"It's complicated."
How could he explain Clara to Jenny and Vastra, when he couldn't explain her to himself? How to explain that she was the same person they'd encountered so briefly that Christmas, and yet…not? The same smile and delighted laughter, the same caring heart. This Clara - his Clara - was perhaps a bit more thoughtful, a trifle less impetuous. She complemented him, in so many ways. The way she just seemed to know when he needed to feel her hand in his own, and the way her fingers fit so perfectly with his. Maybe he needed to stop trying to figure her out, and just take pleasure in being with her - just accept whatever measure of joy the universe chose to bestow on him.
But then, he always did enjoy a good mystery.
