The Doctor sat near Clara as she lay in his bed on the TARDIS. The memories of the day's events still haunting his mind.

...

"I have to go in there!"

"Please, please, no."

"But this is what I've already done. You've already seen me do it. I understand now."

"No, Clara. Please don't do this. Not for me."

"Silly man. I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for Paul. Our son."

...

Clara began to stir.

"Clara? Can you hear me?"

The Doctor got out of his seat and knelt beside the bed. He gently brushed the hair out of her pale face.

No response.

For a moment, the Doctor thought he would have to say goodbye to Clara, just like he'd finally done with River.

...

"Doctor, you can't go in there. It's your own time stream, for God's sake!"

"I have to get her back, River! Why don't you understand?"

"Understand? You don't think I understand? You left me on a shelf! You want to go in there because you can't let her go. You never let anyone go."

"I'm so sorry, River. This is my fault, I know. You should have faded by now."

"It's hard to leave when you haven't said goodbye."

"Then tell me because I don't know. How do I say it?"

"There's only one way I'd accept. If you ever loved me, say it like you're going to come back."

"Well, then. See you around, Professor River Song."

"Till the next time, Doctor."

...

"Sir, I believe the others are ready to return home," said Strax. Of course, the Doctor typically would have had some sort of smart retort for Strax barging into his bedroom. Still, given the nature of why the Paternoster Gang was on the TARDIS, the Doctor simply kissed Clara on the forehead and followed the Sontaran towards the console room.

"Doctor? 'Ow is she?" asked Jenny.

"Sleeping for now. I'd expect Clara to be out for some time. It's hard to say how my time stream has affected her." The Doctor took his position and readied the ship for Victorian London.

As the gang exited the ship, Vastra stopped and put a comforting hand on the Doctor's shoulder.

"Doctor, please let us know when she wakes up."

"Of course, Vastra."

The weary Time Lord resumed his position at Clara's side. He'd sent the Old Girl into the time vortex, wanting to give Clara ample time to heal and not spend any linear time away from Paul.

Except for the occasional trip to the loo, the Doctor stayed by Clara's side for nearly 24 hours. Uncertain about when he'd fallen asleep, the Doctor woke to Clara's whisper.

"Doc..tor?"

His head shot up as he immediately grabbed her hand.

"I'm here, Clara."

"You…you came back for me," she said with a tired smile.

"Of course I did! Couldn't let you take all the credit for saving the day," he chuckled, desperately trying to lighten the mood. "I figured if I saved the girl who saved the universe, I'd be a hero by association," he joked.

Clara slowly sat up with a small laugh. There was an uncomfortable silence before the Doctor spoke again.

"Clara? How much do you remember?"

Sitting up straighter, Clara pushed her hair behind her ears and tried to recall the moments that led to her being laid up in a strange bed.

"Well, we were on Trenzalore. I remember the TARDIS. It was really big on the outside. And…and the ugly man in the top hat…and…" she paused. "You." Clara turned and looked the Doctor in the eyes.

"I remember you. All of you. All your different faces. And I was always trying to reach you. To save you."

The Doctor nodded, waiting for her to say more. Waiting for her to mention their son.

"Do you remember Paul?"

Clara raised an eyebrow then swatted the Doctor on the shoulder.

"Of course I remember Paul!" she laughed. The Doctor's hearts swelled.

"How could I forget your son," she said with a smile.

The Doctor tried not to show his hurt. "My…son?"

Clara was confused. "Yes…your son…your…wait." Suddenly Clara clutched her forehead in pain.

"I…I don't understand."

The Doctor instinctively climbed into the bed with his petite companion and held her.

"I think you're remembering, Clara. What do you remember?"

"I… I died," she said sadly. "I died so many times it..ahh!" she yelled as she brought her other hand to her head. The Doctor simply held her tighter.

"I'm so sorry, Clara. This is all my fault."

"I… I remember her." Clara wriggled out of bed and began sifting through her pockets. She then pulled out the infamous photo. "Her." She handed the picture to the Doctor.

"She… she's one of my echoes! She's Paul's mum, which means…." Clara began to tear up. The Doctor jumped off the bed and brought her into a hug with tears in his own eyes.

"Yes," was all he said.

Clara began to cry harder.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry, Doctor. She may be my echo, but…" she sniffed. "I barely remember her life. I… I'm not really her. I'm sorry," she sobbed as she ran out of the room.

…

Clara found herself sitting under the time rotor. She didn't know where else to run but to the console room. How could she keep travelling with the Doctor, knowing she'd never be the woman he wanted her to be?

After a few moments, Clara heard the Doctor's footsteps nearing her.

"Clara?" he said in a hushed tone as he joined her in her tiny hiding space.

