Her body falls to the ground with a sickening thud, the whoosh of breath escaping from her lungs inaudible as the man staggered off with drunken sobs. He didn't want to kill her, Clara figured, just the Doctor.
Now she was left here to slowly die, because she didn't feel like she would make it out of this one. Nobody could. Her warm blood seeped through her tunic, and she wanted to reach down and wipe it off, but suddenly, and all to soon, her arms were heavy as rocks and she couldn't move. So this is how it ends. Her muddled brain thought, but she couldn't find the energy to be upset about it. It was always meant to end like this. Always.
"Clara?" his voice reaches out from the slowly darkening room, and her eyes widen, trying to see him. It isn't the rough Scottish voice of her Doctor, it was the smooth young, sad voice of her first Doctor. He's suddenly there, and she's suddenly standing, her feet balanced perfectly on the ground.
He looks real enough, she figures, with his green eyes regarding her calmly, his bowtie only the slightest bit crooked like it was when he was agitated, that hair of his curling over his brow, his small brown nubs he called eyebrows raised, as if to say: I'm here. Her hand automatically extended towards him, her fingers reaching to brush against his chin as if to tell herself that he was actually real. He caught her fingers in his grip, bringing their hands together, and he used the other hand to cup her face, oh so gently.
"Are you real?" she asked him, her breath brushing against his face. "Actually, properly, real?" Her hand goes to straighten his bowtie, and she finds that the cloth is real, not fake. He must be real.
"My Clara." He responds, avoiding her question, but the smile that's slowly spreading across his face satisfies her. "You brave, beautiful girl." Her eyes widen in shock, he's never, ever called her beautiful before. "Braveheart Clara." He finishes.
"How are you here?" she asks him, her voice breaking. "Am I dead?" he avoids that question as well, and kisses her forehead.
"My Impossible Girl." He says softly, "Will you come away with me?" she looks down at their clasped hands, and then up into his eyes.
"Yes." She finally whispers, and he grins, pulling her tightly to him in a brief hug, before twirling her around, her excited laughter bouncing off the walls.
They find her hours later, her eyes glassy and a ghostly smile echoed on her face. The Doctor cried, but then he heard it. Laughter, echoing throughout the stars, the Chin Boy and his Impossible Girl, living in the stars.