Author's Notes: I did this story a while back and intended it to be just a one-off lark, but I sort of had this idea and a few people seemed to like it. In continuity, just put this after Hide, I suppose and after the last story. Thank you again and happy reading!

James Bond awoke, shaking off the dregs of what he had thought was last night's questionable Vodka, but he now suspected was something stronger, snuck into his drink by one of Axo's agents, no doubt.

But probably not the one dead in the bed next to him, her long wavy brown hair splayed out on the bed as she wore the red cocktail dress from the night before. What had her name been? Clara Oswin. The effects of the drug were only just starting to wear off.

There was a knock at the door.

James searched for his Walther and put on the silencer as the knock became a relentless pounding.

"Hello! Anyone home?"

He instantly knew the voice and looked through the keyhole to see the Doctor staring in.

"It's me! I came by for a bit of father-son time!"

Bond then noticed the woman standing next to him.

Who looked an awful lot like the woman that was dead in his bed.

Bond struggled to find his dressing gown and opened the door a crack.

"What are you doing here?," Bond asked.

"I wanted to say hi! Meet Clara, she's my new companion. Clara, this is James."

"Hello," said Clara.

"Clara, you don't have a twin, do you?," asked Bond.

"No."

"Right, right... sorry, could you just wait out here? I have to talk to him. Alone," he said yanking the Doctor inside.

Bond yanked the Doctor in.

"Right, what are you really doing here?," asked Bond.

"What? No, just father-son time! Bonding and all that!"

"Who's the girl?"

"That's actually quite a good question. You don't know the answer, do you?"

"Look in the bed."

The Doctor turned, dropped his jaw in shock and covered his eyes. He turned back. "You have a girl in your bed!"

"Notice anything else?"

The Doctor looked back. "You have a dead girl in your bed!"

"Keep going."

"Why do you have a dead girl in your bed?!"

"How should I know?"

"You're acting rather nonchalant about the whole thing!"

"Well, this does happen fairly often."

"How many times have you woken up with a dead girl in your bed?"

There was silence.

"Are you counting?," the Doctor asked in disbelief.

"Jill, Aki-" Bond paused. "Wait, are we counting literally I woke up and they were dead or I slept with them and they were dead shortly thereafter? That would be Lisl, Paris, Strawberry..."

The Doctor shook his head. "What is wrong with you?"

"I mean, there was Plenty, I would have slept with her, but she got tossed out a window. She was fine, though."

"Her name was Plenty?"

"Plenty O'Toole."

"Her name was Plenty O'Toole?"

"Who are you to criticize names?"

"Who names their daughter Plenty O'Toole? That's just asking for her to, to-"

"To what?," Bond pressed.

"Well, look in the bed if you want to know where the end of that thought goes!"

"Have you noticed anything about the girl in my bed?"

"You mean that she's dead?," the Doctor screeched.

"Besides that!," Bond shouted.

The Doctor turned. He finally noticed the resemblance to Clara. "Oh. Right. That happens."

"What do you mean that happens?," Bond asked. "Who's being nonchalant now?"

"Well, you see, I've sort of run into Clara before. The first time she was a Dalek who liked to make souffles-"

"A souffle baking Dalek?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Well, she didn't realize she was a Dalek."

"Weren't the toilet plunger and mixer attachment an indication? Though maybe the mixer helped with the souffles..."

"Then we met again in Victorian London, she was a governess and a barmaid and then she died-"

"She died?"

"Yes."

"And she came back?"

"I'm not sure because she doesn't remember either of those times. Oh, and the Dalek thing was in the future and I found this empathic woman to tell me she was a normal girl. That was after we were on a Soviet submarine. I thought of mentioning you, but I didn't want any special treatment."

"You were on a Soviet submarine and you thought of mentioning your son, James Bond?"

"Bad idea?"

"Special treatment would have been a bullet in your skull!"

"Good thing I didn't, then."

Bond nodded. "Yeah."

There was knocking on the door. "Doctor? Do I have to stand out here all day?"

The Doctor looked at James. "Your Clara. What do you know about her?," he said motioning at the bed.

"Well, her name was Clara Oswin."

"Yes? What else?"

"She was wearing a red dress."

"Did she like to make souffles? Or work with children?"

"We didn't really discuss much of anything."

"Oh, yes, I forgot! Perish the thought you should have a conversation with the woman you're about to sleep with!"

Clara knocked again. "Hello? Hey, guys, if you're going to be locked in there, I think I might go grab a coffee. Does anyone want anything?"

"Vodka!"

"Jammie Dodger!"

"Right, that's one bottle of Vodka and one packet of Jammie Dodgers."

"Who said anything about one?," Bond asked back.

"Right, this is a fun family reunion, I can tell," said Clara.

The Doctor turned back to Bond. "Now, what else do you know about her?"

"I forgot to say what kind of Vodka."

The Doctor groaned. "Are you serious?"

They heard Clara scream. The Doctor and Bond ran into the hall just to see her being dragged away by men in suits.

"Doctor!," Clara shouted.

The men shot at Bond and the Doctor. They ducked down and Bond fired back with his Walther.

The men were off. The Doctor stared at the gun.

"I don't like guns!"

"So I've heard!"

Bond got up and went back in the hotel room. The Doctor came in after him.

"We have to go after Clara! The alive one!," he specified again confronted by the corpse in the bed.

"I'm in my dressing gown!," said Bond, opening the cupboard. "You can't expect me to save the world in my dressing gown."

"Why not? I did."

Bond ignored him. The Doctor watched as Bond gathered an outfit.

"Do you have a bow tie?," asked the Doctor. "We could both wear one. They're cool."

Bond shot him a glare.

"Fine, fine, do your own thing if you must..." the Doctor said, trailing off.