The Doctor sat on his knees. Resting them on the floor he could one last look around the room. It was dark, but it wouldn't stay that way for much longer. The room looked like a simple office, the think one finds in any dreary work place. Nothing gave away that this was where the CEO of heaven laid her diabolical plans. The Doctor continued looking. A normal wooden desk, with pictures of the CEO and her boyfriend, a normal comfy looking chair. Some potted plants in the corners; a door opposite the desk, a normal glass door, but the glass was broken. Someone had smashed through to get into the office. He remembered; the betrayal, the heartbreak, the gun, the shot….
There she was, the impossible girl, he would say Clara Oswald but she had never existed. What was she? The Doctor would never know, some things are better left not knowing he thought. All he knew was that, whatever she was, she was a monster, that was the role she had assumed and he played his role, the man who stops the monsters. He looked down to his hands, they were red from blood. He had had no choice he told himself, whatever Clara was had outplayed him, his hand had been forced and in his hand was a gun.
The Doctor was disgusted, by was the man who never would. He would never fire a gun yet he had. He was glad Clara had shot him before he got the guts to kill her, he wanted to regenerate, and he hated himself. Even though the girl he had killed had betrayed him and everything he stood for every single one of his morals and his rules.
"Clara", said The Doctor, tears running down his face. "I asked you once if you thought I was a good man. I was a fool. No good man kills, no good man can live with the knowledge he has killed billions. Good men don't need rules, yet I have so many. Clara, you were not a good person, and I wasn't either. Let us hope it is a good man that walks out of here."
The Doctor regenerated. But no good men walked out of that room.