Chapter 9: Second Christmas

A sharp series of four knocks at the door startled the Doctor and Clara. The mind link dissolved, the laughter died, and the Doctor felt a new aura in the air. His eyes widened.

"No." he shot up, scrambling to come up with a plan.

"What? What is it, Doctor? Who's at the door?" Clara asked worriedly, scrabbling at her makeshift blindfold.

"It's her." he said, slightly panicked. "It's the-"

Missy burst through Clara's front door. The Doctor immediately froze into stone. "Well, don't bother! I'll just let myself in and make myself comfortable." she announced with a maniacal gleefulness.

Clara ripped off the scarf and dove behind a wall with a burst of adrenaline, frantically searching for something as quietly as she could.

Missy grinned toothily and gazed at the Doctor, taking note of his condition and his wings.

"Oh, you poor thing. You didn't know, did you? This must have been a real shock," she cooed, stroking his stone face patronizingly. She reached up and ran her hand down his outstretched wings.

"Oh, they've marked you. You're so pretty, dear. The colors of blood and death fit you so well."

Without taking her eyes off the Doctor, Missy turned to face the far wall, "It's alright, Clara. I know you're there. You can come out now." she cajoled, crooking her finger.

Clara emerged from behind the wall with a fierce expression. She clutched a can of pepper spray and rose up to her full five-foot-one height. "I am armed. I will use this, so don't try anything with me!" she growled.

"Oh hello there, Clara dear. Put that thing down before you hurt yourself, sweetie. I just need to borrow your keys. No mess, no fuss, that's all I need." the Master giggled.

"Keys?" Clara asked, tightening her grip on the can, "What keys?" she asked, stalling. She knew exactly what Missy wanted.

Missy let out a long, exasperated huff. "What keys? The Tardis keys, duh! I need them for a thing. I'll bring them back, pinky swear." she grinned slyly, wiggling a pinky in the air.

"No." Clara growled.

Missy crooked her head to the side, giving her best pouty face. "Pwease?" she cooed.

"No. I will never give them to you. I will never trust you. How are you still alive, anyway? I was there when that Cyberman vaporized you into dust. I can't even trust you when you're dead to stay dead, how can I trust you now?"

"I could say the same about your dear friend, the Doctor, here." Missy pulled out something resembling a tube of lipstick. "But that's a story for another time, my dear."

Missy twisted the capsule and an arc of red lightning struck Clara in the chest. Clara gasped and flew backwards a few feet by the sheer force of the impact. She landed roughly on her side, unable to hold back a surprised shout.

Searing pain lanced through her nerves. Something that felt like ice water rushed through her veins. Clara could feel herself becoming frozen slowly from the inside out.

Clara opened her mouth to scream, but all the air from her lungs was gone. She let out a strangled sob. The can of pepper spray rolled out of her reach. She swiped at it clumsily, bumping it and causing it to clatter farther away.

"See? That didn't feel so nice, did it, Clara? I'd hate to have to mess up your pretty face. Just give me the keys." Missy said sweetly, still keeping her eyes on the Doctor beside Clara, prodding Clara's shoulder with the tip of her umbrella.

"Come on, dearie. It's not a hard choice." Missy sniped, growing impatient. She drew out the lipstick weapon again, uncapping it and readying her finger over the button.

A sudden burst of adrenaline shocked Clara to reality. She knew that she probably couldn't take another shot from the weapon.

Clara lunged forwards, grasping the can of pepper spray. Pain exploded behind her eyes. She twisted around and aimed the can at Missy. Missy gasped in surprise, temporarily caught off-guard. The first blast from the lipstick weapon should have been enough to shock a human into a coma.

"No!" Clara shouted behind clenched teeth. She pressed her finger into the button as hard as she could. A fine mist of spray shot out of the can and directly into the Master's eyes. Missy shrieked and dropped the umbrella, clawing at her eyes.

"You stupid ungrateful human! I should have killed you the minute I saw you, but I didn't. Why? Because I'm nice like that! And look what I get in return!" Missy screamed.

