Chapter One

The Doctor was walking slowly around his control room, occasionally he pressed a button or pulled a lever. Occasionally he added to the equation on his blackboard, though despite his calm appearance his upset was noticeable in the way he broke the chalk every time he used it.

He'd done it again, put his foot in his mouth, started an argument with Clara again and it had ended with the yelling at each other to leave the other alone. He wasn't sure how long it had been for her, he'd randomly flicked buttons and dials until he calmed down enough to allow the TARDIS to cruise, he'd have to calm a bit more before he finally landed though, this seemed to become a pattern. They'd go on an adventure, he'd do something, they'd argue, they would leave each other angry and upset, then the Doctor would hop forward in her time stream a fraction when it had only been a few hours for him and they would both give an awkward apology for their hurtful words.

Why had it become so difficult? The Doctor broke another chalk stick at this thought. His other faces, the last few anyway, had found it so easy. They knew the right things to say, they were good with people, approachable even. Was that why he'd ended up with the old grey face that was always scowling this time? He wasn't approachable or good with people this time? Was he supposed to be alone and push away people who cared? Clara had loved his last face- that he was sure of – and his last face while still somewhat pining for River and the Ponds had been infatuated with the tiny girl with a funny nose and wide eyes. He'd told her 'I'm not your boyfriend' because he just knew he wasn't that fun man anymore, he couldn't be what she expected. This new regeneration came with a pair of hardened hearts that wouldn't allow him the same pain or closeness that his previous regeneration's had experienced. Loosing Rose, taking away Donna's memories, knowing how River would die and when all those times he met her, losing the Ponds to the weeping angels. He snapped another piece of chalk. Regeneration was a gamble, he knew that.

It didn't stop him being annoyed with himself however that he just couldn't seem to say anything right. With other people it didn't bother him so much – usually Clara was there to translate his angry words into what he actually meant – and he didn't care if he got them to like him or not. However when speaking with Clara it was like she suddenly didn't understand what he meant, and his mouth didn't seem able to compute all the things he felt, wanted to say and turned them into something else. Usually into something that started an argument.

The phone began to ring suddenly, startling him. Yes shock and surprise, he'd blame that on the reason his seventh piece of chalk had just snapped in his hand and that it had nothing to do with his emotional thoughts. Nothing to do with the sudden hope since only one girl had the phone number to the phone-that-was-not-a-phone since he re-routed the number. He swung the TARDIS door open, not pausing to see the beauty of open space, and answered with a gruff "Hello."

"…Doctor?" Clara of course answered, but this was a voice he'd not heard her use before. Soft, hesitant… a trace of left over fear.

"Clara?" he frowned at the phone "What's wrong?"

"Doctor. I need you to come pick me up."

"Where?" he asked, his grip on the TARDIS door had gotten tight enough to turn his knuckles white and cause a little pain.

Clara took a deep breath on the other end of the line. "Saint Marys Hospital in London. Saturday, 2:05AM."

Another on Clara's end probably thought it was odd for her to be so specific, however the Doctor got a little bit more wound up – she was never so specific about time. Unless she had a date of course, but then that was time for him to return her by rather than a time to collect her. "I'll be right there." He said and hung up, slamming the phone on the receiver. Something must have been very wrong because for once when he did that the TARDIS did not make any sound of complaint for his harshness – and he could have sworn she moved a hell of a lot faster through the time vortex than normal.

He landed outside the hospital, when he entered through the emergency room doors he saw Clara almost immediately. She was sitting on a bed looking like he'd never seen her before – her skin was deathly pale, her hair a complete mess and coated in blood coming from a gash on her head that had stitches. She shook visibly, her expression was petrified and she gripped the edges of the bed with a white knuckle grip. She looked… defeated, broken and scared. It was a look he never wished to see on her again and one that sent ice into his two hearts.

A police woman stopped him as he approached – Clara hadn't seen him but she looked up when he spoke. "Sir I'm sorry but I can't let you pass-" the police woman gave him a cold look and tried to physically stop him.

