A/N: Wow! Thank you all so much! I wasn't expecting such a positive response, it's wonderful. It means the world to me, really. I just hope I live up to all your expectations. This chapter is quite fluffy (you'll be glad of it later, trust me) and I'd really appreciate more reviews. Tell me what you think! Thanks for reading!

Chapter Two: Aurora Borealis

They ate breakfast together in quiet content. The rest of the morning they spent talking about anything and everything except the events of Trenzalore. Clara just didn't want to get into the discussion because she knew the Doctor would make a fuss of her, and equally, the Doctor didn't want to talk about it in case he triggered Clara's sensitive memory. Due to this, however, an awkward tension hung in the room, neither person quite sure how to move around the subject.

The Doctor stared into his cereal bowl of caramel milk and chocolate moons and stars, suddenly not hungry anymore. His eyes strayed over to Clara, who was picking at her food, and a hollow pain echoed in his chest. He frowned and shook himself. He had to get rid of that feeling, he'd felt it before but never with Clara. He'd make it up to her, all of it. Anything she wanted, he would give her. The only thing was he knew she wouldn't ask, so he had to improvise.

"How about we take it easy today?" he considered. "Do something simple. Something to…"

He trailed off, not really wanting to mention anything on the sensitive subject. He gestured with his hand to show what he meant. Clara shot him a gentle smile, her spoon hanging loosely in her hand.

"Yeah. Yeah I think I'd like that." She pushed away her bowl and sat closer to him over the table. "Do you have anything in mind?"

"Yeah, I do actually." He beamed. "All you need to do is get dressed – wear something warm. Dress for winter."

He stood up and went to walk out of the room when he decided against it. He paused, a strange feeling encompassing him as he stared at Clara who was glancing downwards at the floor. He walked beside her, placing a delicate hand on the top of her head. Before he could help himself, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss into her hair. Clara closed her eyes at his touch, holding onto that feeling. She sighed as she felt him move away, leaving her alone in the empty kitchen.

When Clara joined the Doctor in the console room, she was wearing a white fluffy coat with a furry hood, a red scarf was hugging her neck and she had cream snowy uggs to match. The Doctor stopped his fiddling and glanced over at her, an involuntary smile pulling at his lips at the very sight of her. She looked like a tiny huggable teddy bear. He moved behind the central beam to hide the faint blush on his cheeks and called over to her from the other side.

"You're going to love this! A sight only seen every thousand years or so. Generations upon generations wish to see it once in their lives and only a few actually do."

"How come you told me to dress for winter but you didn't?" Clara questioned, following him around the opposite side of the beam.

The Doctor smirked and pushed his hand into his pocket. He extracted a TARDIS blue scarf from the depths and held it out to her, like a schoolboy showing his favourite teacher his new project. Clara raised an eyebrow and snatched it from his grasp. She stood on her tiptoes and reached up to him – the Doctor helped her out by slouching – and she securely knotted the silky material around his neck and tucked it into his waistcoat. Once she was satisfied, she leant away and observed her work. The Doctor had to fight against all of his initial instincts, because all he really wanted to do was pick her up and engulf her in a hug and show her just how much she meant to him. Something must've shown in his expression; now Clara was staring at him funny, as if she was considering something herself. Was she having similar thoughts? Did he have something on his face?

"That scarf," she said, edging onto the subject cautiously, "it looks… cute. It looks cute on you."

Oh, she was calling him cute? She had no idea.

He gave a nervous laugh and rested his elbow on the side of the silver console while his free hand stroked his silky scarf. As he did so, his elbow slipped and he almost tipped over, recovering just in time to not look too much of an idiot. He heard Clara's muffled laugh.

"You should've seen me a few faces back," he joked lightly, "my scarf was long enough for ten people."

A flicker of something indistinguishable passed over Clara's face. In a soft but cold tone, she said, "I did, remember?"

His eyes widened. He didn't mean – no, he wasn't saying… Insensitive, he shouted at himself inside his head, think before you say something. Now Clara had moved a few paces away from him, as if she was trying to forget what just happened, or perhaps everything altogether. He followed her lead and did the same, turning around and slamming down on a lever and pulling a plunger, eager to get away from this tension himself.