"I think I should rectify this mistake, don't you think, dearie? I should-" Missy's voice cut off abruptly, filling the air with silence save for Clara's ragged breaths.

Clara dropped the can with a clatter. She slumped to the floor, grateful that Missy's shrieking had ceased. She closed her eyes and curled into herself, silently riding the waves of disabling pain. She whimpered and spared a glance upwards with her last reserve of energy.

Missy was gone. A metallic taste filled the air. The Doctor was crouched in front of her, his face a mixture of horror and dread encased in the stone. His arms were outstretched, as if he was about to scoop her into his arms.

She groaned and allowed her eyes to slip shut. Her mind swam. Blackness clouded the corners of her consciousness. She felt strong arms gingerly cradle her and lift her off the unforgiving tile floor.

"I've got you, Clara. You're going to be fine." The Doctor panted with the effort of having shot the Master as far back into the past as he could. Worry ate at his mind, and he gently laid her down on her bed. He tucked her in and felt her forehead.

She was cold, ice cold. The Doctor immediately rounded up all the blankets he could find in the house, returning with a massive pile.

"That was a biotic shifter, Clara. Among other things, it freezes cells to force creatures into hibernation. That kind of shock she gave you should just put you into a short coma."

He bundled the blankets all around her and cranked up the heater. "You're going to be fine as long as you make it for the next few hours."

Clara's mind in his continued to struggle weakly for a few moments before finally going still. Her glow dulled, but remained. The Doctor reached out for Clara, guarding her by erecting blockades all around her. If someone else came into the room, no matter what happened to her body, her mind would be safe, frozen in stone with his.

The Doctor felt her forehead again. His sensitive hands picked up the temperature immediately.

"87°F and dropping." he withdrew his hand and studied her face that was barely peeking out from underneath all the blankets. "Oh, this can't be good."

If she didn't warm up soon, severe hypothermia could set in and irreversibly alter her brain function. Humans weren't made to hibernate.

"Oh, I'm going to regret this." he grumbled, knowing what he had to do. Body heat was always the best method of warming someone up if nothing else was available and blankets didn't work.

The Doctor lifted up the corner of the first blanket warily. He was not a "touchy" person in this incarnation. He didn't want to invade her personal space. How would she react when she eventually woke up and saw him there?

He decided to only stay until her temperature rose acceptably, and then excuse himself before she could wake.

He kicked off his shoes and clambered in under the covers as awkwardly as ever. His huge wings proved to be a hindrance, getting caught between the layers, and causing him to have to lie on his side in a weird position.

"Oh, great." he grumbled, struggling with his bulkier body, though secretly pleased at the opportunity to be this close to Clara without her commenting on it.

He wrapped his arms around her still form gently. The heat from all the blankets and the increased temperature of the room were already lulling him to drowsiness. The Doctor held her carefully, so that if she woke up and looked at him, she wouldn't be crushed by his statue.

He brought his wings around her, tucking one beneath her, and the other over the tops of the both of them. He pressed her body into his, which turned out to not be as uncomfortable as he thought it would be. He sighed sleepily, hugging her gently. He measured her temperature constantly, and released a satisfied groan of relief when he discovered that it was steadily rising.

He burrowed further into the blankets and fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

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"Why, hello there." Clara giggled teasingly. "Now that's a sight I thought I'd never see."

Clara turned herself slowly in the Doctor's arms to avoid waking him. Before now, she wasn't even sure if he ever actually slept, being a Time Lord and all. But now, even frozen in stone, he looked so peaceful and innocent. His legs were splayed out everywhere across the bed, his hair was a tangled mess of curls, and he had his nose buried in her shoulder. Clara wondered briefly how he had breathed like that all night.

Clara tried to move more, but found that she was cocooned by a pair of stone wings. She closed her eyes and the rough stone dissolved into silky feathers. She stroked a few beneath her back gently, enjoying their softness.