"What's wrong?"

She sniffled a bit before speaking. "I can never truly be her," she said sadly.

The Doctor brought her in for another hug. "It doesn't matter," he paused. "Clara, do you remember when I told you I genuinely liked your company while we were on the soviet submarine?"

Clara wiped her eyes and gave a small smile. "Yes," she laughed. "And I told you I genuinely liked yours as well."

"Exactly," he sighed. "Clara, it doesn't matter if you remember your echoes. I know I had a relationship with Paul's mum, but I… I've been getting to know you over the past year, and I've…well, if you hadn't already guessed, Clara. I'm in love with you."

Clara beamed at him as she nestled her head under his chin. "And I think I love you too," she said softly. Clara placed her hand on the Doctor's chest and felt his double heartbeat. "This is familiar," she said quietly.

Suddenly, she sat up and placed her hands on her own chest. Her face turned to one of confusion.

"What is it?" the Doctor asked in concern. Clara took his hand and placed it over her heart. She then guided it over to another spot.

"Two hearts," they both said simultaneously.

Before the Doctor had a chance to question reality, Clara fainted. He quickly checked her vitals with a scan. After reading the results, he gently placed his hands on Clara's shoulders and put his forehead to hers. If he was going to get to the bottom of this mystery, he needed to get inside her mind.

After a few moments, the Doctor opened his eyes. There was nothing but a dark void surrounding him.

All of a sudden, he heard a familiar voice.

"Hello, you clever boy."

The Doctor immediately turned to see Clara. Clara in her Victorian governess gown.

"Clara," he said with tears already welling up in his eyes.

"Ah, glad you remember," she joked. "Last time you saw me, I think, was some kind of underwater metal boat, no?"

"Wait? I thought that was a dream?"

"Time travel is possible in dreams. Plus, does it really matter how?" Clara moved closer to the Doctor and brought him in for a hug.

Through fresh tears, he spoke. "No. I guess it doesn't."

Their embrace lasted for mere seconds…or maybe hours. No one was counting.

"I'm so sorry," he cried. "I should have been there for you."

"Doctor? Didn't you listen to me when I answered your question?"

He backed up a bit. "You said "no," but I don't know what the question was."

Clara rolled her eyes. "The same questions you've asked yourself every day since I…since I left you."

"Were you in pain?"

"No."

"Were you scared?"

"No."

"Did you feel alone?"

Clara gave a sad smile and gently caressed the Doctor's cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

"No, Doctor. I simply fell asleep. Near the man I loved and my son. My last memory was feeling…complete."

The Doctor choked out a sob and brought her into another hug. "I miss you," he whispered into her hair.

"You shouldn't," she said plainly. "I'll always be near," she added with a smile. "Doctor, you've been trying to find me in the Clara you know now. The truth is that it was her that was in me. When Clara went into your time stream, I was created. It was that Clara living in my subconscious that brought me to you."

The Doctor shook his head in disbelief. "I…I never thought about it like that."

"Didn't expect you to," she said with a smile. "And know that every echo is now finally at peace," she slowly began to turn. "Which means it's my time to go," she gave the Doctor a sweet kiss, then backed away. "Run, you clever boy, and remember."

In a blink of an eye, she was gone. But before the Doctor had a chance to feel anything, there before him was Clara. The ordinary girl who'd done an extraordinary thing.

"Hello, Doctor," she said with a voice of confidence.

"Hello, Clara."

"Look," Clara took a step back, and the darkness around them began to fade as a warm light overtook the space. Picture frame upon picture frame hung up on the walls. Each as a memorial to a life that lived and died to save the Doctor.

"They're all your echoes," said the Doctor in wonder. He began to walk around and read their names. All some variation of Clara Oswald.

"All where they should be. Safe and at rest. I can access certain memories if I try, but I like to think they are all at peace. Their lives were fully lived. A proper ending."

The Doctor smiled, "as it should be."

"But, um, Doctor, there's something else I need to show you."

The Doctor cocked his head and began to follow Clara, wondering what else could possibly be.

After a few moments, they came upon a small wooden door. At first, the Doctor was confused, but after a few seconds, he went up to the door and began to trace the ornate swirls and symbols.

"It's Gallifreyan," he half-whispered. "It…it says Remember."

Clara smiled as she silently opened the door. As they entered, the Doctor could see a tiny room with another door across the way. All that was in the room was a centrepiece with a small picture frame that stood on top. It was a picture of Clara. Underneath the image was some writing in Gallifreyan.

Clara Oswald 1986-Current c.e.

Clara chuckled, seeing the Doctor frozen to his spot.

"Oh, come on, Doctor, this is just the beginning." She grabbed his hand and led him through the second door into another small room. In the centre was another picture frame with another photo. A photo of someone the Doctor had no memory of.

