**Well, I may have cut it ridiculously close, but here's the last chapter, a day before my deadline. I had considered making this story longer, but then real life happened. Anyway, hope you enjoy!**
The Doctor remained silent as they both watched the sun go down. Stars were appearing all across the sky, and Clara wondered whether this planet had a moon. But she was reluctant to break the silence by asking the Doctor such a random question. Since when was she reluctant to ask the Doctor anything?
All at once Clara realized that they were alone. There was the Doctor and the small griffin on her right, and the TARDIS behind them, but that was it. The griffin flock had vanished into the coming night, and their dual leaders with them.
"You're thinking too loud," the Doctor abruptly stated.
Clara turned to him, but he continued to stare at the horizon. "You're one to talk," she retorted. They lapsed into silence again, neither sure what they should say. Clara spoke up. "Two thousand years, you said. That's a long time for someone to be alive."
"Oh, age is just a number." The sleeping griffin growled in its sleep and the Doctor began to stroke its head like it was a house cat. "I've met men and women who've lived a lifetime in a single day. Just as I've met those who have thrown away their entire life just to have a chance at greatness."
In the back of her mind, Clara wondered if he was referencing his companions, or maybe just a companion in particular. "You used to talk a mile a minute, and now you hardly speak. And even when you did talk it wasn't like you actually said anything."
"Wasted words, all of them. So many thrown away. Eventually you just run out."
"Is that it? That's your excuse?" Clara tried not to let her irritation show, she really did. But the Doctor and his ridiculous attitude were getting on her nerves. "Perhaps instead of saying something cryptic you could tell me something true. Something new about yourself that I would never be able to guess. Like you being a touch telepath?"
The Doctor finally looked at her. "How did you—"
"Would have been nice to know that beforehand," Clara said. "As it is, I had to learn that from a space griffin. And before that, regeneration? The number of said regenerations? Had to learn that all from an outside source."
He scoffed and looked down at the griffin, which had shifted itself so it was almost on top of the Doctor's lap, its neck bent back to allow the Time Lord's hand access. "Telepaths, indeed," the Doctor muttered. "What else have they told you, hm? My favorite color? My birthday? My own name?"
Clara ignored him. "And now you won't even tell me what you're thinking!"
"You didn't ask."
She raised an eyebrow at him, and it was the Doctor's turn to look away. "You wouldn't have answered," Clara said. "We're on a planet called New Gallifrey. Ancient griffins are flying around your head. And you look like a man in mourning. Can't you at least say something about that?"
There was a long pause following her words, and Clara turned away, disappointed that the Doctor couldn't even open up to her for a few seconds. She heard the griffin make a noise that sounded like a satisfied purr.
Then, out of nowhere, the Doctor spoke. "I…I'm not very good at this kind of thing. Every one of my forms have managed to keep the words that really matter at bay. Each regeneration had to have different ways of defending themselves."
"Defending themselves?" Clara asked. "From what?"
"From hurt." The Doctor finally stopped scratching the griffin's neck and moved on to its ears. "I don't know how much the female leader told you, but I've had many companions in my life span. Some leave because they want to, others leave because they must, and still others never wanted to leave in the first place."
His eyes grew distant and somber as he watched the last rays of sunlight disappear, coating his face in darkness. Now Clara could only see him as a silhouette against the night sky. He continued. "But they stay with me. All of them. Even when I've changed my face, or travel with someone else for a time. Opening up, as you call it…it just doesn't come naturally."
"So what's changed?"
The Doctor inhaled deeply, and exhaled on a long sigh. "A lot of things. But this place, this 'New Gallifrey', is one of them. I'm on a quest for my Gallifrey, my home, and what do I find instead? A replica. A reenactment. An attempt at something so colossal in size and scope it should never be allowed to happen again."
"But is that such a bad thing?" Clara asked him. "Yes, Gallifrey was your home. But the griffins called it home, too, and now they're here, happy."
"How can they be happy? How can they expect me to be happy for them, for me, for the whole bloody universe that this place exists?" The Doctor was breaking down now, staring into his lap and gripping the edge of the cliff. The hijacker on his pant leg shifted slightly at the increase in tension but did not wake up. "It's not Gallifrey. It never will be. Gallifrey is out there. I know because I bloody well put it there. How can they forget their home so easily?"
Clara wanted to pull away, to leave him to his own devices, but she found that she couldn't. She had to keep pressing him, even though it seemed like the Time Lord was about to break at any moment. "Doctor, they didn't forget. Maybe…maybe this is their way of moving forward."
The Doctor swung his head and stared at her, a sickly look in his eyes. Clara swallowed before continuing. "The griffins weren't forgetting their old home when they came here. They weren't trying to replicate it by calling it New Gallifrey. Don't you see? The griffins were trying to honor it, and to remind themselves and others of their ancestry. Then, I suppose, they came to a crossroad in the stages of grief. Do they lament Gallifrey's passing, or move forward and start a new life here? They chose the latter path, Doctor. Which did you choose?"
He opened and closed his mouth, but nothing came out. When the Doctor did speak, his voice was heavy with guilt and pain. "I…Clara, I didn't choose. There was never a choice. I destroyed Gallifrey and I will forever walk in the shadows of that grief." Then he added, in a voice so distant Clara didn't know if he had meant for her to hear it, "It's not fair. Why should they be allowed to forget? Even my previous form couldn't push away the nightmares completely. And now…these creatures can just continue? Move on?"
