The Man With The Box (Doctor Who Fanfiction)

Chapter 4

The hike down to the base of the bluff was long and strenuous. Sharp blades of emerald grass bit at their ankles, making thin, painless cuts, some even drawing minuscule drops of blood. "Slowpoke!" Clara taunted over her shoulder, the previous conversation forgotten.

"I'm a thousand years old," The doctor grumbled, "and she complains about me being slow."

"Heard that!" Eventually they reached the bottom of the cliff. The sun's heat felt as if it had tripled, beating down on Clara's back. Fingers of hot, white light licked at any exposed skin. "Look through the grass," Clara called. She was already many yards away. They searched relentlessly.

The scarlet blood was in strange contrast with the rich, dark earth that smeared their skin. "I-I can't." Clara collapsed. "It's too hot," she panted. The smell of wildflower honey was no longer appealing to the sweaty duet as it rode piggyback on the steamy wings of wind.

"Maybe we could wait for sunset?" The Doctor suggested. "There's water nearby; a stream or creek by the sound of it." Clara nodded, to tired to reply. "C'mon, let's see if we can find some shade over there." He pointed to a stand of trees about half a mile away.

They reached the small wood about twenty minutes later. Both were gasping and panting, trying to draw as much oxygen as they could from the hot, thin air. "I think the water is closer." The Doctor nodded his agreement. Though the air was no less hot, it was a relief to have the sun off their backs.

"I'll go see if I can find it. There's no point in us both going," the Doctor remarked.

Clara rolled her eyes. "How are you going to get the water back here?"

"Oh, I'll think of something!" He tripped over a log, already almost out of shouting range. Clara sighed and laid back. The rock on which she was perched was covered in a thick, green layer of springy moss. Clara didn't know what to do. Her mind was like a battlefield, and it seemed more and more like the enemy was winning. How eager she was! How giddy! It was almost as if the Doctor's very presence energized her. There was no denying it - she was always sharper around the Doctor. Coming to this conclusion lifted a weight Clara hadn't known she had been carrying. But still, she couldn't stay with him-could she? She wanted to, of course. That never had been the question. The question was: was it healthy? And for that, Clara had no answer.

The Doctor brought out the best in her. He made her a brighter, kinder person. The Doctor had shown her a better way of life. He had taught her to never walk away. He taught her that some sacrifices were worth making. And, above all else, the Doctor had taught her that nothing was impossible. And yet...

Clara didn't know how much more she could take. She didn't know how long she could pretend to not notice the way she felt when he looked at her, the way he teased her when she blushed. She didn't know how long she could cope with the pain that came each time she denied feelings that she knew, in her heart of hearts, in her subconscious mind, were there. Clara couldn't (or maybe for prides sake wouldn't) put a name to those feelings. Maybe she was afraid that if she acknowledged those thoughts and feelings, it would all become too real. Or, maybe she was afraid of rejection.

But whatever the case, Clara certainly couldn't go back. Her ordinary life no longer held any interest for her. Things that used to amuse her now seemed dull and lifeless.

Clara listed off the pros and cons of each situation against a backdrop of noises that seemed better accustomed for a tropical rainforest than a small, shady sanctuary. "What was that?" A familiar voice asked.

"Doctor!" Clara spun around. She hadn't realized that he was back from his little hike. "Um... Nothing, Doctor." He shrugged his shoulders. When their eyes met, Clara could tell that he had heard enough of what she had been muttering to determine what it was about, but neither said anything. It was better to pretend to not have seen than to face the embarrassment that would surely follow any other course of action.

"You're blushing," the Doctor remarked delightedly. He seemed to be enjoying the spectacle more than his fair share. "Must have been something pretty bad that you were saying," he joked carefully.

"Oh, shut up, you!" Clara elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ow!" He cried out.

"Oh, come on! I barely touched you."

"It hurt!"

Clara rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything more on the subject. "Did you get the water?" She asked instead.

"I told you I would, didn't I?" He said, still slightly irritated. From within the folds of his purple tweed coat, he produced a milk jug, full of crystal pure water. The container, which held at least a gallon, was much too large to have fit under his coat.

"Are your pockets-I don't know-bigger on the inside, or something? Because there is no way you could have hidden that otherwise."

"Yup!" The Doctor donned a childish grin. "Cool, aren't they?" He asked, showing Clara the hidden pockets concealed in the lining of his coat.

"Sure," Clara said, laughing at his antics. "They're cool."

They both sat silent for a few moments before the Doctor clapped his hands together and said, "well, not much we can do till nightfall-whenever that is." They both tried to find comfortable placed to rest while they waited the long, uncertain hours.