A/N: I got a prompt on tumblr that was about Clara having a pregnancy scare. The prompt requested funny, but all I could do was this monsterous sad thing that I am warning everyone about now (I have only myself to blame, but at least I can give fair warning). There is a TON of material not even touched on but I needed to finish this and get it out into the open and so now's the time more than any.

"Mummy!" Alison and James cheered as Clara walked into the TARDIS. Their mother put her bag stuffed with papers for marking down on the floor and knelt down to hug them as they ran towards her. There would soon be a day when that would not happen, she knew, and she relished all the moments she could with her nearly-six-year-olds while they lasted.

"How were we for Daddy this week?" she asked as her children gave her kisses.

"Good," they said in unison. Clara stood and a twin took each hand—James on the right and Alison on the left—to pull her towards the stairs up to the Doctor. He was sitting in his wingback chair, an open storybook on his lap.

"Daddy was just reading to us!" Alison explained. "You like Winnie the Pooh too! Let's read together!"

"Yeah!" James insisted. "You can read Kanga's parts, and Aly can read Roo's, and I can read Christopher Robin's!"

"Some of us were getting a bit antsy, if you can't tell," the Doctor said. He moved the book and allowed his wife to sit across his lap instead, putting an arm around her waist and leaning into a short kiss. "They've been waiting a bit impatiently this week."

"I can tell they're not the only ones."

"Yeah Mummy, Daddy keeps getting his finger stuck in the drawer and I think he needs you to show him how not to do it again," Alison said, climbing up into the chair. She did not know Clara was referring to the Doctor's reaction underneath where she settled her thighs, and that was alright. With Alison nearly on her father's shoulders and James in his mother's lap, the family continued to read their book, doing all sorts of fun voices and giggling the rest of the way through. The parents had reined themselves back in by the time the book was done, as was their duty, and were guided through the TARDIS on the way to the nursery, as it had been decided that there was more fun and games to be had before dinner.

However, it meant that later that night, after dinner and bath time and yet another book filled with silliness, James and Alison were put to bed by parents that could barely take their eyes off one another. Once the children were down and snuggled in with Sonny and Tau, their parents crept back into the corridor, the nursery door barely closed before Clara pushed the Doctor against it.

"Why do you always look so shaggable when you're taking care of the kids?" she murmured hotly in his ear, pressing their bodies together. Grabbing hold of his mouth with hers and his lower bits with her hand, she draped her free arm over his shoulder and grasped the hair on the back of his head as he lifted her up so that she could settle more securely on his waist. "I've needed this since Tuesday."

"Then you should've called," he replied between kisses. He took their weight off the door and carried her back to their room, sitting on the bed so she could push him down into it and fumble with his trouser zip. "The kids don't need to know what goes on when they sleep, especially if their auntie gets put into park."

The TARDIS wheezed in disapproval and the main lights shut off, meaning the ship's sensors inside their bedroom had also shut off.

"She's cross," Clara noted, taking her jumper off.

"Let her be," the Doctor replied. "It's just like the cat ran out of the room." He then let out a little yelp as Clara flicked him just so with her thumbnail.

"Shut up," she ordered.

Her wish was his very reason for being.

It was the following month and the Doctor was again putting his children to bed without his wife by his side. He was glad that she insisted on working, and even felt a little proud of the fact she wanted the children's first years to be on the TARDIS and not on her home planet, yet it did not make nights such as these any easier. At least tomorrow would be Friday, and Friday meant she could help with tucking in and kisses to foreheads and stuffed toys alike, with extracurriculars to follow.

The twins went down unusually quick, with natural-sounding snoring before he even left the room (he could tell the difference because of, well, Dad Skills). He went to the console room and shrugged out of his coat, then sweatshirt, standing there in a t-shirt and pale, bare arms. The wiring inside the console itself needed checking, maybe even replacing, and it was a job best left for when James and Alison were asleep.

He was just sitting on the floor and putting his lighted goggles atop his head when his trousers buzzed. Reaching in his pocket, he saw that it was Clara calling his mobile.

