His hearts pounded heavily in his chest as he listened to the wind whipping past his ears, his mind focused on a single thought: he could do it. He could entirely re-write time. For Clara the Doctor could stop her death and he could watch her walk away with a laugh and a little dance, because he knew she would sway with glee as that weapon and his Sonic came down at her sides. She would laugh and she would ask him if he were alright and they would go back to the village just a few miles away – away from the barren and broken landscape the Silurians had been hiding underneath.

The ground crunched loudly underneath each heavy step he took. Each sending a jolt up his tired legs as he urged them to move faster, ignoring the burning in his muscles as he began to catch up with the Silurian – a creature that knew he was being chased and began to turn to look at him, to gauge just how far the man behind him was and in a flash the soldier skidded to a halt and turned to raise its blade, sending the Doctor slipping to the ground, sliding underneath the swing of that metal.

Missing his nose by a breath.

"Stop," the Doctor hissed, body aching as he scrambled to stand, hands held up in defense, the knife still held firmly in his right.

"Stop," the Silurian repeated sarcastically, head bopping quickly just before a patronizing laugh. It was a male, the Doctor knew, young. So very young. A boy even. Those were the weapons of war, he knew, boys and girls too young to be sentenced to this life; too young to be able to choose it. He shook his head as he listened to that voice tell him lowly, "The female homosapien has disengaged our weapon."

Nodding, the Doctor explained, "Yes, yes she has, and if you drop yours, I can make sure you live."

He cocked his head, suspicious of him.

"No one else has to die today," the Doctor urged. "Please."

The Silurian hissed at him and his tongue shot out and the Doctor swung his knife on instinct, slicing the last few inches of it off as the Silurian let out a quick scream – one that had the Doctor turning to look up at that hill to make sure Clara hadn't heard. If she'd heard, she might investigate and if she investigated and found him – if she found the Doctor – fighting a Silurian, she would fight with him.

And she would die, he knew.

Again.

"Please," the Doctor pleaded, watching the Silurian's free hand covering his mouth, giving the blood there a swipe before flicking the excess to the ground and gripping his sword tightly.

Gesturing up at the hill, the Silurian laughed, "You die, Time Lord, and then the woman dies."

He took a breath, body tensing, and he raised his knife quickly as the Silurian attacked.

The first blow sent a shock of pain up his arm, rattling his collar and jerking his neck harshly, and he reached out with his free hand to grab at the Silurian's striking arm, pushing it aside and shifting back as he turned, swinging the blade inches from his chest with another hiss. If he could just hold this creature off for a few more minutes, the Doctor knew, it would divert time. Clara's timeline would extend, it would change, it would ripple out into the universe and he would change.

Everything would change.

He grunted as he raised the knife to block another swing, and then another, and he fell to the ground, rolling away and hearing the weapon clink against the rocks at his side. He felt the debris slap against his back, and then he rolled to his feet again, looking to the Silurian who stood, poised to strike again. With a small nod, the Doctor lifted a hand and beckoned him forward, trying to give him a menacing smile through the terror freezing his chest as he looked up to that hill.

"So, Doctor, what's next?"

"We get flower crowns, I suppose, as it's their tradition – let's go find out."

The words were new in his mind. The memory of her smile bursting to life in his visual cortex as he fought the alien now relentlessly attacking. He could feel the warmth of her hand in his and her body pressing against his side as they'd walked away, back towards the village, each with a careful eye on their surroundings. The Doctor laughed as it flashed against the memory of her lifeless body in his arms. The two timelines struggling to co-exist in his memories.

Everything. He thought as he pushed the Silurian off him.

Would. He emphasized as he swung the knife down.

Change. He challenged as he growled loudly.

"She deserves a second chance," the Doctor spat into the Silurian's face as he gripped the sword's blade, letting it cut lightly into his skin, and the Silurian's hand. He grimaced as he began to press down, teeth gnashing as he listened to the creature squeal because he knew that sword would be the end of him – he could see the determination in the Doctor's eyes. With a scream that terrified him, the Doctor sank all of his weight forward in one quick jerk and felt that blade press through the flesh and bone at his neck and his eyes closed as the blood began to flow and the Silurian gurgled and then went silent.

He exhaled and he turned away and he took a breath.

It should have been relief, but it was more like disbelief.

The Doctor's hands came loose and he fell to his side, stumbling away blindly on his hands and knees, his tears falling as his stomach emptied itself. He looked to the lifeless alien just a few feet away and instead of feeling hatred and satisfaction, he felt emptiness – the same as he'd felt before, when he'd killed him last. He shifted onto his backside, feeling the winds blowing through his hair, and he waited for more new memories, but they didn't come. He pulled himself to his feet and he moved up that hill, groaning against the effort, and he reached the top, peering through the remnants of that building, seeing it empty, and he climbed up.

