He sees someone else in the girl, he thinks. Someone else not quite bright, but human, and good. A girl who once made him better. He sees the same soul in Her eyes, and he takes Her. Run, he says, and they do.
.
Rory is different because Rory loves Amy, so there is no prospect in this. But that only means that it's safe in the minefield tonight, so he lets himself go, it's alright just this once.
(He forgets that he is the man who forgets.)
.
River is not Her. Clara is not Her. And She is not Jo Grant. They are different, but they are the same (why does he think of Jo now, when so many years have passed on?). She isn't clever, but loyal and just, and he needs Her.
.
Four and a half billion years, and he only can think that he'd do it again. For Clara. For any of them. For Her, if he'd been him when he'd lost Her. God, he wishes he'd been him when he lost Her. But it's too late to look behind himself now. He does not go back.
.
She wouldn't love him, a thought forces through. Not like this, too aged and crass for Her youth. He'd forgotten Her once, he could do it again (not forgotten, just memories slumbering). He just needs to die, to change his face, into one much less old and remembering.
So he waits. He takes risks, much like ever he has. But it's different now, because now the face hopes, anticipates. Much like Clara, after her loss (what a foolhardy pair they are). Let go, they say to eachother.
Let go.