It wasn't the same. It would never be the same. And that was why she was walking home in the rain now, no umbrella, with merely dark clouds above her head. London weather... It was what she should have expected when she left.
The mad man and his box were far behind her, and she had heard the noise of it leaving again as she walked away. She had heard that noise leaving her behind one too many times now, and she never wanted to hear it again. Clara Oswin Oswald was finally making a stand and going home. The Doctor she had loved was long gone, having transformed into another charming man with all of space and time in his head. He was the same in those aspects, but at the same time, he was completely different: He wasn't her Doctor. The childish, jumpy man with flippy hair and a tendency to talk with his hands was gone. And Clara's heart was broken. Why did he have to leave when she was finally brave enough to say the three words that she should have all along...? She couldn't have stayed, no matter how much of a universe was promised to her. It would always hurt, knowing that nothing would ever be the same. Maybe she wasn't accustomed to change. Or heartbreak.
Another tear fell down her pretty cheek, and it was warm enough to distinguish from the rain. Just feeling that she was crying made her want to collapse onto the ground and sob until there was nothing left. She never thought it would be this way, that she would fall for the mysterious man who had carried her away from here. "Running away with a space man in a box?" They had asked her. "Anything could happen to you!" They had implied something bad; little did she know that they would be right.
With a heavy heart, she stood at the intersection that connected the city from her home, where she still stayed with Angie and Artie. They would ask what had happened to The Doctor, but what would she say that wouldn't hurt them? Maybe she would do what she always did and just tell them that he would be back next Wednesday... Just thinking that gave her a slight glimmer of hope. False hope, anyway.
The stop light ticked from yellow to red above her, and the cars near her stopped. She could cross the road and go home now, but something stopped the rain-drenched girl in a plaid skirt. The light on the pedestrian crosswalk sign turned green, but no one crossed the street there. Instead, Clara had turned to her right, towards the city. She didn't know why she was doing this, but at the same time she knew what it was for. She just needed to see something, and remember. Wasn't that always what she had asked him to do?
It wasn't long before she was trudging her way up the steps of the museum, her own long-sleeved arms wrapped around herself in the cold. Inside, she was met with warmth and the glare of the flourescent lighting against her misty eyes. People shoved past her as she walked by, head down and all, but she didn't seem to mind. She was only concerned with where she was going, and when she looked up, she saw it.
It had been agreed that this painting was finally appropriate enough for 'human consumption,' and as the museum was closing soon, no one was gathered around it, allowing all of its three-dimensional and fiery glory to display itself clearly to her. It was the painting that she and The Doctor — her Doctor — had seen before running into two others, and then saving Gallifrey. She stopped in front of it, teary brown eyes examining the buildings, details, and experiencing the memories that came along with it. She almost started to cry again, but that was before she heard a voice from behind her. She froze. Her heart stopped.
"They call this one 'Gallifrey Falls No More.' A funny title, really. But I think it suits it perfectly."
She swiveled around, and was met, face to face with the other, only a foot apart. He was wearing the museum's standard uniform of a white-button up and black pants. He had a nametag that read 'curator.' And... He was wearing a bow tie. She felt her heart skip a beat, and for a moment, Clara could have sworn that it caught in her throat and prevented her from speaking as she looked up at him.
"It... It's you..." She finally managed to say, and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes again. Happy ones, almost. He looked just as he always had. Only now, his expression of confusion.
"Who?" He asked, and her expression fell again. That was, until his straight line of a mouth grew into a smile, and he winked. Clara immediately ran forward and practically jumped into the foot-taller man's arms, wrapping her own around him and practically bursting into tears. She didn't know how this was possible, how he had come back to her if he was supposed to be gone, but she did not want to question it. She did not want to let go at all. It seemed as though she didn't become the only Impossible one when she stepped through the Doctor's time stream that one fateful day. Her Doctor was back. Wasn't that all that mattered?
"You may have let me go that time, Clara Oswald," He said, and she could hear him clearly no matter how tightly she imagined herself holding him in the embrace. "But I will never let it happen again. Just this once, let me save you."