Ah, three years later yet I'm still making different scenarios for Hell Bent. This time, I was inspired by iJeune Fille on Youtube, who posted a video that brought that line, which I have placed in the summary, to light. This basically a blurb of my own thoughts because I'm still bawling over it all.

I apologize in advance if the past and present tense mingle. I was just a crying mess as I typed this. Hopefully it doesn't ruin your enjoyment of the whole thing.

She doesn't think she can do this, as her impossible man stands outside the diner doors. She doesn't think she'll be able to withhold the tears that are threatening to fall. She doesn't think she can restrain herself from screaming that she was, Clara Oswald, his impossible girl.

But she does it anyway.

She understands how the universe was so cruel, now that she was on this side of the spectrum. She had many words to say, many things she wanted to do with him. To see many galaxies and to explore the new things they could have seen. Could have.

Ah, she already feels the tears burning her eyes. She withholds a sob.

She can't help but smile, to see him stride in, his guitar slung over his shoulder. He's wearing his sonic sunglasses. Charming. He took his seat at the stool near the counter, but she does not turn yet. She doesn't feel like she has the strength, but she has to. So she turns. They have a conversation, although forced. She wants to squeeze every second from him, just to hear his voice, as she knows it is the last she will ever hear. He plays a short tune and her smile, albeit bittersweet, becomes wider. She asks for him to tell her all about this...Clara person. The one he seems to speak so dearly of, yet he doesn't know why.

But she knew. She knew it all.

She listens to the true story come from his lips. She knows the grief he feels right now, it won't be permanent. Without the logic, he will avoid the reasoning as to why his heart aches, as it isn't needed. He'll stop asking why he feels that burning; why his mind refuses to piece the pieces known as Clara Oswald in his head; why a large chunk of his life has been taken out, even if there is something that is supposedly there; why that lonesome ache he normally has with every other companion feels a little stronger; why all these things are coming to him. It'll dissipate, the moment they separate. He won't remember.

He finishes his story and she is surprised she managed to stay calm, that she managed to keep her usually large mouth, shut, besides the little anecdotes. She noted all the times his eyes, despite his mind being unsure, shined when he spoke of her. She desired to grab him, right then and there, and just hold him, one last time.

But she can't.

"When something goes missing, you can always recreate it by the hole it left. I know her name was Clara. I know we traveled together. I know that there was an Ice Warrior on a submarine and a mummy on the Orient Express. I know we sat together in the Cloisters and she told me something very important, but I have no idea what she said. Or what she looked like. Or how she talked. Or laughed. There's nothing there. Just nothing." Each word brought another short burst of a memory to her mind. She holds onto the glass she was cleaning tightly with each honest declaration. She was right, that he was beginning to fade and forget, faster and faster. She is surprised her mouth still manages to work.

"Are you looking for her?"

"I'm trying." She wants to tell him to not try, to just run, just like he always does. Run into his little box, to travel the stars and meet new people. Just like he always does. How selfish she feels, to desire to hold onto her impossible man, for even just a little longer. She has words she wants to say, things she wanted apologize for, things she wanted to admit...but the universe refuses to listen to her small pleas.

"She could be anyone, right? I mean, she could be me, for all you know." That small spark of hope felt so ridiculous as she said those words, but what could she do? She was losing her best friend. It wasn't even just that. He was everything. Words that were left unsaid that she wished she admitted. Three words included into those regrets.

"There's one thing I know about her. Just one thing. If I met her again, I would absolutely know." She opens her mouth to speak and she mouths words out, but no sound comes from her throat. He watches as he gets confused and she turns, finding her tears sincerely trying to fall, harder and harder. She forces herself to be brave heart Clara and bites them all back.

Absolutely know, huh?

She remembers when he first regenerated.

"You can't see me can you? You look at me and you can't see me. Do you have any idea what that's like?"

She understands now. She knows what it's like. He's looking at her, without actually looking at her. She finds her body shaking and she stares down at her small hands, the ones that used to pull levers and hold his hand. The roles have been reversed. She understands. She wants to tell him, that she gets it. She knows. She feels it.

But she can't.

She has been erased from his narrative, unlike most of the others, with their stories ended with such sad, yet beautiful endings. She won't have an ending, not until she jumps onto Trap Street. He won't remember her sacrifice, he won't remember that she saw all of him, he won't remember their adventures, he won't remember anything. Funny, how she tells him to run and to remember her. How ironic that in the end, he won't.

She gives him a cryptic ending, but that's it. Nothing more, nothing less. He knows his mind is attempting to determine it all, but to no avail. She doesn't stick around to see him attempt to fix the pieces, so she leaves him to make a brand new story. She nods to Ashildir, who whisks them away, taking them to new places and to new adventures.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean that she took her heart with her.