This is the end, I'm afraid. Many thanks go out to anyone who's read this little story of mine. Thank you's also go out to Doctor712, for your review on last chapter.

Please enjoy this final installment. :)

Chapter 6: I Have a Duty of Care.

The Doctor is dead. Has been dead for a very long time now. Since before he was trapped in the confession dial. He'd go so far as to say the moment that the Doctor died was when Clara Oswald took her last breath.

But here she is—huddled in the darkness of the Cloisters with him—breathing. And still, he can't quite make himself come back to life. He'd known at the very start of all of this that he was going to have to sacrifice everything to save her. He'd accepted that long ago.

He would gladly destroy himself if that meant Clara Oswald was still breathing.

The door that lead to the lift he's trying to access finally opens and he finishes off the story about the confession dial he's been telling her to pass the time. "You can break through anything, given time."

"How much time?" she asks, and he doesn't dare look into her eyes.

"Miss Oswald."

Her expression grows furious as she whips around to confront the voice. "Stay back," she hisses.

The General doesn't listen. "I'm sorry, but we have to find a way to extract you."

"I said stay back!" she shouts, and holds up a hand in their direction.

The General and his companion, Ohila, stop in their tracks. He feels that sparkle in his eyes. He couldn't be more proud of his Clara—of the commanding force that she is.

She turns back to him. "The Hybrid, what is it? What's so important you would fight for so long?"

He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter what the Hybrid is. It only matters that I convinced them that I knew. Otherwise they'd have kicked me out." He shrugs. "I'd have had nothing left to bargain with."

She raises her eyebrows at him. "What are you bargaining for?"

He blinks at her. How could she not know?

Do they never know? He has to wonder. How could they—those he travels with—not understand how much he cares for them. What he's willing to do to protect them. He shows them every chance he gets—how do they never see it?

"What do you think?" he asks, but she only stares at him blankly. "You. I had to find a way to save you. I knew it had to be the Time Lords. They cost you your life on Trap Street, Clara, and I was going to make them bring you back." He looks down at the hatch underneath them. "I just had to hang on in there for a bit."

"How long?" she asks again, and it's barely a whisper.

He refuses to look at her. He knows that if she looks in his eyes she'll see it. She'll see just how old they are. She can't know. "It was fine."

She stares at him for a moment before jumping to her feet and turning around to face Ohila and the General. "One question; and you will answer me honestly. How long was the Doctor trapped inside of the confession dial?"

Ohila purses her lips. "We think…four and a half billion years." Her voice makes him stiffen, and he has to force himself to keep his hands busy.

Clara slowly turns back around to face him again, and he looks up at her with trepidation. She'll be angry with him, he knows that. Her forehead will get all veiny and her eyes will turn stormy and he just can't bear to see that look directed at him right now.

He's surprised when he sees that instead of anger, there are tears in her eyes. "Four and a half billion years?"

He shrugs as nonchalantly as he can manage. "If she says so."

She drops to her knees in front of him. "No. Why would you even do that?" She grabs his shoulder and shoves him. "I was dead! I was dead and gone. Why?" She grabs his shoulders again and shakes him angrily. "Why would you even do that to yourself?"

How could she possibly not know?

He stares at her, and there's that anger he was looking for. It's written all across her face now.

"I had a duty of care," he says simply. As if he's stating an obvious fact.

They stare at each other for a moment, and he sees something shift in her eyes. If she didn't know before, she does now. She knows now just how far he's willing to go for her—just how much he…how much he cares about her.

He turns back to his task. "Listen, I'm nearly through here." There's a clanging sound that comes up from underneath them. "If I'm right, there should be a service duct under here. We'll be able to get to the old workshops. They have TARDIS' there."

She swallows, and lays a hand over his. "Okay, listen. I have something I need to say."

He shakes his head. He knows where she's going with this, but there's no time for it. He needs to get her out of here now. "We do not have time." And oh, the irony of him uttering that statement will never pass him by. He, a Time Lord, out of time. What a joke.

"No!" She shifts closer to him. "My time," she rasps, "my time is up, Doctor. Between one heartbeat and the last is all the time I have." She sniffs, and he feels her fingers curl around his hand. "People like me and you—we should say things to one another. And I'm going to say them now."

And she does.

Fin.