It wasn't supposed to be like this.

She was supposed to die in a blaze of glory, saving his life and the lives of countless others in the universe.

She was supposed to die peacefully in bed, surrounded by her children and grandchildren. Even great-grandchildren. (And it would be nice if she was surrounded by their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren.)

She wasn't supposed to die at all.

But at the very least, her death should have mattered. She shouldn't have died because she failed to read the fine print of a contract she hadn't even made.

So the Doctor decided he was going to do something about it.

First he had to get away from his captors, but that proved laughably easy. No one bothered to search his pockets, so it was a simple matter of pulling out his sonic glasses and unlocking the door. It turned out he was being held by the Mire, third-rate villains with delusions of grandeur. They were trying to purchase respect among the feared races of the universe and reclaim their ruthless reputation by capturing and killing the Doctor. They'd engineered an elaborate scheme to get Me to betray him, but they hadn't quite figured out what to do with him once they had him.

They also hadn't learned anything from the last time he'd dealt with them, so all he'd had to do was steal one of their helmets and sonic them to project the same fear they'd felt when Ashildr wove her story all those centuries ago.

They hadn't even bothered to erase the story from their memory banks. How they expected to be taken seriously was one of the universe's mysteries.

Then he grabbed one of the first-aid kits and pulled out his back-up key – Me was as much an idiot as he was to think he'd only had the one – and used his specs to summon the TARDIS. He could have stolen one of their small fighters to get back to earth, but he much preferred his own ride.

He wasn't in the mood to be tactful, so he landed the TARDIS in the middle of the trap street. A little show of force to all of his old enemies hiding there, a tangible reminder of why they feared him. Clara wouldn't approve, of course, but they'd stood there and let her die, and he was doing everything he could to fix it, no matter what. He would gladly stand there and let her yell at him, because it meant that she was there to yell at him. Besides, she would forgive him. She always did.

He pulled open both doors, something he rarely did. But he was in the mood to make an entrance, so he put on his glasses and swaggered out as if he owned the street – no, the planet.

Me had at least had the decency to move her body from the street. If her crumpled form had still been where she fell, he was pretty sure he would have rained fire and destruction upon the street, promise or no.

Me stepped out of her house and looked at him. 'I must admit, I didn't expect to see you again.'

He smirked humourlessly at her. 'I make it a habit to defy expectations. Where is she?'

She didn't bother asking who, just stepped aside and gestured to the door. He brushed passed her into the house and froze. The stasis field had been replaced with a table, on which Clara lay like an enchanted princess in a fairy tale. He couldn't help himself. He pulled off his glasses and bent over her, pressing a gentle kiss on her lips, as if that would be enough to bring her back.

'She's not Sleeping Beauty, Doctor. True love's kiss is not going to break the spell. She's dead.'

He jabbed a finger at Me without bothering to look at her. 'You do not get to speak.' He pulled out the Mire chip and used the glasses to modify it, just as he had for Ashildr.

Me seemed to realize what he was doing, because she cried, 'Doctor, you can't!'

'What did I say?' He ignored her protests and placed the chip on Clara's forehead, watching it absorb into her skin. 'Come on, Clara. Come back to me. Be impossible one more time.'

For an agonizingly long moment, nothing happened. Then she took a shuddering breath and opened her eyes. Her beautiful, enormous eyes. She blinked at the ceiling and frowned. 'I-I'm not dead. How am I not dead?'

'Clara! My Clara!' He realized he was crying, and he didn't even care that she could see.

Her eyes shot to his. 'Doctor? How-? The raven…'

He tried to laugh, but it came out more of a sob. 'You didn't think I would let a soul-stealing shade take you, did you?'

She struggled to sit up, and he helped her, kneeling beside the table so that they were eye-to-eye for once. 'But I was dead. The raven killed me, so how?'

This was the part she might not appreciate…

'Ah. Yes. Well, it turns out that the people Me made a deal with were the Mire, and on my way off their ship, I snagged another of their first-aid kits, and, well, you remember how it worked the last time.'

'Um. How did you get my soul back?'

'Clara. Clara, Clara, Clara.' He was aiming for amused, but mostly he just couldn't stop saying her name. 'The raven didn't really take your soul. A soul-stealing shade? Really? Who does that?' He was glad to see she was glaring at him. It meant she was feeling better. It meant she was alive. 'It gave you heart failure. Essentially, it scared you to death.'

'And you brought me back.'

'Yes.'

'You didn't stop to ask if I would want to be brought back?'

He opted to be honest, for once. 'I did, yes. And I brought you back anyway. I couldn't – I can't – lose you. Remember what you said to me, when we'd thought I'd died? That I'd made myself essential to you?' She nodded. 'Well, you've made yourself essential to me.'

Her eyes were filled with tears, and she tried to scrub them away. He caught her hand instead, kissing it like he had before.

'I came back to you then. Won't you come back to me, Clara?'

She gave him a watery smile. 'Daft old man, of course I will.' She pulled him forward like she had that Christmas, but instead of kissing his cheek, she pressed her lips to his own. Their joined hands were sandwiched between them, connecting their beating hearts. Her free hand came up to his neck, twining in the curls there, while his wrapped around her waist, fingers splaying across her back. The burning of his lungs finally made him pull back – he didn't want to bring her back just to suffocate her, although the chip would probably take care of that.

They stared into each other's eyes, both of them grinning like idiots. 'The TARDIS is right outside.'

She rolled her eyes at him. 'You parked in the street? What have I told you about intimidation tactics, Doctor?'

Her scolding only caused his grin to widen. 'Let's blow this popsicle stand.'

'Doctor, please stop trying to use slang.' But she was laughing and hopping off the table. Hand in hand, they walked to the door, but stopped in front of Me, who had a slightly traumatized expression on her face.

'I meant what I said before, Ashildr. Stay out of my sight. And maybe do a little research on the people you make deals with in the future, yeah?'

Clara punched him in the arm, but didn't let go of his hand. 'Intimidation tactics, Doctor. Knock it off.'

He smiled down at her. 'Yes, boss.'

They would eventually have to deal with the consequences of what he'd done, but for now, the universe was perfect.

Once again, I postpone the story I should be working on for some much-needed fluff. I refuse to accept Clara's death. Whoffaldi lives!

The Mire weren't going to be my original kidnappers, but they strong-armed their way in when I was trying to figure out how the Doctor would escape. I took the opportunity to have the Doctor do what he should have done the first time he tangled with them and give Clara a chip of her own. She would probably be angry with him in real life(!), but strict realism is not the point of this story.

I've notice that all my stories reference songs, but I guess that's what happens when you collect song lyrics. There's a song out there for every occasion, so why stop now?