I turn to Clara and smile. "But I will always remember that the Doctor was me."

As if on cue, the fire in my hands grows, like tendrils of heat licking up from beneath my skin. It doesn't matter how many times this is done. Every time hurts. Every time it is the first time.

I try to hold on. I grip with every fiber in my being, trying to keep me bound here, to this place. To this moment with Clara. I need to know that she will be okay. I need to know that she will be taken care of. But just as this has not worked in the past, it doesn't work now. My questions will find no answers. My lost grip will find no purchase. Yet, before the fire can overtake me, something in my peripheral vision catches my eye and all the stalling in me stops.

I don't keep fighting; because I see her.

Not Clara; not my impossible girl, No. I see the face of someone who has born a thousand ages with me. Someone who grew with me; The face that was the first my eyes had rested upon; whose smiling image has endured the times of worlds and beyond. All embodied in this single glimpse of a person who used to be.

Amelia Pond.

I don't move. I don't even dare to blink, not at the prospect of shattering this image. Whether real or not, I won't object. For this moment, I no longer care if this is when I go. After traveling millennia, knowing the world and space and all in betweens, there is always a small part of me that looks forward to this; finally, to delve into something of the unknown and travel through the dark to the hidden secrets that lay beyond it.

I reach my hand out to her, wanting to feel this dream, and she lifts her own to touch my face. So real. This couldn't possibly be my imagination.

Maybe she is really here.

"Raggedy Man," she whispers to me and I suddenly grip her tightly, awash with the memories of a million stars. A million farewells. And for the first time, I refuse to let go.

It is not goodbye again, I think. I will not say it.

But instead, she simply says, "Goodnight."

I smile in relief. There will be no more parting between us.

Somewhere, I think I hear Clara calling me, but it is fading and I don't try to stop it. I turn briefly to her, perhaps to offer comfort where the next of me can't. But she will know me in time again. She will know that I'll be all right.

Besides, my time is already up. I can feel it drawing close and as the change claims me, I reach out to Clara, but her face shifts until I am again looking into the eyes of Amy; small Amelia stretching out her fingers to meet mine.

Come along, Pond. I say.

And to wherever this world decides to take us.