Chapter One

He's running around chaotically, grinning like a maniac as he usually does when met with an exciting challenge. What he considers to be a challenge is a bit of a debate, but there isn't much point in trying, unless you like to go round in circles with yourself as much as he does.

There's no stopping the mad man as he presses quite nearly all the buttons and pulls all the levers while jumping from one turn of the console to the other. He spins around on his heels with a clap of his hands and laughs, "A party, you want. A party you will get, Clara Oswald! Ha!"

Clara raises an eyebrow, arms crossed. "This better not be another tea time with the Queen on top of Buckingham Palace, is it, Doctor?"

"No!" he frowns, a whine in his voice. "That was a once in a lifetime opportunity, won't come again. No, I'm afraid we can't party quite that hard this time."

Clara's eyes are fixed to the ceiling, "So there will be drinks? Cocktails? A dance floor? People falling in love just for one night? And I don't mean a dinner-theater viewing of the Nutcracker in space." She nearly slaps herself on the forehead at the irony.

The Time Lord nut in question, meanwhile, is bubbling with excitement and completely ignores her condescending tone and innuendo. "You asked me for a party, Clara. I'm giving you the biggest party that ever happened in the history of parties," he's going for a dramatic pause now with his arms wide open for effect. Clara waits with a tepid expression of disbelief. "New Year's Eve!" the Doctor exclaims with a grin.

"Okay. Which New Year's Eve?" Clara shakes her head with fond irritation.

The Doctor's arms slowly lower. He has a small smile on his face, and Clara can feel the energy of the console room dropping into something more serious. "Get dressed. The closet below the console has some appropriate attire for you."

She nearly asks what he will be wearing, but stops herself. The Doctor always dresses as himself, no matter where or when they go. Another circular debate not worth attempting. Clara busies herself and walks quickly down the stairs to the closet.

It's been five days since they "saved" Gallifrey, but no word on the fate of the Time Lords has come since. The Doctor remained quiet and sullen for the first three days and spent most of his time with his head jammed underneath the console. Apparently the Tardis was overexerted from their gallivanting through the Doctor's time stream and needed major repair. On the fourth day, he proclaimed loudly that he was finished and proceeded to read an entire book and drink a copious amount of tea for the rest of the day.

Clara knew better than to bother him. If this was his way of coping with an extreme amount of stress and trauma he had attempted to bury inside him for hundreds of years, who was she to judge? It did make her feel sad to see him try to cover it however; he occasionally would give her fake little smiles that didn't reach his eyes when he noticed her watching him.

Today, she saw him twitching in the console room, looking longingly at the scanner and terribly bored. So she decided that a night of drinking and dancing, her own usual way of coping, might be a good idea. Only after she suggested it to the 1100 year old man with an innocent boyish face did she realize that she may have made a tiny mistake.

"What's taking so long? Clara! Come on or we're going to miss it!"

Clara lets out a little growl, "Comin'!" Okay, dresses, dresses. Wow. The closet is jam-packed with sexy little dresses and dozens of different colored heels, and Clara has simply been standing there staring at it's glory.

She pulls out a particularly scandalous black leather dress covered in dark blue gems. Attached to the hanger is a matching choker necklace. Clara allows a devious grin to overtake her face. If this party is what she asked the Doctor for, then this would be the perfect outfit. With a great pair of black heels that click automatically onto her feet, Clara quickly dusts on some dark eye shadow and pulls her hair into a loose bun while using the mirror on the door of the closet to check herself out.

"Okay, I'm ready!" Clara hops up the stairs and can't help a mischievous grin when she sees the Doctor has his back turned, fully expecting him to be shocked and embarrassed out of his bowtie at how she looks when he gets a peek at what she picked.

When he turns to see her, the Doctor stops and stands completely still. His jaw drops, and then of course, his hands go up to his bowtie to fiddle with it, but not quite in the way she expected. There's a dark gleam in his eye that she's never seen before. "You.. you can't wear that! That is ceremonial dress of the Pixmie people. You would get confused for.. something else."

Her eyebrows go up, "Something else? ..And that's all you're going to say about it, isn't it?" Clara looks down at herself, "This is pretty similar to something I can likely buy somewhere in London, no one will be able to tell. Come on! Let's go!"

