"Doctor," Clara said slowly, carefully considering her next words. She cleared her throat and continued. "You do know that I'm a fully grown human woman, and am perfectly aware as to what I can expect on our wedding night." A mischievous sparkle twinkled in Clara's eye, and she decided to tease him a bit. "Especially since about a year ago I did have a peek at what I can expect to see. As a result I'm very sure you're a fully functioning male of your species. I don't doubt we'll know what to do."

The Doctor's eyes went very, very wide at that, and a bit of a blush stole across his face. "Clara!" he exclaimed, in a tone reminiscent of a scandalized Victorian. "I'm not speaking about that," he snapped.

"Then what are you talking about?" she replied, sitting back in her chair. Even in this new form, he was so easy to tease about certain things. And she did so love to wind him up. He was so adorable when he was flustered.

Looking at his hands clasped in his lap, the Doctor sighed. "This is hard enough to explain already. You're not making it any easier."

Taking pity on him, Clara gave him a bit of a frown mixed with a pout. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "Go on."

He took a deep breath, and began. "You know that we are a telepathic species, right? It's so pronounced in us that of the women who choose to bear their young instead of using the looms," ("Excuse me, the what?" Clara interjected. "The looms. I'll explain later. Don't interrupt.")"often are able to communicate with their young as soon as the fetus develops a functioning brain, at about two months. Family ties are especially strong telepathically."

Clara leaned forward again in her seat. This was fascinating, and unraveling more about him than she'd previously known. Yes, one of her echoes had lived on Gallifrey, but Clara could barely remember much about it-just the fleeting glimpse of an old man and his granddaughter, slipping into a Type 40 TARDIS at her instruction. No more than that.

The Doctor continued. "Since we are telepaths, there are some customs that have developed over the years around this part of our nature. In particular, there is a custom that is performed when two people decide to get married. It is a…joining of the minds, an exchange of psyche. We implant a portion of our essence into the other person. By doing so, we are joined together until death; even through multiple regenerations. We become one person, body, mind and spirit."

"This," he finished, giving her a penetrating look, "is what I'd like you and I to do with each other."

Several questions began spinning around in Clara's head, and she hardly knew where to start. Drawing in a sharp breath, she decided to begin with the most painful.

"How many times have you done this previously?" she asked, quietly.

"Once, " he responded quickly. "Only once. That was over almost two millennia ago, to a woman who is now dust."

In a small voice, Clara prodded him further. "What about…River?"

A very sour look crossed the Doctor's face. "I approached River about it, not long after we entered into a relationship. We were married, after all, and I felt it would be an important part of the way we related to each other. She…turned me down," he confessed, looking away from Clara and across the room. "Said it wasn't necessary in our case, since we hardly saw each other and even that out of sync with each other. After this last time I encountered her, and the way she flippantly took our marriage, I'm not surprised she didn't want to be permanently linked with me."

"I'm sorry," Clara softly said, reaching across to take one of his hands.

"Don't be. What's done is done with River Song, and my chapter with her is over. The last pages were written in our respective diaries, and the books are now closed. You are my future now," he smiled at her, and Clara felt the warmth of his affection wash over her. She smiled back.

"I would like to do it with you," she shyly proposed. "But…I don't know if I'm capable. I'm only human."

The change that went over him was instantaneous, and almost overwhelming. The gentle smile he'd been wearing was replaced by an almost glowing expression. His eyes had life and fire in them, and he grinned broadly. Watching him, Clara realized just what this meant to him.

"Do you really mean that, Clara? You must realize, doing this means you will be joined with me until one of us dies. There will be no room in our hearts and minds for anyone else. It's a very…permanent…act. And if I regenerate into someone else…if another man takes my place as the Doctor…you will be joined to him." He took both of her hands in his, and looked earnestly into her eyes.

"Doctor…I told you before…I'm in love with you—the inner, innate qualities and personality that make you the Doctor, whether you wear cat pins or celery stalks. I will still love you no matter what face you wear. If I can learn to love a cranky old Scot," she grinned, "I should be able to love whoever you are in your next regeneration."

"Right," he responded, sitting up straight and putting his hands on his thighs. "So. Is there anything else you need to know about this?"

"Yes," she sat back, playing with the rings on her fingers as she posed her next question. "How will I be able to do this with you if I'm not telepathic?"

"I've thought about that," he stated quickly, standing up and moving in an excited manner around the room. "Humans have a very low-level form of telepathy already. Think of it as your 'sixth sense,' that intuition you have from nowhere. What we need to do is build it up. You humans don't use the full capacity of your brains. There's a lot of room for expansion."

Clara considered what he was proposing. "You mean like…exercising my brain, or something?"

He stopped and turned to face her. "Yes, exactly like that, but under my supervision. We're still a couple of weeks out to the wedding…we should have enough time to get your brain in gear and ready for the ceremony." He walked over to her chair and knelt in front of it. Taking her hands once more, he gave her an eager look. "We can start right now if you want."

She found her breath coming quickly with excitement. This was adding a new dimension to their relationship. The thought made her tingle with anticipation. "Okay," she ventured, her voice trembling a little. "What do we do?"

"We begin," he stated, reaching up to cup his hands around her face, "with a simple melding of the minds." His forehead touched hers, and Clara could feel his breath on her face. She tried to ignore his close proximity (she was so tempted to give him a kiss) and concentrate on what he was doing. She closed her eyes.

Immediately there was a warm, gentle presence flowing into her mind. She was aware of it being distinctly separate from herself, and yet, moving through her consciousness with practiced ease. She felt herself relaxing with the sensation. Then she heard his voice, but not from his lips—his mind instead communicating directly with hers.