The ground where he'd held her last sat untouched by death, and he laughed softly, bloody hand coming to his stomach because it ached. It ached with guilt and fear because he knew he could take ten more steps and understand he was wrong and there was no re-writing her death. She could be lying in his arms just beyond that building, some other Silurian soldier finishing the job the one he'd killed had intended to do.

And then he heard her laugh, soft and fluttering through the wind to tickle his ears just before she asked confidently, "So, Doctor, what's next?"

There was a moment of silence as he stepped to the edge of an opening and he could see her standing there with him, both looking disheveled and exhausted. And he watched as his former self shrugged and listened as he responded delightfully, "We get flower crowns, I suppose, as it's their tradition," then he gave her a wild smile and offered a hand, "Let's go find out."

And she smiled.

That glorious flashing of teeth and that deepening of her dimple and the Doctor turned to lean against the cold stone of the broken wall, letting his head drop roughly against it before he looked back out towards where he'd landed his Tardis. If he were right, he would cross that rocky landscape and he'd step into his Tardis and she would be waiting for him. If he were right, the altering of this event would alter a steady stream of events through time and space and he huffed a small laugh at the thought because there was so much potential for it all to go incredibly wrong.

But for once… for just this once… everything could go incredibly right.

He held his hand against his stomach, pressing to stop the bleeding in his palm as he began the slow walk back, because he was terrified it wouldn't. The Doctor could have changed more than just that moment and there was no guarantee that it would ricochet through time the way he imagined.

His memories hadn't altered themselves, or rather, no more new ones had emerged to combat the ones that still weighed heavily on his hearts, and the notion frightened him. What if they'd both met their end minutes later and he was in the process of fading from time itself. He knew it was a possibility. Anything was a possibility now. His eyes closed as he reached the edge of that open space where Wallace still lay – he would always be there now, a remnant of another timeline.

Or he would always be there because nothing had changed.

Head touching the blue wood of that box, the Doctor whispered quietly, "Please, please let this not all have been for naught."

Taking a breath, he gripped the handle and he pushed it in, stepping into the Tardis and closing the door behind him to hear the machine welcome him with a set of odd sounds. He stared at the doors, too frightened to turn around until he heard her clear her throat.

"There was a time you would have told me that meddling with time in that fashion wasn't recommended," Clara told him slowly. "There was a time you would have outright forbid it. There was a time you did."

He turned slowly and looked to her, sitting in one of the seats around the console, Clara's backpack settled just beside her ankles, Raggy Bear held loosely in her lap, flopping back and forth as she looked at it with a smile he couldn't classify as she waited for him respond. He swallowed roughly and took a few steps towards her, eyeing the Tardis console and convincing himself the machine wouldn't be so cruel as to create a hologram to argue with.

On a nod, the Doctor told her quietly, "It was never my intention…"

Clara flopped the bear and laughed, interrupting, "It's never your intention, is it, Doctor?"

"Are you angry?" He questioned firmly, unable to read her where she sat, still looking to the bear.

"I have memories of dying," she told him slowly. "I have memories of pain and confusion and darkness and I have memories of flower crowns and mocking a prime minister's hat and stopping a young soldier named Wallace. I have memories of signing a treaty as a honorary member of a committee with you by my side just as I have memories of looking up at you and feeling my last breath leave my body." She laughed at the bear. "Am I angry?" Her eyes came up and she shrugged, then offered lightly, "No," before her brow came up and she supplied calmly, "I'm alive – sort of a plus. A lot of new things in the plus column for us I wouldn't take back, it'll come back to you soon."

There was a laugh, sitting just inside of his chest, but it remained there, too scared to emerge for fear he'd done wrong in her eyes, and he took another step forward as she stood, holding the bear to her stomach. "The Tardis arrived earlier than I'd asked."

Clara reached to touch the console, sighing a gentle, "Thank you, Tardis."

The Doctor stepped closer to her, his hands itching to hold her, his lips burning to kiss her, his very skin buzzing to be nearer to her. But he stopped, reaching for the metal at his side instead, his injured hand falling to his side as he stated, "I'm confused, there should be new memories."

And then she smiled.

A beautifully radiant smile that calmed his existence as she told him quietly, "There will be." Then she reached for the controls and began to work at them, the bear still held against her protectively, lovingly, knowingly – something that soothed his hearts in an odd way. Clara took them into the vortex with a grin up towards the time rotor and when they landed, she nodded to the doors and told him softly, "Go on – unfinished business and all. Sort of the weird thing about all of this, having memories you don't for the moment; memories you need."

He laughed, "Clara, what…"

But she pointed before hugging the bear to her, "There are memories you have to finish before they're complete." She turned and moved to place the bear down in the console seat, offering it a cheeky smile as she smoothed the jumper she wore over her body and looked back at him, laughing, "Go on, Doctor. She's waiting for you."