A/N: This is the penultimate chapter, folks! Thank you so much for your continued support over the past *cough* five months. I hope you enjoy!

The Doctor normally wasn't one to stick around in a hospital bed once put there, especially after receiving such horrendous treatment from human doctors, but he was too knackered to make much fuss. Besides, the bed they'd put him in was surprisingly comfy even with the thirty-pounds of flailing limbs at his side.

"No, no!" Sam giggled pathetically as the Doctor continued tickling him.

He accidentally kicked on the IV connected to the Doctor's wrist, tugging it hard against his skin. Clara gasped in alarm and Sam calmed down now that he wasn't being assaulted by his father's merciless fingers, his face falling when he saw that he'd hurt the Doctor. Clara rushed to his side when the Doctor hissed with pain, but he just smiled tightly at them both before yanking the IV out of his arm.

"Never liked these anyway."

Sam rolled off of his back and crawled up the Doctor's body so that he could wrap his arms around his neck, his hold almost too tight for comfort. The Doctor returned the embrace, a light smile gracing his lips as he tucked his chin against the boy's shoulder. He could feel Sam's hearts thudding rapidly against his chest, a sensation he didn't think he'd get used to anytime soon.

"I'm sorry they hurt you, Daddy."

Sam had started calling him that the moment he'd woken to find the Doctor and Clara talking softly to each other. The word had settled in the Doctor's belly and stayed there, growing three times its size as Sam sighed against his neck.

"It's OK, Sammy," he assured him, his palm resting against the boy's tiny back. "Everything's gonna be OK."

Sam sat back and looked up at him. "No more bad men?"

"Not for now," he replied carefully. Clara rubbed the back of the boy's head as he continued to watch the Doctor with wide, hazel eyes. "There will always be bad men, Sam. And bad women," he added, remembering the unfeeling eyes of the doctor who'd led the experiments. "But you and your mum and I are going to stick together—protect each other."

"We are?"

The Doctor glanced at Clara, who was watching him with that breathless, calculated look that masked her vulnerability.

"Yes, we are," he replied finally, eyes returning to Sam. He wrapped an arm around Clara's waist, pulling her close to his side and relaxing when he felt her sigh into his embrace. "Your mum taught me a great lesson a long time ago that I've been struggling to follow ever since."

"Don't go potty in your pants?"

Clara stifled a laugh. The Doctor glanced to the side and nodded slowly. "That is important to remember. Especially if you're in a room full of Zygons, but—no, not that. The most important thing your mother ever taught me was that you don't run out on the people you care about. And I care about you and your mum a great deal, Sam."

Clara's head tilted forward, her hair obscuring his view of her face. This wasn't the first time he'd noticed how she sat back silently whenever he and Sam were talking, a shaky smile on her lips as tears spilled from her eyes. He knew it made her happy to see him and Sam bonding, and he knew that she wanted him with them, but the Doctor was still afraid that in the end, she didn't want him to stay for good. He was still afraid that she wouldn't ever forgive him for leaving her behind, for letting her raise their son alone for four years with no knowledge of whether or not he were dead or alive or ever coming back.

Sam's curiosity was still not sated. "But if that's true, then why did you leave me and mummy behind?"

A lead weight settled in the Doctor's chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but Clara sniffed and reached for Sam's shoulder, cutting him off. "He had to, baby. The Doctor was doing what he always does—protecting us."

"I thought he was on holiday?"

Clara laughed wetly. "Well, Mummy has a different view of what constitutes a holiday for the—for your Daddy."

He felt her hand wrap around his at her waist and with a sudden sense of euphoria, he realised this was it—he was forgiven. He was welcome, he was wanted, he was needed… in all honesty, it terrified him in the best possible way.

"But why was he on holiday?" Sam practically whined, still dissatisfied with his mother's vague responses.

Her head fell back and she groaned loudly at the ceiling. "Sam—I thought we'd jumped over the 'why, why, why' hurdle already."

The boy looked back and forth between them both, eyes wide and brow furrowed. The Doctor had seen that expression on Clara many times, usually after he made innocuous comments like you and the TARDIS should spend some time alone together. She smiled at the Doctor and he smiled back at her, wondering if it was wrong that he wanted to kiss her right now. He'd spent so long conditioning himself to believing that wanting to kiss Clara was wrong that he wondered if he would always feel guilty around her, because he always wanted to kiss her.

