So this is the final chapter.
I kept writing in things saying how many chapters were left in my notes at the beginning, but erased them so you wouldn't see what was coming. But WOW. I woke up to something like 10 inbox on tumblr and 15 new reviews in 6 hours for this! I am just utterly shocked.
So THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed this story: Dr. Anthro-Tano, Kulatev, Tera Gray, letmesaveyou-Clara, timelordonacloud, whoufflemysouffle, Clarasbowsties, fortunecookie99, blueintheclouds, SunnySmile1324, acousticsandy, Dreams Call Out To Me, Loverly Souris, lunawing610, NoLongerAGuest, JasmineThomas, librarykate, Wibbly Wobbly Astrophysicist, Catherine (guest), Mary (guest), Kosovaheartland, romanov979, CloudCuckoolandHasAQueen, sjgamble, Borshy, Madman on a Bus and The Wandering Time Lady.
and to all the guests who reviewed too!
I love you all for reading and supporting this story. It has meant so much to me how many people have read this and I honestly can't thank you all enough!
This is kind of bittersweet. I'm sad it's ending but it's nice to know that it's done and over. So please review one last time and enjoy the chapter!
The Doctor stared at Clara's limp body in shock. Baum kicked her body on the ground, laughing to all the other soldiers. The Doctor was prepared to punch him to death and wouldn't even feel bad about it.
He was in shock. It hadn't quite hit him that Clara was gone. The girls around Clara stared at her still body in fear as Baum began to march them off, boasting about easy targets.
The Doctor knelt down by her body when most people had gone and felt his throat swell up.
Clara's eyes were still open in horror as they stared up at him. He knelt down beside her and shook her gently, like he used to when he was waking her up.
When she didn't stir, he could feel his brain kick in. There had been two other guards around, but only one had stayed behind. It was Faust. The Doctor and he had never been particularly good friends but they'd always admired each other for their hard work.
The courtyard was now empty, except for the two men and Clara's lifeless shell.
The Doctor felt Faust's hand on his shoulder. "I know." He murmured. "About you and the girl."
The Doctor's tears fell down his face, but he couldn't cry out without causing people to stare from around.
"It was more than that." The Doctor whispered. "She'd the only person I had left."
Faust held his arm over the Doctor's shoulder as he looked around, so that he could mourn Clara. It was probably the nicest gesture he'd ever received.
The Doctor stroked her growing-pale face and pushed her hair back behind her ear. He was still calm and unbelieving. She still looked as alive as a few moments before.
"I love you Clara." He whispered to her. "And I may have said it often, but never enough. Never enough."
He leant down and pressed the smallest of kisses to her un-responding lips. He never appreciated how soft they were and how beautiful. There was so much he had never appreciated that he could only see now.
"I'm sorry I didn't protect you, my Clara." He knew Faust could hear, but he was beyond caring anymore. He swatted the tears on his face, but they didn't stop and started coming down heavier. "Why didn't I stop him? I should have stopped him."
Faust felt his heart tear in two as he watched the man he'd always admired as the perfect soldier, cry over the girl he loved, even if that girl was Jewish.
The Doctor took Clara's hand in his and held it tight, pressing kisses to the back of it. He continued to constantly shake her body as if it would wake her from her eternal sleep.
"I love you so much, my beautiful, impossible girl. You are all the best of me. Please come back to me."
The Doctor was sure that if he spoke to her, she would come back and tell him it was all going to be okay. They would laugh about the close call later and confess their love for each other in the shared warmth of each other's bodies.
When she didn't respond after a while, he silently screamed out, curling up into a ball on the cold floor with his shoulders heaving from sobs. The grief and pain was hitting him hard and he was struggling to breathe.
Faust put one hand upon the Doctor's back.
"Doctor, we have to move her or the other men will do it. She has to go to the ovens. You know that." It was said apologetically and Faust refused to look at Clara when he spoke.
The Doctor shook his head as his tears fell down onto Clara's face. "No. I can't." He sobbed. Her face was losing what little colour it had before and her expression was now a ghost of her last few moments.
"Doctor, it's that or letting her rot here. We have to do something." He took the Doctor's shoulders so he'd face him. "You have to stop crying. You have to pretend like nothing's wrong, or she will have died for nothing."
The Doctor breathed heavily as he looked down to her. He bowed his head in defeat and wiped his eyes frantically. He did it well enough so that it only looked like the cold had made him tired and his eyes bloodshot.
The Doctor pulled off Clara's locket and opened it. He stared at the picture of when they were children and held it tight, before placing it in his pocket and regaining his composure.
He refused to let Faust drag her, and insisted he carry her torso. Her body was still warm and it felt wrong to be taking her to the ovens.
He had to make Faust do the last few metres, as he walked away. Soon she would just become another name on a long list of the people who were murdered.
Life wasn't worth living anymore if Clara wasn't there. She was his life. His only motivation to carry on was Clara's sacrifice, and that left him emotionless and dead inside. All of a sudden, he didn't care if every Jew died. If he couldn't have Clara then no-one deserved to have the ones they loved.
Truthfully, he broke. He saw life for what it is and that's unforgiving and full of hate.
The war was almost over. The Doctor only had one thing left to do. He was a murdered and he would get a taste of his own medicine.
He stood in the field where he used to play as a child. The Doctor pulled a picture out from his pocket. It was small and tatty from many years of staying there, but he'd never forgotten it. He stared at the area where his whole life had started, with sorrow and regret.
His chest ached with distress as he looked at where the photograph of Clara lying in his arms had been taken.
It wasn't long left until the British and the Russians won the war. He knew Clara had died for him, but there was nothing left to live for. He couldn't stand one more minute of not being next to Clara.
He gripped the picture tight in his hand as he pulled the gun from his belt and put it inside his mouth.
The whole area probably heard the gunshot, but no-one ran towards it.
The picture fell down into the grass with his body, to bury itself within the ground forever.
And years later, even though people didn't know it, the Doctor and Clara were still smiling in that field.