Her scream is all that echoes against the rubble that remains of the archway into the old ruins and then she's numb, staring ahead at Elliot, who's crumpled to the ground in front of her. Protecting her. "No," she mouths, then repeats the word over and over and she rushes forward to him.
They'd gotten involved in another Dalek war, another stupid Dalek war, and she doesn't look up when she feels the coat tails whoosh past her. And all of his rage channeled at the five feet of steel just beyond them that's begun to shake with realization as the Sonic disables its weapons – a setting she demanded he create years ago, chastising him for being so stupid to not create it sooner.
"Elliot, Elliot, please," she pleads, lifting him up and rolling him into her lap. She can barely see his face through her tears as she presses a hand to his chest, feels for the familiar double beat of his hearts, and she watches the slits of his eyes open just slightly. "God, Elliot," she manages, hearing an explosion nearby and knowing it's the Dalek because the man is still shouting.
There are parts flying now, and something fleshy slops onto the ground and she looks up to see the Doctor standing next to the open Dalek, his right hand purple with its blood and his chest is heaving, trembling as he looks to her and all of that vengeance melts away when he sees his son shift in her lap. He pushes his clean hand through his dark hair, sighing as he takes in the scene before him – his son lying so still in Clara's arms – and feels his insides fall apart. He knows what he reads on her face: it's too soon.
"Mum," he whispers, "Mum, I feel strange," he tells her and she sees something swirling over his skin. Something she knows better than she should.
"No," she shouts, "No, you don't change. No!" She grips him tightly and pulls him up into her chest, hugging him from behind, her arms wrapped around him as his forehead rests against her chin.
"Clara," the Doctor tells her quickly, "You need to move away."
"No, he's fine! He won't regenerate!" She shouts back angrily. She knows it will still be him, she understands that it's better than he can regenerate than have her burying him on some Dalek wasteland, but she doesn't want to lose his face. Not her son's face.
The Doctor is on her then, tearing her away as she screams and Elliot's body falls back to the ground weakly. Clara tries to push him away; punching and clawing at the smooth leather he's wearing and looking to her boy. Her baby boy. He's only thirteen. He shifts and his skin is sparkling, slowly growing in radiance until he turns himself over and stands on shaky legs.
"No," he tells himself, looking up at her with yellowed eyes. "No," he repeats and she falls to the ground as she watches him, the Doctor holding her up, crouched down behind her, feeling his heart breaking alongside Clara's.
Elliot is tall, stupidly tall, and his limbs are bony and his hair hangs full and raggedy around his head and she memorizes his face – his true face, the one that came from her and the Eleventh – because she knows this will be the last time she sees it.
"No, mum," he growls, "I won't look like you anymore. I won't… I don't want to lose myself. I don't want to lose your…" he struggles with his words as he struggles against the regeneration.
"Elliot, don't," the Doctor warns. Then he stands, pulling Clara to her feet and holds her tight because she's already falling, already shattered, "Concentrate on what you want to look like – keep that face in your mind – hold onto it. Want it, son. Want it so badly you can't think about anything else. And hope. Hope with all of your heart…" his words fade away as the energy bursts from the boy's arms and legs and shoots straight up into the roof of the chamber as it shakes in response.
Clara wants to look away, but instead she finds a smile in the notion that this is a new birth. She knows the Doctor lies – knows he lied to his son – so she watches his features change through the golden light that's burning her eyes to stare into, and she waits. She feels the strong arms holding her in place, feels the hand at her shoulder stroking gently and she blinks the tears away.
He's gotten smaller, but he's still taller than herself at such a young age, and his hair waves slightly, and is a lighter shade of brown, and when the light floats away, he stares at her, a look of wanting on his face. And she laughs. His nose is flatter, longer, and his brow is heavier and she continues to laugh. And the Doctor joins her while Elliot drops to his knees.
Clara gives the Doctor a slight push and he releases her and she moves slowly to him, dropping to her knees in front of him to touch his face. "It's different," she allows, but she caresses his cheeks and wraps her fingers around the back of his neck before kissing his fore head, "More like your father's face when I met him."
"You said he had a stupid face," Elliot whispers, voice breaking – it hasn't changed much.
"I loved his stupid face," she responds.
And they laugh together as she reaches back for the Doctor, closing her eyes when he takes her hand and they stand, Clara glancing around before asking, "We should be running, shouldn't we?"
"Family that runs together lives to run together another day," the Doctor tells her, leaning back on his heels slightly before tugging her back in the direction of the Tardis. "Also, the bomb is about to detonate, so we really should be vortex bound sooner rather than later," he checks his watch before checking on Elliot's condition – because he knows regeneration can be difficult sometimes, but the boy is at ease, long fingers curling easily around Clara's and he gives him a sheepish smile he recognizes with a smirk of his own.
They run in tandem, arriving and pushing through the Tardis doors and Clara and the Doctor are already on the console, working together to choose a destination as Elliot locks the door behind them and comes to stand on the pathway to console before falling with a sigh into the seat there. He laughs when they cross each other with a quick high five, his mother doing a twirl and coming to stop just as his father does on the other side and they're giddy as they watch one another.
Clara looks to her son, mouth gapping in a frozen laugh as he watches them and she sighs, memories flooding her because her time with that face had been so short and she hopes her time with him now would be longer. Long enough to see the man this face becomes – how similar it would be to his. When she glances back at the Doctor, there's a silent jealousy there as he turns away, grinning and working the levers in front of him as she toggles a switch near her.
"Elliot, you might want to grab hold of something," the Doctor allows before nodding to her, "Clara."
She reaches for a handle on the console and they do a quick dip and drop and then whoosh forward, a tickle rolling through her stomach as they fly towards their destination and she can hear Elliot shouting, "Where are we going, dad?"
"Someplace far and new and made of sponges."
"Sponges?" Clara and Elliot ask at once.
He smiles, "I love a good sponge."