The Doctor still has a reluctant expression that has now turned to worry and mixed frustration. "I suppose it will be a bit dark in there and hard to see. I do advise against it, though! Stay close to me, just in case."

"Advice taken, and understood. Now can we go? Where are we?" Clara pulls him toward the door with a smile. Time to get this Time man out of his shell a bit, and loosen up.

Together they open up the Tardis doors, and Clara feels an explosion of thrill in her chest. This is it, the part she lives for. The moment when she's standing in two different places at once as they put one foot out of the ship and into the unknown.

The Doctor is smiling again, "New Year's Eve! The year 5000."

They are standing in a very tight closet.

"Ah. Yes, well, it would be, if we just open this door," another pause for dramatic effect, and the Doctor pushes open the closet's door.

Clara's eyes nearly pop out of her head.

"New Year's Eve! The year 5000," he repeats with a laugh in his voice. The Doctor leads his companion out of the closet and onto a red carpet that sprawls down a massive flight of stairs. It is an enormous and beautiful ballroom dance hall, many more times the size of a cathedral. Music is booming from every direction with speakers lining the walls, which are also covered in many different sized clocks. There are flashing disco lights that dance to the music, the smell of alcohol and smoke, and everywhere, absolutely everywhere, there are people scantily clad in outrageous outfits who are dancing, touching, laughing and kissing. Some of them notice their presence and eye the Doctor and Clara up and down. The array of people are so diverse in ethnicity, gender, and even species, more than Clara had ever dreamed possible.

She lets out a howl, "Wow! Doctor, this is amazin'! Where are we?"

"This is the satellite Rainbow 7, home to the largest club this side of the galaxy. Issues with solar flares and flooding down on Earth created the need to hold big parties somewhere else, but a New Year's party wouldn't be the same without any attachment to the planet Earth. You humans are well known now throughout the stars for your wild parties and liberal pheromones." The Doctor glances over at her with a small smirk, "Do you like it?"

A couple of blue-skinned women in bikinis slide by them with flirty giggles. One of them blows a kiss at the Doctor, and he chuckles in response.

Clara watches with detached bemusement and a pang of jealousy. "It's… interesting."

"Interesting? Ha! Bah!" the Doctor huffs. "You ask me for the biggest party ever, and I give it to you, and it's just interesting?"

The human girl admonishes herself silently. "No, no, it's not that," Clara turns her body to him and pulls him into a half-hug. "It's amazin', really Doctor. I'm impressed. It's exactly what I wanted. Thank you." They share a sweet smile, and Clara feels her heart beating just a little faster the way it usually does when he gives her a look like that. So beautiful.

"Right then, Clara Oswald," he claps his hands together. "I only came for the dancing. Shall we?"

She laughs, "Doctor, I think I need a drink before I can dance with you."

"There is nothing wrong with my dancing!" he rebuffs in mock offense. "I'll have you know I won the 45th Annual Free-Style Dancing Competition of Cassiopeia!"

Clara's eyes are up to the ceiling again, "Were you competing against giraffes?" She pulls at his arm as they walk toward the closest bar, not hearing his answer as the music gets louder. At the bar, Clara catches the eye of the barmaid, puts up two fingers, and is presented with two drinks of questionable substance.

The Doctor, however, is delighted. "Ah, a Fruity Fairie, haven't had one of these in a good number of centuries," he takes one of the glasses and examines it carefully. "You beauty."

Clara watches with curious amusement.

Suddenly the Doctor downs the drink all in one gulp, and when he exhales a tickle of fire releases from his mouth. Clara yelps in surprise and laughs. "What!?" she screams over the music.

The Time Lord glances at her with a mischievous look. "All in one! Quickly!" he yells at her.

Clara takes her glass and peers into it. The liquid is hot pink with little pieces of strawberry and blueberry in it. How exactly would this cause her to breathe fire? But she decides to go for it and downs the drink in one swig.

When the small flames come out of her mouth as she exhales, her mouth feels tingly and warm. Clara starts to notice that her whole body feels warm and almost melting into the floor. A sweet and fuzzy intoxication washes over her, and she feels like she's had several drinks after only one shot. Clara giggles.

