Author's Note: Yes, yet another Hell Bent alternate ending/fix-it, and yet another Human Nature AU. But the latter is only rarely done with Twelve, and I think the tension of the universe needing Clara's death really should be expanded. As well as some other things, so…I'm finding myself with my first ever serious attempt at writing fiction, and my first time posting fiction. I'm a musician and a music theorist, not a writer, so please give me feedback.

As usual, all the characters you recognize belong to the BBC – or to real-life 1940's Oxford. All the dialog up through "Yeah, it would be, wouldn't it." is directly quoted from Hell Bent.

I hope you all enjoy.

"When something goes missing, you can always recreate it by the hole it left," the Doctor said. "I know her name was Clara. I know we traveled together. I know that there was an Ice Warrior on a submarine and a mummy on the Orient Express. I know we sat together in the Cloisters and she told me something very important, but I have no idea what she said. Or what she looked like. Or how she talked. Or laughed." He blinked. "There's nothing there. Just nothing."

Clara struggled to keep her voice normal. "Are you looking for her?"

The Doctor looked out the window of the 'diner' and sighed before answering. "I'm trying."

Yes! "She could be anyone, right? You don't know who you're looking for. I mean, she could be me, for all you know," Clara said, daring to hope for a spark of recognition. She knew her death in Trap Street was a fixed point the universe needed her to fulfill, but she couldn't help but try to connect to her beloved Doctor.

The Doctor smiled. "There's one thing I know about her. Just one thing. If I met her again, I would absolutely know."

Tears smarted her eyes, and she looked down to hide them. Meanwhile, Doctor Idiot continued, turning around toward the tables at the wall. "I think that we were here, you know? I think that we were here together once." She quickly turned away lest he see her tears. But he was oblivious.

"I'm sure I'll remember. Over here."

He couldn't see her. He was looking right at her, and he couldn't see her. Oh, now, now she knew what it was like for him when they were in Glasgow right after he changed and she was on the phone with his previous self. Now she was the unrecognized one. I'm not in your memories, I'm right here, standing in front of you. Please, just see me!

But he continued his train of thought. "Stupid Doctor." Yeah, stupid alright. "Amy and Rory. It was Amy and Rory."

Clara suppressed her tears and turned back to him, forcing cheer into her voice. "What about your TARDIS, hey? Have you found that yet?" He didn't reference the TARDIS by name in his story. This was a clue for him, if he wanted to recognize it. Or if he didn't, well, he needed his TARDIS back, and he would find another clue in her picture that Rigsy painted on it.

The Doctor was busy thinking, but he responded. "No. Somebody's moved it from London. I'm still looking. But this diner. It wasn't always here, was it? It used to be on the other side of the hill." He was still fixated on the diner – maybe he realized something was up? She decided to try one last clue. "Well, maybe someone will find your TARDIS for you." There. If he couldn't put two and two together, her clever Doctor, maybe he didn't really want to find her. Maybe he preferred to stew in the memories he still retained. Well, she ought to be brave and do the right thing by fulfilling her death in Trap Street, anyway. She headed for the door to the console room. But the Doctor started playing "Clara" on his guitar again, and she paused. Did he miss her, not just as a puzzle? Maybe one more hint, and one more attempt to comfort him. She turned back to him. "What Clara told you in the Cloisters."

He turned around. "I don't remember a single thing about it."

"You said memories… become stories when we forget them." His sad face! "Maybe some of them become songs."

He smiled and turned, pensive. "That'd be nice." He started strumming his guitar, returning his attention to his memories and to the instrument. He was missing it! By suggesting such a connection between the sweet song and what she told him in the Cloisters, she was hinting that she had loved him –and maybe he her. Which ought to move him to work harder to deduce whether she might be Clara. But he wasn't even trying. Bitterly she turned to leave through the door: "Yeah, it would be, wouldn't it." She turned back to the door, hiding the tears that threatened to fall again, since he was still facing her.

Suddenly his strumming stopped. "Wait!" He put a hand on her shoulder and she turned around halfway, closing the door. "What's wrong? Have I upset you?" She kept her head down, but a sniffle escaped her.