"It's a man," said the Doctor, confused.

"It's me," corrected Clara. "I think you must know by now that I'm Gallifreyan. Whatever happened when I went inside your time stream sort of unlocked some suppressed memories."

The Doctor took a few steps closer to the photo. "Ryan Guissepe, 1938 c.e." He turned to look at Clara. "This regeneration looks like an American soldier," said the Doctor, clearly confused. "I…I don't understand."

"Yeah, about that. My regeneration before ran into a bit of trouble trying to get to where I needed to be. Nearly ripped a hole in the fabric of time with…well," Clara's voice dropped out. "Ended up regenerating into a 3-year-old boy. No memories. Just found wandering the streets of New York. I also only had one heart."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"But, I was eventually adopted. Lived a good life. Even fought in Vietnam. My best friend was another lad named Tom Williams. I…I met them, Doctor."

"Met who?"

"Amy and Rory."

The Doctor's head was beginning to hurt with all the answers to questions that only then created more confusion.

"Here, before your brain explodes, let's move to the next room. This may clear some things up."

Clara grabbed his hand and guided the Doctor through the next door. As they were walking through the passage, she began to speak.

"Anyway, the previous regeneration used every ounce she had to control at least one thing. She knew that due to a second paradox she'd fallen into… it would be a bit of a…well, a whopper, so she tried to at least look human."

"I'm assuming the paradox is New York, 1938," said the Doctor.

"That's the one."

Before the Doctor could get a clear look at the following image, he paused. "Wait, Clara. You said second paradox…what was…the…first…" the Doctor froze again. This time knowing exactly whose face he was looking at.

"But….I don't understand. How?" he said as he moved quickly over to the frame. He picked it up and traced over the familiar smile.

"Rose."

Rose Tyler, 1987 c.e.

"How…she…you…you were lost! You were in a parallel universe with…him!"

"Ah, yes. And it was wonderful, but as the years went by and he aged…I didn't. At first, we just thought I had good genetics…turns out the genetics were actually Gallifreyan, to be exact. He helped me to remember. Even though he was human, he helped me access the truth, albeit very muddled. And apparently, mum never mentioned that she wasn't actually mum. Bless her. She was…well, you know. And the necklace I'd been wearing ever since I could remember was a perception filter. Had two hearts the whole time I was with you, and you never noticed!"

"I think I need to sit down." The Doctor slumped onto the ground, still staring at the photo of Rose.

"How did you come back?"

"I created a paradox. Tore right through time and space with a shabby vortex manipulator I built. Took me nearly a hundred years, but I did it. John had died long before, and my only thought was I had to find you again. Tell you the amazing discovery we made and maybe….well, it didn't quite go according to plan. Like I said, I went straight from one paradox right into the heart of another and was wounded terribly. I remember praying you'd find me, but I could see I was regenerating. I was afraid I'd be so different…after seeing you go through it, and I just thought…maybe if I focused hard enough, I'd still keep a bit of myself? I ended up regenerating into a toddler, so I guess it did the exact opposite of what I intended. But it worked in my favour. Also, it helped me the next time round when I regenerated into baby Clara," she said with a cheeky smile.

The Doctor thought about his previous face. This whole time! He wished he could tell his younger self with the spikey hair and sandshoes.

"He would have loved to know," he said sadly. He felt sadness for the man before him, but really it was HIM, so it wasn't so bad. He did know now. But he knew each regeneration had its own quirks and traits, likes and dislikes, like a different person. He felt a bit guilty that he got to have closure, unlike his last face.

"We've got one more room," said Clara softly. She knelt down next to him and squeezed his hand, helping him up onto his wobbly legs.

The Doctor took a deep breath. He knew that this next face was most likely someone who had actually lived on Gallifrey. The face she was born with, the face of a person who he could have potentially known.

"With the rate that this is going, Clara, I'm half expecting to see my wife's face from Gallifrey next."

She chuckled and quickly spoke, "Oh, no. Not quite." She then could see his face of panic.

"Oh god, you're not a sibling or…or my daughter!"

"No, no, no! NO!" she said adamantly with a laugh, seeing him sigh in relief.

The Doctor gently placed Rose's photo back on the centre table and walked hand in hand with Clara through the next door. The Time Lord took a breath as he stepped in front of the image. At first, he was a bit surprised. He thought he'd see a picture of a woman or even a man at this point, but it wasn't. It was a child. Well, not exactly a child but a relatively young girl, maybe around 16 years of age. When his brain and hearts finally caught up to his eyes, he took a few steps back. The Doctor felt a wave of emotions flood over him. Shock, grief, relief, confusion, awestruck.

