The Doctor groaned as he pushed himself up from the rubble-scarred ground, his ears ringing. His white vest was caked in dirt and grit, and his black jacket was also ripped at the elbows. He sat up slowly from where he previously lay, groaning as he cracked his back. The psuedo-explosion from the Nethersphere's destruction had blown The Doctor and his self-aware Cybermen followers out of the doors of St Paul's, and sent them rolling down its front steps. It was no wonder then, that even a Time Lord suffered significant damage from such an event. His body ached all over, but was still intact. It wasn't too bad, he reasoned, as he could regenerate away his cuts and bruises he'd accumulated over the course of the day. He'd managed to regrow a hand in the past, no problem. But humans weren't so fortunate in that regard.
The Doctor stood up slowly, but surely. He surveyed his surroundings, taking in the scenes of destruction, and the deaths he'd prevented. While lives may have been lost or saved in locations further than his own field of vision, it was impossible to confirm. However impossible though, it was a certainty as an event. This was the consequence of being a Time Lord and touching the lives of everyone he'd even so much as laid a glimpse upon. UNIT's ships hovered above, parachutists descending from them. Crumbled buildings surrounded St Paul's. The Cybermen all around The Doctor were beginning to regain their senses too, taking off their helmets and looking around them in bemusement. He hadn't noticed it earlier, but thankfully, all the Cyber Armour had to do was be modeled slightly on the inside to fit each person's individual shape, thereby cutting out the need for disfigurement of the features to fit in the nuts and bolts to secure the armour. This included the self-aware Cybermen that'd helped The Doctor earlier too, but Half-Face declined taking off his helmet. The female soldier and those The Doctor had met on the Orient Express were happy to be rid of their suits, however. And then The Doctor saw what he desired to see most. His Tardis. The blue police box stood proudly in the middle of the destruction, unscratched. An oddity on the landscape. Next to the Tardis however, was not what he desired to see.
Catching his breath, the Doctor clutched his side, seemingly in pain from the way he'd landed - probably on something sharp. He dashed over as quickly as he could in the direction of the Tardis, stumbling on blown-up paving slabs at first. As he went, the bracelet that'd previously been fused around his wrist disintegrated, tiny pieces raining to the ground and freeing The Doctor from being the leader of the Cyberman army that Missy had assembled for him. After a few steps, he regained his strength and soldiered on with gritted teeth. But it wasn't the Tardis that The Doctor was running toward - it was Clara, who sat sobbing on the ground next to it - near a huge pile of rubble. As soon as The Doctor was close enough to see what Clara was looking at, he stopped running and stood gobsmacked. Clara held a Cyberman's head up, supporting it. Its faceplate had been knocked off by falling debris, and the Cyberman's lower half was worse for wear. The knowledge that this Cyberman's abdomen had effectively been crushed by a toppled building didn't help when the Doctor saw who the Cyberman was. The Tardis had evidently led Clara to what was left of Danny.
"I am so, so sorry!" Clara sobbed in-between gasps, holding her head close to Danny's. Her eyes streamed with fresh tears, some of which ran off her face and dripped onto his armour. Her other hand was placed across his chest, fingers intertwined with his.
"Don't worry... Clara..." Danny gasped in pain. His breath came in short, ragged gasps and he was too weak to do more than clutch Clara's comforting hand. "I've... lived a good... life."
"How can you say that...?" She sobbed even louder this time. "Listen! Breathe! All those times that we met... We were going to build a family! Together! Please - you can do it! You can still blink! You can move! Don't leave me, not now! Think about this! You can't say you've lived a good life, until-"
"Clara..." Danny muttered, a thin smile on his lips. "I don't have much time... That boy over there... Please, give him a good life... Take him back to... his parents."
