Things around the TARDIS had been quiet, lately. They were still adventuring, and - well, Clara supposed she'd call it flirting - and she was content. The Doctor was too, it seemed. He'd given her a bedroom on the ship, right next to his own, and with an easy path to the kitchen in case she woke up hungry in the middle of the night. Clara slept her best on the TARDIS, where time couldn't touch her. But lately, Clara hadn't been sleeping well at all. She'd toss and turn, waking up with a gasp. She knew that sooner or later the nightmares would come, but ... She couldn't bring herself to tell the Doctor. Clara woke to the sound of her own voice screaming, crying, begging some creature from her nightmare not to hurt her. Instantly, she clutched at herself, chest heaving and feeling terrified.