Before he could contemplate his guilt any further, the door to their room slid open to allow Mickey, Martha, Kate, and little Olivia to enter.

"Good! You're up," Kate said, grinning. "We were afraid we'd have to wake you."

"What's all this?" Clara asked as they were met with glowing faces.

Mickey raised his right hand, in which he gripped a frosty bottle of champagne. In the other hand he gripped the stems of five champagne flutes. "Well, whaddaya think?" he said with a snort of amusement. "It's almost midnight. Can't ring in the new year without celebrating another near-death experience with the Doctor, can we?"

His jovial attitude was infectious. Martha turned on the TV opposite the Doctor's bed so they could watch the countdown and Olivia crawled up on the bed to sit next to Sam, who blushed and then giggled as she grinned at him. Kate assured the Doctor and Clara that the Institute had been completely shut down, but Mickey shushed her, telling her they could all talk about that in 10… 9… 8…

He passed out the champagne glasses and Olivia immediately whined that she didn't get one, Sam chiming in with her. Martha pulled two plastic flutes from her bag as well as some sparkling apple juice, much to the to children's delight.

Clara met the Doctor's eyes and suddenly all of the other people and their noises faded into the background and all he could hear was the thudding of his hearts. He marvelled that she could still have that effect on him after all this time. "Doctor," she began softly. "Are you sure you—"

"…1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!" Mickey shouted loudly.

He pulled Martha in for a firm, lingering kiss and then grabbed Kate by the shoulders, her eyes widening comically before he smooched her hard on the cheek. Kate giggled nervously and smoothed back her hair with a, "Good gracious" that sounded eerily like her father, even though the Doctor couldn't recall ever hearing the Brigadier utter the words "good gracious" together. Olivia bent forward and kissed Sam on the lips with a cheeky grin, and he furiously wiped at his mouth with his sleeve all while blushing bright pink.

The Doctor took one look at Clara, whose gaze lowered to his lips, and then her mouth covered his in a kiss that felt like sinking into bed at the end of the longest, hardest day of his life, and for the first time since that Christmas in Victorian England, he didn't feel the least bit guilty for kissing her.

Clara left his side reluctantly, but they both knew Sam needed to sleep at home in his own bed after everything that had happened. She'd kissed the Doctor before leaving, her voice as soft and gentle as the palm she lifted to his cheek.

"I'll see you in the morning," she promised, although her voice rose at the end as if asking a question.

He gripped her hand and turned to press a kiss against her palm. "If only I had a time machine; I'd skip ahead to breakfast."

She smiled brightly. "Like our first date."

"I actually paid for that one," he noted proudly.

Mickey stayed behind after the others left. He sat on the edge of the Doctor's bed and they chatted about their kids, who they agreed were both strong reflections of their parents' personalities.

"That Sam's a regular lady killer like his old man," Mickey teased.

"I am not a lady killer," the Doctor protested.

"Yeah, says the bloke who's spent over a thousand years traveling in a blue box with a different girl by his side every decade."

"That's… far from the point."

Mickey chuckled, but then his smile fell and his expression grew thoughtful. "It's weird, seeing you like this." He nodded at the Doctor's face. "See you went back for the big ears again."

The Doctor gasped loudly at Mickey's rudeness. "At least I made room for improvements! You're stuck with the same old stupid mug for the rest of your life."

Mickey laughed even harder at that, probably because the Doctor finally sounded like the man he remembered, the one who called him "Mickey the Idiot" and rolled his eyes at everything he said with a smile.

"Even still…" he continued more seriously. "When Martha told me you'd been taken, I didn't even think twice about coming after you. D'you know why?"

The Doctor nodded. "I think I do. I'd do the same for you."

"Nah, you wouldn't."

"Yeah, you're right."

They both laughed. Mickey shifted in his spot at the foot of the bed and gave a soft grunt of pain before shrugging his shoulder with a grimace.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, it's just your girlfriend whacked me in arm with a chair."

"She what?"

Mickey waved a dismissive hand. "Sort of snuck up on her in the heat of the moment after she'd knocked out two of the Institute's people. She's got a hell of an arm; you'd better watch yourself." He chuckled. "Interesting weapon choice, I will say."

