[ His instinct is to lie, it's on the tip of his tongue. A lie to reassure and comfort, if nothing else, because she is, in fact, dying. He still believes, though, that he can stop it if he can get her to that beacon of a fire. There has to be something about it, for as difficult as it is getting there. Walking through all these skulls littering the ground won't be easy, certainly not for Clara and not even for him. It's pouring rain down on them, and Clara is dying in front of him.
If the fire does nothing at all, neither of them will be worse off than they are now, because it ends the same way for the Doctor, regardless: Clara dies. Again. Why??? He wants to roar and shout it, to no one, to everyone. Why does she have to keep dying, why does he have to watch it every time? Why do so many die and he can't fix it?
He can't hide the worry on his face, but he betrays nothing else. Kissing her forehead and smoothing her rain-soaked hair back from her eyes, the Doctor smiles and wordlessly moves to lift her up into his arms, carrying her now. ]
Oh, I remember everything. You know me. [ Said with such ease. ]
I'll tell you a story. [ This, evidently, is how he's going to answer her question, Doctor, am I gonna die?
He's breaking a rule, a very big rule, but if he's wrong and this is their last moment, he needs her to know how important she is, what she's meant to him already, even if he doesn't fully understand who she is and why he keeps finding her. ]
I traveled about for a very long time, all across the universe, across time. Sometimes people needed help and I didn't walk away. [ The saver of worlds; he doesn't like calling himself that, he doesn't like making a big deal out of what he's done. It's nothing, really, nothing at all. For all his bluster and ego on the surface, he never really thinks he deserves the praise. ]
And then it was too much, I lost too much. I was done, with all of it. Retired; I wanted a simple, quiet, lonely life in a cloud, where I couldn't possibly lose anyone else. And there you were, Clara Oswald, the governess who wouldn't leave me alone, who insisted I help. Drove me mad, even more because I knew you were right. Ridiculous, like you always have been. But you followed me into that cloud, Clara, and you forced me back down. You saved me and I couldn't save you and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, again.
[ It won't make any sense to her, he thinks. But he's half-hoping she's delirious enough with fever not to comprehend or question much anyway. ]
Will you remember me? Clara - promise you'll remember.
no subject
If the fire does nothing at all, neither of them will be worse off than they are now, because it ends the same way for the Doctor, regardless: Clara dies. Again. Why??? He wants to roar and shout it, to no one, to everyone. Why does she have to keep dying, why does he have to watch it every time? Why do so many die and he can't fix it?
He can't hide the worry on his face, but he betrays nothing else. Kissing her forehead and smoothing her rain-soaked hair back from her eyes, the Doctor smiles and wordlessly moves to lift her up into his arms, carrying her now. ]
Oh, I remember everything. You know me. [ Said with such ease. ]
I'll tell you a story. [ This, evidently, is how he's going to answer her question, Doctor, am I gonna die?
He's breaking a rule, a very big rule, but if he's wrong and this is their last moment, he needs her to know how important she is, what she's meant to him already, even if he doesn't fully understand who she is and why he keeps finding her. ]
I traveled about for a very long time, all across the universe, across time. Sometimes people needed help and I didn't walk away. [ The saver of worlds; he doesn't like calling himself that, he doesn't like making a big deal out of what he's done. It's nothing, really, nothing at all. For all his bluster and ego on the surface, he never really thinks he deserves the praise. ]
And then it was too much, I lost too much. I was done, with all of it. Retired; I wanted a simple, quiet, lonely life in a cloud, where I couldn't possibly lose anyone else. And there you were, Clara Oswald, the governess who wouldn't leave me alone, who insisted I help. Drove me mad, even more because I knew you were right. Ridiculous, like you always have been. But you followed me into that cloud, Clara, and you forced me back down. You saved me and I couldn't save you and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, again.
[ It won't make any sense to her, he thinks. But he's half-hoping she's delirious enough with fever not to comprehend or question much anyway. ]
Will you remember me? Clara - promise you'll remember.
[ So they can find one another again. ]