pen ff

Title: Penance

Summary: Set after The Doctor somehow rescues Clara and himself from his own timestream. Guilt inspires The Doctor to begin a hopeless mission.

A/N: There is something about Doctor Who - mostly the concern that The Doctor will always regenerate and a companion is never forever that saddens me. And I've had so much fun falling in love with Clara/The Doctor that I had to write out some of the sad.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or this universe.

Chapter One: The First Time.

The Doctor read and re-read the same page of the same book he'd been trying to pretend to care about for a week. He snapped the book shut. It was no use.

He looked up at the bright green light in the center of the TARDIS console speculatively; Wondering if his ship knew what he was thinking. For The Doctor was plagued with an idea. A... quest... of sorts. Something he was not at all sure was within the rules of time travel or was even a very good idea all around. He wasn't sure how to start on this macabre pursuit - this result of an idea that had flown into his head and which he could not seem to brush back out. He stood up, dropping his book back on the chair and stared at the controls. He had the time. God knew he had the time. These trips would be no longer than a good meal. He could sacrifice a few meals for a bit of peace. If that is indeed what he would receive. He wasn't at all sure about that. However... He wouldn't be able to do it alone... he could remember the space time coordinates just fine - nothing was wrong with his memory there. But he couldn't go hop scotching around his own timeline for nothing. He would have to make it count. And there was no way for him to know which trips would count. No... The TARDIS would simply have to be on board with the whole undertaking. And, as far as he could tell, there was just one way to find out if she was.

Before The Doctor had fully made up his mind, they had landed. And he was just as unsure as he'd been when he'd cooked up this idea in the first place. No use waffling about it now. He would just... see. There would be no harm in just... trying.

He pushed open the doors of the TARDIS and found himself in a cozy bedroom with a single bed. The heavy curtains were closed, as was the door to the hall. Vaguely he understood the time and place where they were, but for once, it did not matter that much to him. The Doctor stepped out onto the wooden floor and walked to the single occupant of the bed. Surreptitiously he scanned the elderly woman with the sonic and did his best not to be dismayed by the readings. This was why he was here, after all.

Clara's eyes opened and The Doctor's hearts kicked uncomfortably. The sparkle in those eyes had not dulled with age or infirmity. He was dumbstruck when she smiled at him affectionately, "I was just dreaming of you."

The Doctor tried to return the smile, he whispered, "How boring!"

Clara struggled to sit up and The Doctor jumped to help her, piling pillows behind her. Settled, but out of breath, Clara looked at him mischievously, "I thought I'd finally run my last race for you. Please tell me you don't have some evil scientist outside my bedroom window for me to finish off?"

The Doctor sat in the chair beside the bed, unable to return her good humor. It was all well and good that his Clara had jumped into his time stream - sacrificing herself; Because he had sacrificed himself to get her back. What he was having trouble living with now was the knowledge that her echoes were dying for him - had died for versions of him that were completely unaware of her existence. It was an injustice he couldn't ignore. The Doctor intimately understood that these echoes were as wonderful and as precious as the real Clara. At least with two of them he'd been with them... he hadn't been able to save them but they'd both known him, they'd both known that he honored them and their sacrifice. But there were unknown multitudes that he'd never even seen - never noticed or acknowledged. And here was the crux of his guilt; crushing and unknown, "How many times did I pass you by?"

Clara shook her head and reached for his hand, covered it with her other one, "Three, but who's counting?" The Doctor put his head against their joined hands, and Clara freed one of hers to brush it tenderly through his hair, "Doctor, why are you here?"

The Doctor shook his head, still bowed against her, "I don't know."

They stayed like that for a little while, then Clara put her hand under his chin, urged him to raise his face - to meet her eye, "Doctor, I'm dying. But you know that already, don't you? It's why you're here."

The Doctor nodded, staring at her, "I just... couldn't bear to think that you would be alone at the end. Any of you."

Clara's eyes filled, "That's very kind... Very kind." She rested her head against her pillow, and closed her eyes. After a little while she opened them again, smiled wistfully at him, "Am I dreaming?"

The Doctor moved to sit on the bed, moved her gray hair from her face, "No. You're beautiful"

Clara laughed, and closed her eyes again, "Oh, you."

A long time later she blinked her eyes open and The Doctor knew it would be for the last time, "Doctor."

"Yes Clara?" The Doctor still had her hand. He lifted it to his lips.

"Don't tear yourself up. I understand what I am. Sometimes I forget. Sometimes it's not clear. But I know I'm an echo. An echo of me who loved you dearly. My life... running after you - to save yours... was... wonderful."

The Doctor nodded - acknowledging her words but not accepting the forgiveness she offered. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead. By the time he pulled back her eyes were fixed and staring. Barely breathing himself, he closed her eyes gently and dissolved into tears.

A long time later he was composed enough to make sure there were others in the house who would find her and he escaped into the TARDIS. For once the hum of the engine was not comforting, nor the long beautiful, empty corridors inviting. The TARDIS had never felt like a lonelier place. He piloted them off world with a vague idea that something had changed in him. The Doctor reached out a hand toward the glass at the console, "Thank you."

The Doctor didn't know how long they'd been on the ground again when there was a knock on the door. He looked expectantly at it - and a moment later Clara, his Clara, bounced in, "Are you lost? I didn't expect you today! What's wrong?" This, as she saw his face.

He shook his head, "Nothing. Nothing at all. Clara?"

She was still searching his face for clues as to why he'd been upset, "Yes Doctor?"

He rushed to her, but held himself back, just a bit from her, then whispered, "Come away with me?"

"What?"

"Will you come away with me?" The Doctor clarified.

"Of course! What's all this?" She laughed as he took her hands in his.

"No, I mean... permanently. No more Wednesdays, no more surprise! just... travel, together... Please Clara - run with me this time." He was staring so intently at her face, that she hardly recognized that he was still speaking, "You can still visit, anytime you want - the Maitlands, your father, your cousin's wife's neighbor, your nursery school teacher - to get a sandwich..."

Dizzy, trying to keep up, Clara realized he was desperate for an answer and the only way to shut him up was to give him one. Clara squeezed his hands, "Yes!"

He reached out and grabbed her to him, "Thank you. Thank you!"

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

Clara paused, her cheek was mashed up against the buttons of his shirt and his chin was pressed against the stop of her head. She wanted to ask what had brought this on, she wanted to find out what he wasn't telling her, she should probably tell him that she was having trouble breathing because he was holding onto her so tightly, but right then, none of it really seemed to matter, "Nevermind."