The Doctor grinned, a memory filling his veins. "Chairs are useful."

Silence fell as Mickey regarded him thoughtfully. "You really plannin' on stickin' around this time? No more running off in the TARDIS, fighting bad guys in space or saving Cleopatra and all that?"

The Doctor sighed thoughtfully. "I was stuck in a town called Christmas for the past two hundred and thirty-nine years, Mickey, and do you know what I thought about the entire time? Well—aside from saving everyone on the planet from the ships threatening to blow it up and preventing the Time Lords from tearing into our universe… a story for another time," he added off of Mickey's perplexed look. "I thought about Clara. I thought about her forgetting me and meeting some ordinary bloke, and they'd get married and have kids, and maybe she'd think about me every Wednesday and thank her lucky stars that she'd never have to see me again. I felt relieved for her, because she'd be better off without me—everyone is better off without me, really—but thinking of her moving on… it made me angry. I didn't want to be forgotten, I didn't want her to find someone else because I wanted to be there, with her, living the sort of life I've never gotten to live. The one that all you humans dream about, this ordinary life where you realise that the best thing is being with people who make you happy."

Mickey smiled faintly after giving the Doctor an appraising look. "So are you basically saying you want to retire?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Yes. Yes, I rather think I am."

He straightened his bow tie and gave his reflection a little nod, grateful that he once again recognised the man he saw in the glass. He was just now starting to notice the light signs of aging—the lines around his eyes and the slight droop above his eyelids, the deepened creases in his forehead and the frown lines around his mouth. He felt like they'd deepened considerably over the past several weeks, as if his time spent on Earth had rapidly advanced the aging process.

Kate was waiting for him outside in the hall. She smiled approvingly. "That's better."

He laughed softly. "Thank you, Kate."

"For what?"

"Everything you've done to help Clara and Sam. And me."

"Of course. It's the least I can do after all you've done for me, or the planet for that matter. I don't think we'll ever be able to repay the debt, Doctor."

He smiled tightly. He always felt uncomfortable when people expressed a sense of indebtedness towards him, because he felt that he was the one that was paying the debt.

Kate crossed her arms and looked down at her shuffling feet. "Just so you know, the Institute has been completely disassembled. We've recorded statements from all of the employees, including the ones who…" She nodded in silent acknowledgement of the experiments they'd performed on him. "All are accounted for except for one: Dr Louisa Reinhardt. Apparently she is the reason why none of the biological data they extracted from you has been recovered."

The Doctor nodded grimly in understanding. He didn't know which of the scientists had been Louisa Reinhardt or how she could have escaped when no one else had, but he had an idea of what she wanted with his biological data.

"Well, I suppose we'll see what becomes of that."

Kate walked with him down the hall into her large office, his face lighting up when he saw the TARDIS.

"We recovered the TARDIS from the scene. She made a fair bit of noise—I don't think she reacted too well to being handled."

"She rarely does," he said fondly.

He ran a finger along one of the grooves in one of the blue doors, a strange sadness gripping his hearts as he considered how much he wanted to leave his travelling days behind, which meant leaving the TARDIS behind. He never thought he could do that to the poor girl, and sometimes he felt like he kept going on just because of her. An immense guilt filled his veins and he wondered if he'd ever know what he wanted with his life. There was a reason he tried not to think about it.

"Doctor?"

He turned to Kate.

"Are you going now?"

He smiled softly and shook his head. "No. Not just yet."

She opened her mouth to respond, thought better of it, and then sighed before finally speaking. "We took a small blood sample while you were sleeping. I know that might upset you after everything that's been done to you, but Dr Jones approved it because we needed to know if they'd done anything to you." She hesitated. "Doctor…"

"It's OK," he said before she could continue. "I think I know what you found."

"Doctor, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. We've all got to go sometime. Speaking of going, there's somewhere I've got to be."

He gave her a little salute before turning and entering the TARDIS. He felt his tight smile melt off his face once the doors closed, but when his gaze lifted to the console and he saw a young woman standing there, his eyes went round.

"Who are you?" he said loudly, flabbergasted.

The woman's large brown eyes focused on him. "It's you."

