A high-pitched whine resounded throughout the TARDIS halls and the Doctor raced to the console room, which was shaking violently.
"What did you do to her this time?" he demanded of a very sleepy Clara, who was rubbing a sore spot on her head. She clutched a fluffy red pillow and Summer Falls in her other hand.
"I didn't do anything," she said resentfully, almost like a child who had been accused of stealing the last cookie. "Your stupid snogbox moved my room again, so I came in here to sleep. It jolted me off the stairs and into the controls!"
The Doctor raced around the console, pushing buttons, flipping switches-he mumbled something about 'blue boring-ers,'-until the whining stopped and the flight was once again smooth.
"What did the mean ol' human do to you, hmm?" the Doctor cooed, stoking the center column. The TARDIS hummed almost smugly, and he turned to Clara once again. "You could've stopped yourself! We nearly launched into a supernova!" With a sigh, he said, "I'll take you to your room."
"Well, I'm sorry if I'm not some Time King or whatever," she sulked, still not letting it go. "I'm clumsy, so what? I'm allowed to be, I'm still human."
The Doctor's hearts clenched. "Yes," he said after a moment. "So very human." He held open the door to her room and gestured inside. "In you go."
"Thank you," Clara said haughtily, though she was worried about his sudden change in attitude. "Good night, Doctor," she added a bit more kindly.
He gave her a small, sad smile and kissed her forehead. "Good night, Clara."
Clara watched him walk off and closed the door, a confused look on her face. "What was that?"
The TARDIS gave a quiet, worried hum, too preoccupied with making sure her Thief was okay to think about how much she hated the human.
With a shrug, Clara settled into her scarlet four-poster bed and reopened her book to the end of chapter eleven. "Must be bipolar or something."
Meanwhile, the Doctor stood, head bowed over the console, thinking about the one he never even got a chance to save.