A/N: Thanks for the reviews for the first chapter! More to come in the next week or so, but expect longer gaps between the next updates... School and stuff :/

Chapter Two

Her father came running in from the dining room when he heard the commotion. Upon seeing the Doctor, Dave Oswald immediately began shouting all of the horrible things Clara had thought about the Time Lord over the past four years in the form of rapid fire accusations. The Doctor blinked rapidly and swayed back on his feet as he let the younger man rail on him, but Clara couldn't bear to hear it and neither could her son; Sam was clearly overwhelmed by the sight of his mum and granddad shouting angrily at some strange man at their door.

"Dad, take Sam into the other room, please."

Dave turned to his daughter and sputtered out her name in surprise.

"Please," she insisted tearfully.

Without another word, Dave lifted Sam off of the floor and carried him into the other room, leaving Clara and the Doctor alone at the door. His panicked eyes met hers and Clara inhaled sharply, unable to quell the powerfully familiar emotions that stirred whenever he looked at her.

"That's…" he began, his gaze shifting to the corner behind which her dad and Sam had disappeared.

"Yes."

"I'm… But you and I never…"

Her eyebrows shot towards her hairline. "Oh, but we did."

The Doctor snapped his eyes shut and shook his head. "Right, yes. Sorry."

"Glad to see it was so easily forgotten," she muttered resentfully.

"No, that's not…" he insisted softly with a sigh of frustration, running a hand over his face as his eyes continued to dart back and forth between her and the hallway corner. "I didn't think—"

"Well, you never do, do you?" Clara interrupted, anger rising. "You just jump blindly from one stupid decision to the next without caring who you hurt or what you leave behind."

He looked at her like he was holding his breath, fearful of saying anything that would further upset her, but then he shook his head in reply and that alone was enough to set her off again. She cried out softly and punched him repeatedly in the chest, near sobs when the Doctor finally grabbed hold of her wrists and held them against his chest so that she would stop. Clara sank against him, clutching at his lapels as she wept into the purple fabric of his coat.

"I hate you," she said, barely loud enough for him to hear.

She spoke with no conviction, but even if he suffered the sting of her words, the Doctor still tightened his arms around her in silent apology. Clara could feel her knuckles growing stiff, so she released his coat, stepped back a few paces, and hurriedly wiped the tears from her face. She couldn't look at him without feeling like she'd burst into tears—proper, uncontrollable, gut-wrenching sobs that she had long since associated with missing him.

"So, did you do it?" she asked with a slight edge in her voice. "Did you save the planet?"

"Yes."

She pressed her lips firmly together and nodded sharply. The Doctor shifted his weight from one foot to the other and said nothing more, leaving it to her to ask the questions. She didn't know if she should see this as a kindness or of cowardice; he'd always been prone to both.

Clara suddenly thought of the chestnut dressing that was now caking into her carpet and of how she was soon supposed to be having Christmas dinner with her family. She then thought of the Christmas dinner four years ago she'd asked him to help her with, but he'd taken her turkey and left her alone without even warning her.

"You didn't say goodbye," she said.

"I know. I—I couldn't."

"Why?" she demanded bitterly, eyes finally meeting his.

The Doctor's chest rose and fell with heavy emotion, his eyes softening as he tilted his head to the side. She might as well have asked him to cut off his right hand, given the look on his face. "Clara…"

She laughed mirthlessly, flashing her teeth. "You can't even say it, can you? I don't know why I expected anything different."

Fresh tears once again threatened to spill from her eyes and Clara hardened her features, her lip quaking when she spoke again.

"You know…" She thought about stopping there, about not telling him, but she wanted him to know what it was like. She wanted him to know what he'd done to her. "I waited for you every day. It's stupid—I should have known better—but that's what I did. I waited for you to show up at the doctor's when I went in for my scans, I waited for you every night that ended with the sun rise because I couldn't sleep for thinking about you and the baby…" She took a deep breath. "I waited for you in hospital and prayed to God you'd be there when he was born, even though I kept telling myself you must be dead because you never came back. I watched our son grow teeth and learn to crawl and walk and speak and still, you weren't there… and I was still waiting."

