Author's note: If anyone keeps up with things I write, I'm sorry. I will get to my multi-chapter stories soon, I promise. I work full time and I live the furthest from my job so I sort of crash at coworkers houses and when I decide to write, it's around midnight, so I hope this makes sense. I know it jumps around a bit. I'm sure the 50th gave a bit of inspiration to a lot of Whouffle shippers/writers out there and I had to act on my inspiration. So yes, there may be a bit of spoilers from the 50th anniversary. This is mostly just a cheesy, fluffy one-shot.

Reviews are always so appreciated.

Thank you to those that have read things I've written. It means a lot. This is unbeta'd. All errors and mistakes are my own and there ARE most definitely errors.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Doctor Who or anything associated with it.

Though, most of the italicized dialogue is taken from The Day of The Doctor.

Gallifrey has fallen no more. No more.

No more.

The words echo in your head for what feels like an eternity, perhaps it has been an eternity. You don't know. The painting before you is such a sight and you can't figure out what emotions to muster up but you can feel a sort of anticipation in your hearts. You're no longer the man responsible for genocide. For killing billions of your own people to the end war against the daleks. You sit for a long while on the bench in front the painting, not sure how much time has passed before you hear you the door to the TARDIS creak open. You turn your head just a bit to see Clara peaking out from behind the doors, she raises an eyebrow in question. You think it's to ask if you're okay or if you need more time or if you mind if she joins you for this moment. You don't know, but either way you extend your arm from where you're sat and she approaches you, grabbing your hand with her own and settling down next to you.

"We succeeded," you tell her softly, "The title. It's Gallifrey Falls No More."

"You did brilliantly, you know. The three of you, but especially you," she says warmly.

You had destroyed Gallifrey once before and almost did it again with two of your past selves. But Clara, Clara reminded you of who you are. When you'd seen her standing a short distance away with tears threatening to make their way down her face, you had to stop. Her eyes had shown sadness and disappointment and you wanted to fix her. Make her happy. It wasn't about her though. It was about you, the disappointment. You like to think that you know Clara as well as she knows you and in that moment there were two wrongs you needed to right. Saving Gallifrey and not upsetting Clara. She rarely cried, she was often resilient and tried not to show too much emotion.

"What?" you questioned, "What is it? What?"
"Nothing," as she shook her head ever so slightly.
"No. It's something. Tell me." You needed to know.
"You told me you wiped out your own people. I just.. I never pictured you doing it, that's all."

She'd seen all your lives, all your faces. Accepted all of them. She didn't just see you as the body you inhabited. She saw you as the one man you were that switched faces every now and then. Trenzalore had been something of a nightmare but when you'd both come out from it safe and sound, you were bonded in a way with her than had been different from your relationships with anyone else in your twelve-hundred years of life. Though, suddenly, you felt compelled to tell her that it had always been you. So much had changed in the four-hundred years since you had been the war-doctor, but he was still a past life. You were still him, once upon a time.

Then you saw, a projection, a reality around you. The fall of Arcadia, so many people running and crying and wanting to protect their lives. No hope was seen on their faces. Pure fear and defeat. You didn't want to see it.

"These are the people you're going to burn?" Grief overwhelming her face.
"There isn't anything we can do." the tenth Doctor said.
"He's right," you said. You wished he wasn't, "There isn't another way, there never was. Either I destroy my own people or let the universe burn."
Clara couldn't stop here tears now, seeing the projection, "Look at you, the three of you. The warrior, the hero, and.. you."
You moved closer to her then, "And what am I?" You weren't sure you knew anymore.
"Have you really forgotten?"

You were hers. Her doctor and she needed you to know, that more than anything right now, you weren't only the man that would protect her under any circumstance, but also the universe. All the planets, galaxies, and stars in the sky. The savior of worlds. It's who you are, it's in your Time Lord DNA.

"Yes. Maybe, yes."
"We've got enough warriors. Any old idiot can be a hero."
"Then what do I do?" You pleaded.
Clara's face changed then, it was one of compassion and comfort, "What you've always done. Be a Doctor. You told me the name you chose was a promise. What was the promise?
"Never cruel or cowardly." spoke the tenth Doctor.
"Never give up, never give in," were the words spoken by the version of yourself that you had tried for so long to forget.