"She's my friend, let me pass!" the Doctor growled watching as Clara's eyes finally move and search for him in the emergency ward.

"Sir I-"

"Doctor!" Clara jumped from the bed, her legs didn't look steady under her but she managed to wobble into him and he caught her before she fell, arms under hers propping her up. "Thank you…" she mumbled into his jumper.

"For what?" the Doctor frowned down at her, conscious that the police woman was still hanging around and glaring at him suspiciously.

"Coming to get me."

The Doctor's frown increased, had she really thought he wouldn't come? He didn't have time to ask, nor the inclination while she was looking so fragile, because the nurse came over and had Clara sign her discharge sheets. The police woman stayed for a fraction longer telling Clara that they would be in contact about the incident and explained that if they take some man too caught, she might have to testify if she was okay with that. Through the entire affair Clara held tight to the Doctor and for once he was not going to complain about the hug. It wasn't even a hug really, more like she frantically held onto him like he was her security blanket. For once he didn't mind being considered a security blanket.

He knew he'd have to ask her what happened, but he waited at least until they left the hospital and entered the TARDIS. Clara had expected the Doctor to take her to her room or something instead he lead her down the left had corridor into a medical infirmary that she'd only ever been in two or three times before. He led her to sit down on the bed, then he began to fuss over the gash on her head. "They did a decent enough job stitching you up." He said after a minute or two. "Please tell me you just slipped and fell in the shower?"

Clara shook her head slowly, her head was pounding probably from the pain.

The Doctor took a seat beside her, his entire frame was rigid but not from contact this time. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" he asked, his voice was tight with barely controlled anger. "You don't have to."

Clara sighed, leaning closer to him as if to make sure he was still there. "It shouldn't have happened" she said darkly. "All those times I worried while travelling with you and the time I actually get hurt it's around the corner from my own flat."

The Doctor looked down at the usually happy and optimistic girl, his arm was gingerly coming around her shoulders – she leaned into him and he held her cautiously at first, but soon his hold became firmer, more possessive. He couldn't think of anything to reply to what she said with however, she he just squeezed her should.

"I only went out because I was upset we argued…" Clara confessed with a sigh as she leaned her head on the Doctors chest, the sound of his double heart beat was soothing her. "The girls from work, Ann and Tina, dragged me out to cheer me up – they thought I'd had an argument with Danny or something. Said a night out would be a good thing."

She heaved a shaky sigh, but she refused the cry again. "We- we met up with some guy Tina knew from her brother and when there was no more room in the Taxi one of them offered to walk me home, it was only around the corner I thought why not? Safer than walking alone right?" she snorted, her voice dripping with cynicism.

The Doctor waited patiently, his thumb started rubbing a spot on her arm.

"But… he didn't just want to walk me home…" Clara's voice caught at the lump in her throat and she felt like her throat was far too dry and sore to cry anymore so she stopped talking before she started crying.

The Doctor had been squeezing her arm pretty tightly, he released his grip as soon as he realised and rubbed the spot to soothe her a bit. "You don't have to say anything else Clara." He said his voice the softest it had been since his regeneration. "Why don't you go have a bath? I imagine you'll have quite a headache from that gash, the hot water should soothe it. Unless there's some other injury you want to tell me about – your holding your arm funny." He tried to distract her from the memory by focusing on where he could clearly see her pain.

Clara looked down at the arm he was speaking of, it was the arm he was stroking with his hand though she could barely feel the sensation. The nurse had given her a strong painkiller for the dislocated shoulder – they had been keen to put her arm in a sling properly too but Clara refused to wait the half an hour longer it would take. "I- I dislocated my shoulder." She said to the Doctor a little bewildered she had forgotten.

"And they didn't put your arm in a sling?" the Doctor slid down from the bed to stand in front of her, his hand had moved up to the joint and he was gently but firmly pressing it in several places to make sure the bone was back in the socket.