"Yes?"

"Come here. Now."

"I thought you said we weren't going to—"

"I know what I said, and I am telling you to ignore that and get your arse in front of me."

The call ended and the Doctor looked quizzically at the mobile. She didn't sound happy, though he would know for certain when they were talking face-to-face. He parked the TARDIS and walked out into Clara's flat, where she was waiting with her arms folded and a definitely not happy face.

"This isn't good, is it?" he asked.

"That depends on a lot of things," she said. "I'm late."

"Late? It's Thursday."

"No, my period. It is late."

"Oh."

The Doctor grew silent, realizing the severity of the situation, the weight of her words. He put his goggles on and pressed a button—sonic.

"I'm not picking up on anything..."

"I'm six weeks gone, if that helps."

"It doesn't," he frowned, replacing the goggles on his forehead. "I might need the medbay's instruments for this... wait, how do you know?"

"The only other time I felt this consistently nauseous, sore, and jittery while not having my period is when I was pregnant with the kids," she said, walking past him into the TARDIS. They went towards the medbay, with him following her dutifully. She sat down on the examination table and allowed the Doctor to go about the room and find the necessary equipment. He eventually found the same device that had detected Alison and James, bringing it over to Clara. Gently, he laid her down and placed the device over her abdomen.

Beeping, whirring, and, eventually, a readout appeared.

"You're pregnant," he quietly confirmed. "We're going to have another child."

Latent sounds of the ship were the only noises that passed between them for a long while. The Doctor sat down on the edge of the table and held Clara's hand in both of his, bringing it up to his lips to kiss. They stayed like that for a while, with him drinking in the sight of her while she allowed her mind to wander.

"When do you think we'll tell the kids?" she eventually wondered.

"You want to do this?"

"I thought I told you after the twins were born that I'll have any child that happens to come after them without question. It's just… this was a surprise. I'm still processing it, to be honest."

"Don't worry about that," the Doctor insisted. "We could tell them in the morning, surprise them with you being here."

"I don't know if I want to just yet," she replied. "I'm almost forty, Doctor; I'd rather make certain that everything is going to be alright first before we promise them anything."

"What does your current age have anything to do with having another baby?" he asked. "Clara, what are you not telling me?"

"We just need to be cautious, is all," she explained. She sat up and leaned into his shoulder, gazing up into his eyes. "Give me a little bit of time, alright? By the time summer comes around, I can put in for another leave from work, and we can start figuring things out; I should be starting to show around then. James and Alison will know soon enough that Mummy and Daddy are giving them a baby…"

"…oh, brother; the chromosomal analysis says it's a boy…"

"…and they will know about Mummy and Daddy and their baby brother before long, and then, after we simply blink, there will be three of them running around."

"Okay, now you're scaring me," the Doctor chuckled. "Sometimes I can barely keep track of the twins…"

"I have a sneaky feeling that you're more than up to it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

At that, the Doctor tenderly pressed a kiss to Clara's lips and lifted her off the examination table, carrying her through the TARDIS and to their room. He laid her down on the bed and curled up at her side, head against her shoulder and hand over their child. It was peaceful—neither of them wanted to get particularly active—and they accidentally fell asleep despite the fact they wanted to keep the cuddling short. They had laid down and closed their eyes and seemingly five minutes later...

"MUMMY!"

The kids were pouncing on them both, despite their excitement being over only one parent's presence. They were able to push their father aside and snuggle into their mother; the now-awake parents shared an amused glance, then a nervous one.

"How are you two doing this morning?" Clara asked.

"Great!" Alison grinned.

"Better now that you're here," James added. He looked at his mother quizzically. "Why are you here, Mummy?"

"Mummy missed you both so much that I decided to come back to Auntie Idris early."

"You don't have work?"

"Not today," she lied. Clara stroked her son's hair and kissed his forehead. "All I want to do is spend today with my children and husband."

