The next two weeks passed slowly and anxiously. The sheer inability of the Dalek ship to simply teleport like the Tardis could was maddening.

With the engines now working at full capacity, they were traveling at speeds exponentially faster than the speed of light, but at 167 light years away, the Shamrock Nebula might as well have been in another dimension.

Star system by star system passed them by- once places Clara would have been itching to explore- but now nothing more than ignored scenery.

But they were close. Any day now. The Doctor wasn't exactly in the nebula; he was a good distance outside of it, caught in its gravitational orbit. They had been able to see the nebula for two days now, tauntingly just a bit too far away to begin their search.

Clara stood vigilant at her post by the window, leaving only to sleep for a few restless hours or to visit the bathroom. She only ate due to the silent insistence of Dr. Jones, an action which reminded her of those of her grandmother back on Earth. She smiled at the memory, distracted momentarily.

A loud crash reverberated through the bulkheads. Clara shrieked and was nearly knocked off her feet, having to grab at a nearby rail for stability.

"Shields up!" Malonyo barked in the distance. Emergency lights painted the bridge scarlet. A klaxon bellowed throughout the halls.

The Asteroid Detection System.

It was music to Clara's ears.

"Stop!" she cried, shouting over her shoulder.

The ship came to a halt, asteroids and space debris bouncing harmlessly off its- now shielded- Dalekanium hull. "Full scanners," she commanded. Her heart pounded in her chest. This was it. The beginning of the search. He was out here somewhere. She was so close now.

She retreated to Malonyo's side at his position in the captain's chair. "Cruising speed, Captain. Scan for life forms," she repeated excitedly.

"You know that I'm the captain here, right?" Malonyo smirked, teasing.

"Do as you're told." Clara ordered, disregarding the irony of the situation.

Malonyo shrugged, pressing the appropriate buttons. Good thing the Daleks had a knack for hunting down Timelords. The ship's sensors just might be able to seek out the lost Gallifreyan, at least that's what she hoped. A frozen Weeping Angel probably was not something that counted as a "life form," but she had to try.

...

The search went on for days. Every creature on the ship had its eyes trained on the world outside. The proceedings were done in silence, except for the occasional hopeful outburst that they had found him. Clara rushed to each and every one of them, looking out only to find out that the object in question was nothing more than a person-shaped chunk of asteroid.

This cycle of hope and dismay over and over quickly began to erode Clara's patience. Her frustration mounted, the tension of it so palpable in the air that no one dared blink in their search.

Until finally, she snapped.

"Ugh! Where is he!?" Clara shouted, kicking over a device of unknown use. "He's here, he's got to be!"

She scowled at her crew, feeling nothing but rage. She had endured so much. Kidnappings, torture, imprisonment, near conversion, betrayal, the severance of mental bonds, the deaths of those she cared about, and the ever-present fear for the worst. She was sick of it. All of it. What had she ever done to the universe to deserve this? And now there was the Doctor. Trapped in the situation he was in because of her. She had to make things right. She had to.

And now here she was. So damn close but so far. She clenched her fists together, making eye contact with every member of her crew. "You aren't looking hard enough!" she roared, finally falling apart without the lynchpin of her sanity to keep her together.

A pair of strong hands gripped her shoulders from behind. She whirled around, focusing all of her fury onto the person in front of her. She wrested out of the grip.

Martha caught her shoulders again, unshaken. "Clara! Clara, you have to listen to me."

Clara snarled and attempted to shake her off again, but Martha refused to let go. She tightened her grasp and gave her patient a good shake, trying to knock some sense into her. "Clara, we are doing the best we can, but this is all up to you."

"Why? Are the rest of you blind!?" she growled.

"No." Martha growled back. "You've gotten us this far, you can lead us the rest of the way."

Clara raised an eyebrow, a cynical look crossing her features. "What, are you telepathic now?" she hissed.

"No," she admitted, "but I know what a bond with the Doctor looks like. Now, I'm ordering you, Clara. Meld with me. Link our minds."

