"I'm gonna go change," Clara announced airily.

The Doctor grunted noncommittally, without looking up from the console.

With a slight shrug, Clara gathered up her crimson velvet skirts and headed for the corridor.

"Norway."

"Pardon?"

"You asked me when I stopped believing in everything. It was on a windy beach, in Norway."

Compassion flooded Clara's featured as she retraced her steps. "England."

He glanced back over his shoulder at her, then jerked his head back around to focus on the console.

"A rainy cemetery, in England."

"I know. I was there." The Doctor stared intently at the screen in front of him.

Clara sidled a step closer. "It's hard, being left behind. When the person your world revolves around is just…gone. It feels like nothing will ever be right again. But the thing is, life has this little trick. It won't let you go on being miserable and empty forever. Sooner or later, you find…something…someone…and you start believing again."

The Doctor remained staring at the screen in stony silence, so Clara finally turned to go.

"Some wounds never truly heal."

"No, but they get better."

"Eleven hundred years, Clara."

"I never said it would be easy. The battles that are worth winning never are." She stretched up on her toes then, and brushed a light kiss against the side of his jaw. "Thank you."

"What's that for?"

"For them."

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"You just went to a good bit of trouble to make two people whose existence you steadfastly denied very happy," Clara replied with a cheeky grin.

"Why don't you go change?" he suggested grumpily. "I can't very well drop you back at the school in all that frippery."

Clara turned to go, but not before she saw the corner of his mouth turn up in the smallest hint of a smile.