"Doctor…" Clara raised a tentative hand to the Doctor's shoulder. Though he turned away, he did not shrug her off. "Gallifrey will never be forgotten. It shouldn't be forgotten." She leaned forward so the last of the Time Lords was forced to look into Clara's eyes. "But you know what my grandmother said to me when my goldfish died, back when I was just a kid? She said that excessive grief was self-indulgent. Let the dead rest, she said, for the dead need their peace. Now, I don't know if I really believe in sprits and demons, but maybe she's got a point. Maybe it's time to move on."
The Doctor looked at her like she was a stranger, and then squeezed his eyes shut. To Clara, it looked like he was in the middle of a mental flashback. Was he seeing his childhood flash before his eyes? Was he seeing that big red button again? By the time the Doctor opened his eyes again, Clara was looking at him differently, too. Perhaps with a bit more sympathy and respect than before.
"This planet," the Doctor said, "is not Gallifrey."
"No, it's not."
"The sky is green, not orange, and there is one sun instead of two."
"Looks like it."
"And do you know what?"
"What?"
The Doctor gave Clara a small smile. It was thin and somewhat forced, but she was happy to see it all the same. "That's okay." He replied. "That's good."
Clara smiled. "You think so?"
"Yeah." Despite the small griffin's squeak of disapproval, the Doctor stood and helped Clara to her feet. They both glanced behind them and saw two silver moons rising, their combined glow bright enough to bathe the valley floor with faint light.
She glanced at the Time Lord beside her, and saw that his face was still mournful as he gazed at the twin moons. "Hey," she said, nudging him with her shoulder. "You gonna be okay?"
"Of course I will be. Takes more than a moon rise to pull me down." Then he glanced at Clara's raised eyebrow and he sighed. "It'll take time, Clara. Don't expect me to crack like an egg all at once." He smiled, a true smile this time. "But…thank you."
The runt of a griffin gave a little screech, and they glanced down to find it sitting next to the Doctor's feet. It was looking up at the Doctor with an expectant gaze, its head tilted in a canine way.
"And of course, a 'thank you' to you, too, you little pest," the Doctor cooed, rubbing the griffin's head affectionately. The creature crowed and purred in response to his words and his ministrations.
Clara looked down at the griffin and an idea struck her. "Doctor," she began, "this griffin doesn't really have a place within his flock anymore."
"No, it doesn't."
"So…" Clara bit her lip. "Could it come with us?"
The Doctor glanced up at her, and Clara was afraid he would say no. But then his gruff face brightened and he smiled in a way that very much resembled his previous regeneration. "Yes, I think this little griffin can."
The griffin screeched in triumph and, without warning, pounced on the Doctor. Clara burst into a fit of laughter as the creature began to lick the Doctor all over. The poor Time Lord, of course, could do nothing but laugh along with his companion. He marveled at his own laughter. How different it sounded compared to his old forms. But oh, that warm, fuzzy feeling he got was still the same!
Finally the griffin abandoned the Doctor to wind itself around Clara's legs in a very feline way. The Doctor took one glance at his dirtied coat and promptly decided to forget about it. Wasn't like he couldn't wash the golden fur off, anyway. "Well, our fuzzy beast has to have a name, you know," he said. "What do you have in mind for him?"
"Him?" The Doctor nodded, and Clara decided not to ask how he knew that. She looked down at the griffin, so adorable and yet, so ferocious. Suddenly she opened her mouth and said, "Theta."
The Doctor looked at her in surprise. "Theta? How in the universe did you come up with that name?"
"Oh, it just came to me." Clara wasn't sure where the name had come from, but once she said it, it just sounded so right. Theta felt like something powerful, but from the way the Doctor was looking at her, it was clear that the name held some sort of significance for him.
Then his face cleared and Clara was left to wonder on her own. "Theta, it is," the Doctor said, and the griffin named Theta crowed in approval.
The new team stepped into the TARDIS and gathered around the central console. Theta wasted no time in flapping around his new home, crawling up all of the supporting columns and bouncing off the walls in a burst of energy.
"So where to next?" Clara asked.
The Doctor looked from his dear companion and friend, to the new addition to the TARDIS team. He could still feel the memories of Gallifrey in the back of his mind, probing him to remember the Time War and Daleks and dying Time Lords, but it was faint. Not in a way that suggested that the Doctor's mind was becoming forgetful, just faint. Like another layer had been created over it. A new layer that was wide open, ready for new memories to be made.
"I was thinking the beaches of Hawaii in the early 14th century," the Doctor finally replied, resting his hand on one of the main levers. "Or maybe the planet Halvincora, a planet made entirely of gold." The griffin gurgled in anticipation upon hearing the precious metal mentioned.
Clara bounced lightly on her toes. "And, these trips," she said, "will they be…" She grinned. "For Gallifrey?"
"For Gallifrey," the Doctor replied, smiling. He pulled the lever.
**And that's a wrap! Depending on what people think of this story, I might just add a couple more adventures for my AU TARDIS team to experience. We'll see. For now, enjoy the season premiere tomorrow!**
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