First of all, a huge thank you to everyone who reviewed and read this story. I love you all. Thanks for sticking around all this time! I have a couple more oneshots set in this universe but not directly related to the Doctor, so they'll probably be up on their own soon.

There are so many stories.

Too many for even the last of the Time Lords to hear them all, and every one wrapped in such breakable threads of time.

But this story began with a ending and a blue box in the garden.

It seems fitting it should end with a beginning.

Here stands the same blue box, snow already shoring up against it's sides, and there, standing in the doorway framed by dangerously safe golden light, stands a girl.

She is saying goodbye.

It might be to the man inside the box, and she might give him one last hug before returning to the world she's known all her life.
To the boy with one heart that belongs to her, and the family might disapprove so they will simply elope because they are Lily&Teddy, and they will make this work.

There might be a house tucked away somewhere, with a roof that holds a telescope and an old flannel blanket, nicked from her house on the night they left, and a stack of starcharts kept from the wind with a bottle of ink that is dangerously close to toppling.

There might be a baby with hair that just won't decide on a colour, and eyes that are brighter than the stars. There might be visits, every so often, from that madman who showed her the stars, and one day the little baby, now a girl with hair that decided on purple (most of the time) might disappear for a few days, and return with the universe in her eyes.

And maybe the goodbye is to her family, to the boy who was never really hers, even though she was his.

Maybe she bids farewell to magic and Houses and dragon wings, and to little Lily Luna.

Maybe she will be some mad kind of Peter Pan, adrift in the universe but never alone. Oh no, she will never be alone. Because however cracked and broken she is, she will always have that man with the universe at his fingertips to take her hand and run.

{Choose, if you like, which path she will take, but remember that time can be rewritten.}

And it is here, dear reader, that our story ends with a beginning.