As the TARDIS materialized in the back garden of 13 Bannerman Road, the Doctor sighed, his hearts broken. Clara was gone. She'd been the bright light shining and guiding him through this regeneration. While he would survive as he always did, it always hurt when companions were torn from him. None more so than those first faces welcoming him into the latest incarnation. As much as he hated to admit it, Clara had been just another in a long line of those.

Only Clara wasn't out in the universe living her life. Clara was dead. And with a whole new regeneration cycle, every emotion seemed amplified and exaggerated, no matter how he tried to bury them.

Which brought him to his current destination.

As a young man on Gallifrey, the Doctor sought out an old hermit who tutored him in various ways. That hermit eventually gave up on Gallifreyan society and settled in the mountains of Tibet on earth, leading the life of a monk. His old tutor helped the Doctor jumpstart his regeneration after his exposure to radiation on Metebelis 3.

Sarah Jane was with him at that time and experienced how wisdom and compassion could overcome almost any obstacle. Over their time together, Sarah learned how the Doctor always led with democracy, with violence as a last resort. She took that and made it a driving force in her defense of earth, schooling her youngsters down that same path.

At times, it made the Doctor seem reckless. He was over 2000 years old, so he allowed himself some recklessness. Sarah may have gone through some of that, but she matured and every step now seemed planned and calculated, even though the Doctor knew she thrived on improvisation. Clara took that recklessness and threw herself into everything with wild abandon, not caring that humans only have one life. She flared like a shooting star, brilliant and bright, yet short.

The Doctor wished that Clara could have learned from Sarah's experience, but that was not to be.

Now the Doctor needed some reassurance, and not just from Sarah Jane.

Running a hand through his grey-silver hair, he took a deep breath, opened the door and stuck his head outside. It was dark and just starting to rain, the clouds reflecting his mood. Across the yard, Sarah leaned in her doorway, arms crossed, waiting for him to exit. Without a word, she ushered him into the house and straight through to the kitchen. The Doctor sat down at the kitchen table, folding his hands together and placing them on the table. Sarah sat a cup of tea next to him, then sat down opposite, wrapping her own hands around a mug and waited.

"Black tea brews optimally between 98-100 degrees Celsius. Too little and the flavour isn't extracted at its best, too much and the leaves scald, leaving the tea bitter." The Doctor took a sip. "That temperature seems to be a constant across the universe. At least among those races that have tea. Which surprisingly is more than you would think. Such a civilised expression."

Sarah watched him stare into the mug. "I don't think you're here to discuss the Universe's best practices for tea."

The Doctor only sighed, concentrating only on the tea in front of him.

"Tell me."

"Clara's dead."

Sarah gasped. She didn't know this regeneration well, so his bluntness surprised her. She watched his eyes and could see the sadness there. Cautiously, she slid her hand over and covered his. "I'm sorry."

"She was careless. Expecting me to be able to fix or erase any situation she got herself into." He closed his eyes. "Or expecting to smooth talk her way out of it, like we'd done so often. I should've done a better job protecting her."

"There's only so much you can do to protect someone that doesn't want to be protected."

The Doctor looked up and gestured towards her with his free hand. "Case in point."

Sarah shrugged. "I've turned out all right."

"Clara was a lot like you. In fact, there were times I'd catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye, and I'd have to do a double take and make sure I wasn't wearing a long scarf."

The Doctor turned his hand to clasp Sarah's. As he ran his thumb across her fingers, he noticed the diamond and gold band. He looked down at it. "This is new."

"Relatively, yes." Sarah blushed. "Are you surprised?"

He shook his head. "It was only a matter of time." Sighing, he added, "For a Time Lord, my timing has always been terrible."

Sarah shook her head. "Not when it counted."

He pulled his hand back from Sarah's and frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. "This is dangerous you know." Sarah sat back and folded her arms. He saw the dark look cross her face and continued, "I don't mean that, I mean my being here. Timelines and all."

