Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. I don't own Clara. I don't own the Doctor. I wish I did, though...

It was all too much. She couldn't handle it. Her heart was thundering against her ribcage. Her palms were sweating. Tears brimmed in her eyes. Her breathing was ragged and caught in her throat. Soon, it was hyperventilation.

She wrapped her arms around herself, brought her knees to get chest, and tucked her head down between them. She rocked ever so slightly, as the images in her mind assaulted her again and again.

She pressed herself farther into the racks of clothing. The cool fabric against her bare arms was soothing, so she tried to focus on that.

It didn't help.

She saw the burning, the people dying, screaming, pleading… The children running in terror, searching, searching for their mothers… The fathers throwing themselves over their families, in a hopeless attempt to protect them, while their world burned.

She sobbed as the armies rolling through the cities, turning her world into a bonfire. She saw the houses collapse in on themselves… the roofs falling onto the families sheltering beneath, suffocating them and squeezing the life out.

She cried out, into her knee, as the children fell.

She watched, through her echo's eyes, as Gallifrey burned.

-l-l-l-l-l-

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and pulled her shaking body into a warm embrace, his protruding chin resting on her small head.

He spoke no words, but pulled her through it, nonetheless.

In his arms, she began to relax. She was brought back to reality and looked up into his green, worried eyes. He had seen so many awful things, she knew, but he had seen so much good, too. And the good shone in his eyes so clearly, two beacons of hope radiating out through the universe.

They were magnetic and pulled Clara's worries away, replacing them with hope that maybe tomorrow would be better… that somehow, everything would be okay.

She didn't know how she knew, but she knew that that was what he did. He brought hope.