Eyes shifting quickly beneath their lids, Clara laid quietly in the bed beside him, dreaming calmly about something that brought an occasional smile to her lips. The Doctor stopped his fingers over the strings of his guitar and he settled the instrument on its stand so he could concentrate on her a while. He smiled, as he often did at the thought – Clara Oswald, entirely his, of her own choosing, for a lifetime. He never let himself dwell on how short it would be in the long run, only on the fact that he'd been given that chance again.
She sighed as he shifted down to rest his head atop the pillow he'd been leaning into, adjusting himself to watch her measured breaths. To listen to the tiniest hum that escaped her. To inhale the scent of her as they drifted through space. Years from now he would close his eyes and remember this, he knew. He would remember how peaceful she looked; he would remember how her pulse worked a beat against the skin at her neck; he would remember the hand she laid over her belly.
"What do you dream, my impossible girl?" He crooned.
She smirked, taking in a long breath before shifting closer to him, fingertips sliding along his shirt to circle his ribcage and settle at his side, forehead nuzzling his chest. Her right knee tucked itself just into the edges of the ridge formed by his thighs and her stomach pressed into his delightfully. The kicks of their son were still soft through the barriers between them, but he felt them more often now and he snaked a hand to that gentle tapping, kissing Clara atop the head.
"What do you dream, my beautiful Aurelius?" The Doctor whispered. "The wonders of your mother's mind, no doubt – memories of her travels; hopes for your future. Or perhaps you lend her a bit of your soul, reaching out to begin pondering the universe?" He sighed, "What do you dream, my loves?"
He felt a tug at his hearts and he closed his eyes, knowing that was the touch of his son's abilities, and he was in a sunny park on Earth, listening to a breeze rattling weaker leaves from the trees as birds twittered about happily. He smiled, looking out at Clara as she ran along grass just beginning to lose it's brilliance to the beginning of autumn. She wore a dress, unusual for her, he pondered as he took in the yellow streaks along the flowing fabric and the delicate oversized pink cardigan settled atop it. He laughed, making his way towards her as he looked to the boy she chased after.
Four, he guessed, possibly older if he took after his mother in height, with a wide smile and round reddened cheeks. The Doctor watched him run lazily away from Clara, dark hair bouncing about his head as he went, just before the Doctor called out boldly, "Aurelius!" The boy's heels dug in as he stopped and turned, straightening and offering him an excited intake of breath and a widening of his eyes.
"Daddy!" He squealed between laughs, turning to spring towards him.
The Doctor bent, mouth shifting open with a shocked laugh as the tiny body met his outstretched hands. He hoisted him up against him, feeling the thudding of his hearts increase as those thin arms wrapped around his neck, giggle mischievously continuing behind his ear.
"And how are you, Aurelius?" He asked him quietly.
Fingers gripping the Doctor's shoulders, the little boy pushed himself up to meet his eyes, amusement of his mother's antics fading to serene examination of his father's face as he calmed his breath. "Mummy and I were playing a game and she was an Ice Warrior, but I'm too fast for her to catch me."
The Doctor's eyes closed, hearing his son speak so clearly.
Aurelius spoke confidently, like his mother, though his accent was a touch stronger. Some sweet spot between his parent's accents that was proudly Northern. The boys on Gallifrey would be pleased, the Doctor thought to himself, smiling as the child continued, "But mummy is tired, I think I've taken her too far into our future."
He looked to the boy's bright eyes as they waited curiously, and he nodded to his son, explaining, "We can see the expanse of time in our minds in a way your mummy cannot on her own, so these travels might take a bit of a toll on her, even in a dream state."
"Oh no," he exclaimed excitedly, "She's alright with the telepathic time travel, she loves it. Says she loves to see me grow."
