"And in the end we are only atoms, drifting alone, desperate for something to cling on." – David Jones.

"Clara, Clara, Clara," he repeated her name, tenderly, his own words feeding his ears just as they appeared to feed hers. For the first time ever since they first ran into each other, they didn't meet at her diner, instead at some random bench a Londoner park, a big blue phone booth just at their sight. "I'm glad I've found you, Clara."

She smiled, a closed one, eyeing front, although she knew he was staring right at her jawline. It was autumn and the wind was blowing right into them, getting her short hair to try and blow along. She was wearing a black jacket with a red scarf although she didn't seem to be neither cold or hot. "I just wish you would have found me under other circumstances."

He glared at her curiously. Unlike him, she wasn't leaned on her seat, her back as straight as ever. He wondered if she was purposely hiding him from her face. "What do you mean?"

She chuckled, humorless, but didn't mind his lack of sense. She knew it all too well. "I mean that you're pretending to know me, when in fact I'm no more than a stranger to you."

Her words hadn't been aimed to hurt him, but they did anyway. The Doctor leaned onto his knees, just so he could once again look for her eyes. "Clara," his tone almost scolded her, "I know who you are."

For the first time, she dared to regain the eye contact. "No, you don't," she smiled sadly at him, "But you're trying, and that's sweet. That's enough, for now."

Carefully, hesitantly, he placed his hand on her tight, and was surprised when her small cold hand met his. "But it won't be forever."

"Forever is a long time," she laughed at him, "Besides, don't you think you and I both deserve better?"

"I think you deserve better," he didn't even think of what escaped his lips, "Me, on the other hand, I just take in whatever the universe throws at me."

"And how's that any fair?" she prompted, her eyeballs growing so big they were starting to intimidate him. "Why must my happiness overshadow yours? You've already done so much for the universe, it's about time it starts treating you with respect," she paused for a bit, "But the thing about respect is, you can only have it if you demand it. As long as you're okay being doomed by the stars, they'll just carry on treating you like scum."

He swallowed hard, trying to work himself out of her accusations, but failing given her accuracy. "Maybe… Maybe I deserve it."

"You don't," she was quick as ever, "Nobody deserves it, not even you. Especially you. The universe itself would be doomed weren't for you."

He smirked, sarcastically, "The universe just doesn't care, Clara."

"Prove it wrong, then," her voice was low, yet demanding.

He jerked back, "I can't. I don't know how."

"I do," Clara whispered, "Remembering will grand you the respect you're owed."

The Doctor let out a long breath. He wanted to remember more than anything, to allow her at least that, he just had no idea how. "I'm sorry, Clara, I'm so sorry."

Closing her eyes briefly, she laid her head in the curve between his neck and shoulder. "Stop apologizing. You don't need to apologize. Not to me, anyway."

He rested his chin against her scalp, her human frame providing him heat – not that he needed it. "I'm sorry anyway."

He heard her sigh, snuggling so close to him he could almost feel her heartbeat. "You lost your memories because of me. If anyone needs apologizing, it should be me."

"You already did," his words came out automatically, "I don't blame you, Clara."

She sniffed, running the back of her hand against her cheeks. "Funny, isn't it, how we needed to lose each other to find each other again."

He nodded his head, slightly. "There can be beauty in getting lost. Sometimes, we find each other only to get lost all over again."

She wrapped her petite arms around his torso. "I don't want to lose you already. Not when I've just gotten you back."

The Doctor buried his nose in her hair, feeling her sent, "I feel like my time is running out, Clara."

"Don't say that," she pleaded, sounding too much like a frightened child. "You're still not done living this life of yours. You're not."

"Alright," he agreed, still not truly believing it, just trying not to hurt her even further. His eyes fixed themselves on some black birds in the grass ahead of them. "I don't like them."

She fussed her brows together, confused. "You don't like what?"

"Them," he shifted his head towards, "Ravens. Crows. Whatever you'd call them."

She moved uncomfortably inside of his embrace, trying to ease down herself by teasing, "Have you been watching too much Snow White lately, Doctor?"

"No," he was direct, completely missing her playful tone, "They remind me too much of death. I have no idea why I despise them so much, I just know I do. Perhaps you could tell me why?"

"Nah," her voice was stuck in the back of her throat as she stared at the birds as well, "Somethings are meant to get lost oblivion."

