The flames flickered brightly before Clara's drowsy eyes, as she nodded over her well-worn copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. It was her third reread of the book, and each time she found something new to intrigue her about it. Tonight, however, warmed by the fire and tuckered out from a full day of teaching, the Count's escapades were definitely not holding her interest. It was three days to Christmas, and Clara was enjoying the cozy warm feeling she got as she considered what the days ahead held. Danny Pink was to come over tomorrow to help her find a Christmas tree and then decorate it and the house. Since the older Scottish Doctor left to search for Gallifrey, Clara and Danny had become closer. She still missed her bow-tied Doctor—she always would—but she was glad for Danny's growing affection. It would make Christmas a little less lonely—especially since it was only one year ago that she lost her beloved gangly-limbed jammie dodger loving friend.

She had almost nodded off when a very loud BANG! emanated from the ceiling above her, and the whole house shook. Startled fully awake, she held motionless, waiting to see if there would be any more shaking. Once she'd assured herself it wasn't an earthquake, but instead appeared to be something striking the roof (which frankly was equally alarming), she rose slowly from the couch and headed over to her hall closet to get a torch. As she crept upstairs, she sussed out which part of the house the noise had come from. Passing through her bedroom, she was startled to see a shadow framed in the glass window on the doorway that led from her bedroom to the roof. She was even more alarmed when it proved to be a human figure that rapped frantically on the panes. Clara summoned her courage and reminded herself that she'd faced down an ice warrior, Daleks, Cybermen and a monstrous parasitic planet. Wielding the torch like a weapon, she jerked the door open.

The figure, which had been leaning against the door, slumped inside at her feet with a moan. But before Clara could take a closer look, her attention was arrested with the sight of the TARDIS, sitting a few feet away on her rooftop, smoke emanating from its closed doors and glowing red and orange at its base, as if it had made a very rough landing. Clara hoped fervently there was no damage to the roof. There was too much snow to tell, and it was continuing to come down.

A hand grabbed her foot, and Clara jumped back, her attention once more on the man who had fallen before her. As she leaned down to attend to him, he groaned out a single word—"Clara."

Looking at him she realized his clothes were smudged and smoking, as if he'd been through a fire. She touched his shoulder, and he turned his head to look up at her.

Clara found herself looking right into the green eyes of her cherished previous younger Doctor. His face was scratched and dirty, but his thick brown hair hung over his forehead just as it used to. His eyes seemed to have trouble focusing.

"Doctor…" she breathed, "how-?"

"Regenerated…" he murmured. "Help…"

The word hit Clara like a cold slap. The last time she'd seen him regenerate, he'd gone from the Doctor Clara had grown to love into the cranky, irritable Scottish scold he presently was. At least, the last time she'd seen him, he'd been the cranky Scot. Now-?

She bent down and helped him to his feet. One of his arms slung over her shoulder as she swung one of hers around his waist. As they rose to a standing position, Clara noticed the clothes he was wearing were exactly the same as the ones the older Doctor wore—white shirt, black overcoat with red lining and black jeans. As she maneuvered him towards the bed, her mind raced with the realization that it was extremely likely something had caused him to regenerate back into the form she loved best.

Once over to the bed, he plopped down into a sitting position on top of it, limbs hanging loosely at his sides, obviously in a state of total exhaustion. She helped him take off the overcoat and removed his shoes, then lifted up the covers as he lay down on the mattress. He settled his head on the pillow, closed his eyes and gave a cough. Spiraling out of his mouth came a golden stream of light. Clara watched it sparkle upward towards the ceiling, and then dissipate. Regeneration energy. So it was true…he had regenerated. But why return to this form? Not that she was complaining-! Still…she was curious to know why he would choose it.

Stroking his face, she bent over and gave him a featherlike kiss on his cheek. "Sleep now…whatever happened, you're safe here with me," she whispered. He looked tiredly up into her eyes and sighed, "My Clara," before lowering his lids. He quickly drifted off after that.