"Then let's make breakfast!" Alison said. She climbed out of the bed and put her slippers back on, having discarded them in her sprint towards her parents. Picking up her brother's slippers, she threw them at him, a big grin on her face. "Come on James! Let's make Mummy and Daddy breakfast for bed!"

"Okay..." her brother agreed. They scurried out of the room, allowing their parents some time to wake up.

"Shit—this was not the plan," Clara cussed. She looked at her mobile and felt only slightly relieved by the early hour. "I guess I'm cashing in a personal day."

"Do you have enough to spare? Should I abuse the 'time' part of the ship and get you to work anyhow?"

"No, best not." She called herself in, faking an undisclosed illness. Once the deed was done, she began undressing and put a nightie on, which only served to confuse the Doctor. "Today will be a pajama day instead, where we do nothing but watch telly and eat junk food."

"I know what a pajama day is, but why change into pajamas at this point?"

"You are daft, aren't you?" She sat in bed, slipping under the covers. Patting the bit of mattress next to her, she gave him a sultry look, which seemed to only pull him closer without a word. He began to shed his outer layers and she smirked, "How we got to three children is beyond me sometimes."

"Two and one on the way," he gently corrected. "How we've stayed at the ones we have is the real question that needs answering." The Doctor climbed into bed and squeaked as Clara turned him onto his back. From there, she kept him in place, letting her hands wander as they languidly kissed to pass the time.

The TARDIS eventually beeped softly and flicked the lights off and on for a moment—the children were nearly back. No sooner had Clara rolled off the Doctor did the twins arrive, pushing a cart that had four plates of waffles, a bottle of syrup, some raspberry jam, glasses with juice, and a couple cups of coffee for the adults.

"Here we are!" Alison announced. "Auntie Idris got us the wafflemaker and cups of batter!"

"We were still very careful," James added. He took one of the trays hanging off the side and handed it to his father. "I don't want cooking taken away. It would be bad if Alison was the only one allowed to cook."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Alison scowled. She gave Clara her coffee and glared at her brother. "I cook very good!"

"No... candy doesn't go on sandwiches!"

"Yes it does!"

"No it doesn't!"

"Wait, wait, wait; why on Earth did you put candy on sandwiches?" Clara asked, interrupting the argument.

"I was looking at recipes in some books and found one that's for buttered bread and dark chocolate sprinkles! It's really tasty!"

"No, it's not."

The twins stuck out their tongues at one another, only for their father to intervene and reach for another tray.

"Why don't you two decide what we're going to watch during breakfast?" he suggested. He eyed them carefully as they went over to a small DVD shelf and plucked off a Paddington Bear movie to play while they ate. Leaning over to his wife, the Doctor tried and failed to keep a straight face.

"You gave them that recipe, didn't you?" she assumed.

"Now what makes you think that?"

"Honestly, Doctor, you're easier to read than a nursery school book." She handed him her coffee, as a chamomile cuppa appeared on her nightstand. "We better search the TARDIS and figure out where some of those went."

"Maybe next week, when it's not a pajama day," he said. With the trays set up and both of them content, he put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her hair. "How am I so fortunate to be here? I don't deserve you."

"Of course you do." Clara watched as the twins scurried back to them, ready to set up their own trays. "Is the movie in?"

"Yeah—" Alison said, immediately distracted by the contents of her parents' breakfasts, "Daddy! You stole Mummy's coffee!"

"Auntie Idris made me some tea instead; I think I want chamomile for a while."

"Okay," James nodded. He settled himself between his parents, with Alison bringing her tray to the other side of their father. The movie started playing and Pajama Day began.

Over a month passed and the Doctor and Clara were out with the twins, taking a peaceful stroll in a nature reserve… or, it was slated to become a nature reserve in about two and a half thousand years, give or take a few decades. The time and place they landed in was barely touched by Humankind, with no sentient life for leagues in any direction, leading them to decide it was the perfect spot for a picnic and playtime.

"I want to go swimming, Daddy!" Alison insisted, pointing at the nearby pond. The Doctor shook his head, causing his daughter to pout. "Why not?!"

