[ Clara laughs softly, dropping her head so that her hair falls in front of her face for a second. Who was that version of her? Was she happy? Did she make Bucky happy? Was her life a good one, and did she live? ]

Some great things never change.

[ When she looks up, hair gets pushed back and she smiles with dimples, even with lingering questions, things he probably can't answer. It doesn't seem like there's a point in pushing for more detail, all of them are so messed up in the head, and she has no idea how much deeper it goes for him. But she's satisfied with what she does know, save for what she might've done for the Doctor. ]

I wonder if she's one of the lucky ones who got to live. I know some do, we don't always die. But I think those are the ones who lived on different planets.

[ God, her life is weird. And it isn't until she says parts of it aloud that she even realizes. ]