Clara gazed at him for a few minutes, her heart racing. The sound of his voice, the feel of his body next to hers as she'd guided him along and the sight of his overgrown chin were all doing the same magical spell over her that he'd had in his previous incarnation. It was intoxicating in its wizardry.

She turned from him and gathered up his singed jacket and worn boots. He'd need a new change of clothes once he recovered, and she had nothing in the house that would fit him in his present form. She would have to see if the TARDIS' wardrobe contained anything from his former self.

Stepping out onto the roof, she cautiously shuffled through the fallen snow up to the TARDIS. It had stopped glowing at its base, and smoke was no longer drifting out of its doors, but Clara had no idea how much damage was inside. Memories of wandering through a toxic, wrecked TARDIS previously with the Doctor made her apprehensive, but she needed to find out. She pulled her TARDIS key on its silver chain out from under her sweater, slipped it into the lock and pushed the door open.

The sight inside nearly made her nauseous from the dizzying effect of the TARDIS' console and interior rapidly changing back and forth from one era to another. It appeared unable to settle on a desktop and stay there. As she stumbled across the smoky room, avoiding the flames from various spitting circuitry, she realized it would be madness to try to make her way down to the TARDIS' wardrobe room right now. With the state the machine was in, she'd be lucky if she could find her way safely anywhere inside. She turned to the rotor, which kept glitching to different forms.

"All I need is a suit of clothes for him to wear now that he's changed back," she remarked, appealing to the TARDIS. It pinged a response. Clara caught a motion out of the corner of her eye, and on the bench on the side of the console, she saw a fresh suit of clothing, complete with boots, laid out. She was tickled to see a bow tie sitting neatly on top.

She picked the clothes up and turned once more to the rotor with a fervent thank you on her lips, when a nearby monitor abruptly switched on and started a recorded message. She swallowed down a lump in her throat when she saw her Scottish Doctor appear and begin speaking.

"Clara," he intoned, in his distinctive burr, "I'm recording this message for you so you know it's really me that's shown up on your doorstep and that I've come to you for help. I've…been poisoned…and I don't think I'm going to make it." At this point she noticed the beads of sweat on his face, and the haggard look in his eyes. "I will probably regenerate before I arrive, so you most likely will be dealing with a new me by the time I get there. Sorry about that." He stopped and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. His voice was shakier when he next spoke.

"I've had a spot of bother, will tell you more about it after I get myself sorted. I might sleep a lot like I did the first time you met this me, so don't be startled if I nod off and you can't get me awake for a bit. Plus, it's likely I'll do some damage to the TARDIS again like I did on my 10th regeneration, so she might not be habitable for a while. Hopefully you won't mind putting both her and me up for a bit during her reconfiguration. Please be patient with me after I wake up, I might be a bit surly and strange at first. You remember how it was."

He paused again as a spasm of pain overtook him, and he groaned. "I can feel it coming on now. I'll see you soon. We had a lovely time this go-round…I'm sorry this me didn't last long enough to make it more enjoyable for you. Maybe the next me will suit you better. I'm going to hope for that. Just remember never," here he bent over in obvious discomfort, "to feed me…any…"

And with a shout of "Pears!", his body began the familiar golden glow, and the monitor went blank.

Clara gave a wry smile. Scottish to the end, she thought, as she made her way through the TARDIS, back out onto the snowy roof and into her bedroom, where the sleeping regenerated Doctor lay. Gently she placed his fresh clothes on the chair near her bed. She took one last look at him as he slept. He actually appeared a bit younger than she remembered him from before. It was as if he'd totally reset himself to the beginning of his previous regeneration, when he went from number Ten to number Eleven. Clara was dying to know why, but questions about the how and why he was here, and why he'd regenerated into the man she'd originally given her heart to then thought she'd lost forever, would have to wait either until the morning…or whenever he woke up. And from prior experience, Clara knew that even after that…she might not get all the answers she really needed to know. He could be cagey when he really wanted to be.

All she knew right now, was that her Doctor had come home to her, and no matter what happened from this moment on…it might hold the possibility of healing a place in her heart that had been broken since last Christmas.