"…you're not immortal, Clara," he was saying, "you never were." The Doctor and Clara lay, sprawled on a burning battlefield, watching the stars together in their last moments. He would not regenerate with these injuries.

"Neither are you, but that never stopped you." She smiled. "We are the adventurers of time and space. And we are impossible. If death is but the next great adventure…what's stopping us now?" she smiled up at him, moving her head only the smallest inch.

"I've lived—" he gasped "nearly 72 times the amount you will, and it's my fault"

"Hush now" she smiled warmly again, tears forming in her already glazed eyes.

"You once told me a good life depends on the person who lives it, and not the stretch of time they had. Doctor, you've made my time extraordinary. And now," she closed her eyes, fighting tears, "nothing is stopping me from the next extraordinary adventure." She reached for his hand, inching her own across the muck of the battlefield. "And you know I would never have traded that for anything. Thank you, Doctor." She began to choke on her words. "For saving my life." The tears rolled freely down her battered, dirt and blood stained face, still so beautiful.

"Doctor?"

Silence.

Clara's heart caught in her chest. No…

"Doctor? No, Doctor, PLEASE, NO" she cried once more

"DOCTOR!" she wailed, extending her hand as far as she could go, centimeters between his own, unmoving, curled hand. Heaving herself over the rubble with her lacerated hands, she grasped his hand in her own, feeling the blood and earth cement the connection. His fingers did not twitch under her touch, or cling back as she had hoped. She held a dead man's hand, and she wept, the mourning of the universe coursing through her in great, wrenching sobs—

"DOCTOR!"

"CLARA I'M HERE!" a voice bellowed in her face, and she woke. A very exasperated timelord leaned over her in irritation.

"CLARA OSWALD I am literally in front of you face right this very instant! Or do I have to move around a bit in order for your eyes to capture everything, because your face is so wide maybe you've missed it!"

Clara's wide eyes stared blankly at the Doctor, disbelieving.

"Gallifrey to Clara!" a white, boney hand waved in front of her face. "You've been screeching something horrible for the last half hour! Good god woman" he rolled his eyes, rubbing his hands down his face.

Her face broke into a smile of such heartbreaking relief and elation, the Doctor forgot his own cover, and he smiled his rare, dazzling smile.

She'd been strapped to an odd reclining wall once she'd begun having heat-induced fits, the Doctor later explained without making eye contact. Immediately Clara felt horrible about forcing him through whatever she did…but she couldn't shake the image of the Doctor's dripping, muddy hand…

The Doctor pulled Clara into a warm hug, snaking his arms around his best friend. He wondered if he should tell her that she talks in her sleep…

She nuzzled her head into his red velvet waistcoat, wishing this moment could last forever.

And he decided not to, smiling into her hair.

THE END