A fluttering feeling suddenly took over her. Why exactly was he in bed with her? It must have been a life or death situation for him to even consider close contact for any amount of time with someone else, but here he was. There her Doctor slept, her reclusive, impossible Doctor, and she decided that she would never figure him out.

A spark of hope flickered for just a second in the bottom of Clara's heart. 'Does he actually love me?' she hoped. 'Why else would help through all this trouble for just a simple friend? A friend that has hurt him time and time again?'

'No.' she reasoned. Not this Doctor. Either he hid his feelings well, or he didn't have any at all, and she was afraid that it was the latter.

'Well, that's clearly not true.' she countered herself. She'd been inside his mind. She knew what she saw. She grinned despite herself and laughed softly. She nuzzled into his warm embrace and basked in the rare contact.

After a few minutes, Clara began to squirm. "God, it's so hot in here. Since when do I live in bloody Mordor?" Clara grumbled, kicking off several endless layers of blankets.

The Doctor shifted slightly at her movement. His breathing picked up its pace and he drew in a deep breath. He had his eyes scrunched shut rebelliously, as if he was attempting to stay in whatever pleasant dream he'd had. He let out a low groan that caused his whole body to vibrate.

"Wha-" he grumbled, blinking his eyes open against the sunlight.

Clara snuggled into him, pleased at the uncommon opportunity. He would never have allowed this had he been fully awake, and she was already used to taking every chance she could get to be close to him. She closed her eyes so he could stay animated and tilted her face towards where she believed his was.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Clara giggled, poking him in the chest.

The Doctor didn't respond to this. He stretched and groaned.

"Remind me to never sleep again. Time Lords don't really need it, and neither do Weeping Angels. I'm so drowsy, it's impossible to get up." he muttered to himself. "How do you humans do this every day?"

"Doctor, it's nearly noon and it's the day after Christmas." Clara reasoned, pulling at him to get up.

"Day after Christmas?" he asked sleepily, "Oh, we can't have that. Let's just pop back to yesterday then, shall we?" The Doctor said in between yawns.

Clara rolled her eyes and snorted. "We can't do that. You're an Angel, remember? One look at the Tardis, and poof! You're stuck forever."

"Come on," she coaxed, "I didn't get to do any of my Christmas traditions yesterday. Let's have a second Christmas. Let's celebrate today. I have presents, movies, and a turkey sitting in the freezer that I was too lazy to cook yesterday."

"Why, Clara? Just let me sleep." he moaned half-heartedly.

The Doctor suddenly shot up, lifting himself up. Everything that had happened the night before came crashing back down to him. He checked her temperature and let out a sigh of relief when it came back as normal.

"How do you feel? Any pain, any headache? Anything?" he asked worriedly, looking up and down her body for any signs of injury.

"What are you talking about? I feel fine." Clara furrowed her eyebrows in confusion before letting out a slight chuckle at his panicked frenzy.

"The real question here is, how did I end up in bed, and the million-dollar question is, why are you in bed with me?" she hugged his arm and giggled.

"The Master. Missy. Biotic shifter-" he struggled for words, suddenly aware of their close proximity. "Missy shot you with a biotic shifter. Among other things, it can force creatures into hibernation by lowering their body temperature. Problem is, humans aren't meant to hibernate. It probably wouldn't have killed you, but it might have put you into a coma and altered your mind."

"To warm you up so that wouldn't happen, I had no choice but to share my body heat with you. T-That's all, no other reason." he stammered out quickly as if he just wanted to get out the fastest explanation he could muster and drop the subject.

"Uh-huh." Clara hummed, not convinced. "My temperature is fine now, and you seem pretty cozy here."

"Clara." he warned.

Clara shrugged. "Come on, as much as I like hugging you, I don't want to stay in bed all day. Let's go and do something fun. Let's open presents. I even got you one," she smiled.

"Right." he clambered to the edge of the bed and sat up, secretly upset to leave her comforting embrace. He could have stayed like that all day had she let him. That was the deepest, most peaceful sleep he'd ever had in his life.

