They'd just saved a whole planet. Billions of people, out there in the universe somewhere because they hadn't pushed a button. And now a whole planet, a whole other planet they thought they'd escaped, had conspired to kill him. And maybe they'd succeeded. Clara tried to tell herself they'd failed, but she could see it in his eyes that they hadn't.

"You shouldn't," he raised a hand towards her as she approached him, body burning despite the snow falling around her.

He didn't want her to come near. Didn't know when the regeneration would take place. Didn't know how powerful it would be. If his last act in the universe was saving her by denying himself her comfort in his last moment, then so be it. At least he would regenerate – some new version of him would still be around to get that from her as his first experience of existence and he smiled because he was envious of that man.

But Clara moved towards him anyways, dropping down into the snow in front of him, cry escaping as her knees crushed the powder and for a moment, she refused to look at him. "Change it," she murmured at the ground, voice barely audible and he raised a finger to touch her chin, lifting her face to look into his.

They'd spent enough time together to know what each look meant; what each simple glance declared. And they both knew, without saying a word, that they were both losing a piece of their heart in less time than they needed to be ready for it. His lips pushed together painfully when her face crumpled. "I can't change what's going to happen," he told her honestly.

She simply shook her head. "I tried."

"You saved me," he allowed.

"It wasn't enough."

"Clara," he laughed, "It was more than enough."

Without hesitation, she flung herself into his chest, hearing him cough a breath against the top of her head and she could hear the pounding of his hearts… and something else. Some churning, like static inside of him, and for a moment she didn't care if he regenerated right then, taking her with him. If this was her last moment with him, with him in this form, it could be her last.

"You have to back away," he told her, voice soft, and pained, as though it were taking effort to give the words volume and he gripped her arms, bringing her just enough away from him for him to see her eyes, glowing red from heartbreak. "Clara, you have to," he tried to tell her, but he pushed her back, crumpling forward as a small bolt of pain struck him in the gut.

"No," she demanded, "Don't."

He smiled up at her, eyebrows high as he shook his head and lifted a hand to stop her from reaching him a second time to explain, "Clara, I can't lose you," then his face wrinkled with anger, "Not like this."

Beginning to nod, Clara slipped away, and she allowed, "You'll know me, after you regenerate – you won't forget me," and she added, to herself, "We'll be fine; it's still you."

He shook his head at the snow and then lifted himself up just enough to see her backing away and it pained him because he was the same man, same inner workings, same memories, same history… but it wasn't the same. He was angry at the man taking his place; he was jealous of what this new man would inherit.

His Clara.

"I love you," he told her on a bold whisper, and when he looked into her eyes, at the small smile on her lips as the tears rolled over her cheeks, he understood that she knew. The three words weren't the answer to some unspoken question – they were simply the verbal affirmation of what she already knew and as he watched the yellow swirls begin to curl around his limbs and cloud his vision, he could see her standing, hands wrapping around her midsection. The agony of waiting. Of wanting him to be done with his pain; of not knowing who was coming next.

He stood straight, the burning of the regeneration energy mixing his molecules until he cried out into the sky and through the rush of wind and change and his own shout he heard her. Silently. Almost like a whisper in his ear, she repeated his declaration and his scream turned to a laugh. I will remember you.