"We didn't bring our swimsuits," he insisted, knowing all he needed to do was detract from the topic long enough for her to switch gears on her own. "Why don't you and your brother pick some flowers over there? We can put them in the TARDIS."

"Yes, right next to my side of the bed," Clara added. "They can make the room smell better and I won't want to throw up because of Daddy's stinky feet." Ah, yes, the excuse behind her morning sickness. It wasn't a good excuse, but it was an excuse, which was the point.

"Yeah!" the little girl gasped. She tugged on her brother's arm and urged him towards the nearby patch of flowers. The siblings scrambled towards the blooms and their parents were left alone on the blanket, the last of their lunch spread out beside them.

"Mmmm, this is so nice," Clara hummed, lying down to soak in the warm sun. "This was a very good idea, Doctor."

"Yes, it was." He gazed down at her—his wife, the mother of his children, his best friend—and relished the moment. "I was thinking about a slightly desaturated lavender."

"What about it?"

"…for the nursery walls when we repaint them."

"Maybe."

"I'll whip up a simulation tonight; we don't have to decide immediately."

"Good—just wait until I'm nesting again."

The Doctor did not reply to that, remembering how terrifying she was when primal instincts kicked in and she began reorganizing their living spaces while carrying the twins, instead using that as a point in which to lie down and curl up along her side. He rested his head against her shoulder and his hand over her stomach; perfect.

"How are you doing today, little one?" he asked aloud. Clara gently tapped the back of his head, smirking despite it all. He had just begun attempting to communicate with the baby, experiencing the first stages of growth instead of corporeal thought thanks to the Gallifreyan part of it—all was going as normal…

…except… there was nothing… not even a synapse firing to answer him. The Doctor tensed momentarily before sitting back up and straddling her legs, pushing up her blouse slightly so that he could put his forehead on the skin directly over her womb. He concentrated everything he had into reaching out to their child, yet was still met with nothing.

"Doctor…? What's wrong?"

"I need to get you to the medbay," he said lowly. He then lifted his head, turning towards the children; they were concentrated on the flowers. "Kids…?"

"Yes Daddy?"

"Go inside the TARDIS when you're done; Mam has a bee sting and I need to take her back inside. Play in your room until we're ready."

"Okay!" they both replied.

Neither child noticed as their father picked their mother up and nearly ran with her in his arms all the way back to the TARDIS. When they went inside, their auntie-mothership did not let them walk past where their mother was sobbing in their father's embrace, and she certainly was able to lure the children out of their parents' bedroom before the Doctor carried in Clara to allow her some time to rest. The Time Lord met his children in the corridor with red, puffy eyes that he blamed on a stuck finger before ushering them towards the kitchen to start on dinner.

Cups full of water and dandelions sat on Clara's nightstand, and every time she looked at them, her heart felt as though it was going to burst.

It was long after dinner was made and cleaned up, after the twins each had a bath and bedtime stories were read, before the Doctor could return to Clara's side. With Alison and James both tucked in, the Doctor left the nursery to find a tray sitting on the floor just outside his bedroom. Tea, some sandwiches, chocolate, and a whole tub of slow-melting ice cream was there, and he knew it was an offering from the TARDIS. As up-and-down as her relationship had been with Clara over the years, it was clear that this was an attempt to help—to comfort—and he was not going to waste that. He picked up the tray and went into the bedroom, finding that his wife was precisely where he left her, under the blankets and curled up into a ball.

"Hey," he said as he sat down, putting the tray on the nightstand. He gently touched her shoulder, not even needing his poor touch-psychic abilities to feel the sadness that she was radiating. "The TARDIS made us some tea."

"I'm not hungry."

"…but you need to eat something."

"Please, Clara," he begged, "don't start this. I don't want to lose any time with you because this gets the better of us…"

"Easy for you to say—you weren't the one who miscarried."