He remained silent, his eyes glued to hers. Clara released a shaky breath as her tears finally spilled from her eyes.

"And now, four years later…" She waved her hand and felt her voice crack. "Here you are."

She stood still for a moment, limbs shaking from the will she exerted to remain where she was, but then her last thread of restraint snapped and she stepped towards him once again. The Doctor flinched backwards in preparation for another blow, but then Clara grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him desperately on the lips.

He didn't respond right away, perhaps out of surprise, but after a moment's hesitation, he looped his arms around her waist and she buried her face against his chest. Their bodies swayed slightly as they held each other, Clara occasionally releasing shaky breaths as her heart rate slowed to normal. The Doctor finally broke the silence by releasing a long, heavy sigh into her hair.

"I'm so sorry."

"I know," she replied stuffily against his chest, her shoulders relaxing as she let go of all of her anger… or at least most of it. "I know, I know." She leaned back and smiled lightly up at him, her hand caressing the subtle lines gracing his once ageless face. "You look older."

"I am older," he replied gruffly.

"How long?" she asked, her heart fluttering in anticipation of the answer.

"Two hundred and thirty-nine years."

She released a tiny breath of a laugh and let her hand fall from his face. "Two hundred and thirty-nine years? Blimey, I'm surprised you still remember my name."

"I never forgot you," he insisted fervently. "Never. Not for one second."

"That's not what it's felt like these past four years. Those piddly, insignificant four years," she added ruefully.

The Doctor swallowed around a lump in his throat and then a hesitant smile graced his lips, his expression softening. "His name is Sam?"

Clara's lips twitched. "It was my granddad's."

"And he's—"

His voice broke and he had to bite his trembling lips together to maintain his composure. Meeting Clara's eyes, he placed his hand on his chest to indicate "mine?"

"Yes," she replied almost laughingly, sniffing back tears as he blinked back a few of his own.

She forgot her own pain for a moment, which was hard to do when it was still so fresh and raw, but Clara had spent years thinking of what it would mean for the Doctor to learn he had a son. He had been separated from his own people for centuries without a family and any connections of his own, and now he had a child that shared his flesh and blood. She knew enough of her own feelings at having a child to imagine what he must be feeling.

"Is he…" The Doctor placed his hands on his hips and bowed his head, clearing his throat as he struggled to keep his cool. "Is he OK? Does he…?"

He was once again reduced to gesturing, his finger moving back and forth over his chest.

"Yes. He has two hearts."

She couldn't tell if the Doctor was upset or relieved by this news, but he accepted it with a deep breath and a single nod of his head.

"And he's clever—dead clever," she added with a warm smile. She had dreamt of telling him about their son. "And he's always wandering off, getting himself lost. I'm always afraid I'm going to lose him too."

The Doctor grasped at her hands and pulled her fingers to his lips, eyes shut tight as he pressed soothing kisses against her knuckles. He was trying so hard to make things right and soothe all of the hurt he'd caused her that Clara found it difficult to stay angry. Honestly, she was so relieved to see him again that she had difficulty feeling anything else but joy.

"Can I see him?" he asked.

She frowned in reply and made a little frustrated sound, remembering her father and stepmother who were waiting with Sam in the dining room. Neither of them would understand how she could forgive the man who had abandoned her on Christmas Day with a baby on the way, especially now that he's shown up exactly four years later like a bad reminder. But Sam was her son, and the Doctor was his father, so if they wanted to shout at her for letting the Doctor back into her life, then she would just have to tell them to shut it. Clara had prayed for this moment every night for the past four years, and she would be damned if either of them ruined her chance to see Sam meet his father.

She grabbed the Doctor's hand and led him through the kitchen towards the dining room, stopping mid-stride to face him before they reached the door. "Doctor… Don't tell Sam you're his father."

"OK," he replied with an agreeing nod, but then frowned. "Why?"

