A Time To Live

The footsteps of the Doctor, going slowly up the stairs with Clara in his arms, were the only noise in the deserted house. Since he didn't want to deal with the children, their endless energy, their worries and all the questions they were likely to ask, he had carefully directed the Tardis to land long before the two tiny Maitland would come back from the cinema. He would explain everything to them later once they have returned.

No, no. He'd write it in a letter. Yes! A letter; that was a good idea. No face to face explanations. No blame. No guilt. Well, no extra guilt, at least. Really, he was blaming himself enough, thank you very much.

Holding back a sigh, he gently put Clara down on her bed. Rearranging her hair on the pillow and out of her face, he muttered "there—" with unease.

She almost died. Again.

While trying to save him. Again.

For now, seeing her was hard to handle. Maybe he should stay away for a little while. He would come back —of course, he would— possibly tonight, possibly tomorrow. And she would never know he had been gone for months.

Coward.

He looked at her and a wry smile found its way to his lips. Of course she would notice. She was Clara. His Impossible Clara. She knew him. He couldn't lie to her.

But still... The more he thought about what happened in his tomb, the more the Doctor realised he did have a trip to do. One he had to do alone. Because now his death wasn't some kind of abstract and far-off concept anymore: the journey's end was coming... and it was coming fast. He had seen it clearly: his tomb, in the Trenzalore fields. Just another soldier fallen in another battle. So —and it shouldn't surprise him that much— River was right. The time has come for him to be sensible.

His mind made up, the Doctor stood up warily and walked out of the room, closing the door without a noise after one last apologetic glance back toward his sleeping friend. He left the house like a shadow, locking the front door with the sonic screwdriver.

Reaching the Tardis, he stopped and skimmed the blue-painted wood of the police box before turning to take another look at Clara's window. It seemed like both an eternity and just a few days had passed since she appeared at this very window with her playful smile and her witty remarks, while he was sitting there, fully determined to guard her. Then she had been recovering from her downloading. Now she was recovering from tearing herself to thousands of pieces through his timeline. Nothing had really changed since he met her...

He snapped out of this train of thoughts, knowing where it would lead him if he let it run like that.

Back to the window. The room was dark and quiet. Clara was still sleeping, oblivious of his departure.

Perfect.

At last, he opened the door and slowly stepped inside the Tardis. Right away, something warm and comforting brushed his mind. She was already aware of his intentions, of course.

And this time, he knew that she would bring him safe and sound where he wanted to go because, for once, where he wanted to go and where he needed to go were the same place.

Wasting no more time, he entered the coordinates, disengaged the parking brakes to avoid waking Clara and pulled the lever to take off.

When the console room became still again, the Doctor didn't let himself pause and exited the Tardis right away, afraid he would never go if he didn't do it immediately.

As planned, he was in front of a hospital, near the main entrance. Swallowing the growing lump in his throat, he shut the Tardis' doors behind him and made his way towards one of the hospital. Inside the building, he located an empty desk with a computer. Passing in front of it, he collected on his sonic screwdriver the data he needed. Knowing now the room's number, he headed for it at an even pace, far from feeling the self-confidence any bystander would have seen in his steps and features.