Head Notes: Oh, boy. Here we go. I hope you like it. I probably will not post again until thursday or Friday just to give me time to actually finish the last few chapters. They will probably contain minor to major spoilers for Series 9 as I am partly using this story to explain why the Doctor acted the way he has all season. But this chapter has no spoilers. Read and Enjoy!

Chapter eighteen

Harold stared at the Doctor's manic grin as he tried to fully understand what he had just said.

"It was really quite simple," the Doctor explained. "I knew that if Samaritan saw the Machine's hologram, he would put two and two together and realize that the Machine had abilities that she didn't have before. Then, once it realized that, of course he would demand to have those same abilities regardless of the consequences."

"But Samaritan wouldn't have known or realized that a data transference on that scale would destroy him," Harold realized.

"Exactly," the Doctor grinned. "The only real difficulty was I couldn't just outright suggest that he connect himself to the TARDIS. Otherwise he'd have known something was up. So I led him to those conclusions.

"The hard drive," John realized. "You dropped it on purpose."

The Doctor quirked his eyebrows in approval.

"The arrogant are always the easiest to manipulate," the Doctor smiled. "His obsession of power is what led him to his demise."

"So it's over," Harold breathed. He let out a laugh of relief. "Samaritan is gone."

For the first time in months, he felt himself totally relax. He glanced around at his friends who gradually returned his gaze in a rising level of relief. Even Claire smiled brightly for the first time since he met her a year ago.

"Wait," a voice called. The Machine's hologram had returned. "All the camera feeds have been cut."

"Who is that?" Clara asked.

"Hold on a minute, Clara," the Doctor said. "What do you mean?"

"There are no live feeds anywhere in this building," the Machine reported. "And I have not seen Greer since he went into the server room with you, Doctor."

"That's a long time to be out of action," the Doctor commented.

They all had their backs to the door as Greer rounded the corner. Without a word, he raised the handgun and aimed at Harold's back. At the last moment, Claire noticed Greer standing in the doorway, his gun pointed at Harold.

"Harold!" she yelled, barreling into him.

Harold turned toward Claire at the exact moment she launched herself at him. His legs collapsed underneath him and he twisted, landing on his side, in vain trying to brace himself on his hands. He let out a sharp gasp of pain as the impact sent ripples of pain shooting down his spine. He was only vaguely aware as Reese and Root fired back at Greer.

He gasped in pain as he stiffly rolled himself onto his arms, his spine and neck protesting his every move. Pushing himself onto his knees he looked around and thoughts about his own pain vanished instantly.

"Claire!" he called, dragging himself over to where she was.

She laid on her side, gasping heavily in pain, as a growing puddle of red stained her shoulder. He lifted her head and turned her on her back to inspect her wound. A clean shot through the shoulder. She had survived that before. Though with the amount of blood pouring from her wound, he wasn't sure she would make it this time.

She looked up at him, pain etched onto her face as she gasped in pain.

The Doctor watched as Harold took Claire into his arms, a solemn expression on his face as he took in the sight. Guilt was written in every line on Harold's face. Guilt that the Doctor was all too familiar with.

"It's always the shoulder, right?" she gasped through her pain.

"You're going to be fine," he hoped. He looked up at Reese. "Is there anything you can do?"

John's eyes held sympathy as he inspected her injuries. He met Harold's desperate gaze with sympathy with the tiniest shake of his head.

Harold's eyes glistened as he looked back down at her.

"Claire," he choked out.

"Harold," she pleaded as the pain grew worse. "I'm sorry- I didn't mean for any of this to happen." she gasped as her body began to shiver uncontrollably as shock began setting in.

"Don't speak," he whispered, fighting the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. "Conserve your strength."

"I need to say this," she hissed. "I need you to know how truly sorry I am. I-"

She cut off as a new wave of agony tore through her.

"It's okay," he hushed. "I know."

She smiled up at him through her pain. A smile that had been denied her for such a long time.

He tried to say more but the words choked in his throat as he realized that this should be him. It should have been him bleeding out on the floor making a final goodbye. Instead, Claire had pushed him out of the way and taken the bullet meant for him.

"I'm sorry, too," he apologized. "I couldn't forgive you and it clouded my judgement."

Her eyes slid closed before she forced them open again.

"You showed me a lot of kindness when we first met," she gasped.