"What good would that do?" Clara huffed. "You just said you're not telepathic."

"If you're at the level that I think you are, it should be possible. Just do it." She brought Clara's hands up to her temples. "Do it."

"Fine," she snapped, deciding to humor her. Then she could prove that this would accomplish nothing other than waste time. She found Martha's connection points and pushed her way through her mind, probably less gently than she should have.

The link burned like fire. Clara gasped and tried to break it but found that her hands were frozen in place by some unseen force. She screamed. She had never bonded with someone who was completely non-telepathic before, and that meant that she was unprepared for the unhindered wave of foreign emotions shocking her system. '...Martha.' she managed to force out. 'Martha, what is all this?'

Images of a younger man flashed into her mind vividly. A scene began to play out. It was short and simple, like a gunshot.

The man seemed to be standing in the middle of a battlefield. Legions of some unknown alien race surrounded him on all sides. He scowled, leaning heavily to one side with an injury, but was no less fearsome. The creatures seemed to know this, barking orders and raising their weapons to the unarmed man standing before them.

At least they thought he was unarmed.

Suddenly there was Martha. Here she appeared significantly younger, standing on the metal skis of a U.N.I.T helicopter. Clara could feel her anxiety as if it were her own.

The man looked like a dot in the distance with rings of enemy combatants around him. Martha saw the creatures raise their weapons. She screamed for the pilot to go faster, knowing it wouldn't matter.

The man looked up towards the sound of the chopper's blades. It was coming for him, but there would be no rescue. He knew he was too injured to survive even if he were to receive treatment right now.

He turned his attention to the enemy. They too had peered up through the clouds at the incoming chopper and were now readying an anti-aircraft cannon. They had never been known to miss a shot.

The chopper came closer. The creatures loaded their weapon.

Martha could make out his face now. They made eye contact. She screamed his name, her cries drowned out by the droning of the blades. She watched him produce a device from his pocket, recognizing it instantly. She howled, begging him to not even think about it.

The man gestured to the cannon. Martha followed his gaze. Her eyes widened. She looked to him again. A grimace of steely resolve settled over the man's features like warpaint.

"Don't you dare!" she screamed, contradicting what she knew he must do.

With no time left to spare, he mouthed something to her. A simple phrase she had heard from him so many times. She mouthed it back.

And he pushed the button. The world below exploded with light and heat. Everything within the blast radius vaporized. The chopper shot up, superheated currents of air propelling it to towards the sky. Towards safety. "Mickey!" Martha cried.

The vision faded. A quiet darkness took its place, but it did nothing to soothe Clara. Tears streamed down her face. She did not know who this Mickey person was, but it was obvious what he had meant to Martha.

'Sorry about that.' Martha's figure appeared in the darkness, a calm purple glow highlighting her features. She seemed completely unaffected by the scene that had just played out. Clara almost began to wonder if she had seen it.

Of course she had seen it. This was her mind, after all. Martha brushed it off with the apathy of someone watching a tragic movie they had seen a hundred times over.

'Come on.' Martha called, snapping Clara from her daze. 'Follow me.'

Clara obliged. She followed the old physician though the maze of memories, trying hard to not look too closely.

'What was that?' she asked quietly. 'Who was that man, Martha? Who is Mickey?'

Martha continued on, not meeting her gaze. 'I don't want to talk about it. You weren't supposed to see that.'

'But I saw what happened to him-'

'Clara,' Martha interrupted, 'we are here for a reason, and discussing my past is not part of it.'

'Right.' Clara sighed, slightly hurt that Martha did not trust her enough to share her feelings, but who could blame her? '...Just know that I'm sorry,' she sighed. 'I'm sorry that happened to you, Martha. I know what it's like.'

'We're here,' Martha changed the subject, pointing to an area of her mind.

There, a familiar amber glow resided. The Doctor. Clara gasped, reaching out towards the light. Martha caught her hand.

'This bond is non-communicative.'

'But you do have a bond with the Doctor. How?' Clara asked, awestruck.