Both Doctor's were right and Clara was right. All you needed was to remember. You gave Clara's hand a squeeze and she looked toward you.

"What is it?" she says, slightly worried.

You smile softly, gently, and shake your head, "Nothing. Just, thank you. You really are my impossible girl, Clara. You always save me, guide me to where I need to be when I stray from myself and from what I stand for."

"I told you before, Doctor, I always know," she said smirking at you.

You nodded, "That you do."

You leapt to your feet then, pulling Clara along with you, as you made your way to the TARDIS.

"Still fancy a week in ancient Mesopotamia, future Mars, then having cocktails on the moon?" You asked her excitedly, "It is still your birthday after all, sorry I didn't say something sooner. Being carried away by helicopter because of UNIT may have got a bit in the way of the plans I had for you."

She laughed a little at that, "You, with a plan? You never have a plan. It's what you always say when I ask you, that you don't have one."

You groaned, she knew you too well sometimes, "Yes, yes, Clara. I know. But it's your birthday. One of the most important days in the universe, if you ask me."

Clara gave him a funny look, "I'm one person, Doctor. You've met billions. You've never someone who wasn't important."

You suppose that's true but Clara will always have a few advantages over anyone else. You've had loads of companions. You've been married more than once under some very weird occasions and yes, you've had family. All have come and gone over your lives. But not Clara, never Clara. You remember the time at Caliburn house, searching for a ghost. You'd had a quick conversation with Clara, she'd asked where the two of you were going. The answer wasn't so much of where as it was when.

We're going always.

That's what you had told her. At that point in time you didn't know it would apply to your relationship with her. All you'd know was that you met her twice before and you were bewitched, enthralled. She was impossible and she was the only mystery worth solving. She was all that mattered.

"Not one person has been with me longer than you have, Clara. Saving me and guiding me through all my lives, even when I didn't know you were there. If you'd never been born, I may not be alive. If I weren't alive, I wouldn't get to have you in the life I have now. It's been the most precious, most important I think."

Her eyes were cloudy and neither of you could find a word to define the emotion that was painted on her face, but she accepted your answer nonetheless, and that was enough for now.

She cleared her throat before speaking, worried her voice may crack with the inexplicable response she was feeling to your words. Maybe it was love. Or sadness, something. Both, maybe.

"How about we just go back to mine? Order some takeaway, have some wine." You made a disgusted face and she rolled her eyes, "I have jammie dodgers, fish fingers, and custard all in the kitchen at my flat if that suits you better."

Your face lit up like a little kid on Christmas and you let out a delighted laugh, "That sounds wonderful, Clara! My jammie dodgers and my Clara. Excellent night."

A lot changed after Trenzalore. It took awhile for Clara to recover, she didn't remember everything about all her lives and when she did, there were always terrible headaches that followed the memories, the nightmares. You kept her in your sight at all times, as much as you could. So, she stayed in TARDIS. Slept in the bedroom the blue box has generated for her and you held her every night. Hoping you could battle any nightmares she suffered, wake her if she started crying out in her sleep. Protect her the way she's protected you.

Meanwhile, the Maitland's acquired a new nanny. Once Clara was back to herself, she got a job as a teacher. Her dream job. She's gotten a degree in English literature and now she could finally use her knowledge and passion she had for the art of words to teach young students. She moved into her own place after that. It was quiet not having Angie and Artie around, arguing with each other. Angie arguing with her about how the woman wasn't her mother and she should just get off her back. With Clara gone now, Angie would often text her and tell her that the new nanny sucked.

While her apartment was quiet because she wasn't constantly watching kids anymore, there was always still a lot going on there. You had to admit you did cause a lot of chaos and havoc. But Clara had a real adult job now and she couldn't always run off anymore. Only on weekends, now, really. Even then, she would set herself up in the TARDIS library and grade papers. It was an endearing look on her. She'd wear reading glasses, wrap herself up in an over-sized sweater and curl up in a lounge chair by the fireplace in the library and read student's papers, marking then with red pen every so often.

