her deep chestnut eyes. Oh how he wished she knew. He knew that he could never admit his feelings for her... What if she didn't feel the same? What if she left him?

He had finally allowed himself to love again since Rose. He was not going to loose Clara too. Never.

The next thing he knew, her arms were wrapped tightly around his waist, and her head was buried in his shirt.

He lifted a hand to her hair, and stroked it softly.

He knew what it was like to be alone, and he was not going to let that happen to Clara.

"You'll never be alone."