Clara sniffed, looking up. She caught The Doctor's gaze, and he looked away. Continuing her search for who she thought Danny was referring to, she eventually came across the sight of a young boy with a Cyberman helmet tucked under his arm. His hair was tangled and short, and tiredness in his eyes aged him. They were the eyes of someone who'd seen war... not unlike The Doctor's. It was a particular pain that the boy was portraying. But the boy was crying. A lone tear, but it was a cry. Then understanding dawned over Clara. Why Danny became so emotional whenever his days as a soldier were mentioned was clear now. He knew this boy... or rather, he'd known the boy.
"He saved me." The boy simply said. Clara gasped. As a result of the shockwave that The Doctor had set off when destroying the Nethersphere, the buildings around St Paul's had begun to crumble, or were blown apart. But because Danny had chosen to delete his emotions after his confrontation with Clara, this meant that he was fully integrated with the Hive Mind of the Cybermen - the Cyber Network. And because of that, he knew where the boy was. He'd been protecting him. He'd saved him from falling masonry as soon as the Nethersphere had been destroyed, when his free will had been restored.
Because Danny had killed him in the past, he'd felt he had to repent for his sins by giving himself up to save the boy.
Clara jerked her face back to look at Danny, to tell him one last thing. But his eyes were closed. He was already gone.
The mood in the graveyard was a somber one, and the weather was cold enough to merit wearing a coat. As the black coffin was lowered into the grave, the priest recited his last vows to the fallen. The church had seen a lot of business in the aftermath of the Cybermen's appearance, but far less than they would've had, if The Doctor hadn't interfered with Missy's plans. Clara stood with her grandmother who had her arm wrapped around Clara's shoulder. Clara dabbed the tears from her eyes with a handkerchief that she'd been given especially for the occasion. The Doctor leaned against the walls of the church a few meters away, hands in his pockets. His Tardis stood nearby, but tucked away behind an inconspicuously-placed tree as so not to draw too much unwanted attention. He sighed, looking up at the sky. The clouds were thick and grey, a sign of rain. It was some time in the afternoon - he didn't know exactly when. Rather, he'd been waiting for the better part of an hour as Clara had told him to meet her here, after the service. He knew the date though. Two days after Danny had died. Thankfully on that day, UNIT had been very co-operative in helping officials reclaim the bodies of the dead, and in listening to what The Doctor had to say regarding the situation. According to UNIT, they'd halted their plan to bomb St Paul's once they'd seen it explode. Sure enough, once their scouts went inside, they reported back that the interior was completely normal, save for a crowd of very confused people in cyber-suits. Thus, the problem had been solved by The Doctor, before UNIT even had the chance to interfere.
As the priest finished his vows, he closed the black book he'd been reading from. With a bow, undertakers began to move in and cover the grave with stacks of dirt. The congregation took this as their cue to leave. As Clara was walking back toward the church with her grandmother, her eyes caught sight of The Doctor, who nodded back. With a quick 'wait for me' sign to her grandmother, Clara broke off from the congregation and walked over to the man she'd traveled through the depths of time and space with.
"I'm sorry." The Doctor frowned, not sure what else to say. He remained leaning against the church walls, waiting for Clara to say something, but all she did was shake her head, looking down at her feet. With a deep breath, she then spoke.
"I can't do this anymore."
The Doctor looked at Clara, slight concern crossing his features as he tried to understand her rationale. She just continued shaking her head slowly, but eventually looked up into The Doctor's eyes. Despite her cheeks dry and red from tears, she wasn't crying. Rather, her sadness was given away through her forlorn eyes. "I can't do this anymore." She repeated.
"Not even one last trip?" The Doctor asked, standing up from the wall. It was clear now - his clothes had been replaced since the Cyberman incident, but Clara hadn't seen him properly since. Rather, seeing him like this was a memory of the good times they'd shared together - travelling through time and space, saving worlds and lives. However, not once had Clara had to suffer the consequences of her adventures upon her own life to this extent. It'd become too much for her. All she'd asked for was to settle down with a family and a husband. But now it was impossible to say what her future would be like. Only one thing was for certain, but how much did the Doctor know of it? She wasn't about to tell him.
