I can't…there's so much I could talk about, but I just have to write it. Enjoy.
Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock
This Time
Oh, Clara. Those big sad eyes may have told her what she wanted to hear, shown her what she wanted to see…but he was far too old—and looked it now, too—to be taken at his word. Rule One: the Doctor lied.
He had to send her back, for good this time. He wouldn't bury her, and he wouldn't leave Christmas. He couldn't. She didn't understand why he wouldn't run; she was used to him running. She knew him too well.
But the people of Christmas didn't know him like that. They knew him as their protector, their toymaker, as the man who stayed for Christmas. They believed he would stay. They believed he'd come back.
Barnable sitting by the TARDIS in his mittens and hat looking up at him with hope, with trust…he was so like little Amelia.
That was why, this time, this day, he would come back. It was his time to stay…until it would be his time to leave, forever. His story, at long last, was drawing to a close at Christmas.
He felt he'd made it a good one.
Goodnight, Raggedy Man. We'll always remember when you were the Doctor.