The Doctor is paying the barmaid with strange little silver coins and then he leads Clara to the dance floor. The music playing is a bizarre mixture of funk, hip hop, and classical orchestral music. The beat is medium paced, though, so Clara is able to swing her hips to it well enough to keep up with the Doctor, who is going all out. His arms wave frantically in the air as his knees shake to and fro.

Clara lets out a laugh. This is exactly what she wanted. To see the ancient alien happy and relaxed after so much turmoil. She wonders if he feels the alcohol the same way she does, if he feels it at all. It's hard to tell with the dim lighting and various bodies dancing so near them blocking her view of him for a moment.

"Ain't you gorgeous?" a deep gravelly voice breathes in her ear.

She frowns and turns to look at the large man peering down at her. He's only wearing bright orange spandex shorts and has a green mohawk. He is swaying in time with her body, and he's starting to get a bit too close for comfort. His hands grab her hips.

"Hey!" Clara tries to push him off, but he's incredibly strong, and only manages to put herself closer to him.

"What's wrong, baby girl? Ain't you here for a little fun?" he asks, and despite the rank smell of alcohol on his breath, Clara can see the sincerity in his eyes.

Before she has time to respond in polite refusal, she finds another male body stepping in between them with aggressive strength.

The choker around her neck is being lightly pulled, and Clara realizes it is the Doctor's finger that has reached between the necklace and her skin to pull her close to him.

He growls, "Don't you see she is taken!"

The large man puts up his hands in apology, "Woah, sorry man! Didn't see no marker on her."

The Doctor reaches into a pocket of his purple jacket and presents the key to the Tardis. Without words, and still without looking her in the eye, he removes the necklace just long enough to string the key onto it. The key, cool and metallic against her skin, now rests at the front of her neck on the choker.

He glances back up at the large Mohawk man with eyes burning something terribly ferocious and dark. "There. Now you see. She is not available."

The man shrugs, "Geez, okay, I get it. Damn Pixmies.." He disappears back into the crowd of dancers surrounding them.

Clara can hardly contain herself, she is so confused, and angry, and turned on. The Doctor has just defended her and claimed her for his own! From what, exactly, and why, she isn't sure. Something fishy is going on, and he has left her out of the loop once again. She can feel his hesitation to look directly at her or speak to her, and in that moment, she can't stand him.

He has the courage to face down a giant man twice his size, but isn't able to properly talk to her?

Clara stomps off the dance floor and ignores his cries to wait. At some point, she can no longer feel him behind her, having gotten lost in the crowd. She feels a satisfying smirk of victory on her face, but is also terrified at the same time. She looks around.

Nothing looks familiar, and she has no idea where she has walked to, or where the Doctor is.

Shit.

Clara feels small and gazes around her for any sign of the closet with the Tardis or the Doctor.

There are people dancing, talking and drinking everywhere in various areas marked off as lounges or dance floors or bars. Only now does she notice that the touching and kissing going on is between so many people; same gender, opposite gender, multiple people at once. There are other women and men dressed similarly to her with a black choker necklace on, some with a small item on it and some without.

Now that she has the Tardis key on her necklace, no one seems to be paying much attention to her. She reaches up to feel it. It is cold to the touch. The warmth of the drink is quickly leaving her.

"You look lost."

Clara gasps. A man is suddenly standing right beside her. It would seem he is the only one to have taken notice of her standing there. "No. I'm not," she rebukes stubbornly.

"Really." It's not a question. She can sense the amusement in his American accented voice.

She turns to get a good look at him. He appears like the average human of her time and is dressed rather similarly to the Doctor. He has a button down dress shirt on, black slacks, military boots, and a large blue coat that nearly reaches the floor. His starting to grey brown hair is gelled and sleek, and he's grinning at her with a knowing smirk.

There's a timeless quality to his eyes that she wants to see in a better light in order to get a full glimpse of. He's dazzlingly handsome, if a bit older looking, but it's like he's out of place with the rest of their surroundings. He doesn't seem to belong here anymore than she does.

He seems to be analyzing her as closely as she is him, and he comes to a conclusion with a nod of his head. "Yep. You're totally lost."

Clara can't help but smile, "I guess you're right. I have no idea where the hell I am."