"Yes, it's me. Who are—"

As he drew closer, he got a better look at her face, and he recognised her as one of the doctors who'd experimented on him. He remembered her specifically because of her eyes—she was the only one who'd shown him any compassion.

Her lip quivered and her voice shook slightly when she spoke, but otherwise she remained composed. "I'm sorry I didn't stop them. I'm glad you're alright."

"I'm not alright—I'm dying," he explained, walking towards her. "And thanks to you lot, a lot faster than I would have on my own."

"I'm so sorry," she said tearfully.

He sighed. "I know."

She swallowed before speaking in a more even voice. "I wanted to be a part of something that made people better, not hurt them."

"How did you even get in here?" he asked with a frown of confusion. He glanced about the room as if the answer were hovering in the air around them.

"I-I ran from the lab with the samples and then I heard soldiers coming from down the hall, so I hid in a storage closet but… it wasn't actually a storage closet."

"And you've just been waiting here this entire time?"

Her eyes grew even rounder. "How long has it been?"

"About twenty-four hours."

Her shoulders fell with relief, or disappointment—he couldn't tell. "I'm sorry."

"I've gathered," he said, his tone softening. "Why are you still here?"

"I couldn't leave. The doors wouldn't budge."

"The TARDIS was keeping you in here." He stared at her curiously, taking a step forward. "Why?"

"I-I don't know. Is that what you call this place?" Her voice shook again, but this time with a completely different emotion. "It's bigger on the inside."

"Yes, it is," he replied, grinning involuntarily.

She glanced away from him for a moment as she moved around the console to pick something off the floor. She returned to her spot in front of him with a large cooler in her hands.

"This is everything," she said. "All the samples we took from you."

He stared at the cooler. "Why did you take it?"

"I didn't want whoever it was taking the Institute to get their hands on it. Frankly, I didn't want anyone at the Institute getting their hands on it either.

"They promised me I would be a part of something that would advance our understanding of the human race, that would change the face of science and medicine forever."

She shook her head.

"It would be a waste after everything they went through to collect these samples, all the pain you endured, for it to just be thrown out. I don't know what you'll want with it… Maybe nothing… But the reason they wanted this from you was to help a young girl."

"Lauren Murphy," he supplied.

"Yes. She's only nine years old. I know the lengths Dr Murphy went through—coming after you and your son…" She shook her head, her thoughts too disjointed to piece together. "I don't know what makes you so special, but whatever's in your biology might help her. I never knew her, but if you were willing to help her…"

She bowed her head shamefully, recognising that asking anything of him was absurd after what she participated in against him. The Doctor was angry at the pain they'd inflicted on him, how they'd violated his body and treated him like some laboratory experiment rather than a living creature. But he did understand the lengths a parent would go to in order to save their child, the lengths an inquisitive mind would go to in order to understand something they couldn't explain, and the lengths people would go to in order to amend for the wrongs they've committed.

"Louisa," he began, and she gasped. She hadn't realised he knew her name. "Thank you."

Louisa shook her head, blinking rapidly. "I didn't stop it."

"No, but you thought it was wrong and you tried to make it better. That's the most we can do sometimes."

"But I could have done more."

He placed his hands on her shoulders. "And I know you're a good person because you recognise that."

She stared into his eyes for a moment before glancing him up and down. "I'm glad you're OK."

He smiled softly. "Thank you, Louisa."

Her father had called fourteen times after she'd dropped the call on the playground. Clara called him back after she had been reunited with Sam and they'd seen the Doctor in his room at UNIT, reassuring him that she and Sam were OK. "And the Doctor?"

Clara had smiled. It warmed her heart to know that her father's resentment towards the Doctor wasn't fuelled by hope that he would come to bodily harm.

After staying up so late the night before and all the excitement, Sam slept in almost until noon, which meant Clara got to have a lie in as well. She'd called Kate to check on the Doctor, who assured her that he was resting and was fit to leave whenever he wanted.

She was just finishing her makeup when she heard the TARDIS materialise out on the lawn. Clara smiled and then checked in on Sam, who was still sleeping soundly in her bed. He still kicked like a racehorse in his sleep, but she wasn't able to stand the thought of him being apart from her after nearly losing him.

She was halfway to the door when he knocked. She opened it quietly and smiled when she saw him. "Are you alright?" she asked, looking him up and down.

