So this is it, the last installment on this story.
Many thanks to misswinterseat as usual, she always have kind words of encouragement! Hope you'll like it. And please, please, let me know your thoughts (and sorry for the angst.)

She was there, as beautiful as he remembered, and nothing could be more perfect.

He crossed the golden fields slowly appreciating the touch of the soft breeze on his face and warmth of the sunlight on his skin. The orange skies were clear, no clouds as far as he could see in that perfect spring afternoon. As he approached the top of the hill, he could hear the murmur of the river running through the stones and the sounds of laughter, the sounds of happiness. Everything exactly how he remembered.

He then saw them, the dark haired heads of two children, a boy and a girl, running and playing at the field bellow, their laughter filling the air with warm and joy, instantly putting a smile on his face. His hearts beat faster, his eyes moving to the big tree and there she was.

Clara, his Clara, sat over a blanket under the shadow, a little boy on her lap, his little chubby fingers playing with lock of her hair, eliciting a giggle from her lips.

Her hair was longer than the last time he had seen her, locks of brown hair swaying gently with the breeze while the few rays of sun that dare to make their way among the tree branches cast flickers of gold and red on her dark tresses.

"Look, mummy! Look!" The boy called her, a big smile on his face that matched the one on her face just perfectly. "It's flying! We did it!"

Clara clapped her hands watching them while they ran, keeping the little toy plane on the fly, the one he remembered he had built the morning after. It wouldn't take them much to surprise him with the improvements they had made. He couldn't refrain a proud smile at the memory.

"You really did it! It's amazing!" She told them, her voice full of music prompting the two children to giggle. "Your father would be proud of you both!"

He stood there for a moment longer, hands in his pockets, silently watching the adorable scene before his eyes, feeling his hearts constricted inside his chest. How much he missed this. Them.

Then Clara moved her head to look at the boy at her lap and it was enough to finally see him standing there. It took her a moment to react as if she was in shock, but then she smiled at him

with her warm and soft smile, full of surprise and something else that he immediately recognized and that made his hearts beat faster than they should.

He watched her for a moment, unable to move, as if his legs had just forgotten how to walk and she raised her eyebrows just a little bit, the tiniest of the movements, coercing him to approach her.

"You," she said in a gentle voice when he stopped in front of her, her dark eyes peering through his face and he felt his lips curling up.

"Yeah," he brushed the tip of his shoe on the grass. "Me."

The little boy on her lap lifted his head to look at him, a familiar pair of big brown eyes full of curiosity analyzing him for a brief moment before his small face broke in an almost toothless broad smile.

"Hello, little man," he said softly, watching him, still amazed on how much of Clara was in his little beaming face. He always could see a little of Clara in each one of them, but this little one, he was just like her.

He struggled against the lump in his throat and finally got the courage to sit on the grass next to her, both of them watching with loving eyes while the little boy sat between them to play with the toys over the blanket.

"Does he know who you are?"

"Probably," he lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. "Small children are much more perceptive than adults."

He noticed her twisting the familiar ring on her left hand and smiled, pointing it lightly.

"So he found the ring then."

A faint smile crossed her features.

"I made sure he would," she looked at the ring for a moment, the green gem on it flickering with one adventurous sunray before she set her gaze upon him again. "You should have told me."

He shook his head, a coy grin on his lips. "And spoil all the fun for you? Nah," he glanced at her and crossed an anxious hand through his silvery curls. "How is he doing, by the way?"

She tilted her head, dark eyes sparkling.

"Brilliantly," she smiled fondly. And then a teasing spark crossed her eyes. "If I knew that it would be like this, I would've married you long time ago."

He lowered his eyes, blushing without exactly knowing why, a low chuckle escaping his lips.

"It happens that he is much better than me in these things, you know."

"Well, you are still him."

"Maybe," they exchanged a long and silent look. There was so much he would like to tell her, but he couldn't because those words didn't belong to him anymore. "But he is not me yet."

He then averted his eyes, training his gaze once more upon the little boy between them, still very focused in the task of scattering his toys as out of his reach as he could and he smiled. One of their miracles, always the best part of him, always able to remind him that somewhere inside him there

miracles, always the best part of him, always able to remind him that somewhere inside him there

was still good.

For one moment the endless longing in his hearts was replaced by all the sweet and tender memories they, Clara and him, had built together, moments that she and his young self were still living. The sound of the children's laughter coming from near them prompted both of them to lift their heads to look at the two beautiful beings running through the field.

"They are really something, aren't they?" He needed to clear his throat, the hoarseness of his voice betraying his emotions.

Her lips curled in a soft grin.

"They are you," she stated in a whisper.

His eyes searched for hers, a teasing smirk on his lips.