'I was a companion of the Doctor's, remember? He gives a little piece of himself to each and every one of us. A small bond, which he always maintains to let us know that he still remembers and cares about us.' Martha turned to Clara. 'But there's something different about you, Clara. You can talk to him directly. You can hold telepathic conversations.'

'What are you saying?' Clara asked, starting to feel a bit apprehensive about where this conversation was headed.

'I scanned you. I didn't believe it at first, but science doesn't lie. Your DNA is not 100% human anymore, Clara. You're a hybrid.'

'I know this.' Clara affirmed, remembering what Missy had told her long ago. 'Our DNA mixed when he saved my life.'

'But you don't understand, Clara. You are not just half-Timelord. You're half-Doctor. You two are connected. His mind is your mind. You aren't just bonded with a telepathic link, you partially share the same brain. He may have cut you off from the link, but he can't cut you off from your own brain. He knows this.'

Martha clasped Clara's hands once again. 'You just need to find the block. Combine your bond with the one I share with him. It might amplify the signal.'

Clara nodded soundlessly, her brain trying fervently to keep up with what Martha was saying.

She reached back into her own mind, finding the Doctor's dormant glow and bringing it out for Martha to see. She held it gingerly. A supernova in the palm of her hand.

Martha did the same, holding her own little ball of golden energy. She made eye contact with Clara and nodded. They both knew what to do.

The two bonds touched. The world burst into light. The mind link fell away. The cool air of the ship caressed their skin once again. The sight of the crew gathered around them returned into view.

Martha shared a look with Clara. The two darted to the window. It was different than before.

"There he is." Clara breathed, overwhelmed.

Outside, a bright yellow column of light shone like a beacon, visible only to herself and Martha. Clara shouted orders to turn the ship around. Like the Star of Bethlehem, it guided them. It shone at its origin within a small cluster of asteroids. The rocks in question drifted away.

And there he was. Now for all to see.

Martha gasped, seeing him in his new form for the first time, frozen in stone. She hadn't wanted to believe it. She turned, a question on her lips.

But Clara was gone.

The old physician wondered briefly where she had disappeared to. She had her answer within moments.

...

Tethered to the ship, Clara Oswald swam through the darkness of space. Her bright orange and yellow space suit contrasted her surroundings like a flame in a cave. She fumbled with the controls, found the button she was looking for, and shot off into the distance, towards the beacon. Towards the Doctor.

She got closer and closer. His features came into view. Those beautiful wings, that crazy hair, those powerful eyebrows. His new coat was all torn and he appeared to be covered in soot, but it was him. Finally. Finally, for the first time in months, she could see him again.

She came within a few meters of his body when she was stopped by an invisible barrier. It rippled at her touch like water. She pushed on it, but it would not yield. She was about to scream in frustration when suddenly it seemed to recognize her and let her in. She fell with a grunt. Gravity. There was gravity in here.

She glimpsed at the suit's readout. There was oxygen too. The Tardis life support shield, she realized. It was still here.

She smiled, taking sight of the Doctor's form within the bubble. She removed her helmet and took off in a sprint upon the invisible ground, her cumbersome suit proving to be no match against her will. She would not be slowed. "Doctor!" she called desperately. "Doctor, it's me! Clara!"

She reached his statue. She halted in her tracks, panting, taking in the sight of him up close. A stray giggle escaped from her lips before it was accompanied by several more. Her face lit up with a wide grin and she pounced, catching him in a fierce embrace—wanting to never let go again. She clutched the rough stone with all her might and squeezed her eyes shut. Back on the ship, Martha instructed everybody else to do the same.

The stone melted away. Soft skin and feathers materialized into reality. The Doctor gasped, sucking in a large gulp of air with lungs that had not worked in ages. After a brief struggle, he opened his eyes, squinting to adjust to the light. His senses returned. A sound drifted into his ears. Sobbing. Laughing.

