A/N: Okay. this pairing comes from another story I read that I absolutely fell in love with because of the pairing, called 'They Said Loving The Devil Was Impossible' and I suggest everyone go check it out. It's pretty interesting stuff.

I haven't really written in Clara's perspective before, but I'mma try and do my best. I apologize in advance for any out of character moments.

Anyway, enjoy, and please tell me what you think! I'd love to hear from you guys!

Death was an odd thing. The idea of someone passing from one world to…whatever there was after death was a startling concept to have to comprehend.

The first few days after that horrible day in which she had found Danny's broken form being carried away into an ambulance had been…confusing. She had tried to pretend things were okay at first. She continued her classes at Coal Hill though her boss and her Gran had advised against it. She continued reading her book, 'The Art of Zen', and finished it by the end of the week. She even went grocery shopping, managing to catch an episode of Smallville when she finished dinner.

Clara was fascinated with American television, but if she had to be specific, she was fascinated with this one. She happened to catch sight of the DVD's while out shopping one day, and curious, decided to check the show out. The show had stopped airing several years ago, in its tenth season. She didn't mind being behind with the times. There was no pressure, after all, to catch up with episodes and discuss them with friends later. She was happy to watch at her own pace, which was a slow one, since she was often laden with essays, and tests to mark.

But she liked Smallville. There was something about the whole mythology of Superman that fascinated her, and if she had to be honest, that Clark Kent reminded her a bit of the Doctor. Always saving everyone, but never asking for anything for it.

But of course, she couldn't continue watching Smallville when the reality of her situation had finally hit her.

She remembered the exact moment when she had broken down.

It had been in her English class, and they were reading Julius Caesar. She loved Julius Caesar. Taught it every year, more as a habit now, than out of obligation to the curriculum.

A student had been reading one of the monologues, and it was the strangest thing-when the student paused, taking in a breath to continue the passage, she snapped.

The tears had burst forth out of their own will. Like a broken dam, with nothing to stop the coming onslaught.

She had been forced to take a leave of absence due to her 'unstable state'. She was grateful. Looking at all those stunned faces of her students at her outburst and all those pitiful glances her co-workers gave her when she left made her want to punch something. Didn't they all have something better to do than stare at her?

Her flat had been a nice shelter from the world. From all those prying eyes, and opinions. As if they knew anything about her and Danny. As if it were any of their business to chime in their own thoughts on the matter. This wasn't politics where anyone could voice what they wanted to say. This was her life, for God's sake, and it certainly wasn't something that could be viewed like a political scandal.

So she holed herself in her bedroom, moving only to eat, and go to the bathroom. She remembered mundane things, like showering, but she had been so tuned into the grief she had no recollection of doing them.

Her gran visited every day, attempting to comfort her when her thoughts grew too dark.

God, she had been such a mess. Numb, unflinching, and alone, mostly preferring it that way.

When she had phoned the Doctor, asking for a favor, she knew how things could go down. There was always the possibility she would be pushed out of his life for what she planned to do, but in all honesty, she did not give a damn about the Doctor. She needed Danny back, and if using her best friend to do this was the only way then…well….she'd do anything.

But of course…things hadn't gone to plan. The world was taken over by all those cold, metal, things and Danny had been one of them. Kate Stewart's father, too. Her mother. The Doctor's old friends…everyone who had ever died brought back by such a horrible, mad woman.

She had wanted to… Oh, God, she had wanted to. Everything was telling her to. The rushing thoughts. The quickened pulse… a sharp intake of breath…finger poised to push the button.

But the Doctor had stopped her. Saved her from potentially making the worst mistake of her life. At first, she didn't care. It was only when she remembered the sacrifice Danny had made, and all those times that she had told him she loved him (too few times) that stayed her hand.

She had had the mad urge to pour all her despair and anger into that one act. It was all that bloody woman's fault, so she deserved to die. At least, that was what she had thought then. Now...

The meeting in the café had been…a goodbye, she supposed. The Doctor would finally return home, something he had been aching for so long. She has happy for him. At least someone got a happy ending out of all this.

Why had she lied? After that night in her flat's hallway, with Danny bringing back that boy, she decided right then that she needed to move on. The only way she could was by leaving her past behind…and that included the Doctor. Him finding Gallifrey had been just the excuse she needed. Now he had something to live for, he no longer needed her.

And that was okay.

She didn't go back to teaching. Instead, she did something that would've surprised her if she hadn't been through so many insane situations with the Doctor, and Danny. Moving out of her flat, and out of London, was her first step. Leaving England altogether, and making for America had been a whim, really. A passing fancy she had grasped hold of, and held on to.

Saying goodbye to Gran had been painful. Her dad led his own life, now, with that wife of his. Her Gran, besides her dad and her friends, had no one else. Clara had been the only 'normal' person in a mad London that ran its city like clockwork, its contents constantly moving, and shifting its pace-living at a pace Clara just couldn't do. Her gran could have a normal conversation with her about normal things.

'Course, it didn't help that her gran had the same definition of normal as herself. No wonder they stuck out like a worn boot along a rack of shiny, polished ones.

Clara always managed a tiny smile when she thought of her Gran. At least with her, she could allude to if not explicitly state her adventures with the Doctor.

But as always, her gran had understood her need to be rid of London. She had even jokingly referenced an American film, Thelma and Louise, and suggested she be Thelma, and Clara be Louise, and they both leave London together, and ride the highways of America.

It was a nice thought, but her gran had also understood Clara's desire for her own company. She had been through the same thing, long ago. Like any mild wound, they needed to be healed on their own. Like a cut, or a scrape. Nothing life-threatening, but the scar would be there, reminding you of the pain that you suffered, even if it was only a temporary one.

Her Gran hadn't been saying Clara's pain was a 'mild wound', but she did recognize that she wouldn't be any help hanging off her shoulder, constantly watching to see if she'd fall apart again. So she let her granddaughter leave.

…

The plane ride was long. And boring. With too much time on her hands to think about things, specifically about the people she was leaving behind, Clara brought out her old mix-tape.

Placing some headphones over her ears, and ignoring the chattering man beside her talking to another guy on her left (she sat in the middle) about real estate, she laid back and lost herself in music.

'Nobody can tell ya
There's only one song worth singin'
They may try and sell ya
'Cause it hangs them up
To see someone like you…'

She hadn't listened to this mix tape since high school. She had considered leaving it behind with her other stuff, but something about the worn tape with the messy handwriting of her youth, with the faded yellow paper that curled at the edges and the funny title she once called the tape ('Songs That Escape Time and Laugh At It') compelled her to keep it. She was glad she did.

'You're gonna be nowhere,
The loneliest kind of lonely
It may be rough goin'
Just to do your thing
The hardest thing to do

But you've gotta make your own kind of music
Sing your own special song
Make your own kind of music
Even if nobody else sings along…'

Attaining her work visa was the easy part. It was actually figuring out what to do once she landed that had her sighing in frustration.

'Make your own kind of music
Even if nobody else sings along…'

But she had enough confidence in herself that she'd be able to pull it off. After all, London, the Doctor, and Danny were all behind her now. She could finally say she was out of the waters now...right?

Regardless of what would happen next, Clara was going to ignore the future. Her only concern was the present, and she was going to live in it, and not anywhere else.