As he pushed two buttons close to Clara, he watched her carefully. She was observing the flickering lights on the console and tracing the edge of the steel with her forefinger. He paused before covering her straying hand with his own, cautious of her reaction. She met his gaze with large glistening eyes and her lip wobbled as she held back more tears. No, that's not what he wanted – he was supposed to be making Clara smile. That's what this was all about.

Forgetting Trenzalore.

Getting back to how they were before.

That's what they both wanted, wasn't it?

Yet, he only asked: "Ready?"

She nodded, more to herself than to him. "Yeah."

And they were off. The Doctor kept his hold on Clara's hand as they were sent into the time vortex; they were holding onto each other tighter than they were holding onto the console. When the TARDIS emitted a last shudder, Clara fell into the Doctor's chest and he fell onto the floor. Suddenly Clara was on top of him, her furry white hood tickling his chin and her shaky hands accidentally pushing into his stomach as she struggled to get back on her feet. The Doctor winced as he winded her, but said nothing of it since his face was feeling embarrassingly blushed.

"Where and when are we?"

"A planet called Cascavia in its 125th Decade," the Doctor announced, full of renewed energy as he walked towards the TARDIS doors. "Time passes very slowly on Cascavia because of its cold temperatures, meaning they measure time differently. It's a planet entirely made out of snow, ice and lakes. We're here to witness a phenomenon that only happens once every 125 Decades – which is around three hundred years in Earth time – and since this is the 125th Decade, no one has witnessed it yet. Space travel hasn't reached this far in the Spiral Galaxy. Cascavia won't be colonised until, oh I'd say in its 500th Decade. This planet is rather new, in the scheme of things. We're the first to walk on its surface."

Clara followed him to the TARDIS doors, a little bit more of a bounce in her step. The Doctor noticed her face had cleared of some of the worry which had previously lined it this morning and he really did start to believe he was making her forget. He was distracting her with the magic of the universe, and Clara was willingly drinking it up like her favourite type of heart-warming tea.

"Have you seen it before?" Clara asked.

"No, I've always wanted to, just never found the right moment. It's a bit like how everyone has that one book they've heard all about and really wanted to read but they've never gotten around to buying it."

"So, another first then."

He smiled at that and took her hand. "Why focus on the past, Clara Oswald, when there's so much to experience for the first time in the future?"

She considered this for a moment as she looked up at him. Her eyes rested on his TARDIS blue scarf and his bowtie just peaking over the silk material. As she swept a strand of hair out of her face, the Doctor tugged on her hand and pulled her closer and at the same time, they both stepped out into the new world outside those doors.

It was the cold wind that hit Clara first, followed by the crunch of snow under her boots. Her cheeks stung from the icy coldness but as she focused on the warmth of the Doctor's hand clutching her own, everything else melted away.

They were standing on a completely flat snowy surface. On the far horizon stood two large and magnificent blocks of ice, carved out into waterfalls, with shards of pebble-shaped crystals falling into the giant yet completely still and frosty water below. The lake spread as far as the eye could see. Where the snow ended and the lake began, the water was pure ice, shining and polished, showing the calm waves of the water underneath its surface. The actual lake was so numbingly cold that a gentle smoke clouded around the waterfalls and swept across the fresh snowy ground. The sky was a clear night sky, or perhaps it was always night here, with small twinkling stars sprinkled across the velvet black horizon like flour on a chopping board. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

"It's… stunning," Clara gasped; now leading the Doctor by the hand, closer to the lake.

He was staring at her, his eyes reflecting the brilliant white snow. "Yeah, it is."

Clara stopped at the end of the snow, where the lake met the firm ground. The Doctor took another step forward until they were standing on the slippery clear ice. Clara looked down to steady herself from slipping. She caught her reflection in the calm water. She was staring at herself curiously, making sure she was the same person while looking for any dissimilarities from her former self. Had she changed? Or were her eyes always aged, like they had seen a thousand lives?

"In a few moments…" started the Doctor, but he didn't need to explain any further.

For the sky had lit up into a hundred colours. It was like an aurora borealis on Earth, but ten times bigger and triple the amount of shades and variations of colours contrasting and dancing together. Purples and red swirled above their heads, greens and yellows fought to be the brightest, aqua and blues overshadowed their opponents while orange and pinks scurried in between the gaps. But that wasn't all; the calm lake at their feet reflected the canvas of colour like a giant mirror across the landscape, and suddenly the horizon was indistinguishable, water and sky merged into one. The celebration of colour spread onto the snow and the icy smoke caught onto the light, turning into different shades of pastels. The two crystal waterfalls snatched the colours from the sky and turned them to liquid stars, glittering like fairy lights on Christmas Eve as they plunged into the vibrant water. The whole landscape was alight with vibrancy and radiating energy, yet adopting a serene and gentle calmness from the cold surroundings.