He tried to look at her, but once more, she hid her face away from him. "Clara?"

"Really, Doctor, just drop it," she asked, trying to sustain her temper.

"I need to know. You said you'd help me remember, you promised."

Clara shook her head, disapproving, but she knew him too well to think he would just let it go. "I was careless and I let the raven of death find me. I faced the raven in the end and that's why you unconsciously hate them."

"Oh," he uttered, having nothing else to say. Stupid Doctor, never knew when to stay silent. He could only assume those memories were just unpleasant to her as they would be to him. He cleared his throat, "You want to know what I've learned today?"

She hummed, waiting.

"That crows and ravens don't sulk, they remember. Whenever you hear them singing and peeping, they're honoring the memory of someone."

He felt her smile against his skin. "You're saying that somewhere in the world, there are ravens reminiscing me?"

"Perhaps," he concluded. "I hope they are. Someone needs to remember you."

She grinned at his dark humor. "Whether it's true or not, it's a beautiful tale."

He smiled as well, cupping her face and accidentally placing his thumb on her wet lips, but made no effort to remove it. "Do you ever miss it? The life you had before you died and had to give up everything?"

"All the time," she confessed, knowing there was no point in lying to him. "I love being able to travel the universe, but it's heartbreaking not having a home to come back to. I don't exist in this world anymore, and the worst part is, the world has moved on from me. Sometimes I come across my father and my gran, just to know if they're still coping, and as much as all you want is for them to move on from you, it's painful to see that they have. That their lives carried on spinning… without you."

He hurt at the sound of her voice starting to betray her. "You're wrong, Clara, they haven't moved on from you. At all. I don't think they ever will. They struggle every day to get up in a world that you don't exist, but they do it anyway, for you, because it wouldn't be fair to you to have them stop living. But the sorrow never leaves them. They're always going to mourn for you, to miss you, but that won't bring you back, so they have no alternative than moving on… without you."

She couldn't help her apple cheeks from becoming humid. "How… How do you know?"

"The same way you do," he explained, "Have you ever, for just one single day, stopped missing your mum? Or Danny? Or… me?"

She shook her head, finally moving so her face could meet his, her own being a mixture of both happiness and sadness. "You've remembered. All the people I've lost, you've remembered them."

His jaw fell and shaped an oh; he hadn't noticed it, and he was almost too proud of himself. "I did. I guess I did."

Unable to hold herself back, she threw herself around his neck, hiding herself from the words she was about to say, "I never have. Not for one single day. I've missed you through all of time and space. I still do."

He wrapped his arms around her frame, holding him like he was holding the entire universe. He was sure he was. "I've missed you, too, Clara. Even not knowing who you were, a part of me was missing, I was incomplete; and now that I've found you, I feel like I'm finally putting myself back together again."

She sniffed against him, "We've got to start over, at last."

When he ended the physical contact, she didn't pull herself too far away. Instead, she traced her thin fingers along his grey hair curls, smiling to herself at how big they had grown since the last time she had touched them. She loved the way he felt underneath her, and more than ever, she wished she could just lead him inside their TARDIS and take them to very far away, where no one could ever find him.

"I feel my time running out, Clara," he repeated his words from not so long before, not intending to hurt her, instead opening his hearts for her. She was the only one he trusted enough to do so.

Clara placed her thumbs against his apple cheeks, "You can't foresee the future, Doctor, not when the present is staring at you right in the face."

For a moment, he mistook present for her. "I'm scared the present is slipping right through my fingers."

"It's not," she guaranteed, perhaps taken by the same analogy he was, "As long as you take good care of it, the present will be your greatest ally."

His hand met hers in his face, "I really am trying to take good care of it, but I don't know how to make it right."

"You just have to be brave, Doctor."

He swallowed hard, "I don't like brave people. Brave people sacrifice themselves for nothing."

Clara let out a sad chuckle, unsure if he knew he was talking about her. "That's not true. Brave people sacrifice themselves for the greater cause, for the sake of saving everybody else. Isn't that what you've been doing ever since you first ran from Gallifrey?"

The Doctor could swear he was seeing glimpses of her soul through her pupils. "You overrate me, Clara."

"No, I don't," she offered him the truest of smiles, "Because you taught me how to be brave, too."