Remember me, for we shall meet again...

Death was not something Clara was afraid of. She'd done it over and over again, to her knowledge. She'd willingly walked into Death's arms more than once to try and save the Doctor. This time was no exception, she had changed the future and that was the end of it - But at what cost? She had no way of knowing what he had done with her gone, what he would do when he passed the stage of denial. She couldn't bear to think about her beautiful, chaotic, idiotic, clever boy grieving because she was gone. Oh, they had so many plans... all of which would never see the light of day.

                Death had a type of peace that came with it, along with a sense of finality. 

  Clara Oswin Oswald, the girl who blew into the world on the leaf. Souffle Girl, the hacker, the nanny, the daughter, the friend, and the lover. 

                               But her leaf hadn't landed as she expected it would. 

                 Death was not swift or kind in that respect. She was just there. Drifting somewhere, in some sort of warped consciousness. She thought about what would happen to her mind as her body started to decay, and what would happen to her father when he found out. And then, her mind managed to drifted back to the fool with the bowtie. She was able to remember every lingering kiss, every sarcastic exchange, every argument and every tear shed with painful clarity. She wanted so desperately to be back with him, to be his impossible girl for another day.

             Was it possible to have such clear thoughts while dead? That was odd indeed.

    Was it possible to hear the faint beeping and static of the console room in the distance or to feel a pair of arms near her? And what about the tingling, almost burning sensation that coursed through what felt like her entire body. Did she have a body?

Breathing did not occur after life...

                                       Clara Oswald was very much alive.

             She knew this because she could feel her heart beating in her chest...

goodmangoestowar:

His finger immediately went to swipe the tear that fell onto her face, fully well knowing that it was his fault. His fault for being so selfish and putting himself out there in the first place. Putting her at risk so many times.

The things they’d done, he’d get his hand swat for.

They’d have her head.

And he’d stand by her, that he was sure of. She hadn’t done a thing wrong, and it would be obscenely unfair. But he didn’t know particularly how much influence he’d had, so he’d kept it safe. Not nearly safe enough, though.

His lips parted in quiet surprise at her quick panic, the man initially misunderstanding precisely why she was breaking down in front of him at a simple proposition. Time and time again, he opened his mouth to speak in an attempt to explain to her exactly what he meant without avail, until she’d finally finished.

With that, he released her hand, bringing his to her other cheek and, without a second thought, pressing his lips to hers for a moment, maybe two or three.

"Hush," He whispered, the smallest of smiles on his face as his forehead leaned against hers. "That’s not what I meant, I—sorry, never done that before, I—what I meant, is…"He pulled back a moment, still slightly giddy as he tried to recollect his thoughts. "By here, I meant with her. I’ll have my personal servant switch off with you, and—and you can spend time with me—and if y’dare try’n properly serve me, I won’t let y’cause that’s not what y’are t’me. But w’can eat and I can make sure y’alright and…w’can spend time t’gether again,” He offered, rushed. She’d still be paid—probably much more, and wouldn’t have to deal with the terrible conditions of the rest of the castle. And they could, just maybe, work this out.

"And y’haven’t got t’feel obligated’r nothin’ ‘cause’m th’prince," He assured her, realizing he was falling into the casual vernacular he’d taken on during the nighttimes with her. "But I’d really like t’keep on spendin’ time w’you."

The first thing Rose was aware of was that he kissed her.

She was suddenly aware of his lips on hers, gently pressing, soft and chaste. Never before had she felt this kiss of a man, the kiss of a boy in the fields when she was a child certainly, but never a man. And certainly never a man she loved.

And, though it was simple and pure, it was lovely. It was a seal of their love, a promise to her. 

It might have been the best thing in her life.

Even in the short few seconds, she reached up to cup his neck, holding him close. Because even if he was firing her, she wanted to have this quick moment with the Doctor. 

The prince. But more important, he was her Doctor.

And then he spoke.

And he meant he would take her away from River. "You mean it...? You mean..." She paused, thinking about her fellow servants in the bowels of the castle... Who tired for barely any pay at all... "Y'mean I won't get paid what I deserve?" Rose murmured, thought she hadn't exactly refused.

Clara still wasn't sure how the snowball fight had started, but she wasn't complaining about it. After a very stressful day it was just what she needed. Besides, seeing the Doctor's face after being hit in the back of the head was absolutely priceless. Shouting and laughter were loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear as they chased each other around chucking snow wildly rarely actually hitting their targets. Clara leaned back against a tree trying to catch her breath. 

"Alright Chinny. I'm snowed out. Let's go inside." She called peering around the tree. She turned back to find him standing there with that mad grin of his. She jumped, but quickly laughed afterwards shaking her head at the man. "C'mon." She said taking his hand and pulling him to the TARDIS. She smiled as he opened the door and gestured her inside. Hoping in and sauntering in sighing in relief as the warmth comforted her cheeks flushed from the cold. 

The Doctor, not far behind her rubbed his hands together with that same grin on his face. "So-" Clara was instantly distracted by something new she noticed hanging from the ceiling of the console room. How long had there been mistletoe. 

i know what these are for. and i am 50 shades of excited. <3