It took a moment for the woman's words to sink in, before the phone slid from her hand and she was off.

She was running. She should be used to running. She did it all the time - running for her life from some alien threat, or running to save the Doctor from some human threat, or simply going for a morning run with Danny.

But not this kind of running - a frantic sprint out the door and down the street. She wasn't alert and wildly trying to think up an escape route. She wasn't thinking at all, only running, and pushing - pushing people aside, and pushing her thoughts aside.

All intellect told her that Danny probably hadn't survived. But there was a glimmer of hope within her that she suppressed desperately, because she knew the world would come crashing down even more if she allowed it to consume her.

Instead, Clara simply ran, her heart pounding faster than ever, her feet slapping against the hard road as cars shifted to the side to avoid her.

Then she was there, and the sirens were blasting with smoke and emergency services everywhere. There was tape, and she ran up to it and tried to get through.

A policewoman stopped her. There was nothing to see, she said, but Clara's mouth moved of its own accord and the policewoman's expression became sad and sympathetic. He's already dead, she explained, there's nothing to be done.

They wouldn't let her see the body, so Clara Oswald stood in the middle of the street, her eyes blank and staring. It was all so surreal. It was impossible. Danny Pink could not be dead, and yet he was, and surely Clara could not go on living.

"Miss Oswald?" Courtney Woods had changed since the trip to the moon. And here she was, all grown up, placing a hand on Clara's shoulder and leading her back to her apartment.

"I'm sorry," Courtney was saying as she pushed the door open - for Clara definitely did not have time to close it properly when she left - and managed to find the living room and sit her teacher down on the couch. As Courtney disappeared into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, Clara simply sat there, not knowing what to think or do. She felt like crying, but there were no tears. So this was sadness, this was grief. She'd experienced it before, when her mother died, but now she was an adult and she had lost the man that she cherished and loved. The pain was different. It was fresh and intense and unmerciful.

Courtney came back with a warm mug, which she pushed into Clara's shaking hands. As Clara took a sip, she vaguely registered that Courtney was asking if there was anyone she could call. Clara nodded vaguely but didn't say anything.

It must have been hours later when there was a knock at the door, because the sky was dark. Clara was still on the couch with a cold mug of tea on the coffee table in front of her.

A key turned in the lock, and Clara's father and gran came into the apartment, their expressions full of concern. Courtney greeted them, and they thanked her for finding Clara's phone and calling them over.

Courtney left, and Clara let her dad and her gran try to comfort her, even though there was no comfort to be found.

Over the next day, flowers and cards and visitors streamed through the door. All of the meant well - from students at school, including Bradley and Ruby and Maebh, the Maitlands, the other school staff - but none of them could really understand, and Clara didn't blame them. She would nod and thank them and they would leave, and Clara would simply live without really living, carrying out daily tasks by habit and without energy. She couldn't teach in this state, of course, and the principal wouldn't let her at any rate.

It took two and half days for Clara to realise that this was all she would ever be without Danny - an empty shell. But she was smart, and the Doctor had a time machine. More than anything, she was desperate.

So she mapped out a devious plan, justifying the horrible concept with the beautiful image of Danny's face in her mind. And she called the Doctor.