He frowned at that. "Do you think that makes a difference? I was anticipating the same sort of things from when we were expecting Alison and James—to get my hopes up, only to dash them like that, was a cruel thing for the universe to do. It may not be the same sort of loss as you are enduring, nor does it marginalize your pain, but what I'm feeling hurts no less than how you feel right now."

Clara pulled the blanket over her head and sniffled, which only made her husband exhale heavily.

"Maybe another time," he offered.

"No—not again," she said resolutely, voice muffled from the blanket. "We're going to be extra-careful from now on. No more children."

"As Mam commands." The Doctor laid down on the bed, staying above the blankets as he snugged himself up against Clara's back and wrapped his arm around her. He rested his forehead on the back of her head and gently pressed his consciousness against hers. 'Clara…?'

No answer.

'Clara…?'

'How can you be so calm?'

Oh, that.

'Only because I've seen so much death, so many lives cut short; you must remember, Clara, that I am not a good man, no matter what you say or the children think. The universe already has enough on its hands preparing for two Hybrids—a third was just too much for it.'

"You are one of the most wonderful men, but you are also one of the dumbest," she said aloud. She rolled over and finally looked him in the eyes. Red and bloated, blood-shot and crusty, they were eyes that had cried until there was literally no more tears to shed. Placing a hand on his cheek, she leaned in closer and pressed a kiss to his lips. "As if the father of my children wouldn't be a good man—what do you take me for? A terrible judge of character?"

"No…"

"Then shut up."

"Yes, ma'am." He stayed quiet as they shifted in the bed—he getting underneath the covers and she repositioning so that he could lay with his face on her chest—and cuddled up together to draw strength from one another. They were silent for a long time, their breathing slowly synching and three hearts beating together, before the silence was broken.

"I've gone by Hal before," he stated. "Jean… Nico… Troy… Richard…"

"You're an idiot," she said idly.

"Yes, but I am your idiot."

That was something that she couldn't deny.

"Hey Aly, Jim, why's your mum so sad?"

The teens glanced up from their lunches and saw one of their classmates standing there, uncertain if she should sit down or not.

"What do you mean?" Alison asked.

"She seems super-depressed today," the other girl said. "This is the third year in a row; haven't you noticed?"

"She tends to get like that around this time of year," James replied. He shrugged, attempting to brush it off. "Seasonal depression, I think. Lots of people get like that in October. Da gets it around now too, I think…"

"Yeah, but seasonal depression usually lasts for a season, not a week."

"No, but that's probably just because we're used to it," Alison said. "Are you going to sit down or not?"

"I promised Henry I'd eat with him today," the girl said before walking off. The twins then looked at one another, frowning.

"Now that I think about it, the fancy dinner Mum's been planning is tonight," Alison realized. "Didn't we have a fancy dinner around this time last year too?"

"…and the year before that, and that… every October 3rd," James said. "That's weird."

"Should we ask?"

"What…?! If Mum and Da haven't told us, then there's probably a reason, isn't there?"

"They barely talk about their feelings with one another, let alone us," he deadpanned. "What makes you think they'll say anything?"

"…because we never asked before."

James took a bite of his sandwich and attempted to ignore his sister, though it nagged at the back of his brain for the entire rest of the school day. Why did they always dress nice and have a formal dinner on October 3rd? He and Alison remained quiet about the subject during the remainder of school and the entire way home. They almost made it through dinner as well, except…

"Mum? Da? Why do we do this?"

All four of them were sitting around the table, dressed nicely and eating with the good dishes and flatware. The Doctor's eyes flit from his son, to his wife, and back before he set down his utensils. He took Clara's hand, which had been frozen on its way to her wine glass, and squeezed it gently.

"I told you they are too clever for our own good," he said. A long pause settled over them, with Clara staring at the bit of air in front of her while her husband and children waited for a response. "Should I…?"

"We should," she replied. She stood and smoothed the front of her skirt before nodding towards the kids. "Come on—to the TARDIS."

"…but Mum…"

"You asked, James, and now you'll know—thirteen seems old enough to know, wouldn't you say, Doctor?"

