I haven't written anything for ages, and this little one-shot just popped into my head. I really did like the Christmas episode, it wasn't as good as the 50th, but it still was brilliant, and I think the abruptness of the regeneration was definitely what was needed!

Hope you enjoy this.

LostLyra.

Clara was in shock, quite a lot of shock actually. The Doctor had just regenerated in front of her, no big bang, no flash of light, no bellowing of ancient time, rewriting his body. Just a simple pfft, almost like a candle extinguishing, and a wick burning out. He was staring at her, grey hair tight and curled on the top of his head and a mad – almost demonic – look in his eyes. She was rooted to the spot, the shock far too unsettling for her to comprehend. The TARDIS jolted suddenly, and she was thrown to the right, gasping in surprise she clutched onto the console, still unable to tare her face away from the man who's just complained about the colour of his kidneys.

Wait the colour of his kidneys?

Wait what?

She really shouldn't be focusing on that small sentence, (especially when the world she knew was crashing down around her at a terrifying speed through time and space) but it just make her stop and think. His eyes looked so much older, yet at present they were younger than his face. It was an odd paradox and she'd not thought of how much his regeneration would affect her. Suddenly he was in her face, his eyes wild and confused, and his now – grey – hair sweaty and tangled.

Then, right at that particular moment, she realised that it was the first true time she had really doubted the Doctor.

Yes she knew that his last generation was inconsistent, a tangled ball of enigmatic emotions that changed as quickly as they came. His last self often seemed to be on alternate plane of reality completely, but ironically it was like the universe constantly revolved around him, and his crazy big blue box.

It was odd, that split second when he launched away from her and dove to the other side of the console, that she realised, even though this man, this insanely, crazy, inconceivable enigma of time, was still, her Doctor.

The TARDIS lurched again, jolting through the discontinuous time stream with a grating wheeze of struggling engines, and Carla was thrown forwards, grasping onto the console in desperation, her fingers scrabbling for a secure hold.

Their eyes met for a second time, and her breath caught in her throat. They were so pale, but looked so indescribably intricate and blue, set in that weathered old face. It was true, he did now look his age – somewhat.

He gasped, and a wave of panic shot through her, was he all right did he need her help? Could she do anything to help him? The regeneration had been so drawn out, but so sudden, being so paradoxically dissimilar, and so totally him.

Yes, her mind decided in that split second. Yes I can trust him.

The TARDIS jolted more ferociously then the last time. She seemed to be struggling with the regeneration process herself. Not wanting to be thrown to the floor Clara clutched the consoles rim for dear life, wondering if the old machine could feel her fear as well.

But, she thought. At least I'm in safe hands...

"Do you know how to drive this thing?!" the new Doctor's voice was pitched with frustration and hope, and oh so undoubtedly Scottish.

Or, the small voice reprimanded in the back of her mind. Or maybe not.

I did warn you it was short!

Hope you enjoyed it, and if you feel the need please write a review! It's always nice to know someone appreciates what you write.

Hope you had a great Christmas and have a brilliant New Year!

LostLyra.