The Gift

A chance encounter throws the Doctor and Clara together again and the Doctor decides to mark the occasion with a special gift for Clara. It's only when they try to go their separate ways again that the Gift appears to backfire, but does it know their own hearts better than they do? M for adult themes and scenes later in the story.

A/N This has been a real labour of love and marks my first foray into a longer fiction for 12/Clara. It's set after the end of Season 8 but before the Christmas Special 2014. Some sexiness appears more than once but it's all in context and I hope I got the balance right.

Nothing Has Changed

A bit of Christmas shopping will lift your mood. Well-meaning advice from her Gran but now that Clara was several hours into it and said Gran had gone home exhausted leaving her to finish up the purchasing, she really couldn't see it far enough. For starters her recent experiences of Christmas had left much to be desired, stained as they were by tragedy involving the Doctor, and to top it off it was a particularly miserable day, so even if she had been full of Good Will it would have been battered out of her by now by the driving cold rain which was currently seeping down the back of her collar. The shops were busy, the street was heaving and Clara decided that she just bloody well hated the Season to Be Jolly and she'd quite like to go home now thank you very much.

Unfortunately she still had to get a present for Gran who was proving tricky to buy for as she'd loudly hinted to Clara all day about things she didn't want but had failed to point her in the direction of anything acceptable. Clara shifted a few of her bags from one hand to the other trying to evenly redistribute the weight of the gifts and scurried to stand under the doorway of a shop looking out down the High Street. It was getting darker, if that were possible, the driving sleet had resulted in all day long grey skies. Clara knew the shops would be open for a while yet but she really wanted to just get this out of the way and go home and hopefully not have to venture out again. Anyone she'd forgotten about would just have to go present-less.

Right, so think Gran. Think elderly lady. Think elderly lady who had already declared she was dead set against anything containing lavender or royal jelly. What the hell was royal jelly anyway? It only appeared at Christmas in baskets of body lotion for the over seventies. Clara felt a trickle of rainwater wend its way down her face and along her nose. It reached the tip and threatened to drip before she puffed out her breath and tried to blow it away. Not royal jelly. Not bath salts. What did Gran like? She tried to remember the last time she had seen Gran's eyes light up. Naked Doctor. That had perked her up. Well she couldn't very well get her Naked Doctor for Christmas. First she hadn't seen him in months since the incident with the Cybermen and their awkward goodbye, and secondly the newer older version of the Doctor wasn't as liberal when it came to removing his clothes. And probably Gran wouldn't fancy him as much. Clara pondered, or maybe she would go for the distinguished look? Anyway no matter, he wasn't available.

The thought made her heart twinge a little before she shoved it aside and turned her attention again to shopping. It had become a habit, the shoving aside of sadness and she was getting remarkably adept at it.

A book maybe? Or book tokens? They were nice and simple, nice simple easy to purchase no effort required. And there was a coffee shop in the bookstore down the road and god knew she needed coffee and a place to dry out and warm up and regain her strength before heading home and wrapping all this stuff. OK, decision made. Clara pushed herself away from where she had ended up leaning against the doorway and headed back into the crowd, steadily navigating with increasing irritation between dawdling last minute shoppers. When she got to the bookshop and burst into its lobby wringing wet and dripping, a nearby salesperson glared at her from the Arts section and Clara scowled back in no mood to defend herself to the slip of the girl with the perfect make up and hair who clearly hadn't been dragging herself around town in a wet gale all day. She stomped past her and made her way to the coffee section, the book tokens could wait.

Bookshops with coffee houses were one of Clara's favourite places and if anything could sooth her it was the peace and quiet combined with the mixed smell of book and coffee. This one was particularly lovely as the coffee part was upstairs and once she had purchased it she could wander along a long balcony which stretched right around the large square building. It was peppered with bookshelves and chaise longues, sofas and tables, art work, sculpture and little cosy booths. Its lighting was subtle but bright enough to read by and as it was high up above the shop floor it had a sense of distance and peace she welcomed readily now. She found herself an empty booth and tucked her mess of shopping bags under the table. Taking off her wet coat she hung it over a wooden chair before using her scarf to wipe her neck of the rainwater that had seeped in. She felt like a drowned rodent, trying to straighten out her limp hair, plastered across her forehead and cheeks in wet strands. Her mascara was probably half way down her face. Clara bent and rummaged in her bag for some tissues but finding none straightened up again and scanned the room for some serviettes.

He was sitting at the end of the balcony looking straight at her. Clara gasped and then swallowed self-consciously. The Doctor didn't move from his position stretched on one of the chaise longues, book in hand, his jacket falling open to reveal the red lining. His face was absolutely impassive, but his eyes bore into her and he refused to look away.

At once a dozen thoughts crossed Clara's mind. Why was he here? Wasn't he supposed to be King of Gallifrey by now? And never mind why was he here on earth, why was he in a bookshop at Christmas time? And what was that feeling she was feeling? Was it joy or relief or panic? Was the world in fact ending and he had popped over to the planet to save the human race again? Was this Christmas going to be as disastrous as the last and if so why did he keep having to do that to her? Ruining Christmas?

