Author's Notes:
Written for the "Weather" drabble prompt for who-contest on Livejournal. Spoilers for "The Name of the Doctor" and "Twice Upon a Time".

Breathe, she told herself.


Clara was dying, but she wasn’t scared. She was born to save the Doctor. In all her life, that was what she strived for; that was what mattered.


Some force in the universe had pulled them together, and she found him. He was always getting into trouble, always running, and danger seemed to follow him like a malicious shadow.


Yet it was no shadow, not really. It was The Great Intelligence and his Whisper Men, and once she had saved him, only did everything come back to her -- her reason for being, for existing.


I’ll see you again, Doctor, she thought to herself. The breaths were getting harder now. The Doctor was long gone now. He was alive, pulling his companion into his arms and soothing her tears. The Great Intelligence and the Whisper Men had lost their chance this time, and it was all thanks to her.


Clara smiled, tasting blood. The gunshot wound that she took for the Doctor had done severe damage to her insides. It wasn’t long now and the wound would prove fatal. A group of spectators circled around her. They didn’t linger for very long, just long enough to pity her and call her a poor soul. Then, the harsh winter winds had forced them along, leaving her to die alone.


Ah, she thought, noticing the snow that began to blanket her. Darkness was starting to overtake her vision, and she began to count her strangling breaths. Any second now she’d fall into a long sleep. Then, somewhere and somewhen, she’d be born again to save the Doctor.


Her body shuddered as the cold began to eat her. The snow melted on her skin as warmth died within her. She was ready.


Suddenly, she felt a light touch over her face, stroking her cheek with the fondness of a mother.


“Don’t worry, love, I won’t let you be alone,” said the voice, sounding feminine, but feeling familiar.


Doctor? She wondered. Her breaths were shorter now. But she could feel a presence next to her, and then she took her hand in hers. So warm.


“You did it, Clara. You saved me. You’re a hero and you were there for me in my most desperate times,” the woman said. So it was the Doctor! “Now it’s my turn to be there for you.”


The Doctor pulled Clara’s head into her lap, and Clara gurgled on blood. She rested in the soft motherly heat and finally succumbed to her last breath.


Before the darkened undertow dragged her down forever, Clara heard a light humming, a song that felt like it was created especially for her.


END