"Yet you're here for a reason. And you knew I wasn't alone. You've known that since you were your floppy haired, bow tie wearing self. In fact, that version of you may have been the one to encourage it, or so the story goes."

The Doctor nodded, "I believe I may have said something along the lines of 'I know where you call home' or something like that. It has been a long time for me since then." He began to fidget, uncomfortable with the emotions that were being stirred up. He stood up quickly and began to pace through the kitchen. "Is he here?"

"Yes, but he wanted to keep the timelines in check."

"I need to see him, Sarah Jane."

Sarah took a deep breath. She knew it was serious when he used her full name. "Are you sure?"

The Doctor only glared in response.

Sarah stood and started to head for the attic, before stopping in the doorway and turning back to him. "Those eyebrows really do say more than your mouth this go round, Doctor." She smiled, trying to lighten his mood, but he'd taken up a position in front of her sink, staring absently outside. "Right, back in a mo'."

The Doctor went back to the table, picked up his tea mug and finished it up. He grabbed both his and Sarah's mugs, took them over to the sink and washed them, putting them in the drainer to dry.

"The great Time Lord, driven to do the washing up." The voice was deep and familiar, and the Doctor knew it instantly, even without seeing who spoke.

The Curator walked across the room and sat at the table, his cane tapping on the tile as he moved. He continued, "It's very dangerous for us both to be here."

"Don't you think I know that?" the Doctor whipped around.

"Then why don't you tell me why you're here, although I have my suspicions."

The Doctor nodded and folded his arms. "Ancient history for you. Just tell me, is it worth it?"

The Curator closed his eyes, memories long buried digging themselves back up. He remembered wearing that face, and what happened to it. Shame really, how it ended. He always had been fond of that face. Finally, he turned to the Doctor. "Our companions are the best of us. It's very hard for them not to get etched into the very fabric of our hearts. That doesn't change, no matter how many times they break our hearts. Sometimes, once in a great while, the Universe is kind and gives us exactly what we need in that moment."

"Other than your current situation, when has that been the case?"

"Rose. Trapped with a version that she can help heal and that will age with her, comfortable walking that slow path. River. We spent so much time with her and watched her live a full life, even if it was short by our standards. You still have time with her remaining. Cherish it."

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, making it fluff up even more than normal. "I guess."

"Given how long you've lived so far, and the number of companions you've had, I'd even go so far as to say you've beat the odds. Most of them went on to live long, full lives. Even if it did mean they left our company."

The Doctor nodded, then gestured around the room. "And what about the choice you've made here. Is that worth it?"

The Curator bowed his head, and spoke at a whisper, his voice heavy with emotion. "The day will come when even Sarah will pass away." He looked up at the Doctor, deep blue eyes piercing into the younger version of himself. He cleared his throat before continuing at a normal volume. "But it isn't today, this month, or this year. I will outlive her. I always knew that. When that day comes, my hearts may be irrevocably broken, I don't know. However, this moment in time, it's like a night on Derillium. Beautiful, awe-inspiring, and worth every moment. I wouldn't change it for anything in the Universe." The Curator stood up, the emotion now gone from his voice. "Now, the timelines are bending."

They both walked toward the door. "Time for me to be going, then," the Doctor said.

"As difficult as it seems right now, young Clara's story isn't quite over." The Curator smiled and tapped the side of his nose.

The Doctor filed that away for future and then smiled, but it didn't go all the way to his eyes. Another thought occurred to him. "I doubt I'll see Sarah again with these eyes. Please give her my love."

The Curator opened the door for him. "Always, every day for as long as we have."

With a final nod, the Doctor left, the Curator closing the door behind him. He glanced out the window and watched the Doctor entering the TARDIS, not realising Sarah had come alongside him.

"Will he be okay?"

The Curator turned to her and opened his arms, enveloping her in a hug. "Do I look okay?"

She laughed, returning his embrace and resting her head on his chest. "I like to think so."