The Doctor stepped towards her, his arms lifting from his sides to wrap around her. "Just don't hug me too tightly."

She laughed softly and then struggled to keep from squeezing him too hard. She was so glad that he was OK and up and walking around in his suit and bow tie and that he wasn't gone again. Her heart still stopped every time she pictured him lying face down on that table, his skin pale as the UNIT officer checked his pulse.

"That wasn't a proper answer, you know," she said, pulling back. "Are you alright, Doctor?"

"I'm fine, Clara," he assured her, smoothing back her hair. "How's Sam?"

"Still sleeping. I should probably wake him up though or I'll never get him to bed tonight."

She gasped with surprise when the Doctor bent forward and kissed her, suddenly and passionately. She was a bit lightheaded when he pulled back.

"What was that?"

"I wanted to kiss you."

"Oh. OK, then."

"Should I not have?"

"No, you're more than welcome to."

"Good."

"Good?" she replied, a grin forming on her lips.

He replied with a curling grin of his own. "Yeah. Good."

"Would you like to come in, or did you just come over here for a quick snog?" she teased.

"I came here to see you. And Sam."

"And?" she prompted.

"Clara," he began, his voice growing soft. "Can I stay?"

She couldn't tear her eyes from him. "I don't know, Doctor. Can you stay?"

She wasn't being cheeky about grammar—she really did doubt his ability to settle into one place and live a life he wasn't accustomed to.

"I want to."

"Should you?"

"Clara…"

She shook her head. "I'm not saying I don't want you, Doctor. I can't think of a scenario where I'd ever say that. But I worry about you and about Sam, and frankly I worry about me if you decide that staying in one place is too hard. I know how you live, Doctor, how you've lived for hundreds of years. Your life…"

"Is ending," he interrupted. "Sooner than I'd previously thought."

"What do you mean?" she asked, heart racing.

"I haven't got a hundred years, Clara. At the rate my cells are deteriorating, I might only have fifty or sixty."

Tears sprung to her eyes. "Doctor, are you saying…"

"I could die with you."

For a moment all she could do was stare at him and breathe. Then she laughed softly. "I shouldn't be happy that you're going to die."

"You're not. Are you?"

"No, of course not. But you're telling me that you want to live the rest of your life with me and Sam. You're going to grow old like me?" He nodded and she sniffed back tears. He'd seen her cry too much already, and it had only been a week since he'd returned to her door. "Are you really sure that's what you want, and you don't just feel guilty…"

"Of course it's what I want," he assured her nervously, like he needed to convince her or she'd throw him to the kerb. "And of course I feel guilty, Clara. I'll always feel guilty for leaving you alone for so long."

She did cry—she couldn't help it. They kept having this conversation, or circling around it like scavenger birds, but now she felt the weight fully lift from her shoulders and she sank into his arms. He hissed with pain. Clara jumped back with a gasp. "I'm sorry."

"I'm fine," he assured her. "Still a bit sore."

"Did they ever find out what happened with your DNA? All they took from you?"

He nodded. Back in a UNIT lab, a group of medical doctors were working tirelessly as the examined the biological data that had been extracted from the Doctor in hopes of finding a cure for Lauren Murphy.

A door opened around the corner. The Doctor and Clara both turned when they heard the tiny feet shuffle towards them, and Sam appeared, rubbing his eyes. He grinned when he saw the Doctor.

"Daddy!"

He beamed at him and carefully lowered to one knee so he could scoop the boy into his arms. "Heya, Sam."

"You're back—you're better!" he exclaimed happily into the Doctor's ear as he nearly strangled him with an excited hug.

The Doctor winced and shook his head when Clara tried to pry Sam off of him. "Yes, I'm better."

"Are you staying for breakfast?" Sam asked hopefully as he stepped back.

Clara laughed. "More like lunch. You nearly slept the day away."

Sam returned his attention to the Doctor. "Are you staying for lunch?"

"Yeah, I'm staying. That's what we decided, right?" he said carefully, suddenly unsure when he glanced up at Clara.

She nodded, her smile bringing warmth to her eyes. "Yes. Daddy's staying."

"Forever?" Sam replied with sudden glee.

Clara ran her fingers through the Doctor's hair and he stood up, eyes never leaving hers. "Something like that."