And more pressingly, what did she do now?

Clara tore her eyes away from him and looked down at her coffee on the booth table. She couldn't just ignore him but she didn't know what to say either. She tentatively touched her cup. She could go over. Say hello. Just old friends having coffee, a chance meeting in a bookshop, perfectly normal. Except there was nothing normal about meeting a two thousand year old alien in a bookshop for coffee. Especially when you miss that two thousand year old alien horribly and you're frightened you won't be able to keep that from him and he'll find out the truth about your dead boyfriend and how miserable the last few months have been and how much you'd really like to just get into that big blue box and fly away from it all for a while with your best friend.

'Hello Clara,' he said and she jumped so hard the coffee swilled over the edge of her cup. The Doctor handed her a serviette as though he had predicted this and she looked up at him with a mixture of embarrassment and nerves.

'Shouldn't sneak up on people,' she said taking the napkin and busying herself with wiping the saucer of her beverage. She could feel his eyes on her face.

'I wasn't aware I'd sneaked,' he said levelly, 'I'm sorry.'

Clara finished tidying up the spill and risked cautiously raising her eyes to meet his. He looked back at her with the very slightest hint of uncertainty. So, it was awkward for both of them.

The Doctor glanced at the booth, 'May I?' Clara nodded. They both slipped into their respective sides and almost immediately mirrored one another, heads down, hands clasped on the table in front of them. Clara noticed and put hers under the table, wiping sudden clamminess down her skirt. The Doctor kept his where they were, studying them, worrying them against one another slightly. She exhaled a little more loudly than she intended.

'So…' she started.

'Clara please relax you're putting me on edge,' he said suddenly.

'Sorry,' she tensed. The Doctor sighed at her. 'Sorry,' she said again.

'We can have coffee,' he said echoing her recent thoughts, 'Two old… friends. It's quite normal.'

'Normal, right.'

'Clara!'

'What?'

He pushed back from the table and leaned against the booth's couch. 'Stop it!'

'Stop what?'

'This!' he waved at her, 'Relax for goodness sake, it's only me. How many times have we had coffee?'

Clara looked at him and suddenly found herself smiling. He hadn't really changed. The same clothes, the same grey-blue eyes flashing at her with impatience and a hint of the warmth she knew lay under his harsher exterior. The same way he was gesturing at her now in despair at his little pudding brained companion.

'Lots of times,' she answered.

'Thank you,' he said in triumph.

'But not lots of times recently,' she added.

'Well then even more reason to stop being all standoffish and catch up,' he remarked.

'Me? Standoffish?' Clara scoffed, 'You are telling me I'm standoffish?'

'Well you are, you're tense, you're sweating…'

'Sweating?'

'I can smell it,' he said by way of explanation, 'Your anxiety in your sweat.'

Clara made an offended face, 'Thanks a lot.'

'Well it's your sweat. Not my fault it's seeping out of every pore because you're tense.'

'Shut up!'

They both looked down at the table, at their hands. After a second they both risked a furtive glance at the other. Clara's smile burst out unbidden at last.

'How are you?' she asked with genuine warmth. The Doctor's posture altered slightly and she could have sworn that his body slumped a little with relief in the same way hers did when she caught his slight answering smile.

'I'm as I always am,' he said, 'You?'

'The same mainly,' she avoided his gaze a little before moving quickly on. 'Why are you here? I mean in a bookshop?'

The Doctor drew in a breath and looked about him, down over the bannister to his left at the milling shoppers below. In the middle of the crowd a large man dressed as Santa Claus was ho ho ho-ing and for a second he looked up at them both and smiled. The Doctor frowned, 'They do good coffee,' he said.

Clara pulled a face at him. 'Well yes they do, but isn't it rather a long way to come for good coffee, from Gallifrey?'

He ignored her, 'And it has a nice atmosphere, peaceful, bookish. I like the furniture.'

'But….'

'I just like the place, Clara,' he said quickly. 'Why are you here?'

'I live here.'

'In the bookshop?'

'No in town. This is my bit of town so it's not weird for me to be here doing my Christmas shopping in December. It's weird for you to be here drinking coffee in my town light years away from your planet.'

He pursed his lips slightly and glanced away, 'Yes, I suppose it is when you put it that way.'

'I thought it wasn't commutable?'

'What?'

'Gallifrey. Really far away. Not commutable you said.'

'Oh. That. Well…'

Clara stared hard at him realisation dawning. She suddenly let both hands hit the table hard with a thump that made the crockery rattle and a few patrons turn their heads towards them.

'You haven't found it have you?' she said.

'Keep your voice down,' the Doctor hissed back at her in a strange moment of role reversal, in the past it had always been him who had been socially incompetent. Clara glanced round at the surprised coffee drinkers at other nearby tables. She lowered her voice to an angry whisper.