"Because he hasn't had one for the past three years and I'd rather not spring one on him like this."

He gazed at her in understanding, but there was a sadness in his eyes. "Then who am I?"

She smiled. "You're the Doctor," she said, feeling a warmth spread through her chest as she said those words. She reached up and smoothed his hair away from his forehead, breathing a tiny laugh when the petulant hair bounced back into place. Sam's hair was starting to do that, and it was strange that she could look at the Doctor and see more of her son in him than the other way around.

Steeling herself, Clara pushed open the door to the dining room and felt extremely exposed under the spiteful stares of her father and Linda, the latter of whom unleashed a series of admonishments on them both that immediately set Clara's blood boiling.

"Just stop it," she snapped, earning immediate if not resentful silence.

Sam was sitting in her father's lap, his hazel eyes wide with apprehension as he looked from his mother to the strange man she'd shouted at when he'd answered the door.

"Sam?" she called softly. "It's alright, my fella. C'mere."

Her heart raced as she knelt down to the floor. Clara beckoned him with her free hand and flashed him a reassuring smile after he shot his granddad a wary look. He must be so confused, so frightened. She was always telling him not to open the door, but Sam got so excited whenever the doorbell rang. She could only imagine what he was thinking, with his grandparents visiting and it being Christmas, and then suddenly this strange man appears at the door, mummy breaks the casserole dish, and everyone's shouting and hitting each other.

Her smile turned proud at his bravery when Sam slid off her father's lap and walked towards her, his little hand reaching towards hers with unquestioning trust. She grasped his tiny fingers in hers and smiled brightly, her heart fluttering so much so that she feared she might pass out at any moment.

"Mummy's sorry she scared you. You were right; we mustn't ever hit." It had broken her heart to hear him say those words; she had spoken them to him so many times over the years. "I wasn't expecting the Doctor to show up," she explained, simplifying the very complex situation yet remaining honest. She never lied to her son. "That's who this is… The Doctor."

The Doctor was watching Sam with an almost fearful look in his eyes. Sam stared back at him with a sense of wonder and an understandable amount of trepidation.

"So when I saw him at the door," Clara continued, "I was surprised and a little angry, and I acted like I shouldn't. That was very wrong of Mummy."

Sam nodded and Clara smiled gratefully. She brushed her fingers against his cheek and then felt her smile wane when she glanced up at her father and Linda.

"Would you mind checking on dinner?" she asked, standing.

Her father remained where he was, his arms crossed over his chest and a severe look on his face. Linda thankfully didn't utter a word, but she looked as though she had something stuck in her throat.

"Please, Dad."

He still didn't move, but then after shooting the Doctor a severe look, Dave Oswald uncrossed his arms and walked towards the kitchen, carting Linda along with him. After the door closed behind them, Clara knelt back down and smiled at Sam.

"So, is it alright if the Doctor says hello?"

Sam grimaced. "Is he going to give me a shot?"

She laughed and rubbed his arm. "No, sweetheart. He's not that sort of doctor."

"OK," Sam relented, otherwise unperturbed by the notion.

Clara looked up at the Doctor, who now wore a hopeful look in his eyes as he crouched down beside her. She released his hand and shifted into a more comfortable position on her knees to watch him interact with her son. His son. Clara pressed her fingers to her lips to keep from crying.

"Hello," the Doctor said with a smile, his lips curling around the word as his green eyes took in everything about the boy standing in front of him. "I'm the Doctor."

"Mummy said."

That earned a little laugh. "Yeah, she did. And you're Sam." There was a pause where the Doctor seemed to let that statement sink in. "It's really, very nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too."

Clara was smiling so hard her cheeks were sore. Her tearful gaze moved from one tousle-haired boy to the next as they continued to acquaint themselves with each other.

"So how old are you, Sam?"

"Three."

"Oh wow, really? I would have guessed you were at least three and a half, strapping young lad like yourself. You must eat all your vegetables."

Sam giggled. "No."

