As the Doctor knelt on the grass, his head in his hands, he couldn't help but think. Tears spilled down his cheeks as memories ran through his head. He didn't want to go back to every laugh, every sparkling moment. But he couldn't help it. He lost himself in Clara's memory, the happiest years of his life. The ones he'd spent with her.

Singing and making pancakes on Sunday morning. Staying up until midnight, laughing the whole time. How he'd comforted her in the shower after a long day of work. The one time on her birthday they'd gone farther than just kissing. When she got glasses, and refused to believe she was beautiful in them.

She hadn't worn her glasses to work that day.

It had been raining. Clara had been late from work. The Doctor heard a car horn, and didn't think anything of it until he heard someone shout "Someone call 999!"

Hearing this, he ran outside, not even stopping to put on a coat. He saw a stopped car; someone lying in the middle of the road. Clara. He sprinted out to her, not caring about the cars stopped around them. Wrapping his arms around her, he cradled her head in his shoulders.

"Clara, baby, hold on, I've got you, just hold on, please, don't leave me."

Clara looked up at him, her eyes slightly out of focus. When she spoke, her voice was light. Happy, almost.

"What are you talking about,silly? I'm not going anywhere. I just got home from work, remember?"

The Doctor was trying to hold back tears now. "Of course, sorry. I must be a bit confused. It's almost time for bed, actually."

"It is? Good," Clara said, raising a hand slowly to rest on his cheek. "because I'm so,so tired."

"Well then, come to bed," the Doctor said, his words choked.

"Wait," Clara said. "Doctor, can we make pancakes in the morning? I love when we do that."

"Of course," he replied, tears spilling down his face. He didn't want her to see him cry, didn't want that to be her last memory.

"I'm tired," Clara repeated. Her voice was quieter now,almost too faint to hear, but still happy. "Goodnight. See you in the morning."

"Goodnight," The Doctor said, echoing her words. It was almost impossible to say it. He cried into her hair as she used the last of her strength to cuddle up to him, the way she did at night. "Goodnight."

And he knew when it happened. Before he felt the stir of her breath slowly stop, before he checked for a pulse. He knew she was gone. He knew that it was selfish, but now he could let out his grief, could cry out, and he knew she wouldn't hear.

He was forced to let her go when the ambulance came.

The Doctor now knelt , tears spilling through his fingers. He reached up with one hand to trace the words he already knew by heart.

Clara Oswald
Age 23
Nov.23,1983-Jun.14th, 2013