A/N: On the third day of Christmas, your writer gives to thee- turtle doves for a Whoffle Wedding. Cut yourselves a slice of Christmas cake and enjoy. :-)
What surprises her most is... no one is surprised.
The entire town of Christmas seems to have seen this coming, from the moment the two of them stood arguing on the steps of the Tower soon after they'd arrived. And everyone seems to know, without being told, that the Doctor and Clara are going to be celebrating soon.
The women of the town smile knowingly at her when she next comes to tea, and when Clara and the Doctor walk through the streets, her arm tucked in his, the children giggle and point.
Silently, gifts find their way to their front steps- a handmade quilt, a blue teapot, a bridal wreath. And, most treasured of all, homemade cards from the children of Christmas, wishing them well.
The day Clara wakes, opens her eyes, and realizes the date, she can hardly believe one body can hold so much happiness. The Doctor's side of the bed is empty, and she thinks she probably woke the moment he slipped out the door.
Even without this ceremony, she's already so joined to him that the absence of his body next to hers stirs her from slumber. But she's still smiling when she hears a knock on the door, and the voice of Mrs. Harper come drifting through the wood.
"Tea for the bride?" she calls, and Clara nearly hugs her own knees.
"Did the groom get to eat?" she calls back, her smile in her voice.
She hears her friend scoff on the other side of the door. "From the way he was skipping down the street shaking everyone's hand, I'd say he had about ten bowls of marshmallows. Are you sure you want to marry someone who can eat that much sugar? It's not normal."
Clara laughs and brings her hands to her face, amazed and elated all at once.
Today is her wedding day.
As she glances out the window, she thinks idly that this day is nothing at all the way she'd ever imagined it would be. When she'd been a girl, today would have meant a walk to her parent's church down the lane, her father's arm wrapped around hers, a white veil, her mum and her Gran looking on proudly, a party they couldn't afford waiting for them, and some handsome mystery figure at the end of the aisle.
Instead, she's in a war-torn colony on an alien planet, her family on the other side of the universe, getting married to an alien with two hearts in front of her neighbors and his own species via a glowing crack in a wall.
She smiles to herself. It's nearly perfect.
The moment she thinks it, a breeze blows through the window, and through the bouquet of Christmas roses, which she'd chosen because they were her mother's favorite. The scent whirls around her, like her mother's arms.
Clara hugs herself again, because she'd already been wrong about today.
It was more amazing than she could have ever dreamed.
When your brain moves faster, time moves more slowly.
That's what he'd said to her long, long ago, in his own future. She knows now how true it is.
Because when she walks down the stairs from the roof, clad in her best dress, the only indication of her bridal status the small crown of Christmas rosebuds in her hair, Clara knows she will remember this, every detail, every speck of dust in the shaft of sunlight piercing the room, and every beat of her own heart.
She can see them all, everyone in the town, filling their sitting room and spilling out through the front door on to the steps of the Tower, all there to show them they are loved. But only one face among them draws her gaze. And when her eyes find the Doctor, she knows that her whole life, every echo, every important leaf in human history, had all been leading her to this, to him.
She walks towards him, standing in front of the glowing crack in the wall, as though he wants his own people to witness this act, and the sight of him nearly takes her breath away. He's wearing his long coat and favourite bow-tie, his strong jaw jutting proudly at the sight of her.
He's happy, she thinks. She can see it in every muscle of his body, the way he stands, rocking back and forth on his heels, his hands clasped behind his back, shoulders fidgeting, as though he's too excited to keep still. The sight fills her with joy, and Clara wants to laugh when she remembers how girlhood fantasies usually suggested that the mystery figure at the end of the aisle was the least important detail of a wedding day. Because looking at the Doctor, the man she loves with every part of herself, he is, in fact, the only thing that matters.
She finally reaches him, taking the hand he's holding out, and the moment her skin touches his, something seems to come over him. He quiets and stills, and for a fleeting instant she can see not only the man he is now, but the man he's destined to be, moving from a whirling hurricane to a solid tower, a harbor in the storm with the wisdom of the universe in his eyes. He is, at once, everything about him that she's ever loved.
