All that could be heard was the gentle hum of the console room, the TARDIS never slept, the usual sounds of laughter, running, shouting were now gone, as the two current inhabitants of the TARDIS were lying in their beds. Even from Clara's bedroom she could hear the TARDIS hum, but it didn't bother her, far from it, every night it would soothe her to sleep, but not tonight.
It was 11:30pm that Clara lay in her bed (her bed in the TARDIS, that is), wide-awake. They had returned at around 10:00pm after such an eventful day, they couldn't have been more tired, so they sat and talked a while, Clara and the Doctor, and then agreed it was time for both of them to be in their beds. By 10:30 she was tucked up, in about three layers of jumpers with a mountain of duvets, the reason for this was that the Doctor had set up that, at night time, the temperature of the TARDIS would reflect seasons, so they'd have spring, summer, autumn and winter. Right now, as you'd guess, they were in winter. Christmas Eve, to be precise, the Doctor liked to pretend that this setting was for Clara's benefit, so she'd feel more at home, but she'd seen him light up when she began to hang tinsel, the reflection in the baubles had shown him grinning from ear to ear, and every now and then she could see him inhale the smell of lots of Christmassy cakes and bakes, she'd given up on the soufflés for now, just for Christmas, and then she'd start right up again. He loved getting into the season of Christmas; she guessed it helped him feel more wanted, if there's someone around to celebrate with.
That day, he had taken her to a planet called Christmas. It was mainly a holiday destination for people at Christmas, it was Christmas all year round there, and it was fantastic, until the trouble that always seemed to follow them had arrived: there was a lot of running, shouting, and unfortunately, one death. That's why Clara couldn't sleep, right in front of her, not three feet away, a man was stabbed through the chest, she saw his body fall limp and crash to the ground. It was not as though they could have done anything, but it disturbed her nonetheless. The Doctor didn't see, he wasn't aware of it, that's why she was sure that he slept soundly, and she was glad that he did, because seeing him in anguish was worse than anything else.
She turned over, trying to gain a more comfortable position, but it was not the bed that was uncomfortable, it was her mind. The bed was the comfiest she'd ever slept in, and the duvets hugged her close, it was all apart of the TARDIS, so she knew that, in reality, it was just the TARDIS that was hugging her close, there was a being that warmed and soothed her as she went to sleep. She wished it was the Doctor - but she couldn't wish that – and she wouldn't wish that. Now, all that trickled through her head was remembering the running, running faster than ever with the Doctor's hand curled around hers, the feeling was ecstatic. She still couldn't sleep, though.
She swung her legs out of the bed, forgetting how cold it really was, and reached for her fur lined boots, she would go to the Doctor's room, just to see if he was awake, she got a dressing gown over her thick, fluffy pajamas, and slowly opened her door, she could see the lights from the console glow, and she stepped out of the room.