"Well, look at you, all happy. That's rare."
"Do you know what's rarer? Second chances. I never get a second chance, so what happened this time? Don't even know who to thank."
The Doctor and Clara ran into the Tardis together, it soon dematerialised.

Still holding Clara's hand, the Doctor absent-mindedly pressed a button that remembered favorite locations, this one hovering above the earth, out-of-range of all known means of being detected. He had needed to fire up the Tardis quickly, in case Clara changed her mind, or in case the dream crabs or Santa made a reprise. He needed to do anything that would keep this moment alive. He was keenly aware of Clara's hand in his, as his thumb lightly traced the back of hers. She squeezed his in return.

After the dreams within dreams, the walls keeping them apart torn down with such finality, the Doctor had no more inhibitions keeping him from declaring his true feelings for Clara, at least to himself. Such inhibitions were suddenly and firmly a thing of the past. Every argument against relationships suddenly sounding like so much self-important, self-pitying nonsense.

This wasn't just his second chance with Clara, not if he was honest, as he was finally ready to be. It was his third, fourth? How many chances was he going to get? Something in the universe was very keen that they should stick together, and he finally could admit he'd always been, would always be, in agreement.

Being honest with himself, and honest with Clara were two very different things. In the dreams, it had all felt very real. She called him her impossible man, the only other choice besides Danny (whom he did not begrudge). But did she mean him, or the previous one? The way she looked at him in the dreams, the way she was looking at him now... He was absolutely terrified. He'd rather face a Dalek fleet, but he had to be honest, whatever happened. The only thing stopping him was timing. Time was everything.

Clara could hardly process what brought her to this moment, if it was even real, as she dared to believe it was. She started the night like any other Christmas Eve, only to find herself pulled into a death-defying impossible adventure with her best friend, having met and lost wonderful people, aged 62 years and back again, all to end up back on the Tardis, with the one gift she never dared hope to ever ask for or receive. That was life with her impossible man. Always impossible.

She felt a pang of guilt and loss for Danny, a grief she realized with not just a little regret, was becoming easier to cope with over time. He hadn't deserved the way she'd screwed things up so badly. What made her think she could decide her way through love? She did love him, but she'd loved the Doctor too, loved him still. Even if in the end he was able to use his death for a greater purpose, the thought of it ripped her heart out. Yes, Danny Pink would always deserve his five minutes, he deserved at least that.

She found herself actually grateful to the dream-crabs (or Santa?) in a way, as the dreams had finally given her the closure she so badly needed. "A man died, don't be so self-centered," she chastised her own thoughts.

Events in time were like that. If she learned nothing else from her life with the Doctor, it was that you had to embrace the wonderful along with the terrible, for it was the light combined with the shade that would lead to who you actually were in the now. Only some points were fixed, we were all still changeable. Her train of thought wandered back to reflecting on the process of letting go. There was a part of her that would always love Danny, but she was finally giving herself permission to move on.

Her mind snapped back to the present's current problem. How to keep this moment going? It was usually at this point that she might say something stupid, push too hard, force her hand, make the Doctor retreat back into himself. Not this time.

She peered up at him, the corners of her mouth tugged into a grin that threatened to etch itself permanently onto her face. She broke off contact with his hand and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, burying her head in his side. The Doctor responded in a way she never thought possible until tonight. Without hesitation he wrapped his free arm around her, pulling her close.

"Where to, Boss?" He peered down at her, meeting her gaze, and returning its warmth.

"Paternoster, do you think the gang would be up for a Christmas visit?"

His face lit up. He was serious in the dream about continuing the tradition. He had been serious in the dream about many things. "Yes! A Christmas where nothing happens! We can wear funny jumpers, listen to terrible music, just a like a normal coup... just like normal."

No longer able to contain his energy, and wanting to recover from saying too much too soon, he broke the embrace to almost dance and turn as new ideas continued to pop into his head and flow directly out of his mouth, with no editor in between. "I'm sure I have some truly awful Christmas jumpers!" he continued on, scurrying into the wardrobe section of the Tardis.

Clara raised an eyebrow and smirked at the turn of phrase he'd quickly and unsuccessfully covered up. "...just like a normal couple." she broke into a schoolgirl giggle in spite of herself. "Come on Oswald, don't get your hopes too high just yet. Just be happy you're back together," her thoughts making an attempt to will herself back into some semblance of managing expectations.

Her train of thought was interrupted by shouted descriptions of terrible Christmas jumpers past. Would she like the one with the cats covered in lights that lit up? Or, would she rather the one with the events of Grandma Got Run-over by a Reindeer embroidered into it, with a button you could press to listen to the song? She didn't want to know how or where he got those jumpers. "No thanks! I'm good. I've got clothes in my room, if it's not already deleted!" she shouted in reply.

The Tardis landed, and he quickly shuffled back in, the jumper idea abandoned. "You're no fun!" he mock-pouted.

Without thinking, Clara approached him slowly as he stayed frozen and transfixed. She wrapped her arm around his, entwining their fingers together, gently tugging so that he'd drop his shoulder a little to meet her halfway. His head turned slowly towards her as he did so, his eyes hooded. She whispered in his ear, her voice pitched more huskily than she planned, "Oh, but I can be fun, lots of fun. Just give me something fun to do, something that isn't Christmas jumpers." She met his eyes steadily as she unconsciously licked her lips. The fire in his eyes was unmistakable. It took her breath away.