The Man With The Box (Doctor Who Fanfiction)

Chapter 6

WARNING: a teeny, tiny bit of smut. Also, blood.

The night passed as slow as time can pass, if not slower. After many long, tedious hours, they still had not found the key to the TARDIS. As the suns broke over the horizon, Clara, exhausted from their fruitless harvest, walked over to where the Doctor now sat. She plopped down bedside him and rested her head on his chest. She could hear the dual rhythm of his hearts beating. Now lacking anything else to focus on, Clara's mind found itself deeply evaluating the situation. And, for the first time since they had arrived on the unfamiliar planet, Clara felt panic creeping up the edges of her rational thoughts.

As if sensing her distress, the Doctor put his arm around the tense Clara and drew her in closer to his body. He rubbed her shoulder in slow, soothing circles, and murmured soft assurances in her ear. It wasn't like her to go into such a frazzled state, but the stress of the past few weeks had taken its toll on Clara, reducing her to her present state of nervous wreck. Clara shivered, suddenly cold. The doctor, maneuvering carefully so as not to jostle her, removed his jacket and draped it over her trembling form. He stroked her head in a consoling way. "Don't worry. I will get us out of here. I promise." He smiled down at her and Clara felt her heart speed up.

"I'm sorry." The words surprised Clara; she certainly hadn't planned on saying them. The Doctor looked at her in confusion.

"What for?"

"For leaving you. I shouldn't have done it. I still don't know how I did it." She laughed grimly. "I wish I had the courage to tell you why I did."

"Then I'm sorry too," the Doctor said. "I shouldn't have pushed you. It doesn't matter why you left. All that matters is that you're here with me now." He hugged her with a fierce protectiveness. Clara sighed in contentment. His hug was as warm and gentle as all the others he'd given her, yet this time, it felt different. "Clara, my Clara." The words were a soft sigh that tickled her ear and sent a jolt through her body. Clara felt something soft press against her hair - his lips? She wanted to turn her head and see, but was afraid of ruining the moment. "I don't know what I would do without you. My impossible girl."

Clara loved the raw possessiveness with which he held her. Defenseless, a daydream broke the surface of her consciousness. She and the Doctor were locked in a passionate embrace against the TARDIS console. Their tongues danced a fiery dance with each other, and- "Clara." The words brought Clara back to earth. "Are you all right? You look a bit flushed."

Clara's face reddened further. "Yeah, I'm fine." The Doctor looked at her quizzically.

"Really? Because you were-"

"I'm fine!" She snapped more harshly than she had intended.

"Sorry I asked," the Doctor muttered. He sat up, leaving her shockingly cold in the absence of his strong arms. She didn't want to fight anymore. She didn't want to deny what she was feeling, either. Clara finally accepted the truth: she was completely and utterly consumed with the Doctor. She couldn't help but be drawn to his smart and quirky personality. She had been afraid of her feelings, but now a strong-willed Clara Oswald welcomed and acknowledged them. It took a great deal of courage to get over the first hill, but from now on, the ride would be easy. Clara was sure of it.

"Look, I'm sorry," Clara began after a long, uncomfortable silence. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"I'm not angered with you, if that's what you think." He was obviously lying, but Clara said nothing. There was no point getting into another brawl.

She moved closer so that they were sitting side-by-side. Clara rested her head on the Doctor's shoulder, they watched the flaming flowers rise over the horizon, blooming, setting fire to the sky and the grass and trees. A cold, metallic glint just to her left, about a hundred meters off caught Clara's eye. She stood up to investigate. "Stay here." Clara cautiously approached the shining light. When she saw what lay there, half-buried in the razor sharp emerald green blades of grass, she let out a jubilant whoop of ecstatic exultation. She bent down to pick it up, ignoring the sharp grass that stabbed and sliced viciously at her exposed flesh. She lifted it up with another crowing whoop. She laughed exuberantly, practically jumping for joy.

"What is it," The doctor asked inquisitively, "what have you found?" She dashed over to him eagerly, holding her prize out in front of her like a shiny first place trophy. The thing that caused her such unrestrained joy was, of course, the diminutive silver key that could unlock all of space and time. She grinned triumphantly. The Doctor adored the way her nose crinkled so delicately when she smiled like that, the way her dimples would show on her cheeks. His emotions for his feisty companion were complex. With her, it wasn't just lust, it was more. He cared for her more than she would ever know. She was in his thoughts every second of every day. Was it an obsession? The Doctor wasn't sure. Of course, this didn't mean that lust was entirely absent from the picture. In fact, it was all too present.

"The key!" He jumped to his feet and wrapped her in an all-consuming bear hug. Awkwardly, he pulled her away to place a soft and electrifying kiss on her forehead. His lips lingered there just a little too long for simple, friendly relations before he pulled away. "Clara Oswald, you are completely brilliant." She blushed at his words of praise. "Let's get you back home," the Doctor said. These words had a dampening effect on their joyful moods, but still they bounded up to the top of the bluffs with renewed energy. The Doctor hurriedly unlocked the TARDIS door, yanking her inside. She tripped, sending them pitching over each other and into the TARDIS console room. Clara's head hit the metal floor with a resounding crack. Scarlet red blood collected in a foreboding around her head. She cried out only once in pain, before abruptly falling silent. Her eyes fluttered closed. And a faint sigh of breath left her body. Her chest did not rise again. "Clara!? Clara love, are you all right!?" His voice rose in senseless panic. "Clara, c'mon, say something! Anything. Clara, please!" He cried out in anguish. His head fell and he sobbed into his fallen companion's shoulder. His whole body shook with his tormented wails of travail. He clung helplessly to her limp form. He had done this. He was who was to blame. He felt purposeless, an empty shell of a man. There was a gaping hole where his heart had been. The flesh there where it had been ripped from his body was ragged and throbbing. "Clara," he choked out. The name was agonizing, it burned and charred his mouth in a fiery redress. "Clara."

Hello! I hope that that particular chapter left you feeling hollow and soulless, like Steven Moffat. This isn't the last chapter, though. Don't stop reading here, I beg of you! Until next time...
~ badwolf2006