He never slept anymore partially because he didn't really need it, but also because of the nightmares that plagued him every night. Blowing up Gallifrey, some kind of monster chasing them, the Master, losing Clara over and over again throughout his incarnations... The list could go on and on, but last night was dreamless. It seemed like Clara was his defender.

His Impossible Girl, even in a nearly-comatose state, was still there to guard him against himself.

She was what he needed all along, and a pang of sadness suddenly stabbed through his hearts. He was guaranteed to lose her again someday, and that time there would be nothing he could do about it. Humans were so fragile and their lives were so short. She would wither, and eventually die of old age while he would be forced to live on as an Angel. A lonely old statue, banished from everyone who ever loved him, forced into an immortal death.

"Are you getting up or what?" Clara laughed after he had suddenly stopped in his tracks at the edge of the bed. The Doctor snapped out of his trance-like state as if she had just thrown cold water over his face. His train of thought dissolved. He got up and stretched his wings fully, nearly able to touch the far edges of the room from wingtip to wingtip.

"Alright, Clara," he gave in. "Let's go celebrate your pudding-brain holiday." He smiled fondly, making his way out of the room with Clara's hand in his, guiding her so she wouldn't bump into anything in her blindness.

Clara left him in the living room to have his fun looking at the Christmas tree. She knew he secretly loved Christmas and all the things associated with it, so without a word, she let him be, smiling to herself knowingly.

She took out the turkey out of the freezer to thaw and came back into the room. She forgot to close her eyes, so he immediately froze. He sat there at the base of the tree, holding one of the presents in mid-shake.

"No, no, no, no. You can't do that. It might be fragile." She scolded his statue, plucking the present from his stone hands and placing it back under the tree. She looked away and he instantly came back to life.

"Aw, Clara." he pouted slightly. "I was just practicing the only scientific method known to man for finding out what's in the boxes. You can't punish me for science." he whined in his low Scottish baritone.

Clara could barely hold back a snort at that. Here she had a 2,000 year old alien, who looked like a man in his fifties, complete with wings and a scowl, whining in his deep voice because she had caught him attempting to peek at the presents like a five-year-old boy.

She shook her head and smiled despite herself. She could never stay mad at him for very long. A realization suddenly struck her. She knew. Watching him there, so utterly striking, with his out-of-control peppered hair, his bare arms, which carried a hidden strength- sticking out from beneath his sleeveless gown, and his stern face which softened only for her, she knew.

She was so in love. She never stood a fighting chance. Long ago, she'd told Vastra that she "had no interest in pretty young men." Never had that been more true. She never knew why she fell for Danny so quickly, and then lied to him and pushed him away like she never actually cared much for him at all.

Now she had it figured out. Danny was her shield. She was so afraid to approach the Doctor once again with his prickly attitude and new face, especially after he told her that he was "not her boyfriend," that she didn't know how to handle the situation. So she went out and distracted herself with a new boyfriend. Of course, that only created an awkward love triangle which hurt all parties involved.

But now things were different. This incarnation of the Doctor was the closest to his true self than any of the others before him. The veil fell away, and at first she thought she'd never love him again. She was wrong.

He changed, and so did she. Gone was the innocent snarky Clara, now she had turned into a liar and was filled with anger. Both showed their rawest forms to each other, and their relationship almost dissolved because of it, but now they were back and closer than ever before because they had overcome their faults and healed together.

Clara realized that she loved the Doctor deeply, and had all along. She only hoped that he felt the same way. Clara looked back at him, frozen again, and smiled sadly.

Even as a statue, he was still as fetching as ever, but she still longed to actually see him again. She could never see his skin, the flush in his cheeks, or his stormy blue eyes...whenever she opened her eyes, a statue is all she would ever be able to see.

She looked away again and began opening presents. Most of them consisted of new outfits from her friends, or kitchen appliances from her parents. Finally, she found one in the back with simple black wrapping paper and a silver bow.

