He didn't think, as he looked down into the cradle, of all the impracticalities, all the impossibilities. He spared not one precious moment on the muddled timelines, the realities that broke or might have broken in the past, and the future, and the never-quite-was-except-that-it-was, to bring this to pass. Nor would he flee from any heartsbreak that might yet - would inevitably, he knew - come to pass.
She didn't care, as she pulled her wrap about her and arose from her bed to join him, about the blood and the pain - so much more, and so much longer, than they had anticipated, courtesy of their byzantine and contentious biologies. She dismissed the fractured memories of her nightmare childhood and embraced the fearful love that threatened to explode her hearts right here, right now.
They reached for each other, clung together in joy and took strength from one another, casting off weariness and worry to embrace wonder.
Then she bent down, picked up the little one who slept there, and brought her up to be with them. He looked at her, and at the woman who held her.
"Child of the TARDIS," he whispered to them both. "Next stop, everywhere!"
Around them, the TARDIS thrummed with a joy so intense that the stars beyond Her doors were surely dancing.