So during weeknights, you would park your TARDIS in the middle of her living room and start doing random things around her home. You would try to cook her dinner. Although your only specialty was fish fingers and custard and she wasn't too partial to that delicacy. But she kept a lot of things in her flat just for you. It was almost as if you lived there, though you had said on several occasions, while you had different faces that you'd never be able to live in a house. That you just couldn't do the domestic thing. It was hard for you to sit still anywhere, but Clara's presence made it easier. Sometimes she would tell you to just calm down and sit and enjoy the silence. That silence could be nice. And it was.

When the two of you materialized in her living room by your time machine, she collapsed on her couch almost as soon as she had moved from the TARDIS doors.

"Are you alright, Clara? Do you have a headache? It's been long day, I can try and make tea. Do you have tea?"

"I'm just tired, I think. I'm going to pass on dinner. But if you're hungry, you can help yourself. You know where everything is." She smiled when she realized that he basically lived with her now instead of the other way around. He would enter his TARDIS when she'd go to bed and when she woke up in the morning, he would be in the kitchen, burning eggs and toast for breakfast.

"Do you- do you mind if I stay with you tonight? In your bed?"

It'd been a long day, being away from her didn't feel right to you.

She rose her eyebrows at him, "You really can be very keen sometimes, Doctor."

"No! No, no! That's - I -no. That's not how I meant it," she had a way of getting you all flustered sometimes.

She grinned, "Damn. And here I thought a night with you in my bed was my birthday gift."

"Clara!" you berated her, "Behave."

Then you started to backtrack, "Although, if I were to- well, if we, you know. If something ever happened in that manner, with" you pointed between you and her, "would it change things?"

She had a far off look on her face for a moment before she answered him, "I'd like to think not."

"Clara, do you remember one of those nights after Trenzalore? When you asked me if I dream?"

Clara sometimes asks me if I dream. "Of course I dream," I tell her "everybody dreams."
"But what do you dream about?" She'll ask. "The same thing everybody dreams about," I tell her.
"I dream about where I'm going." She always laughs at that.
"But you're not going anywhere. You're just wandering about."

"'Course I remember. I said something about you just wandering through life aimlessly."

"Yes," You confirmed, "But I have a home now. Again."

"Gallifrey," she said curtly. Feeling as though he may say he might be leaving for a long while in search of it.

"Yes, Gallifrey. But, here, too. Whenever I'm with you, I don't want to leave. I dream about where I'm going, yes. Sometimes I dream about where we're going together and other times, it's only you I dream about, Clara."

Clara stared at you for a moment, her eyes got that glossy look they did sometimes when she was feeling some sort of intense emotion.

"You're you, Doctor, and I'm me. I have to trick myself multiple times a day, remind myself, that I can't be in love with you. There's so much for you to do and see and worlds to save."

You nodded, "I can change. Gallifrey can wait. I've waited a thousand years. What is waiting longer going to do? I've never wanted to stay on this planet so long. You know, I've been married, been in love. But being domestic, it's not been a thing I've ever been used to. I want to be here with you, though. You're my Clara. Don't trick yourself anymore, Clara. I know you have a life here now. Maybe you can let me be a part of it."

You could practically hear the thoughts moving at a rapid speed in her head. She could keep up with you, one of the few that could. Clever, thought just as fast as you did. Of course, you're smarter than everyone but still, you knew Clara could figure things out extremely fast if she wanted to.

"I already stay here. Just in the TARDIS, really. We could make this, your flat, a home. A real home," you told her.

"Okay." Clara said just above a whisper.

"Okay?" you beamed.

"Yes. Okay. But first things first, I don't want the TARDIS parked in my lounge, find somewhere more suitable where it's not in the way. Second, let me do the cooking, Doctor, fish fingers and custard isn't something I can handle on a daily basis. Or ever. Also, I don't want my home caught on fire when you try and cook a meal."

You clapped your hands together, "Yes! Deal and deal."

"And," she spoke a little louder, cutting you off a bit, "if I stop tricking myself, I want to hear you say it, too."

You smiled, you knew what she meant, "I love you, Clara Oswald."

"And I love you. Now, I wasn't kidding. You, me, bed. Now."

"You're the boss."