"No. I'm done, I'm sorry." Clara smiled weakly at The Doctor. He paused, and then nodded in understanding. It was a slow nod. He'd been through this before - companions who'd had their lives changed, and subsequently decided to leave. This wasn't Clara's first time either, but it was likely her last. Rather than disrupt her life anymore, it was perhaps better to leave her alone. "The boy... Danny... told me to take home. He's with his parents. They fled to France. But what are you going to do now?" She continued.
The Doctor took a moment to think, pursing his lips as he did so. Then he replied. "So, it turns out I found Gallifrey. That's why I wanted you to come on one more trip with me... you know, to see where it all began." But once again, Clara shook her head, so The Doctor continued. "The Master... The Mistress... whatever you want to call her now, I suppose. She told me the co-ordinates. Apparently it's where it had always been. Back in its original location. I'm going home." He smiled.
The previous day, The Doctor had booted up the Tardis' navigational console. He input the co-ordinates of Gallifrey's original location, recalled from his original venture. In The Doctor and Missy's confrontation, she had told him that Gallifrey was back where it was, its original home. She could easily have been lying in the face of death to try to save herself, knowing she was about to be beaten. But The Doctor held onto a slim glimmer of hope as the Tardis' engines roared into life. After a few tense moments, the engines slowed to a crawl and quietened to a whisper, and all that was left was the central column's low humming. With bated breath, The Doctor walked to the doors of The Tardis, and opened them. Only to find endless space. He closed the door again slowly and stepped back to the central console. His face contorting with anger, he then proceeded to repeatedly smash the Tardis console, sending sparks and loose pieces of machinery everywhere. Feeling foolish for trusting his enemy despite them seemingly repenting, he then bowed and covered his face in grief.
Not having heard this side of The Doctor's lie, Clara smiled weakly but for what felt like the first time in forever. She brushed back hair blown into her face by the wind, and nodded once more. "It seems you've got the rest of your life planned out ahead of you." Clara said. "It's such a good thing you're finally able to go home at last. Meet your friends. Get to know your species again. You don't even have to be The Last Time Lord anymore!"
Then she moved in for a hug. The Doctor hesitated, before loosening his arms and stepping forward slightly. Clara took a large stride, wrapping The Doctor in her arms. Hesitatingly and seemingly unsure of what to do, he also took her in his.
"Why don't you like hugs?" Clara asked.
"They're just a way to hide your face." The Doctor replied solemnly.
When the hug had broken up, The Doctor nodded, avoiding her gaze. He sighed and looked back at the Tardis, located behind a tree on the opposite side of the church and away from the main pathway. "I guess... I'll be off then."
"Doctor..." Clara whispered, the wind carrying her voice. The Doctor looked back at her. "Thank you."
"You too." The Doctor smiled. Then he turned on his heel, and slowly began to walk away.
Out of her life.
As the Tardis de-materialized with its familiar humming sound, Clara's lips trembled. She looked down, and reached into her coat pocket, pulling out a crumpled sticky note from within. It was one of the notes Clara had written, when she'd planned to tell Danny everything before he was hit by a car and taken from the world too early. She unfolded it, reading it to herself. It only had two words on it, but they were self-explanatory.
Three months.
The End
Thank you so, so, so much for reading my rewrite of Death in Heaven! Your reviews, follows and favorites mean so much to me, both as a writer and fan of Doctor Who! I would never have imagined the incredible response I've received from this. Going from writing fanfiction for ten readers at best, to nearly a thousand... I hope I have done the story justice by taking it in a completely different direction, and that I have supplied a much more satisfying resolution than what the original canon had! Don't get me wrong - I do respect the amount of effort that Moffat and the other Dr Who writers put toward an episode, but it'd be nice to have some plot holes or inconsistencies checked by another writer as well! Once again, thank you - and please leave a review to let me know what you thought! (Even guests can leave reviews, so please don't hesitate to do so!)
Coming up next: a story requested by someone who messaged me - the request was for a unique Doctor and companion, so you'll probably be seeing a mini-series by me on a computer near you soon! Favorite or follow me to ensure you get updates on this!
Once again, thank you!