"Interesting phenomenon to happen to a person on a satellite," he's laughing at her silently. "And I have to say, that is an interesting marker on your necklace there. Made it a little difficult to see you. Any reason you'd want to hide in as public a place as this?"

She blushes, "To be honest, I don't even know what the meaning of the marker is."

He raises an eyebrow, "Aren't you a Pixmie?"

"Nope. Human."

"Ah. Victim of a New Year's Eve prank?" she lets him believe that, since it's almost true. "The Pixmies are known for ceremonial prostitution. They believe that sex is the ultimate path to be one with God, and that taking ownership of their sexual partner is the ability to control their own lives. Without a marker, a Pixmie with a necklace like that is available for sale."

"For sale?!" Clara nearly shrieks.

He laughs with a good natured humor, "So you didn't know. But you have a marker now, so where is your owner?"

"He does not own me!" now she really is screaming. Clara can feel her face turning red as she fumes. "That ridiculous man! He didn't bother to tell me, no warning at all, and brings me to this place! Just lets me walk around with this necklace on like a bloody idiot! And then he marks me as if he owns me, well I'll have you know, that no one owns Clara Oswald, she is her own master!"

"Woah!" he puts up his hands in mock arrest. "I can see that. And might I say, Miss Oswald, it is a pleasure to meet you," his knowing smile as he puts out a hand to shake is instantly contagious.

When Clara takes his hand, she hears a familiar voice calling her name from the side.

The Doctor runs up to them with an impressive speed, and then suddenly stops short a few feet away. He is staring, bewildered, at the sight in front of him. His wide eyes shift from Clara, to the man, and to their holding hands. He seems to be speechless.

"So I was right," the man states in a low tone. "Not every day you see a young and beautiful woman of Earth standing in a strange place with a perception filter around her neck, looking completely out of her depth and time. Only one man in the whole Universe could have brought her here."

The Doctor's expression darkens.

Clara takes her hand back. She's still angry with the Time Lord, and so her voice is sharp, "What's going on, Doctor?"

"Yeah," the man shakes his head with that fond irritation that Clara often finds herself doing in the Doctor's presence. "What is going on, Doctor?"

Suddenly the two men are laughing uproariously, hugging and shaking hands.

Clara can't even begin to believe what a confusing night this has become. She crosses her arms in frustration. The two men are talking excitedly and close together. The Doctor's arms are increasingly animated in their halted swinging fashion, and the man seems to grow taller as he stands at his full height, eyebrows raised and voice climbing to a higher tone. Clara catches snippets of their conversation ranging from, "I thought you were dead!" to "How old are you now? You look old!" and then "You look like a baby!" and "I can't believe you're really here!"

She decides to take matters into her own hands by screaming, "Shut up!"

They stop and turn to her with surprise on their faces, as if they had forgotten she was there.

Clara rolls her eyes, "Doctor, what the hell is going on! Who is this man? What is this place? Why did you let me wear this necklace?! Who do you think you are owning me?!" With each question, she gets increasingly angrier.

The Time Lord is back to his shy and embarrassed bowtie fingering, "Ah, yes, Clara. I'm so sorry. This is Captain Jack Harkness."

"How'd ye do, ma'am," he salutes her.

"No flirting," the Doctor warns him with a flash of those dark eyes.

Jack pouts, "I was only saying hello."

"And this is satellite Rainbow 7, like I said," the Doctor continues, ignoring Jack. "The greatest New Year's Eve party is happening right now on the eve of the year 5000. You humans have reached a point in your sexual revolution when you're able and willing to have sex with anyone, anywhere, and for whatever reason you like. Inter-species, even. There are various species that are friends to the human race here tonight, celebrating the night along with you. It is known as one of the greatest celebrations of humanity of all time."

She raises an eyebrow and purses her lips.

"I tried to warn you about the outfit.." the Doctor coughs and Clara can see right through his lie.

He was more than okay with her putting that dress and collar on. That was why it was in the closet in the first place. When he saw her wearing it, he fixed his bowtie to cover the fact that he was immensely pleased that she had picked it, but he wasn't able to hide that dark gleam in his eye.

Now that Clara sees it again in the ancient alien's burning glance at her, she can tell how much he wants her.

So much for the innocence of the 1100 year old man's boyish face.

To be continued…

A/N: Thanks for reading, please review and follow for more!