"I…I don't understand," he said as he neared the photograph. The Doctor studied the young face.

The very face he'd buried deep within the recesses of his hearts because it was too painful to even remember that he'd known her. The little girl he'd met when she reached her tiny hand out to him after he'd been knocked over by one of the larger boys. The girl who proudly introduced herself as he stood up and wiped the dirt off his trousers. She was 6. Paul's age. And he was just a year older.

The girl who was his first real friend. The girl that followed him around until he finally accepted said friendship. Embarrassed that his only friend was a girl. A girl that he may have been a bit smitten with.

They grew up together and spent hours playing. Hours studying together. Learning about what it meant to be Gallifreyan. He remembered the first time they kissed. It was during a play, and they were supposed to be married. It was as awkward as one could think of an 11-year-old having to kiss a girl…on the cheek. But still, he fancied her and didn't want anyone to know.

But then they got older, and things began to change, and now he's kissing her, but it's not for a play. There is no audience, and if there was, it would be pretty scandalous because it's heated and sloppy and everything you could expect from a now 16-year-old and 15-year-old finally admitting to each other their feelings. Getting caught up in the moment and going further than they'd meant to, but it feels so good, and she's so beautiful. They can't help themselves.

And now they have a secret. Just between them. Too afraid to repeat the moment things changed in fear of being found out and receiving harsh punishment. But it's too late now because her abdomen is growing, and she can't hide the results of their impulsive passions. Her parents are furious, and his "guardians" are outraged.

And now she's gone. Her family moved them away to hide the family shame, and he's now resided to sleeping in a barn, alone and in the dark, because he's not fit to be a Time Lord. He's too emotional and impulsive. And he can't help crying himself to sleep every night because he misses her so much. And even though he's 16, he's so afraid of being alone and especially being alone in the dark. He just wishes she were with him. He just wants to see her again.

And now he's 17, and he's come a long way in earning the trust back that he'd lost. He doesn't want to appear weak or emotional. He wants to be a proper Time Lord. But fate would have it that he runs into the last person he'd thought he'd ever see. Her father. He asks if she's around. The man rudely informs him that his daughter died in childbirth, and sadly, so did the baby. But because of the nature of her sins, they did not allow her to regenerate nor the bastard son she'd birthed.

And now he's got another emotion fueling his drive, and it's not pretty. It's hate. He hates her father. He hates his guardians, and he hates the Time Lords. If he ever got the chance, he would blow up the entire planet just to make the statement that their culture doesn't deserve to go on if that's how they treat an innocent girl and her poor baby. And he's once again sobbing on his bed in the cold barn because he's just realised he'd had a son.

But alas, the years passed, and the painful memories began to fade as he grew and matured. He buried his resentment and hatred towards his people deep within himself and instead decided he would take on the name of the Doctor. No longer fueled by hate or wanting revenge but fueled by mercy and trying to make wrongs right in whatever way he could.

He'd even gotten married and had children. And his children had children. And each time he held one of the tiny babies in his arms, whether it was his own or the offspring of his own, he couldn't help shedding a tear for the son he'd never gotten the chance to meet. The son who'd been born into such a cruel world that the powers at be deemed the child didn't deserve a chance to survive. Just like they did with the poor baby's mother.

But it was a lie. A cruel lie because had he just followed the girl's father back to the cottage he'd moved her to, he would have found her sitting on the floor holding her precious baby boy. But his happiness would have been short-lived because if he had looked more intently, he would have seen the anguish in her face. After all, the little boy had passed away. He was born prematurely and was prone to sickness.

And although her father had lied about stripping his daughter of her regenerations, he hadn't lied about the fact the Time Lords had robbed the bastard boy of his. Her father, now having known the little boy for the few short months he'd been in the world, had grown to love him and had gone into the city to fetch the simple medicine that would have been able to cure the infant, but he was too late.

Her father arrives home to find the tragic sight as his daughter whispers prayers over her baby boy.

"Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me." She says over and over. She even tries to continue to transfer her own regenerative energy to the small body. She'd been trying to ever since he'd gotten the fever, but it wasn't working.

And now they're standing over his tiny grave. Her father is off to the side. Their relationship is wounded so deeply that she tells him she's leaving Gallifrey and never returning. Her father hangs his head and walks away as she stays, running her hand along the small etching of swirls and patterns of the tiny gravestone, reading what can only be translated to the modern tongue as small.

Small, which can be translated further into the name Paul. Because he'd been so tiny at birth, it was the only word she could think of and thus became his name. She silently prays again as she rises to her unsteady feet, "Come back to me, please. Come back to me."

The wind is blowing her own ginger curls all around her face. And she swears she can hear a small voice say in reply, "Not yet, mummy. Not yet."