#clarablogs

The Doctor woke up with a jolt, slamming the back of his head on the cold concrete wall as he did so. Rubbing the lump that was beginning to form, he looked around the dimly lit, slightly damp room. When he saw old metal bars, he gave a long sigh. But then a panic filled him. He looked down at himself- his jacket was gone. He frantically checked his other pockets: all empty. Damn it. TARDIS gone, no sonic, no psychic paper, no anything. Nothing except his intellect and senses, but that could only take him so far. He turned his heavy head and saw a small figure slumped in the corner, and gave a sigh of relief. She's okay. Thank god she's okay. I hope she's okay. He leaned over and shook Clara's foot. "Clara," he whispered, knowing guards would be nearby, "Clara, cm'on, wake up. You alright?" She was the only thing he had to lose at this point, and he was never going to let that happen.

What could she be waiting for?

      A single word uttered from his lips at the mere sight of her. A single name. One that stayed the same throughout his years.                                                                                                                                                 "Clara." The sound of joy clung to his tone like a lover's caress. 

I might just have to have a word...

I know what everyone expects me to say, especially after having traveled with the Doctor and seen what I have. But despite all the good I’ve seen, I have met horrible people who did horrible things and ruined my family, and I have never seen the tiniest sliver of good in them. I’d like to think that maybe once, when they were very young there was hope, but I’m not entirely sure.