Knock-knock!
Clara jerks awake, gasping. She glances at the clock. 2:33 a.m.
"What the hell?" she mumbles, pulling her robe tighter around her. She padded through her apartment, which was decorated with Christmas lights and fake snow. Several small presents sat underneath a twinkling tree in the living room.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
"Quiet! I'm coming!" Clara replied in a hushed voice.
Finally, she reaches the door and pulls it open, not bothering to look through the peephole.
"Clara!" The Doctor yells.
"Don't shout!" she mutters.
"Sorry," he says, speaking normally. "I didn't expect you to answer the door."
"What are you doing here?" Clara asks, crossing her arms.
"I just- I wanted to see you."
She glares. "Do you have some outer space problem you need me to help with? Because I can't just take off anymore."
"I know. Relax," the Doctor replies. He waves his hands toward the doorway. "May I come in?"
"Fine," she says. "But no loud noises. Keep your voice down."
"Loud noises?" He steps inside. "What's that about? Strict neighbors?"
"Something like that."
The Doctor moves into the living room. Clara follows.
"Oh. This is nice," he says. "All...Christmasy. You've even got a tree and everything."
"Yes. We do."
His gaze falls on the neatly wrapped packages. "And you and P.E. got each other presents. How...domestic."
Clara sighs. "Why are you here?"
"You're happy right?"
"What?"
"You and Danny. You're happy?"
"Yes, Doctor," Clara grits her teeth. "We are very, very happy. Did you come to my door in the middle of the night to just ask that?"
The Doctor shrugs. "I thought it might be a little rude if the TARDIS materialized in your bedroom."
Her eyes go wide. "Yes. That would have been bad. It would have woken up Dan-" She cuts herself off.
He frowns. "Danny's asleep? But it's Christmas, isn't it?"
"It's not Christmas. It's three in the morning. And he's been very fussy lately."
"Fussy?"
"Seriously, Doctor," she snaps. "Get to the point."
"I came to see if everything was alright. See, I just spoke with Father Christmas and-"
A sharp wail pierces the air.
Clara curses and rushes toward the bedroom. The Doctor follows, curious and confused.
When he reaches the bedroom doorway, he sees Clara standing over a crib.
"Alright, love. It's okay," she murmurs, picking up a small bundle. "Hush. We'll get you fed in no time."
"Is that…a baby?" The Doctor asks.
Clara ignores him, carrying the child to the kitchen.
"Are you babysitting?"
She begins to heat a bottle on the stove, shifting the baby to her shoulder. The crying quiets to soft whimpering.
She turns to the Doctor, patting the baby's back. "Did you just say Father Christmas?"
"Why do you have a baby?"
Clara takes the bottle off the stove, testing the milk on her wrist. Then, she sits at the table, moving the baby to the crook in her arm.
The Doctor sits beside her as Clara feeds the child. A soft suckling is the only sound in the room.
"This is Daniel Rupert Pink. I call him Danny." She looks up at him. "He's my son."
"You and…" The Doctor trails off, staring at the baby. "How long have I been away?"
"About a year. I was three months gone when Danny died. Danny Junior is almost seven months old."
She strokes the baby's arm, smiling softly when he grabs ahold of her finger.
"Well, he takes after his father." The Doctor shifts closer. "He has your nose though. What a shame."
She huffs a breath. "You said something about Father Christmas?"
"Oh, yes. I spoke with him and I think we left on the wrong terms. I-"
"Just hold on," Clara interrupts. "Father Christmas as in Santa Claus?"
"The very same."
"Okay, then. So what terms are you talking about?"
"I lied to you, Clara," the Doctor says solemnly. "I didn't find Gallifrey."
"Oh," she gives him a sympathetic look. "I am sorry to hear that. But it's somewhere right? You can still find it?"
"Working on that." He sighs. "I lied to you because I knew you were happy with P.E." He gestures to the baby. "And I'm glad that you two are moving on."
"Yeah, Doctor, about that." She sets the now empty bottle on the table, shifting her son to her shoulder. "I lied too. Danny...he didn't come back."
He frowns. "But you have the bracelet."
She gently pats the baby's back. "He gave it to someone else. Danny's gone."
"Oh, Clara. I'm so sorry."
Clara swallows. "It's okay. I still have part of him. Always will."
"Stupid me." The Doctor mutters. "I knew your timelines were intertwined. I should have guessed. I shouldn't have put you in danger with the Master...and everything else."
"I'm fine. Baby's fine. It worked itself out," she says, kissing the baby's head.
He leans back, watching her with her son. "Clara Oswald, a mother."
She smiles. "I do my best."