Clara was lost for words. "Doctor… I think this is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

The Doctor's eyes strayed back to her face, watching her as she watched the fantastic colourful scene. "Yeah," he agreed, considering her statement with a sad smile, "it's certainly one of the most beautiful for me."

When she looked back at him her smile was brighter than anything this planet could throw at them. He felt his heart swell with warmth despite the frosty temperatures.

"When people move here, they will call it the Aurora of Dancing Colours, taken from Earth English, of course, since humans will be some of the first to live on this planet," the Doctor explained in a whisper. Anything louder felt like it would disturb the magic in front of them. "Even when the Aurora isn't around, people will still celebrate the day, in order to pass on the message for people to remember in three hundred years time until the next one. It's a bit like Christmas, actually, with certain festive foods and traditions. It's rumoured that every planet in the Spiral Galaxy can see the sparkling colours of Cascavia without a strong telescope. Nothing quite like it. The strongest and brightest aurora borealis in the whole universe."

"Magical," Clara muttered, looking back at the lake and sky.

The Doctor let go of her hand and Clara immediately looked up at him, questioningly. He shrugged off his long purple blazer and spread it on the snowy ground, gesturing for her to sit down.

"You're going to be freezing!" she told him.

He brushed off her concern. "We're obviously going to stay here a while. I'm fine, just sit down. I've felt colder."

Clara, reluctantly, followed his lead and sat beside him on top of his jacket. He regained his hold on her hand and snuggled in closer to her, revelling in her company. The patterns he was tracing along the back of her hand warmed Clara through to her very chest, and she found herself, genuinely, forgetting the events of the previous day.

They sat in silence, watching the patterns and colours, in bliss.

But something was still needling the Doctor. He knew he had to say it, he just couldn't find the right moment. Of all the brave and reckless things he'd ever done, sometimes it was saying the right words which felt the scariest. He'd experienced that before, more than once. He didn't want to make the same mistakes with Clara. So, as they were both staring at the aurora, the Doctor cleared his throat and pushed the words tumbling out of mouth.

"I'm sorry."

She didn't look at him, and he didn't look at her. He was talking to the sky. Her shoulders slackened as his stiffened.

"I hope you know that. I'm really sorry."

He didn't need to say what for. He couldn't get it out. She knew. She always knew.

There was another moment of silence. And then;

Delicately, Clara said, "I don't regret it, you know."

He looked at her at that. "How can you not?" he asked, scandalised.

"I saved you. Over and over. It's about time someone saved you after all the saving you've done." She was still looking towards the horizon. He gripped her hand tighter.

"You died over and over, Clara. How can I live knowing I'm only alive because an echo of you died each time?"

Clara turned to him, her eyes wide and glistening. Both of their faces were reflecting the colours of the aurora, obscuring how they viewed one another. "You have to live with it," she teased, lightly. Although, the Doctor could swear there was an undertone of seriousness to her voice. "Otherwise, it was all for nothing."

He didn't know what else to say to her. He gently nudged her arm, asking, "How are you?"

His words were laced with so much concern that Clara couldn't bring herself to answer truthfully.

"Fine. Alive. That's all that matters. We're both alive."

The Doctor, resisting all urges of common sense, placed an awkward arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She voluntarily rested her head on his chest. Clara listened to the sound of his double heart beat as she marvelled at the beauty around them. The freezing wind ruffled their clothes and hair, but neither partner felt it. They were too absorbed in one another to fully care.

"When does it end?"

He wasn't sure what she meant; the scene in front of them? Her bad memories? The tension of recent events? Or just them, together, against the world in a flying blue box?

He didn't want to ask.

With a certain fragility, he answered, "Not everything ends. Not always."

It didn't matter if they were both being dishonest, because right now, they didn't want to listen to the truth. They wanted to live in ignorant bliss, just for now, with renewed hope in their hearts, surrounded by these luxurious colours and miles away from rational reality. Another first.

The Doctor really did think they deserved it.