He looked down, his nerves finally deciding to wake up. A familiar weight rested on his middle. He forced his arms to move, brushing his hands across the course fabric of a spacesuit. It felt real. "Clara?" he asked tentatively, fearing that she may just be yet another mirage. Her embrace tightened at his call.

"Doctor. My Doctor," she cried, tears soaking into his skin. She balled her fists in the ripped fabric of his lapels. She clung to them like her life depended on it. God knew her soul did. "I'm here now, Doctor. I'm here."

A flash of light shocked them both like a stroke of lightning, sending them reeling. A familiar presence settled into their minds. The link. Reestablished as if it had never left. The block dissolved and the new link blazed though their souls like wildfire, igniting every nerve it touched. The Doctor broke from his trance. This was no mirage.

"Clara," he whispered. The name fell from his lips like a forgotten spell. No. Not forgotten. Never. He brought up a hand, studying her face, feeling her tears on his fingertips. It was true. It was her.

"My Clara!" He brought his arms around and caught her in a crushing embrace. Tears poured from his eyes, unashamed. He tangled his fingers in her silky hair, bringing her close and planting several kisses onto her little head. His pudding brain. His Impossible Girl. His Clara.

"Oh Doctor," she choked out. Her whole body trembled with sobs, the Doctor's arms the only thing holding her together. All the pain, all the loss she had experienced over the past several months dried up like a puddle in sunlight. She sniffled loudly, nuzzling into his warmth. "I've found you," she whispered. "I've found you."

"It's you," he breathed, taking a good long look at her face. It was maybe a little more hollow than the last time he had seen it, but those dimples still framed her smile and her nose still curled upward slightly like the beautiful nymph she always was. "It's really you," he breathed. Joy stirred his two old hearts to beat excitedly, causing his whole body to vibrate.

Those vibrations. Clara gripped at him tighter, placing a hand over his hearts. God, she had missed them so much.

He traced his fingers over the sunken flesh of her once rounded cheeks and a fresh burst of unmanly tears escaped from the Doctor's eyes. "I'm so sorry, Clara, I'm so sorry," he wailed. "It's my job to keep you safe. And I couldn't save you. I couldn't get you out of there."

"I've been floating in this damned place for so long, Clara. One-thousand, two-hundred fourteen years, seven months, thirteen days, fifteen hours, and three minutes. I can feel it all, Clara. Every second. Seconds of eternity."

"Well, I'm here now." Clara reassured, guiding him away from this negative train of thought with her forgiveness. "And I can take care of myself, thank you very much," she giggled.

She ran her fingers through his hair. It was soft and bouncy, just as she remembered it. She traced her hand across his face, reading its expression like Braille. She cupped his jaw. The Doctor already knew what she wanted. "Come here, you stupid old man," she chuckled with a warmth she hadn't felt in ages. "We've waited long enough."

Their lips met. Thousands of emotions ran rampant through their shared minds. Their souls danced around each other with reckless abandon, neatly slotting back into the places where they belonged. Light and fire forced their bodies to the brink, hearts beating wild, adrenaline surging.

Eventually, the need for air became imperative, so hesitantly they broke the kiss. The Doctor rested his forehead against hers, their noses touching. God, if only he could look into those eyes again. He closed his own, mirroring her, melting into their embrace, letting the sounds of her quiet breathing soothe him. They stayed that way for a while.

Clara shifted slightly, reaching out and touching the edges of the atmospheric force-field. "Doctor..." she trailed off, biting back a fresh wave of tears. She really didn't want to ruin this moment, but her curiosity got the best of her. "...Is the Tardis really dead?"

He sighed, the loss still fresh in his mind. "Except for this," he produced a small green crystal from his pocket, "she's gone. Missy killed her. The Tardis's last act was to drop me off here, a place she knew you'd remember. Her timing may have been a tiny bit off, though." He clutched the crystal tighter, cradling it in the safety of his palm. All those years of traveling, all those years of the Old Girl taking care of him and now this was all that was left.

She nodded, placing her hands over his and giving them a light squeeze. But something was off. His hands felt oddly warm. Too warm, making hers feel this way too. "Doctor..." Clara gasped, worry lacing her voice.

