The Doctor knew exactly what he wanted to give Clara for Christmas. The gift sat in his unfeasibly large pocket with its diamond-bright gemstone blazing. The metal radiated cold, frosting his fingers as they brushed against it, leaving his fingertips white; this gift was quite literally burning a hole in his pocket. He did not care. His hearts burned just as fiercely, and once he had decided—and he had decided—nothing would stop him finding Clara Oswald.
Memories of Clara tumbled back after he saw her name on the wall at Coal Hill School. Now, images of her consumed his waking moments and invaded his fragmented dreams. He remembered it all. Their adrenaline soaked adventures and the quiet moments together in the TARDIS library. He remembered how her smile made his hearts flutter and race. Most of all, he remembered how he felt as she wrapped her arms around his back and rested her head on his shoulder, bringing him peace, bringing him comfort, bringing him home. She had stood pretty much where he stood right now on that day. She was his anchor, and without her he was adrift; a lonely wanderer, an idiot with a box, passing through, learning, it would seem, that life without Clara was not a life he wanted.
The Doctor, scion of Gallifrey, Time Lord with a gift in his pocket and a question on his lips, tapped co-ordinates into the TARDIS console. Before he could give Clara this gift, and ask her his question, he would have to find her.
#
"Are you sure, Doctor?" asked the boy. His stick-thin arms poked out from his short shirt sleeves, and his pinched face regarded the Doctor with a mixture of awe and disbelief. "Cos, it's dangerous, you know that, right?"
"I know, Enri, that's why I'm asking you to watch over me." The Doctor smiled at the Philosian boy. "I survived four and a bit battle fleets, remember? You don't need to worry."
"We were ready when they came back," the small boy said, grinning. "Thanks to you." He pulled himself up to his full four feet, and puffed out his tiny chest. "You can rely on me." He picked up a conical jar that he could barely wrap his short arms around. "I caught this one myself," he said proudly. "In the rim caves of Zebazi. It was real dark." His young face became serious. "Right. Here goes then. You gonna lay down?"
The Doctor nodded, and lay back on the soft grass in the field behind the market place. The boy carefully opened the jar's lid and squatted beside the Doctor.
Inside the jar, a grey shape twitched.
"Mostly, people want these for museums and stuff. Some private collectors. No-one's ever wanted to do this before. . ." Enri let the jar tip toward the Doctor.
"I am a man of mystery," said the Doctor. This probably was a remarkably rash thing to do. He would have to expend an extraordinary amount of psychic energy to pull it off solo. It might not work at all. But, he and Clara had been psychically linked once, and with luck, and if her mind and heart was open to it, he could reach out to where ever she was and re-establish the connection. He rested his head back on the ground, and for the second time in his lives, he closed his eyes and felt the brief, sharp stab of pain in his temples as a dream crab covered his face and probed his subconscious mind.
#
Clara had set aside a room in her TARDIS that was hers alone; a space to soothe her soul, to honour her past, and sometimes create wistful images of her future. Usually, when she came out again, she was prepared to fearlessly face the universe once more.
Today she summoned up, by some Time Lord technology that was so close to magic it was almost impossible to tell the difference, a cosy room with a crackling fire, a pine-fresh Christmas tree and red leather armchair, complete with a soft blanket over the back.
She pulled the blanket over her lap, and picked up the cup of cocoa from the hearth. "Thank you, dear," she half-whispered to the sentient timeship. In reply a cracking log sent sparks dancing from the fireplace and out across the room. One golden spark landed on a blue ball on the Christmas tree where it flared for a moment, and then faded. The glimmering ball, tied on to the tree with golden thread, spun and swayed at the end of a branch. She looked closer. For a moment, she thought she saw the blue police box reflected in on the shining surface, but it was gone in a moment. She leaned back into the chair and watched the bauble swing back and forth, and wondered what the Doctor might be doing right now. Had he found someone to travel with? Was he happy? Most of all she wondered what he thought about the secret she shared in the Cloisters. There had been no time to talk; there never was. That was a fundamental irony of their time-traveling exploits. With the whole of time and space at their finger-tips, they never found time to discuss what mattered most.
The warmth of the fire, the crackle and hiss of the flames and the hypnotic spin of the glowing iridescent ball on the tree all made her eyelids heavy. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes she conjured up images of him so real they hurt. This time he was framed by stark light in a doorway, holding out a hand. But this time, he didn't say 'I can save you.' His eyes, older eyes, tired eyes, told a different story. Although she couldn't be sure, it seemed that those eyes asked, 'Can you save me?'
Unaware of her surroundings, she took a hesitant step forward. His out-stretched finger-tips beckoned her closer.
"What's going on?" she asked. Her voice echoed in her ears. She became aware of the wind blowing her hair and a whirl of galactic formations in the dark star-peppered sky above. The sharp air pinched her cheeks and the ground below her feet crackled with crisp frost when she walked. This suddenly started to feel acutely real.
As she reached out her hand to touch his fingers, as shadow fell between the door frame and the brilliant light behind him. With a sharp intake of breath she stepped forward and touched her fingertips to his.
"Hello Clara," he said.
She saw a flash of grey from the corner of her eye, followed by the sound of nails, or talons, clattering against a hard floor in the room behind him.
She laced her fingers through his. "Hello Doctor," she said, softly, a thrill rising in her chest. It was really him. She swallowed hard, blinked twice and told him, as she glanced at the shadow over his shoulder, "It's good to see you. I think we better run."