"This one is for you, Doctor." Clara smiled, handing it to him.

The Doctor, who had tuned out slightly while Clara had been opening endless gifts of clothes, suddenly perked up.

"Me?" he pointed to himself, forgetting that she couldn't see it.

"Yes. I told you that I got you something earlier this morning." she giggled, pressing the box into his hands.

"Oh, sorry. I must have deleted it." he apologized, not accepting the gift yet.

"Go on, take it." Clara smiled. "It's from me and the Tardis. We both chipped in."

"But...I didn't get you anything." he said guiltily. It wasn't his fault. How could he as a Weeping Angel?

Clara's face lit up warmly, and if her eyes were open, he believed they would be twinkling. "I don't need a gift. I have all I need." she pressed it into his arms encouragingly, "Take it."

The Doctor hesitantly reached out and accepted the gift. "Thank you, Clara." he said gratefully.

"Come on. Open it. I've had it sitting around for a year for when you would come back." Clara urged with a chuckle.

He looked at her in surprise. "You didn't know I would come back. I was dead to you."

"I always knew. I figured that if anyone could do the impossible and come back from the dead, it would be the Impossible Man." Fondness laced her voice, and warmth settled in his hearts. Even in death, she had never given up on him.

He carefully untied the bow and ripped through the paper. He pulled off the lid to the box and gasped. "Clara...how?" he stammered, his voice broken up with disbelieving laughs.

Inside was a brand new sonic screwdriver. It was similar to his old one, but was a sleek black. When the button was pressed, red light emitted from the tip accompanied by the familiar trill. The light traveled down circuitry like veins across the length of the screwdriver and glowed beautifully. The prongs at the tip were now a bright chrome, and the handle was the smoothest black leather.

"I..." he laughed out, "I don't know what to say."

"Merry Christmas, Doctor." Clara beamed.

"You lost your old screwdriver on Aluereygo XI, so the Tardis and I made you a new one. I just wanted to thank you for all you've done for me. Of course, the Tardis did most of the work, I just designed it. She added a whole lot of new settings, although she didn't really mention exactly what those new settings are, so I guess you'll just have to find them out." Clara shrugged.

"Oh, Clara. Clara. Clara. This is absolutely beautiful. Thank you. Thank you so much." he looked his gift up and down like an excited child, trying out the new settings.

He pointed it at the tree, and the lights shone brighter. He pointed it at the radio and Christmas music filled the room with its jolly melody.

The Doctor scowled. He hated Christmas music. He reached to change the station, but Clara somehow sensed what he was going to do and laid her hand over his to stop him.

"Silver Bells" came on, one of her favorites. Clara grabbed his hands and attempted to pull him up to no avail. "Come on, Doctor. Dance with me."

His eyes widened, and he kept his backside firmly planted on the ground. She continued to pull on his hands, trying to lift him up. He chuckled inwardly at his tiny human. "No. No. No, Clara. Not the dancing. I hate dancing. There has to be a line drawn somewhere."

Even with her eyes closed, he could almost feel her staring through his soul with pleading eyes. He continued to resist for a while, but he eventually felt like he owed it to her. He didn't get her a gift, after all, and he was the one who turned on the music in the first place.

"Come on, Doctor. Just one dance. I know that you can dance. I've seen your other incarnations, and you have way more elegance than Bow-Tie ever did. Go on, hop to it. Dance, Doctor. Do as you are told." she smiled coyly.

He sighed and rose to his feet. He never could resist her when she used that voice. He had gone to hell and back for her, he had died for her, surely this wouldn't be too difficult.

"Just one dance. That's all." he grumbled out quietly.

Clara squealed in triumph and positioned herself as if to do a tango.

"Clara." he asked, confused. "This isn't the right music for a tango. It's too slow."

"It's ok." her face lit up gorgeously with that smile of hers. God, he had missed that smile for so long. "We have our own song." she beamed.