'Well you haven't have you?'

He looked up at her with a somewhat pained expression.

'Well?' she pushed.

'No,' he admitted.

Clara flung herself back in the booth and raised her hands in despair. 'You idiot!' She looked back at him and managed to clamp her jaw shut and regain some control but the anger didn't go from her voice yet. 'You told me you'd found it, that you were heading back there at last, that you were going to be OK and you wouldn't be coming back here because you'd be too busy there.'

'Well… yes… more or less.'

'But instead you're here. Still. Again. But I let you go,' she continued, 'Because I thought you were finally happy.'

'Yes…'

'Well are you?'

'Am I what?'

'Happy?'

The Doctor drew himself up under her fiery gaze. 'Clara what does any of this matter? So I lied about Gallifrey,' she glared at him, 'But you would have to have 'let me go' as you put it anyway. You have a life here, you always did and you were more and more torn between that and going on silly adventures with me. You were going to choose your life anyway I just made it a bit easier for you.'

'By lying.'

'Yes. By lying,' he bit back.

'You 'made my life easier' by lying?' she growled out at him 'You… you have no idea…' The Doctor's eyebrows twitched at her tone.

'I didn't want you feeling guilty for sending me away,' he said, 'It's OK Clara I understand it I really do.'

'Shut up!' she retorted, 'Shut up you stupid, stupid idiotic…'

'Clara…' he winced and looked round at the other tables again.

'… stupid alien!' she finished. 'I wouldn't have felt guilty.'

'Oh.' He looked a bit hurt.

'I wouldn't have felt guilty because I wouldn't have let you go.'

'Clara you say that but…'

'I wouldn't have!' she protested, 'I had nothing to stay here for, I didn't want to lose my best friend too!'

'But…'

Clara suddenly covered her face with her hands and let out a frustrated grumble.

'Um…' the Doctor said. She dropped her hands and looked directly at him. The Doctor attempted a change of subject. 'So, on a more positive note, how is PE these days?'

Clara dropped her head to the table and let it lay there with her forehead on the polished wood. The Doctor peered at her.

'Danny,' she said, her voice muffled by furniture, 'His name was Danny.'

'Fine… Danny… wait… was? 'Nothing to stay for?' What do you mean?'

'Yes, was, and no, nothing to stay for,' Clara lifted her head again and looked at him a little awkwardly. She paused, 'I might not have been totally truthful with you either.'

The Doctor's face darkened. 'What?' he said lowly.

'But it wasn't an outright lie, you made an assumption,' she quickly added.

'He's still dead isn't he?' he said.

'Yes.'

The Doctor covered his eyes with one hand. 'For goodness sake Clara couldn't he get anything right, he gets a free pass to being alive again, something no-one on earth has ever had, and he doesn't use it?'

Clara baulked at his rather cutting tone, 'He did use it,' she said quietly, 'He just gave it to someone else. He did a good thing, a hard thing, but a good one.'

The Doctor let out a final exasperated breath and leaned back. Clara looked at him and he looked back. 'So in summary,' he said, 'I lied, you lied, nothing's changed.'

'Pretty much,' she agreed.

'Great,' he said.

They both looked down over the shoppers wending their way through stacks of shelves like laboratory mice in a maze.

'Why are you really here?' Clara asked without looking back at him.

The Doctor pinched the bridge of his nose. 'I found this place one Wednesday when you had flu and couldn't come with me. Passed the day here instead, went back a few times. It has… pleasant associations.'

'Is that your way of saying you missed me?' she let her cheeks dimple and gave him her best doe eyes. The Doctor let out a huff.

'I only live about a mile from here you could have just dropped in,' Clara said.

'No I couldn't.'

'I come here a lot, to get texts for class and things… You must have known there was a chance you might bump into me?' Clara queried with something of a smile. He shifted in his seat.

'I wouldn't allow such a thing. I know your movements Clara and I have a time machine, I wouldn't just 'bump into you.''

'So more like you were stalking me from a distance,' she giggled.

'I was not stalking you!' he snapped.

'Alright! Joking!'

'I wasn't stalking you, Clara,' he said more softly, 'I just wanted the opportunity to… to see you were OK. Just now and then.'

Clara's gaze softened and hesitantly she reached out for his hand, 'Silly,' she muttered, 'At least you had that option, I don't have a time machine to check up on you.'

'I don't need checking up on,'

She snorted but held onto his hand when she felt his fingers tighten over hers. They sat for a moment like that listening to the hum of the people below and around them and the faint Christmas music being piped through distant speakers.

'Your coffee has gone cold,' the Doctor said.

'Yes. And I still have to get Gran's present.'

He caught her eye. 'I know this little market…' he started and she immediately knew that tone. Nothing had changed indeed.

'Where's the TARDIS?' Clara cut him off with a grin, 'Let's go,' and she pulled him up by the hand before ducking under the table. 'Wait, wait! You're carrying the bags!'