"There are prophecies, Clara," he started, choosing his vocables carefully, "About a hybrid that would be born from the union of two warrior races, and it would destroy all of time and space and stand on its ruins."

Clara tilted her head, processing each of his words. "And you're saying that I'm the hybrid? That I'm going to end the entire universe?"

"I'm saying it's possible," he sighed, "Especially when we don't know the consequences of a mixture between a Human and a Time Lord."

She swallowed roughly, "But I'm not half Time Lord, I'm half you," she conjectured, a certain spark in her eyes. "You, Doctor. The savior of galaxies and worlds. How can a being born from your heart destroy everything that you gave your life to protect? It doesn't make sense, I'm sorry."

"It's just what the prophecies say, Clara," he shuddered.

"Exactly, a prophecy," she elaborated, a grin of bragging starting to appear in her face, "And like all prophecies, it most likely will never happen."

The Doctor laughed at her proud smirl, because she knew she was right. "Except that my people invented time traveling, Clara. When it comes to foreseeing things, they're rarely ever wrong. They're just that good."

"If they were indeed that good, they wouldn't need a prophecy. If they knew for sure, it would be a postulate," she protested, "But it's not, Doctor. We can't live our lives based on speculations, especially the ones coming from a civilization that couldn't even see their own imminent destruction."

The Doctor lowered his neck, his head being brought closer to hers. Whispering, because no one else was allowed to the words meant for her, "You really are something, you know."

She agreed, chuckling a laugh that equaled to music to his ears. "I try my best."

He let his fingers travel through her hair, sending visible chills down her body. "That's not all, Clara."

Her features didn't change; she used the palm of his hand as a pillow, "Tell me."

He expired a long breath, Clara sensing its warmth landing on her face. "Remember that trip we took to the underground city? With the future telling mermaids?" she nodded, "Well, they told me about your future, Clara."

Although there was a hint of curiosity in her eyes, she didn't allow the grin to fade away from the corner of her lips, "Yeah? And that left you worried, didn't it?"

"Of course," he stated, diving into the black hole of her eyes. "Had you heard what they said, you would worry, too."

Clara wrinkled her nose, "Enlighten me, then."

Wettening his lips, he began, "They couldn't see anything and yet they could see so much."

"That's poetic," she mocked.

The Doctor ignored her. "They saw the universe crumbling underneath you. They saw an infinite potential that could either save the universe or destroy it. It's like your future has yet to be written, there being branches of beauty and branches of hatred and branches of beauty and hatred. All because you're the hybrid."

He watched her chest rising and falling calmly. "In other words, they don't know anything, Doctor."

"Clara—"

It was her turn to cup his jawline. "No, you listen to me. Perhaps the reason why they saw it all blurry is because our future mixes with our past. Maybe the joint of beauty and hatred is us bringing peace and salvation and beauty to the places filled with destruction and hatred."

"But what if you're wrong," he pleaded, desperate, "What if the prophecies are right and you tear time and space apart until there's nothing left?"

"And if they're right, what are you going to do?" Clara arched an eyebrow, "Lock me up for the rest of my life? Replace my gallifreyan heart for a human one? Kill me?"

He was taken aback by her suggestion, offended. "I could never kill you."

"I know, Doctor," she patronized, "My point is, they got it all wrong. The Time Lords, the future seeing mermaids. The hybrid isn't me. The hybrid is us. The combination of two people who love and care for each other so much they would push to the edge of the universe if it meant saving one another."

"Clara—"

She didn't give him the chance to speak. "Because that's what I did when I jumped into your timestream. That's what you did when you gave me your heart. Two people too much alike. Two people who thrive on adrenaline and recklessness and can't even begin to imagine a life where the other isn't there with them."

"And you're saying our love will destroy the universe?" he scoffed, deepening his head onto her palm. Cupping her hand with his.

"No, they've got that wrong too," she said, showing her teeth, "Our love is crucial to the salvation of the universe. Stars and galaxies rely on our love for their survival, because that's what we do, Doctor. We travel across comets spreading kindness and goodness, propagating it to the point love shall overcome hate."

His mouth was stuck in the beginning of a smile. "And that's your theory."

She nodded, "That's my theory."

"And you're saying that you, an ordinary human being from a primitive earthly century, is right over the most civilized kind in the universe, the one with the means to all the answers?" he grunted, sarcastically.

"Your most civilized people has got an ego so big it overshadows their visions, Doctor," she exclaimed, a wicked expression written over her face lines.

"Because your ego isn't at all inflated, is it," the Doctor huffed, the bubble of air that escaped his lungs blowing her hair away from her temples.

"Not at all," she hissed, at last her wrists falling back to the earth, each at the opposite side of her head. "Which is why I'm right."

"Clara Oswald," he sang her name melodically, in a way he knew drove her crazy, "You really are maddening."

Her breath grew narrower inside her chest, making her breathing pattern increase noticeably. Her pupils dilated as she allowed herself to be consumed by his eyes on her. His body so close to hers, them two occupying the space dedicated to one only, even though they had ended all their physical links.

"Stop," she begged, voice stuck in the back of her throat. Eyes unable to leave his.

The Doctor pouted, his brows forming a continuous arc. "Stop, what?"

She gulped, lips forming a gap between one another. "I can't breathe when you're looking at me like that."

"Like what?" he carried on asking, clearly at loss.

Clara let out a breath, losing herself in the image of him with the background full of stars and planets. "Like I'm the most important thing in the entire universe."

He chuckled, a tender sound coming from his laugh, "That, Clara, my eyes don't know how to lie about."

Her cheeks blushed almost instantaneously, but she didn't hold herself from teasing, "Why, I thought I was just some ordinary human being."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Only when you're giving me hell. Such as now."

A warm laugh escaped her lips, "Well, Doctor, someone has to knock some sense into you before you give away your remaining heart."

He rested his chin atop the pointy bone of her shoulder, allowing him the perfect view of her profile. "In that case, I'm grateful for having you to keep me in line."

Clara dug her fingers through the curls of his silver hair, caressing the scalp underneath them. Her head was in a twisted angle just so they wouldn't end the eye contact. Her words, then, were no more than whispers, "I know I said I wouldn't say thank you for what you've done. Because you weren't entitled to my gratefulness for being so stupid. But I guess I was just being selfishly mad."

He swung his head sideways, "You don't have to say anything—"

"Yes, I do," she cut him, "Even if I don't agree with everything you've done for me, life is too infinitely short to be wasted on bitterness," she took a long breath, "So, thank you, Doctor. Thank you for saving my life."

"Noted," he asserted simply, getting a huff from her in return when she realized her words went in an ear and out the other. Because he didn't need her thankfulness, he just needed her alive.

Being alive and next to one another was everything their hearts needed to carry on beating.

Out of the blue, the Doctor's forehead formed lines across it, "Did you hear that?"

Clara squeezed her eyes, trying to locate whatever sound he was talking about and failing. "Heard, what?"

He jumped onto his feet in a blink. "It must be nothing, but I better take a look at it just for assurance."

"Doctor—"

He held his palm to her, glaring down at her half laid, half seated body still in the ground. "You stay right here. I'll be right back."

Her eyes followed him gradually stepping away from her. "And if you're not?!"

"Then you ask the TARDIS to take you home," he shouted from the distance, "Politely!"

Clara ignored his instructions, "Can't I come with you?"

"Somebody needs to guard the TARDIS!" he lied, his figure disappearing in the midst of the bushes from the forest that surround the field, "I'll be right back, I promise."

Clara puffed in disdain, throwing her head back. Telling herself how she would be sure to give him hell once he returned.