He started out in a tango slowly, guiding her to accommodate for her voluntary blindness. He hesitantly took one of her small hands in his, and rested the other on her waist.

They danced across her living room floor slowly. Clara laced their fingers together and the Doctor's breath hitched in his throat. He relaxed into her slightly. Clara eventually became fed up with the slow pace and took over the dance.

The Doctor turned out to be an excellent dancer, and Clara definitely had a talent for it, even while sightless. Soon, they were an elegant synergy of twirling bodies and beautiful flourishes. Once started, the Doctor put his grace in this incarnation to good use, flawlessly dipping Clara nearly to the floor before twirling her around over him. His usually subtle strength manifested itself seamlessly, and Clara used it to propel herself more daringly into the moves.

The song ended, but neither cared. They had their own symphony. Their minds were joined and danced around each other in step with their bodies. By now, they were a mess of panting breaths and three thumping heartbeats.

The intense dance eventually ebbed into a slow dance once the two became too tired to go on much further. They leaned into each other, hands interlaced, souls twining. They swayed slowly from side to side to the tune of "All I Want for Christmas is You," basking in each other's company. They rested on each other, finally calming down.

"Clara." The Doctor panted out, resting his forehead on hers. "Clara. Clara. Clara." he cupped her face, his shyness from earlier dissolving, probably due to the surge of adrenaline in his veins.

Clara felt for his face and traced her hand down his chiseled features. She mapped it out, as if memorizing every wrinkle, every hollow, every soft piece of skin. She twirled her fingers in his hair. It was soft and bouncy. She could get lost in the sheer volume of the fluff.

"I told you you could dance." she breathed.

Clara stood on her tiptoes. The Doctor knew what she wanted and leaned down. Their lips met gently, and both moaned. The kiss deepened, and it became a battle for control. At some point, the Doctor gathered her into a tight embrace and flared out his wings. The bright red flashed out as their passion heightened. Both had their eyes squeezed shut tightly. Brilliant stars exploded in their eyes, and their lungs burned for air.

Finally, they broke the kiss. The Doctor could have gone on longer with his respiratory bypass system, but he knew she wouldn't be able to hold her breath for much longer. Their embrace tightened, and the Doctor brought his massive wings around them both.

"You said that the Angels had ideas to restore themselves. How do we restore you?" Clara gasped, drawing in breaths. She wished so badly to see the flush on his cheeks right now, the tangled mess of his hair, the light sheen of sweat over his bare biceps. She wanted to see his eyes again. Half of his communication was translated through his eyes, and she would give anything to see how they were now.

"We can't, Clara. That would take phenomenal amounts of Time Energy. An attempt could rip the Vortex in half." he answered sadly.

"Missy wanted the keys to the Tardis. She knew that the Angels were Time Lords. Maybe she was onto something." Clara reasoned.

The Doctor hugged Clara tighter. "She'll be back. Whatever she wants, she'll literally break heaven and earth to get it."

"Missy said she knows where Gallifrey is." He continued. "She said it is in another dimension, but that's impossible. I blew up Gallifrey. It exploded into a million pieces. There was no teleportation or anything about it. Gallifrey died in the flames." he grated out somberly.

The Doctor brushed a lock of hair, which had somehow draped itself over Clara's face, behind her ear. "I can only hope that we will be prepared for when she returns. We were lucky this time that she wanted you alive. She could have killed you in an instant. I shouldn't have been so careless. I'm sorry, I should have detected her presence earlier."

"It's ok," Clara snuggled into his chest, "You were a bit distracted at the time."

He sighed in agreement and rested his chin over her shoulder. He knew that this was the calm before the storm. Missy would certainly return, and all hell would break loose. He hugged Clara tighter, wishing that he could protect her forever.

But he knew he couldn't. During an attack, if anyone kept their eyes on him, he would be powerless. Clara was a strong woman, and could easily take care of herself, but he didn't want to take any chances. They had to come up with a plan.

That night, the Doctor and Clara mapped out their plan, preparing for the war certain to come.