year x

Anyone else experience those 10 seconds of confusion where you thought clarke and bellamy hooked up off screen so now clarke has a child??!!

8

Bellamy and Clarke have always been at the center of this show. It has always been the story of — on some level — Clarke and her relationship to Bellamy. And whether they were going to survive or not depended on how well those two human beings worked together — whether romantic or otherwise. (x)

Rock Bottom (Whouffaldi)

Title: Rock Bottom
Author: thegoodniffler
Rating: G
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 634
Pairings or Characters: The Doctor (12th), Clara Oswald
Spoilers: None (Twelves blindness from series ten!)
Notes: This is my first attempt in ages to write a Whouffaldi fanfic! I’ve been desperate but nothing ever helped me out!
Warnings: None!
Summary: *‘I… Clara how can I protect you? I can’t see. What if something happens to you?’*
Disclaimer: I don’t own Doctor Who! It belongs to the BBC!

*

Clara had never seen the Doctor so lost before. She had never seen him rely so heavily on her and what she could see. He was unfocused. He couldn’t find her even if she was sat right in front of him, his eyes would always wander off to the left or right.

It pained her to know that he was *struggling*. He couldn’t quite get the hang of being sightless. He was trying. He always tried. He was the Doctor after all. He was agitated, easily wound up and his steady hands were plagued by shakes. He’d become anxious, paranoid and fearful. Something she’d never had to deal with before.

He was quiet and that saddened her. She missed the one liners and impeccable timing and dry humour. She just missed the *sound* of his voice. She missed the harshness, no matter how soft spoken the words were. But he wouldn’t speak to her.

Today was no different. He was perched on the edge of a stool by the desk on the upper level of the TARDIS control room, the whir of his glasses the only sound coming from his direction. His fingers were crawling slowly across the table top. He was searching for something he couldn’t quite find.

*'Let me help you.’* Clara said, her voice soft and gentle. His fidgety shaking hands paused in their quest to find the object he was seeking at the sudden sound.

*'I’m fine.’* he replied, his words harsh and cracked. His voice almost sounded *unused*. She frowned, walking slowly up the stairs towards the bookshelf a couple of feet from him. She glanced over, his fingers continuing to move towards his screwdriver sat precariously on the edge of the desk.

She could see the frustration on his face. She missed the smirks and grins. The soft smiles and the terrifying scowls. She missed the laughter and the banter which he claimed he disliked so much.

*'You don’t have to pretend that you’re okay you know…’* she said, pulling an old dusty book off of the shelf, bracing herself for an outburst of pent up rage. She’d closed her eyes and tensed her body to deflect the flinch she knew would come.

*'I… Clara how can I protect you? I can’t see. What if something happens to you?’*

His voice was quite. If she hadn’t been so close she would have missed the vulnerability that dropped from the words that left his lips. She turned sharply, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open, the book pressed firmly to her chest.

His fingers hand stilled only inches away from his screwdriver and his head was bowed, glasses sliding down his nose slightly. He just looked defeated and it broke her heart just a fraction more.

She walked over to him, placing the book she’d picked up on the desk next to his left hand. She crouched slightly, her right hand gently touching his forearm so he knew she was there next to him. He accepted the touch, so she gently covered his flinching hand with hers, rubbing her thumb over the trembling skin.

*'Don’t worry about me,’* she said softly, with a small smile which she knew he couldn’t see. *'Perhaps I’ll just have to protect you.’*

He huffed slightly, his shoulders starting to relax. His hand twisted in hers, until her fingers were tracing the lines on his palm, his fingertips tapping softly on her skin. She couldn’t help the gentle laughter that left her lips when he replied softly,

*'That never does end well.’*

*'No,’* she said, placing a kiss on his pale cheek. When she pulled back she noticed his lips quirk up briefly into a small smile. She bit her lip before saying, *'but we try our best and that’s all the matters.’ *

9

IM’S LIKE IT.