"Are you crying?" His burr sounded surprised but gentle. He stepped in front of her. When she dared to look up at him, his eyes were owl-wide. He nibbled at his thumb, then took off his guitar. Oh, his endearing mannerisms. Watching him hurt.

"Er, I'm not really a hugging – no, never mind, would you…would you like a hug?" She stared at him for a second before burrowing into his chest. He held her for a few moments until her breathing calmed down a little, as he awkwardly patted her on the back. Suddenly he froze. "Who are you?" He started to pull out of the surprisingly long hug, and she took a deep breath before looking at him with as much calm as she could muster. She could see his Time Lord brain going a mile a minute, and an ember of hope lit again in her heart as he kept holding her wrists. She managed a small, sad smile. "Clara?" He softly uttered. She looked up again, and his eyes probed hers as he grew hopeful. "Clara? Are you Clara?" She smiled. "Come on, don't do two emotions at once. Tell me!"

"I'm Clara."

"Which one?"

She snorted. "Not one of my echoes, Doctor. The original Clara, Clara Oswin Oswald."

"Clara!" His hug was sudden and overwhelming, and lasted for a full minute. Finally he spoke, his voice low and shaky. "I was afraid I'd never find you. Don't make me let you go."

She let a moment pass before saying gently, "But Doctor, you have to."

He pulled out of the hug. She caught a glimpse of pain in his eyes before he turned away from her. "Clara, forgetting you was like…dying. So much…so much of my identity was formed around you, for so long, that part of me died." His eyes darted to hers. "Clara, please."

Oh, the pain and pleading in his voice! She wrapped him in her arms again, feeling him tremble. Okay, she needed to be strong for both of them.

As close as they were, she almost didn't hear him. "I can't lose you again."

She clasped him tightly, steeling herself, then let go of him. She got up and poured him more lemonade. Now her voice should be steady enough. "Doctor,"

"Clara," he warned.

She shook her head and took a deep breath. "My death in Trap Street is a fixed point in time. The universe needs my death there to happen. And don't say it doesn't have a vote."

He widened his eyes at her. "Clara."

"Hey, hey." She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. How could she make him smile again? She recalled how she half-suggested they "just fly away" before they triggered the neural block device together. "How about we take one trip together, before I go back and get un-extracted? How about we just fly away somewhere? One last hurrah?"

He took a moment before answering, his face unreadable. "You know the last time we had a 'last hurrah' we couldn't stop."

What? He remembered her on that trip? "Are you remembering?"

"I don't remember you specifically on the Orient Express, but I do know that was supposed to be our goodbye trip…and it wasn't."

Clara swallowed her disappointment and tried to sound confident. "We'll be careful. We'll go in your TARDIS, and Ashildr will have our number and will come pick me up when we're done. No, she better chaperone us. Anyway, I can call her now. She's just-"

"And then I have to let you go?" His voice cracked. Oh, her dear Doctor. She fought back the tears prickling her eyes and reached for his hand.

"If there was something I could do about that, I would, Doctor. I would. But staying with you…wouldn't be good. We would stick together too long if I did that, and I would die elsewhere or we would endanger the fixed point in some other way."

"Clara," he started to object.

"No. You said it yourself, that you went too far for fear of losing me. That's why you set up the neural blocker in the first place. So you would never go that far again." She paused, squeezing his hand. "Even if my death weren't a fixed point, we would endanger the universe again sooner or later, if we drew closer. You know that. We need to separate, and soon." While we're still strong enough.

He was quiet for a long moment. "You're right. I have this feeling you're always right." He offered a sad smile. "Okay. One trip, one full trip, in my TARDIS, and then I'll let you go. But Ashildr isn't chaperoning us. She'd interfere too much."

"She doesn't need to be with us all the time. She can just stick around in the TARDIS while we're on our adventure so we can't keep squeezing more trips in. That's enough."

"Yes, boss." He smiled at her knowingly. "You're itching to call her now, aren't you. Do you even have her number?"

"Don't need it. She's just inside the console room, right through that door."

He stared for a moment, then laughed. "I should have known this was a TARDIS. How else could the diner have moved?" They both chuckled.