Clara squeezes his hand as they stand facing one another in front of the rift in the wall, glowing as always, listening. But nothing can take away from this moment, not even the Time Lords. Silently, in the tradition of Earth, she takes the ring she'd fashioned using his sonic, and slips it on to his finger. It's the ring, she knows, that will remain on his hand, even into his next life. The thought that it had been she all along who had put it there fills her with a renewed sense of wonder, and when Clara looks up, the Doctor is smiling broadly at her.
She knows without asking that there are no words that need to be said. This wasn't an exchange of words, just as he'd told her, and her knowledge of what's to come flits through her memory. For a Time Lord, thought was everything.
And so, in the tradition of his people, she thinks of how she loves him.
For the rest of our lives, I will want nothing more than to be by your side.
The Doctor grins even wider, as if he'd heard her thoughts, and he looks down at the ring on his finger, squeezing her hand in reply. He takes her free hand in his, so that he's caressing the tops of her wrists with his thumbs.
As he does, she sees his body begin to glow as brightly as the rupture in the wall. The Doctor is staring into her eyes, his promise to her becoming a physical thing in the form of the life-energy of his species. She hardly has time to gasp as it suddenly flows out of him, surrounding them both, until they're standing in a golden cocoon of light.
The townspeople around them disappear from view, and for that moment, nothing exists but the two of them.
You are my whole universe, too, she thinks, unable to take her eyes from his.
And then, just as easily as he'd slipped into her heart, she sees him close his eyes, concentrating, and the energy that is his becomes part of her, rushing into her body and making her gasp with the ecstasy of it. Pleasure and love and warmth erupts throughout her human veins, filling her, expanding her until tears come to her eyes. Golden light flows from her fingertips, the ends of her hair and suddenly she feels as if she's being touched by infinity, the never-ending universe that he's traveled, and the infinite lengths to which he loves her.
"Oh," she gasps, and sees him as he opens his eyes, holding more tightly to her hands.
"It's me, Clara," the Doctor whispers. "And now I'm yours." He says it just as the last of the energy disappears into her, bringing her back down from heaven.
He pulls her into his arms, and she leans against his chest, as he reaches up, wiping the tears from her cheeks. The cocoon dissolves and dimly, she can see the townspeople at the edge of her vision once more.
But as her body quakes from fading ecstasy, she hears the Doctor whisper gently against her ear, "It didn't hurt you, did it?"
"No," she nearly weeps. "No, never, never." She holds him tighter, and can't tell if she's actually crying or laughing, and ends up doing both. "It was wonderful. It was you."
"Well, technically," he says against her skin, "now it's us."
Clara pulls back and this time, when she looks up into his face, something extraordinary happens She sees herself for the first time- not as the imperfect, too-short woman who never felt clever enough, compassionate enough. In his eyes, she can see as he sees her. To the Doctor, she is strong and kind, funny and brave, and full of human mystery. To him, she is exquisitely beautiful.
She gasps again, this time, not from what she feels for him, but what she now knows he feels for her.
She has never, in all her million lives, felt so loved.
Her face buries against his chest, because this was the gift of Gallifrey, just as he'd said, this feeling of being complete in a way she never has before. This was the beauty of the Time Lords. She's hated them for so long, but the Doctor is part of them, just as she now is part of him, and what they've given her is so pure that it takes her breath away as she holds tightly to him.
He laughs softly, his hands wrapped around her waist. "Are you okay?"
"I'm more than okay," she laughs back, then meets his eyes, her face shining with the most amazing wonder he's ever shown her. "I'm….. I'm whole."
The Doctor smiles, so broadly she can nearly see the happiness radiating out of him again.
And when he leans down to kiss her, Clara hears, as if a world away, the applause and cheers of the townspeople of Christmas. She'd nearly forgotten they were there.
At that moment, she knows, with the Doctor's arms around her, she might have been convinced that no one but they two existed in all of space and time.
to be continued...