"He's just taken me to a tiring time tonight," Clara offered, one hand rubbing lightly on the Doctor's arm, the other landing on her stomach, on a small low bump in her abdomen she stroked as she asked him in confusion, "Is it possible to feel her through time like this?" She looked to the Doctor, "Or is it all in my head?"
The Doctor looked to his son, who merely watched his mother with an adoring smirk, oblivious to the potential of what he'd inadvertently done, then he looked to the woman beside him, eyes unfocused as her thumb continued a slow movement back and forth between the yellow and white of her dress. Her lips lifted slightly and she glanced down at herself, brow dropping just before she released the smallest of laughs.
"Clara, what do you feel?" Then he added, slowly, "Clara, what does our daughter feel?"
For a moment, she didn't answer, and then her head lifted and she smiled, admitting quietly, so much so he almost didn't hear, "Your daughter's hearts, they got stronger when you spoke – when you," she stopped before meeting his stare, "When you acknowledged her." She laughed. "She got stronger when you..."
"Made her a fixed point in time," he finished, eyes closing on a smile. "Aurelius," he began, looking to his son and seeing the way his eyes reddened and his head bowed, sensing he'd done something wrong. The Doctor nodded and offered, "Let's walk a bit, leave your mother to her bonding."
He held him firmly in his arms, memorizing the weight of him and the way his legs hung over his stomach and back-end limply as they drifted away from Clara, still standing with her hands now wrapped around a life years away from becoming reality. Perhaps, the Doctor considered, this was only a dream. A concoction of some mixture of their son's vivid imagination, and of Clara's... and perhaps a twinge of his own, he smiled. And yet, there was no denying the way his hearts had felt that pull to the girl in Clara's womb.
Or the little face he'd distinctly seen as he'd felt it.
"You're not in trouble," he assured the boy who still gripped his neck lightly with warm long fingers. The Doctor inhaled, remembering what Clara had said months ago, of their son's smell, finding that scent of strawberry and space easily in the air. "But perhaps, since we have this opportunity, we should discuss the rules of space time, of dreams, and of consequences."
Aurie nodded slowly, swallowing and giving him a guilty look reminiscent of his mother's.
They made their way to the edge of a cliff over which an ocean sat and he questioned, "Scottland?"
The boy shrugged.
He shrugged in response. "You have a gift, Aurelius, because time travel, a version of time travel has always been possible in dreams – but not everyone is capable of so easily achieving it." He looked to his son, staring out at the waves. "How much have you explored through it?"
Turning his eyes to the Doctor's, Aurie shook his head and told him, "I only talk to mummy. I promise," he stopped to look down, explaining, "Mummy taught me the rules of time already, daddy."
"We shouldn't know about your sister yet," the Doctor stated. "You might have altered the course of time, showing us she exists, or could exist." Glancing back at Clara he sighed, "She was always a possibility, just as you had always been a possibility before you were conceived, but now she's a fixed point."
"Am I fixed too?" Aurie asked, "For talking to you and mummy?"
There was a tremble to his voice, one the Doctor understood meant he thought fixed points might possible be terrible things, and he laughed, pulling the boy into a tight hug, one he returned desperately. He hugged, the Doctor noted, just like his mother. "Aurie," he whispered, "Aurie you are, and it's a wonderful thing that you are because I look forward to meeting you outside of dreams, and your mother... Aurelius, your mother has waited a lifetime for you. We both love you so very much, from the very moment we knew about you. From the very moment you fixed yourself into our lives, we've loved you and we grow in that love for you."
"I feel it, daddy," he whispered back. "I am a good thing in the universe."
"The very best thing," the Doctor asserted.
"You're waking up," his son offered.
Opening his eyes, he looked into Clara's as she ran a hand along his cheek, palming it and smiling. They remained there a while, looking over one another to see the little things, here and there, that their son had picked up from each of them – or would, over time. They were both afraid to ask the question of the other: had it been real? Until the Doctor signed and assured, "They both look just like you."
Clara sighed, and responded, "And they both have your eyes."