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[Clara sneaks into the labs on Christmas Eve and leaves his gift for him at his workstation. She knows he'll be by before the party, and wants him to have some privacy to open his present.

Inside the wrapped box is a handmade guitar pick painted in a shade of Tardis blue. It's a little larger and more crude than ones you can buy, because she's gone and tried carving something on it for him to remember her by. Etched on the pick is her attempt at a little Gallifreyan, copied from memory from the Tardis console unit. The Tardis had pointed out to her that her name was up there with all the other companions, and she had committed her own to memory as best she could. It's not a perfect etching, but she tried her best to get it just right.

Also inside the box is one of her rings that she wears all the time. He'll likely recognize it as one she's worn off and on ever since they met a long time ago. It's one with her birthstone, citrine that's as clear and bright as the stars she loves so much. There's a note in the box, resting beneath the ring.

Doctor,
Sometimes I wish that I could tell you everything. Tell you what happens in our future, and tell you exactly what you mean to me. After all, certain things shouldn't ever be left unsaid. But I think you know exactly how I feel, and you're just not ready to hear it spoken just yet. One day you will be though. And until that day comes, I want you to have this part of me. Keep it close to you if you like, or store it someplace you can come back to look at it later. But always know that I'm the luckiest person in the entire universe because I was given you to see the most amazing things. The things we've done, Doctor. They've changed who I am. I will never be the same, and I have you to thank. You said once before that you're exactly what I deserve. And I know you meant it to be a terrible, scolding thing. But do you know what, Doctor? We're exactly what the other deserves, two parts of a whole. And I've accepted that it doesn't have to be good or bad. It just is what it is.

Happy Christmas, Doctor.

Love,
Clara

There's a second wrapped package right by the first. It's an index card sized, handbound collection of handwritten cue cards. There's about 50 total, 25 cards written front and back. There's a various assortment of (mostly silly and funny) cues and situations for him to use if he's ever in a pinch. There's also some punny jokes intermingled on the cards, and a few sketches of aliens they've encountered on their adventures together. On the very back is a drawing she tried to make of herself, paired with the words "run you clever boy, and remember". He'll likely remember her saying that a few times, a long time ago. Back when she was still a mystery and he was in another lifetime. These words hold a deeper meaning to her now, and she hopes that just maybe the cards will go back with him in his pocket once he leaves this place. And once they reach the end of their story he'll be able to keep a piece of her that lets him remember her and their time together.]