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Danny wasn’t sure he was equipped for this. He wanted to be; he held his arms open for her, wrapped them around her when she walked into them, kissed the crown of her head as her face crumpled and tears wet the collar of his shirt.
In the doorway, the Doctor stood with a frown and unreadable eyes. Danny wanted to ask him, suspicion rising, wanted to know whether this was because of something he did—Clara put her arms around him and said, “He was fine,” as though she knew exactly what he’d been thinking.
“Do I want to know?” he asked quietly. “Or—do you want to talk?”
She was quiet for a very long time. Then she turned, just a little bit, and held a hand out for the Doctor.
He was hesitant, but he came to her.
*
She’d taken both their hands and walked them to her bedroom. It was—innocent, really, and she’d only wanted to curl up between the two of them, seeking out their warmth and touch but needing nothing more than that from them. Danny hadn’t been sure whether he or the Doctor was the more uncomfortable of the two, but whatever Clara needed, she would get. That was one of the very few things it seemed they agreed on.
She slept, after some time quietly, tearfully lying with her head on Danny’s chest, her hand holding the Doctor’s hand on her waist. In the darkness, on top of the covers, Danny could feel himself unable to drift off, more aware than usual of the little sounds her flat made around them. “What happened?” he asked, as quietly as he dared.
The Doctor pressed his mouth into a thin line. He always looked like he was frowning to Danny, except for when he was looking at Clara; now, he looked even darker, like something had taken him down a road he had been before and had never wanted to see again. “An attack,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “A rescue. It was difficult for her.”
“I can tell,” Danny said.
“There were complications.” He added quickly, “Everyone’s fine, really—but for a moment it looked like they might not be.”
He looked down at Clara as she slept against his chest, stroked her hair softly. “Do you ever not rescue everyone?”
“I try to avoid that,” the Doctor said. There was something to his voice that Danny recognized even if he’d never heard it before, and then he was slipping out of the bed. The movement woke Clara; blinking awake and pouting, she turned and blindly sought out the Doctor’s hand.
“Let him,” Danny whispered, brushing her hair back from her face. “Let him go.”
She did, and then curled back up against Danny as the Doctor left. Moments later they both heard the sound of the TARDIS dematerializing. “It’s just I think it was hard for him too.”
“Yeah.” He shifted slightly, pulling her closer to him. “He needs a minute to sort himself, doesn’t he.”
“Yeah.”
“Were you hurt?”
“No.”
He paused, her back warm against his hand. “Was he?” She was quiet again. He squeezed her tight and kissed her. “But you saved him, didn’t you? You put him back together again.”
“One day I won’t be there to do it, Danny, and it terrifies me,” she said.
He knew the feeling. Every time she left, he wondered if she’d make it back, and if she didn’t whether the Doctor would tell him or simply disappear. But she was there, safe, and this wasn’t about him, so he moved them with a sigh, making them face each other side by side, and said, “Tomorrow. We’ll call him back, no adventures through time and space, he’ll just be here, safe and fine.”
“And probably bored,” she said with a smile. Danny would take that smile, as weak as it was, as it was the first one she’d cracked all evening.
“Probably,” he admitted with his own smile. “We’ll be boring and safe together. Order in and play some Monopoly or something.”
“I don’t think he understands money well enough to play Monopoly.”
Danny grinned and kissed her again. “Then you’ll beat him. We’ll beat him together. It’ll be funny.”
He could see the cogs working in her mind as she thought of the possibilities. “Two of us against him? Oh, he won’t like that,” she said. “Let’s do it.”
He rolled onto his back and let her settle against him again. “It’s a date.”