"I just wanted to get out of there…" Clara mumbled.

The Doctor felt a rush of affection for the tiny girl in front of him, his usually fiery Clara was resulted to this fragile girl? Sympathy and sadness from the girl was there of course, but it was hidden soundly by the rage pounding though his veins that someone dared try break her spirit. Clara gave a short squeak of surprise when the Doctor enveloped her in what was possibly the shortest and most awkward hug in her life, but she understood that this was the Doctor now trying to convey his feelings. Her old Doctor would have smothered her in hugs, holding her tightly and kissing her forehead and mumbled things into her ears. In a way she was thankful that this Doctor was so emotionally distant at the moment because if he hadn't been she'd have probably broke down in tears again.

When he pulled away one of his hands went to her face, holding her jaw and thumb stroking over her cheek. He wasn't looking at her, but Clara glanced up and saw his blue eyes where shining with rage. But when he spoke, he sounded calm. "Go take a bath Clara, when you're done I'll put your arm in a sling and give you more painkillers."

The Doctor wanted to walk her to the bathroom. He wanted to sit outside the door and wait, make sure she was alright. Hell if he hadn't been so shy he would have sat in the bathroom with her while she bathed just to make sure she didn't cry anymore which he could see she was so close to doing. Instead he routed out a sling from the cabinet in the infirmary and went back to the control room to wait.

The TARDIS was awfully quite. Usually the ship was making some sort of noise, but it was like she could understand the tension and kept quiet. He hesitated at the controls. It was tempting to go back, prevent this from ever happening. But dissolving his own time stream – and Clara's – was not a healthy thing to do. The paradox if could create would only be minor of course, maybe not even enough to attract the attention of a reaper, but he wouldn't risk messing up her timeline anymore.

He paced and growled while he waited for her to return from the bath. He was furious with so many things. He was furious she agreed to go out in the first place, just because they had a fight. He was furious that her friends had made her go out. He was furious her friends hadn't taken better care of her. He was furious that some stupid human male had thought it perfectly alright to try take something from his Clara. The Doctor was so busy listing off the things he was furious with he didn't notice Clara come back into the room and sit in his leather chair, shivering in the white pyjama's she wore on the ship.

He softened a little as he looked at her little form in his large chair. She looked a little meek while he approached and knelt in front of her holding the sling for her arm. She said nothing while he positioned her arm – though she did hiss in pain at moments – he adjusted the Velcro straps until her arm was pinned across her chest at the right angle to heal from. She'd probably need help getting the damn thing off and on when getting dressed.

"Doctor are you alright?" her little voice asked when he came back from retrieving some strong pain killers that where safe for humans.

He frowned at her "Of course I'm alright, you're the one we should be worried about."

"You just look a little…" she hesitated.

"Yes?"

"Angry." She finished not looking at him as she accepted the little tablet from him and the glass of water.

"Not at you." He replied not keen to lie to her.

She nodded understandingly as she took the painkillers in a single gulp. "I'm taking you home." He said "Same day, you haven't missed anything. I assume someone at your work will be notified about what happened – so it would be a bit odd for you to turn up fully healed. I'm sorry I wish I could take you away somewhere until you're healed… you're to go home and rest though."

"Its fine, I understand…" she swallowed a bit more water "Not really sure I'll be able to rest though."

The Doctor approached her swiftly, not giving her chance to move away her tapped her on her head once and she passed out, he made sure that in the brief mental contact he gave her a dream – a happy one – sure that if he didn't, she would surely have nightmares about this.

When he was sure she was asleep the Doctor headed over to the controls to take them to her home. He could feel the beast under his skin raging still, wanting to take some kind of action, but he kept a leash on it. He would have to channel that anger into something else he knew or it would consume him just like anything else. It was easy to decide what to channel that anger into of course, there was little more important to him at the moment then the welfare of the girl who had saved him a thousand times.