"It's your call," he replied, voice unnaturally level and calm. He shrugged out of his red velvet jacket as they all went into his bedroom, discarding it on the bed before holding open the TARDIS door for everyone. Flipping some switches, he sent the ship through time and space, landing precisely in the same spot they had been going for years, except now the children were with them.

Clara opened the TARDIS door and saw that it was raining gently. Not entirely caring, she stepped outside without so much as grabbing an umbrella, silently leading the way. Her family followed, the kids attempting to catch up with her whilst brandishing a pair of large umbrellas, while the Doctor didn't bother with one for himself. Clara walked out across the rainy field undeterred, stopping where a small mound interrupted the otherwise smooth surface.

"What… what is it…?" Alison asked. She resisted the urge to poke at the mound with her toe, instead fidgeting as she stood uncomfortably.

"Nicolas," the Doctor said. He watched as his wife sat on her calves and touched the mound, the wet grass shining in the dull sunlight still filtering through the clouds above. "I tried… we tried… but the universe had another idea despite it all." He paused, wondering what more he could say without spelling it out. "Today would have been his seventh birthday."

He didn't need to say another word, because the twins both knew what he meant. Alison crouched down next to her mother, resting her head on her shoulder. She sniffled as she stared at the mound, while James looked around in an attempt to see where precisely they were. Realization hit him and he blinked heavily as he put the pieces together.

"I remember this place; we used to come here a lot when we were little."

"We were parked here when I lost your brother," Clara explained. Her voice was far-off and distant, as was her stare, invoking an intense sadness that had many years to settle in and had already shed many tears. "Neither your father nor the TARDIS could come up with why or how it happened, but it simply did. It's part of life, whether we like it or not, and experiencing that reminds us of what's important."

"What…?" Alison asked quietly.

"What's important is what—or whom—we already have, and for us to not squander the time we share," she replied. Clara stood and hugged Alison, then James, eventually bringing them both into her arms while their umbrellas were quickly discarded on the ground. The Doctor joined in as well, wrapping his arms around his family as they all stood in the rain.

"Let's continue this inside the TARDIS," he suggested after a bit.

"What? It's not like you're still wearing your jacket," Clara teased. She laughed lightly—sadly—as he rested his forehead atop her head in reply, making the shared connection between their emotions stronger.

"Mum, you're freezing cold," James noticed. "You yell at us if we stand outside in the rain while freezing cold."

"Oh gosh, you're right," Alison said, grabbing onto Clara's hand. The tweens both pulled their mother towards the TARDIS, while their father picked up the umbrellas and carried them back. Soon as the family stepped back into the TARDIS, the ship thrummed in an effort to chide them as they tracked puddles and mud throughout the console room. They found that their bedrooms were moved to the very beginning of the corridor and that there were towels and soft, warm, fluffy pajamas laid out.

Soon as everyone was changed and dry, the lights dimmed and the family all met in the corridor. The baseboards softly lit and ushered them down to the study, where a couch had been set up with soft pillows, warm blankets, and trays full of snacks, all sitting in front of a large projector screen. As the overhead lights dimmed, the projector flicked on, drawing the kids into a viewing of The Goonies.

"You may be a stuffy old cow sometimes, but you do know how to cheer us back up," Clara joked. She joined the twins, leaving the Doctor to lean against the doorjamb. He patted the brushed metal surface as he watched his family settle in.

"Thank you," he whispered in his native Gallifreyan. The TARDIS wheezed at him and paused the movie, causing the kids to groan.

"No, Da, get over here!" Alison insisted. "When Auntie Idris sets up a movie, you watch it!"

The Doctor walked over to his children and wife, sitting down next to Clara so that they could cuddle together as the movie started back up again. He had his wife—whom he was honored to have—and he had his children—whom he was fortunate to raise. The pain was dulled from their loss, yet that was nothing they could change at that point.

"You are not squandered," he murmured in Clara's ear. She nestled in his grasp wordlessly, allowing their mind to touch instead.

Nor are you… none of you.