"Don't need to flatter me now that you already have me, teach. You are as guilty as I am on this," he looked away from her to hand the little boy a toy he was struggling to reach and heard her gasping.

"Are you real? Isn't this a projection?" She reached out a hesitant hand to touch him, but stopped at mere inches, as if afraid that he would dissolve under her touch.

He nodded, his eyes wandering between her hand, so close to him that made him ache for her touch and the brown haired boy that was struggling to stand up next to him.

He had forgotten how small and young this one still was at that day, still fighting to achieve his first steps.

The boy finally got into his feet with a satisfied grin that showed him two big teeth under his pinky gums and the Doctor laughed out loud.

"There you go, little man!" He watched him swaying, trying to find the right balance for the first step, his old hearts bursting with joy and pride in the exactly same way they always had done with every single achievement of his children. "Come on," he encouraged him with a soft voice, arms open to receive him and eyes full of love for that little being that was still a big part of him. "You can do it! Come on!"

The little boy looked at him, that big smile still on his face and gave three quick little steps towards him, throwing himself at his arms to cover the rest of the distance. The Doctor laughed heartily and enveloped his son lovingly, pressing him carefully against his chest and slowly cradling him, feeling the warm of his little hands around his neck.

"You will do brilliantly, you know that, little one?" He lifted the boy in the air, over his head and the boy squealed in delight, waving his arms with joy.
His gaze moved to Clara and he saw the glistering of tears in her eyes. "You all will do brilliantly," he whispered, lowering the boy into his lap, a single tear running down his face that she dried with a gentle brush of her thumb.

He closed his eyes, lingering on her touch for the brief moment that she cupped his face, her fingers tracing the curve of his jaw before she moved her hand away, letting him longing for more.

"How long it is, for you?" She asked quietly, running a gentle hand through the boy's dark curls.

"Centuries," he tried to force a smile. "It took me a long time to get out of the time-vortex with a discharged TARDIS, you know."

"You could've died," she shook her head. "I didn't."

He gave her the boy back, his fingers brushing hers lightly, a rush of warm running through his body when she held his fingers in hers.

"You are still an idiot."

He chuckled. "Always," he entwined his fingers with hers and let the comfort of her touch soothe his fears.

"Why now?"

He swallowed hard. He should have known that, Clara being Clara, she would never let that fact behind, but that was a question he wasn't prepared to answer. He didn't want to, because he knew that it would hurt, both of them. The problem was that his Clara now, more than ever, knew how to see through him.

But before he could think of a proper answer, his body gave him away, a shiver running through him before he could remove his hand from her grasp. With a quick glance, she caught the flash of the amber light coming out of his fingertips and then, it was too late to deny it.

Her eyes widened, a dozen of emotions crossing them in one quick moment. "You are..."

He nodded, unable to let her finish the sentence.

"It won't take long now."

"So," she bit her lip, tears in the corners of her ever so beautiful eyes, "this is a goodbye."

He looked at her with a meek smile.

"For me, maybe," he reached out for her hand and squeezed it, "not for you. Never for you."

Their son chose that moment to join his little chubby hand with their hands, eliciting a small laugh from his lips.

"And certainly not for you too, little man," he smiled at him, watching from the corner of his eye Clara dry up a stubborn tear from her cheek.

They exchanged a long look and, despite the glistening of tears in her eyes, he knew that she was happy. And she would be, for long years to come yet. He remembered. And that soothed him because that was enough.

He smiled at her, placing a soft kiss at the boy's crown, feeling the softness of his curls against his cheek before he stood up.

"I must go," he sighed. "He will come back soon."

She nodded. "Will you be ok?" Her worried eyes studied him.

"I'm always ok," he grinned at her and she rolled her eyes impatiently at him like she always did when he was being childish. "I will," he finally said, in a more quiet tone, observing her while she stood up with the boy in her arms.

"Good bye, Clara Oswald," he brushed her face with his fingers, slowly, gently. "And, please, trust him, even when he seems impossible," he struggled against the lump on his throat.

"Always," her voice was a barely whisper.

He could already feel the rush of the regeneration energy in his cells. It wouldn't take much more time now, he knew. He kissed the top of her head and let his fingers run through the soft brown curls of his boy's hair one last time. His sad eyes searched the field, for a glimpse of the other two children, seeing them run and laugh in all their glorious innocence.

With a final smile, he turned around and made his way back to the TARDIS, never looking back. He knew he would fall into pieces if he did.

He could feel the burn of her gaze upon him and for a moment, he almost considered to turn around and take her in his arms one last time. But she wasn't his to hold anymore.

His story, this face story, was coming to an end, but Clara's was still at the beginning, with so many good things just waiting for her along the road. And that was enough for him. That would always be enough.