Clara took a sip of her hot cocoa and contemplated the Christmas tree before her. Compared to earth trees it was similar to a spruce you might find anywhere in a Norwegian forest; the same sort of trunk shape and long, curved branches. The difference was this one was gold in color; shining and shimmering with the strands of lights and the ornaments Clara and the Doctor had spent the evening decorating it with. It was almost overwhelming in its alien beauty.
After receiving permission from the dragons to harvest a tree from the forest just outside their city, Clara and the Doctor had taken their time choosing just the right one. Well, Clara had taken the time. She smiled at the remembrance of the Doctor's irritation as she rejected first one then another tree as being too tall, too imbalanced, and too short, etc. Considering it was to go into her living room, Clara felt she was entitled to make sure she got the perfect tree. Although she understood the Doctor's point of view—it was not polite to be too fussy over the dragons' gift—she still wanted to have an ideal tree. Finally she deemed one adequate, and a young dragon cut it down for them. The Doctor scanned it with the sonic, and requested they give it a rinse in hot water to make sure they would not be bringing home any unwelcome otherworldly pests. After the dragons followed his directions, they dragged it into the TARDIS, where the Doctor had it dried using the TARDIS' powerful air circulators. They said their goodbyes to the dragons, and then headed back to Clara's.
The Doctor helped her get it into her tree stand and set up in the living room, and then they began to decorate it. First up were the lights. Clara smiled again thinking about the Doctor getting tangled up in them before getting them on the tree. Then he found the mistletoe in one of the boxes, and made good use of it before Clara convinced him to hang it up in the doorway to the kitchen. After that they hung Clara's collection of ornaments on the tree. The Doctor was very interested in the ones Clara showed him from her childhood; especially the star shaped ones her mother had collected over the years. He smiled at her tenderly when she placed on a branch a little red maple leaf ornament she'd bought before last Christmas. Finally the two of them stood back and admired their handiwork.
"Now that's a proper Christmas tree," the Doctor remarked, draping one arm over Clara's shoulder.
"It's beautiful," Clara sighed. "Too bad it'll have to be tossed at the end of the holiday."
"Not at all," the Doctor grinned. "This tree is like a dried flower—it will remain in this state indefinitely. You can set it up year after year. Might get a little dusty, but otherwise, it will look the same—the needles won't drop off and the branches won't break."
"No wonder you suggested this as a gift from the dragons! I'm set for life with regards to Christmas trees now." She turned to the kitchen. "How about some cocoa after all that hard work?"
"Love to, but, um, I've got something I've got to take care of with the TARDIS. I will be right back." And with that, the Doctor danced over to his blue box, which was sitting in one corner of the room. Before Clara could stop him, he slipped into the machine. She was left reaching into thin air as it dematerialized with its signature sound. Her arm dropped to her side and she frowned. What on earth had that been all about? Where was he off to now?
With a huff, she headed into the kitchen to make cocoa. Even if he didn't want any, she did. She just hoped he'd be back before Christmas, or this would be a very un-merry holiday for her.
So now she stood before the tree, thinking back on all that had happened. Looking at the clock, she frowned. It was already nine thirty. What with their adventure on the dragon planet, then setting up and festooning the Christmas tree, she found she was quite exhausted. Sitting down in one of the comfy living room chairs, Clara soon nodded off, dreaming of the Doctor and Christmas.
Which is where he found her when the TARDIS returned, an hour later. Slipping up quietly to her chair, he bent down and kissed her gently on the temple. "Clara? Clara, I'm back," he whispered. She stirred and rubbed her eyes, then looked up into his face. "You did come back," she murmured, sleepily.
"Why wouldn't I? Like I said, you are where my hearts dwell," he smiled gently, holding one of her hands.
"I wasn't so sure of that, last Christmas," she demurred, her lower lip trembling.
"Clara," the Doctor replied, his voice full of contrition. "There's something I need to explain to you about that." He took her hands, gently pulled her up out of the chair, and led her to the couch. They sat side by side, the Doctor snuggling in close to her with his arm around her.
"First let me reassure you that I love you with all my hearts. You are dearer to me than my own life…I would gladly give it up to protect you from permanent harm." He kissed her forehead tenderly, lingering there for a few moments before speaking again. "I am…not proud of what happened on Trenzalore between the two of us. I handled things clumsily, without thought to your feelings. But when I realized what was happening…when I saw the crack in the wall…all I could think of was myself. I didn't want to go through watching you die on Trenzalore, and I was convinced you would. Something…a Dalek, a Cyberman, a Weeping Angel…would be the end of you, and I would find myself standing in agony of sorrow over your grave. Your family would never know what happened to you…would be left to mourn your loss without closure. I couldn't do it…so I lied to you…sent you away…tried to be cold-hearted to you…and yet…inside I was brokenhearted. The last thing I wanted was to part with you, but I felt I had no other choice. Try and understand that, and forgive me for being so churlish about it."
Tears filled Clara's eyes at his words. "I know…you're telling me the truth…but please understand how it felt to me. You lied to me…tricked me…abandoned me. You talk about agony! Having to go back to my family without you…knowing you were alone on Trenzalore, in danger…that was pure torment for me. And then seeing you as an old, old man…at death's door…without hope. I felt driven to speak to the Time Lords and beg them to help you."
The Doctor's eyes widened with shock as he took that in. "You…you spoke…to the Time Lords? You never told me you spoke with them…I thought they granted me the extra regenerations out of pity for my plight. Why didn't you tell me you'd said something to them?"
"You never asked," Clara crisply remarked, giving him a wry look.
