The Dalek casing opened and there Clara sat, tears streaming down her face. The Doctor had a vivid flashback to the Dalek asylum and felt sick. He had almost killed her. Dear God, he'd almost killed her. All because of Missy. "Missy, run," he said in a measured voice. Because he was going to kill her. This was the worst thing she'd ever done to him. Worse than the year that never was, worse than everything and so help him, as soon as he made sure Clara was alright, he was going to kill Missy if she didn't run. He could hear her chattering away as he knelt down to cradle Clara's face "I said run!" and she did, and he wasn't going to chase her because Clara was all that mattered.
Clara looked up at the Doctor as he carefully removed the neural wires. His face now, and the speech he made to all of Skaro. She'd never known. She didn't realize how much he cared. She'd hoped, certainly, but she'd never been sure. As soon as the neural wires were out, she started, "Doctor, I-" but she was cut off by his lips as he pulled her into a passionate kiss. She didn't even think about it, just wrapped her arms around him and opened her mouth for him and they kissed, deeply, easily, like this was something they did every day.
The kiss ended and he rested his forehead against hers. "I thought you were dead," he whispered hoarsely.
"I wouldn't do that to you again," she whispered back, though in truth, she'd thought she was going to die many times that day.
They stayed there for a moment, forgetting the world was literally falling apart around them until a crack formed beneath them. "We'd better get out of here," said Clara.
"Too right," said the Doctor, switching quickly to action mode and helping Clara up. And they left. The Doctor and Clara Oswald in the TARDIS. "Same old, same old," the Doctor had said. For as long as he could possibly keep it that way.