"Nah, why would you do that? Not when there's cheesy pasta and cakes and things and—" He glanced over at Clara, who had raised both eyebrows. "I mean, you really ought to eat all your vegetables. They'l make you big and strong."

"Like you?"

The Doctor looked a big chuffed at that. "Yeah, like me. But you can eat cakes and things too, but only when your mum says," he added, flashing the boy a wink.

Clara clasped her fingers together in front of her mouth, her nerves standing on end as the Doctor placed his hands on Sam's shoulders, rubbing his arms up and down for a moment before letting go.

"Your mum says you're really clever. You get that from her, you know." The Doctor's smile widened. "She's brilliant, she is. Did anyone ever tell you?"

"She does."

Clara laughed and Sam looked over at her for the first time since he and the Doctor started talking. He frowned with worry when he saw the tears in her eyes.

"Mummy, why are you crying?"

"Oh no, it's alright!" she assured him, sniffing. "Remember how Mummy cries sometimes when she's happy?"

Sam nodded, making that face he usually did when he accepted something but clearly didn't understand it.

"Well, I'm just really, very happy."

"Because it's Christmas?"

"Yes, love," she replied, ruffling Sam's hair as she looped her other arm around the Doctor's elbow and released a contented sigh of relief. "Because it's Christmas."

Clara disappeared into the kitchen after that to talk to her dad and stepmum, leaving the Doctor alone with Sam in the dining room/lounge. He could hear Clara arguing softly with them both, frequently shushing Linda and her father whenever either of them spoke too loudly. Thankfully, the Doctor had a clever plan to distract Sam from the domestic disturbance.

"Hey, look at this." He pulled his sonic screwdriver from his pocket and gave it a whir, the green light and funny sound earning a tiny gasp of excitement from the young boy. "This is a sonic screwdriver. It lights up and makes little sounds. Can I show you?"

Sam nodded excitedly and the Doctor adjusted the setting so that he could do a rudimentary scan of the boy's vitals. Sam giggled as the Doctor waved the sonic back and forth in front of his face and then swung it away, releasing the dampeners so that he could get a good look at the readings.

Sam did indeed have bi-vascular system and a neurological makeup that was more Time Lord than human, but otherwise he appeared to be a perfectly ordinary, human boy. Other than the two hearts and advanced brain activity, the Doctor thought to himself as he pocketed the sonic. I wonder how Clara's kept that a secret all of these years.

He sighed heavily with guilt at the very thought.

"Doctor, are you a bad man?" Sam asked curiously.

The Doctor sat up a little straighter. "I like to think not. Why do you ask?"

"Mummy says I'm not supposed to open the door in case there's bad men outside, and she was really mad when she saw you."

"Oh, I know, but like she said—She didn't expect to see me. She hasn't seen me in a very long time."

"Why not?"

"Well, I've… I've been away."

"On holiday?"

The Doctor bobbed his head from side to side. "Ehh—sort of."

"Did you bring her anything back?"

"Sorry?"

"Mummy always likes it when Granddad and Granny bring her treats when they come back from holiday. Maybe that's why she got so cross, because you forgot her treat."

The Doctor smiled at him. "Do you get cross when you don't get treats, Sammy?"

Sam grinned sheepishly and tucked his ear into his shoulder. "No."

"I don't believe you," the Doctor replied through grinning teeth as he poked playfully at the boy's sides, causing him to squirm and giggle at his touch. "I bet you get really, really cross when you don't get your treats."

"No, no!" Sam laughed as the Doctor continued to tickle his sides.

The kitchen door flew open and Clara and her father appeared from the other side, looking worried.

"What's going on?" Dave demanded.

Five minutes ago

"I'll be right back," Clara said to her boys before entering the kitchen and closing the door behind her. She leaned against the back of it and closed her eyes, expelling the tension in her nerves with one breath before she stood up straight and faced her father.

"Clara, what's going on?" he demanded immediately, sounding more worried than angry. "Where the hell did hecome from?"

"I can't believe you're leaving Sam in there alone with him," Linda said in shock, the look in her eyes clearly indicating that she was tempted to storm past Clara and rescue Sam from the man she'd called a 'deadbeat scumbag' for the past four years.

