She's watching them from just beside the console, leaned up against the railing, arms crossed on her chest, grin plastered on her lips, as the Doctor points and speaks softly to the boy in his arms. He's grown a full head of thick brown hair and slaps at his father's shoulder, babbling loudly and doing some pointing of his own.

"No, no, no, no, you don't want to push that one – send us flying into space," he pauses to listen to the shouts that emerge from the shaking baby's head, "Elliot, I don't care what the Tardis tells you, that button is dangerous."

And the boy lowers his head, pouting. Clara laughs then, tilting her head slightly and gaining the attention of the Doctor, who smiles sheepishly. "One day I imagine I'm going to have to rescue you both," she allows and it gains her a frown before she pushes off the railing and tells him sternly, "Don't give me that face."

"I'm not giving you a face," he responds before looking to the boy who squeaks and he tells him, "I was not giving mum a face."

"He agrees with me," she offers, lifting her arms to take the boy into hers. Elliot grabs tight to her neck and lays his head down on her shoulder, playing with the length of hair hanging against her back. "And it's time for his nap."

"He says he doesn't require a nap," the Doctor tells her.

She snorts, "He says that because he's your son and wants nothing more than to stay out here being foolish and pressing buttons." She looks up at the Tardis, "And don't think it wasn't lost on me that you're telling my son to press buttons that'll jettison him out into space."

The colors shift slightly, turning pinkish before returning to their natural blues. The Doctor follows her as she makes her way into the first corridor and around a corner to the first set of doors, pushing into the second one.

His room is a soft sky color and it has the look of an ordinary nursery, save for the odd assortment of toys they've picked up on random planets. Clara lays him down in his bed and he smiles up at her, dimples carving their way into his cheeks before he turns to his side and finds a stuffed animal to argue with.

Clara grins when the Doctor's hand intertwines with her own and she looks up into his face to see him staring adoringly down at his son. She sighs, satisfied that she'd made the right decision to stay with him – to even open the door on that first day – as she pulls him away from the room, flicking a switch that dims the lights and starts up an aquarium display across the ceiling.

"Every time I look at him," the Doctor tells her, "I'm in awe of how perfectly the universe creates."

"Give us some credit," Clara tells him with a light punch to the arm, then she frowns, "One day he won't look like me anymore, will he." It's a sad thought that she tries to push away – that one day her son will regenerate and he'll be another man and when she looks up at the Doctor, he's turned away. "Will he, Doctor?"

He shrugs and sighs, looking down at her feet, "You don't have much control over what you look like when you regenerate, but what you're made of, that stays the same." He smiles at her, "He'd still be the same person on the inside, just… a newly flavored soufflé."

Her lips tighten into an accepting grin and she nods, "And you?" She tugs at his bow tie, "One day this won't be your face."

"And I will still love you and Elliot, even after a hundred regenerations."

Her heart hurts at the words because she knows in a hundred regenerations she'll be long gone and despite everything she wishes, she would want him to find someone else. She would never want the Doctor to be alone and she knows what her mortality means.

"Let's not think on it now," he tells her, hands at her neck, thumbs gently stroking her cheeks. "Let's land," he tells her in an astonished voice, and she ignores the fact that she knows some part of him is getting Elliot out of his nap time. "Let's visit someplace… awesome," he smiles when she does and they rush to the console, him pulling a lever and pressing a knob into the metal to the boom of the engine as the Tardis excitedly takes them wherever he's thinking and Clara lets out a laugh.

This was her life now, wasn't it.