I am really, really, really sorry for not posting in so long. School basically takes up all my time. Sorry. But here's another chapter. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me.
"Wait!" The Doctor cried before they started walking off. He spun around, nearly falling flat on his face as he was still weak from only having one heart running. "You! Amber!"
Amber had let herself fall to the ground and now sat there in a small, pale heap, but as the Doctor called her name she looked up. The confident young-looking girl from before, the one who had orchestrated this entire plan was gone, replaced with a terrified one who could see that everything was falling apart.
"You've got to listen to me, Amber." Amber just stared at him blankly. "Listen. I know what you're thinking, but everything's not falling apart and it's not your fault."
A joyless laugh escaped her lips. "I know it's not my fault." An anger, a seething hatred had returned to her eyes. "It's Welden's. He's created a monster."
The Doctor just stood there. He just looked at her, something sorrowful in his eyes. Clara couldn't help but think that he actually believed her. Slowly, as if he was being purposefully calm, he turned around and without another word leaned down on Clara for support. Off they went into the quickly darkening tunnels; Clara supporting the Doctor all the way.
Clara had no idea how long they'd been walking. It could have been an hour or it could've been fifteen minutes. All she knew was that time was ticking away, time that the Doctor couldn't afford to lose. His breathing was getting slower and slower; it was at the point where Clara only knew he was still alive by the fact that he was still walking. But each step seemed to be torturous for him. Bravely, he put each step in front of the other, even though it would be so much easier just to lie down, to give up and, well, die. Clara was sure his will was the only think keeping him going now.
They'd walked in total silence. Clara didn't know what to say, maybe she would have known before Amber spoke, but not now. The Doctor certainly wasn't going to talk. It was hard enough keeping up with walking and breathing at the same time, at least that's what he kept telling himself. That he just needed to concentrate on living, on staying alive and then everything would be okay. He wouldn't die. He wouldn't become a monster and he was not one now. But deep down he wasn't sure.
It was funny the clarity that arises when you're dying, he thought. He could see his entire life, his long, long life. Never had he felt so close to death. Real death. That's what this was. Just passing away was nothing compared to this, because you were always remembered as you truly were. But if he died now he would not be remembered as the Doctor, he'd be remembered as what Amber had called him. A monster.
He'd done monstrous things already. He could still taste the old man's blood one his tongue. But even before that, before all of this crazy mess had happened. Maybe he hadn't been a monster to the same degree as what he would become, but there was so much blood on his hands.
"Doctor?" Clara asked. The word jarred him back into the present. "I know what you're thinking."
"Clara…" He started, weakly.
"Stop." She interrupted. "You can't think like that. You're not a monster. Don't listen to her. You said it yourself. The chameleon arch; it'll work. You've got to have faith."
The Doctor smiled at her hopefulness, but he didn't fool her. She could see that her words had not comforted him. With a deep rasping breath, he continued forward. Towards the TARDIS.