Clara was alive. The thought rushed through his mind, took over his entire body, and before he quite realised it, he was hugging her tightly, sweeping her off her feet in a bone-cracking embrace. But once the initial shock wore off, he knew what must have happened: however they'd come here, it must have been from different points in their respective timelines. He didn't remember Clara wearing a blue dress like this, but maybe it was from a time she'd been without him. It was possible.

He shoved back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him; if Clara was from the past, then he couldn't let her know about her future, couldn't break down like he wanted to. Instead, he had to pretend that everything was perfectly normal.

"I'm glad you made it," he said once he finally let go, forcing a smile. "I couldn't enjoy the celebration without you." That much was true, anyway.