Death is no Different

"His eyes aren't translucent like I thought. Swirls of grey move like the sea to form a background; then there's a layer of wispy white cloud that clusters around the edges and spreads like cotton wool in the centre. But that's not what's so fascinating. White bolts of electricity crackle across his iris, creating a sharp light. His gaze is a storm. A beautiful, angry storm."

"If you've ever been in a three-legged-race, you'll know the odd sensation of beginning to run and then feeling a tug on one side of your body, looking over and seeing you're attached to someone else. And realizing that although they're holding you back, they could also pull you forward. That's how it felt to be with Oliver."

Although he's grumpy, confusing and dead, Clara loves him. And even though she's awkward, clumsy and unable to touch him without getting a second degree burn, Oliver loves her. So leaving her is hard, even if it's for her own good. And following him is easy, no matter where he's gone...