Taking care to not look at him, she turned away and examined her palms.

Scarlet. They shone with the color. A drop of the liquid fell to her knees, causing her to realize her entire suit was now an entire shade darker. The memory of all her comatose visions came crashing back down upon her. Except this time it was not a vision at all. This was real.

"Doctor!"

She closed her eyes and turned back to him. "Doctor, you're covered in blood!"

As if suddenly realizing this fact, the Doctor's pain-receptive nerves came back to life. His body crumpled in on itself. The adrenaline in his system began to ebb away, revealing the crippling pain it was hiding.

"Doctor!" Clara tried to gently place her arms around him to comfort him only for him to shout in anguish. Agony tore through his bones. Blood started to bubble up his throat, causing him to choke on the liquid. Centuries-old injuries asserted their presence. They had been frozen in time along with him for all the years he was a statue, but now that he was awake he was in grave danger. He knew this. He could feel his strength waning. Fast.

"Clara." he rasped out, his voice audibly weaker than before. "Clara, I did not cut off our link to hide from Missy. I'm not afraid of Missy. I was hibernating, Clara. Mentally and physically. I had no choice. These injuries—"

A sharp stab of pain cut him off. He clutched at his ribs, remembering how he had been slammed into the Tardis railing during Missy's assault. He groaned lowly, feeling the broken bones now puncturing into his pleural space after Clara's embrace. It wasn't her fault. She didn't know. He didn't tell her. The now collapsed lung there filled his chest cavity with air at his every breath, dangerously compressing his hearts. He switched to his respiratory bypass system to slow its buildup. "Clara, I need to get to your ship," he gasped out, squeezing his eyes shut tight with searing waves of pain and pressure. "I need to go into a healing coma."

He clung desperately to her form like a drowning man to driftwood. His whole body shook with agony. "If I die like this, I'll be stuck as a statue forever. A gravestone. Mentally dead. Clara-"

She placed a finger over his lips. "Don't talk." She found the source of the bleeding at his side and removed his jacket. She tied it off firmly, earning her a yelp of pain and a long string of colorful profanity. A sinking pit of dread gripped at her insides, but she forced herself to be strong. She could feel a muted version of his pain leaking over into her mind against his best efforts.

One of his wings appeared to be broken, and upon close examination, she noticed that something was sticking up from one of the Doctor's shins. The fabric of his trousers clung stickily to his skin and it was only then she realized that the sharp protrusion were the splintered remains of his tibia. She choked back tears, hating how the universe always seemed to be against them.

The Doctor whimpered, his eyes starry with shock. She grabbed his face in her hands. "Doctor! Doctor, I need you to focus. Freeze yourself. Turn into an Angel." She stroked his face, wiping the drying tears from his cheeks while her own now flowed. She could tell he didn't want to. He didn't want to leave her again. He wanted to believe he could take the pain. Clara clasped his hand in hers tightly. "Freeze. Do it for me. It'll buy us some time."

He nodded, knowing better than to argue. "Okay, boss," he groaned, his voice now barely louder than a whisper.

Clara replaced her helmet, screwing it on tight. She gripped the Doctor from under his arms. She looked to him but he had already transformed into stone. His body felt a thousand times heavier, and she cursed the artificial gravity of the bubble. She used her other hand to grip tight to her tether line.

"Malonyo!" she barked into the receiver built into the helmet. "I've got him! Bring us in! Hurry! And tell Martha to be ready! He needs medical attention!"

A/N: Finally! Some Whouffaldi! But poor Doctor. He and Clara can never catch a break, can they? The next chapter is going to have some medical angst and slight amounts of gore, but also lots of fluffy whump. I'm now in college, studying to become an ER Physician someday, so sorry y'all but medical whump and angst are kind of my thing. Things will calm down soon though, I promise.

As always, thanks for reading! I have no idea when the next chapter will be out, but hopefully it'll be soon. Please let me know what you think in the comments below! :D