"Shh, both of you!" Clara hissed. "I know what you're thinking, believe me, but it's more complicated than you realise."

"You've been saying that for the past four years, but I still don't believe it," her dad replied severely. He started pacing the two feet between Linda and the kitchen counter. "You've had to raise that little boy on your own this entire time, and now he shows up out of the blue and you're just what—happy to see him?"

"Yes!" Clara insisted. "Of course I'm happy to see him."

"But he left you, Clara," Linda reminded her, not unkindly. "He left you at Christmas."

"I know, I know; I really don't need reminding. But none of that changes the fact that he's Sam's father, and that I—"

Clara inhaled sharply, unable to say the words to her father and Linda that she had yet to say to the Doctor. Words she had yet to say to herself.

"Please, can we make it through dinner without either of you saying anything in front of Sam?"

Linda scoffed. "You expect us to eat dinner and pretend like we're all one big happy family with the man who walked out on you?"

"Yes," Clara snapped, her patience wearing thin.

Linda shot Dave a pleading look. He sighed. "Clara, I don't know…"

"Please, Dad. It's Christmas." She chewed on the inside of her lip as she considered her next words. "Gran would have helped me."

Dave stood up a little taller at the mention of his mother. "Your gran would have been worried for Sam."

"I'm worried for Sam," she admitted softly, blinking back tears. She was so tired of crying. "So please, can you just—?"

"No, no!" Sam squealed from the other side of the door.

Clara turned and pushed the door open, relieved to see the Doctor and Sam both smiling, but her father pushed past her with a frown.

"What's going on?" he asked.

The Doctor's wide eyes met his. "Sorry," he said, smoothing back the wrinkles on Sam's jumper. "Sam and I were just having a laugh." He smiled fondly at the boy and tapped his cheek with his finger before standing. He glanced back and forth between Clara and her father before leaning towards her, speaking softly. "Perhaps I should go."

"Perhaps you should," Dave agreed.

"What? No!" Clara said, grabbing hold of the Doctor's hand as he turned into the hallway. "What are you talking about?"

"Just for a bit," he clarified. "Let you all have your Christmas dinner. I didn't mean to spoil it, I swear."

He was referring to more than just their Christmas dinner, and Clara felt a lump in her throat as he held her gaze. He attempted to pull his hand away again, but Clara wouldn't let go. A tiny whimper escaped her lips and the Doctor's expression softened.

"Clara, I'm not going to leave. I promise."

She couldn't let go of his hand, even though part of her wanted to believe him. She reminded that stubborn part of herself that she was worried for Sam and that she didn't want the Doctor popping in and out of his life like that, but the truth was that she couldn't bear to watch him leave after finally getting him back.

"Give me your key," she said.

"What?"

"To the TARDIS. Give it to me so I know you can't leave."

The Doctor looked rather hurt that Clara didn't trust him, but he didn't argue before pulling chain from under his collar and dropping it and the silver key into the palm of her hand.

"And the one under the quiff."

He smirked. "Clara, it's been over two hundred years. My hair finally did grow back."

"The other one, Doctor."

He pulled the second key out of his pocket and placed it into her palm next to the other one, then curled her fingers around the keys so that he could press a kiss to the back of her hand. He smiled at her and Clara smiled tentatively back, her eyes momentarily growing lost in his.

"Say goodbye to Sam before you go," she said. "And promise him you'll come back."

The Doctor nodded and walked past her into the room, where he bent forward and told Sam that he was going to leave for a bit, but that Sam ought to have a nice Christmas dinner with his family and that he looked forward to seeing him later. Clara held onto the doorframe and watched the scene transpire, knowing that she would regret having him promise to come back if he didn't, but she knew he was more likely to return if he knew Sam was waiting for him.

She followed the Doctor to the door and watched him leave, unable to shut the door behind him until several seconds after he disappeared down the stairwell.

The oven timer went off just as she turned the lock on the door.