As their laughter faded, he looked thoughtful. "One more thing. I still don't properly remember you. Nothing from before the neural blocker."

"I suppose that's good."

"Well, we can't have me tearing the universe apart for you again." He looked over her shoulder. " But, I don't want to totally forget you or what you taught me." His eyes sought hers. "Please, Clara. Write up our time together before you go, so I can remember you in that way." Now his was the sad smile. "How can I honor your memory if I don't know anything about you?"

She smiled. "I'll write it. I'll do it before our trip."

"Thank you." He flitted away back towards the bar. "But first, what do you say to one more round of drinks?"

"Lemonade in an American diner? You're on."

She refilled her glass to match his.

Both were quiet for a moment, just enjoying the other's company. But the Doctor couldn't stay quiet for long. "Why did you decide to land here? How did you know about this diner and Amy and Rory? Did I tell you that story?"

"Nah, Ashildr told me. It was her idea."

"Ashildr? Really?"

"Yeah. She spent a lot of time with them, you know? Caught up with them in the 1930's, helped them find a home and settle in. She even helped them adopt Anthony in the '40's."

"Anthony? They adopted a child?"

"They never told you? Wow. Um, yeah. Amy, you know, couldn't…bear children herself after she had Melody." The Doctor nodded. "And they really wanted children," Clara softly added. She knew what it was like to want children but know you won't have them, ever. No, don't dwell on that. Focus.

As she looked up, the Doctor seemed lost in his own memories for a moment. "They never told me about my brother-in-law. I suppose Amy thought it was best to hide their life in Manhattan from me since I couldn't visit."

"Wait, brother-in-law? How was he your brother-in-law? I thought River was your wife."

"Didn't I tell you about her? No, I suppose not."

She stared at him expectantly, eyebrows raised. He sighed and began. "River Song and Melody Pond were the same person. I met her as River, and that's the name she preferred to use after she met me. But, she was born Melody Pond to Amy and Rory. She was conceived on the TARDIS, which is why she had some Time Lord DNA, but the Silence and Madame Kovarian kidnapped Amy while she was pregnant. We rescued Amy, but Kovarian kidnapped newborn Melody and trained her from birth to become a weapon against me."

"What happened? How did you end up married?" The Doctor didn't marry companions, did he? How…

"Her murder of me was a fixed point in time, but she refused to kill me. So time was dying, and countless lives with it. Every living thing in the universe was at risk, unless I died. To save reality by reestablishing my death, we only had to touch since we were the opposite poles of the disruption. We got married before I convinced her to do it."

It sounded like he hadn't really wanted to marry her. But, he spoke as if he had loved River. Clara quelled her discomfort, choosing to focus on his story. "So how come you didn't die? Did you regenerate? I thought you were already Chin Boy then."

Was that guilt on his face? He looked away too quickly for her to tell. "Oh, I had already hidden myself inside a Teselecta robot that looked like me. You know what a Teselecta is, remember? We met one when we saved the Prime Minister of Pogoria. Anyway, River agreed to shoot this Teselecta when I showed her my plan. The fixed point was preserved because everyone thought I had actually died, including the Silence. Well, I say everyone…"

Clara stared at him. "You know what this means for you and me?"

"No, what?" She glared at him. "Seriously, what?"

"Can't my death on Trap Street be maintained by the same sleight of hand?"

Endnote: On the wiping of the Doctor's memory being like death: The Doctor spent four and a half billion years with Clara as his sole purpose and method, his one goal and his means; even though he probably didn't remember all those years, he still lived them. At least, he spent several centuries on Trenzalore longing for Clara, plus loads of his life since he became Twelve. Remember what he said in The Zygon Inversion: "I let Clara Oswald get inside my head. Trust me: She doesn't leave." And through all her echoes, her story, her timeline, is entwined closely with his; remember also that "The soul's made of stories" (The Doctor, The Rings of Akhaten). She has inspired him, and continues to inspire him, to be the Doctor time and time again, as early as his own childhood (Listen). Clara is tightly knit to his very identity as the Doctor. So to wipe away all memories of her was to rip away much of who the Doctor IS now.