"Claire," his voice choked on her name. "I think it would have been nice to get to know you."

She tried to smile, but she couldn't. She choked and coughed as her body gradually twitched slower and gentler. Finally, her eyes drooped closed and her body relaxed in his arms.

Harold closed his eyes as the tears rolled freely down his chin. No one around him moved, as he held her lifeless body in his arms. It wasn't fair. So many people had died because of him. So many people had their lives irreversibly changed because they were entwined in his. First Nathan, then Detective Carter, and Grace. And now Claire. She had worked so hard for his approval but he had refused to see it until it was too late. But even as he'd grown suspicious of her, he'd never wanted her dead.

Clara stood behind him with her hand over her mouth. She'd only known Claire for a few days but she had become surprisingly close with the brilliant young woman. The Doctor beside her grasped her hand in a rare sympathetic gesture.

John knelt behind Harold.

"The bullet broke her collarbone," he explained. "Damaged an artery. Sorry, Harold."

Root and John watched silently as Harold let her head rest on the floor. Harold refused to meet their gaze but John could see the weight of a new grief in his posture. The weight of yet another loss weighing down the soul of a man that had already lost so much. Harold slowly pulled himself onto his feet.

"Hold on, Harold," John whispered.

He bent down and gently lifted Claire's body off the floor.

"Whatever else happens, Harold," John began. "She doesn't deserve to be left with Samaritan's operatives."

Harold nodded understandingly but refused to turn and face him.

"We should go," he said, his voice forcibly calm.

They left the room, their hearts heavy as they made their way to the TARDIS, Claire's lifeless body catching their gaze.

XxXxXxXxX

The small group piled into the TARDIS, not speaking a word as the Doctor pulled the lever and activated the TARDIS. Clara looked around the room at the faces of the people who'd helped rescue her. Their eyes held the weight and age of exhaustion. And though she didn't know their stories, their eyes told a similar story to the Doctor's. Heartbreak and loss over a lifetime.

She turned her eyes to the man that had held Claire as she died. Even though he'd put on a tough face it was clear how badly he was taking this. Her time with the Doctor had made it easy to see through tough facades. Once someone managed to learn to read the Doctor, they could read anybody.

The TARDIS landed with a thud and they exited into an underground subway where a large dog walked over to greet them somehow sensing the melancholy air. The man carrying Claire's body laid her down on the bench.

The man in glasses suddenly spoke.

"There's a surgeon in the city that can remove your electrodes," he stated matter-of-factly. "In the meantime there is a safe house where you can recover."

He stepped into the subway car remodeled into an office.

"Hang on," she called after him. "It was Harold, right?" He froze but didn't turn to acknowledge her. "She told me about what happened. What she did to you."

"She didn't deserve to die for it," he stated, staring straight ahead.

"I know," she acknowledged. "But from what I gathered, the one thing she wanted in this world was a chance to make it up to you. Whatever you're thinking right now, it wasn't your fault."

He continued staring straight ahead as he pondered what she was saying. Slowly, he lifted his fingers up to the keyboard and began typing. A tear rolled out of Clara's eye as she stepped back out of the subway car.

"It's not you," a voice rasped behind her. The man that had carried Claire stood behind her, watching his partner with understanding in his eyes. "Harold wants more than anything to save people. When he can't do that he blames himself even if there was nothing he could've done to stop it."

"Who are you people?" she wondered.

"We help people out of dangerous situations," he explained. "Kind of like yours."

"So do you defeat evil A.I.'s every day or is this a special occasion?" she asked.

"Not always," he smiled. "Most people we help are in danger of an embezzling boss or cheating spouse."

"So how do you know when people are in danger?" she asked. "Do they come to you or-"

The man didn't answer. He simply smiled and looked over at the Doctor. She followed his gaze to see that he was speaking with two women. She didn't know what the man was trying to show her. The two women looked perfectly ordinary. But as she looked harder she noticed that one of them wasn't quite solid.

"Hang on," she realized. "That woman was in Samaritan's fortress. She warned us about Greer. But she wasn't on the TARDIS."

The man didn't make a move, except for a slightly deeper smile.

"Who is she?" Clara wondered.

"It's a long story," the man said. "But we've got the time."

XxXxXxXxX

End Notes: I feel mean. It's not technically my first death but it's the first death of a main or supporting character. I usually prefer to keep everyone alive. But we know the writers will probably do much worse.