"Always," the Doctor replied, finally coming home for the holidays.
The pod landed back in the Dorset garden on Christmas morning. The forest souls departed for the nebula, safe. And there, standing in the morning mist next to a charred but intact bomber, was Reg. Madge’s grief had acted as a lighthouse, pulling him through the rift she’d opened in the sky. [S7E0] The Doctor, the Widow and the Wardrobe
The year was 1941, and Madge Arwell was a woman holding the world together with nothing but grit and a fading hope. Her husband, Reg, was missing in action—his bomber lost over the English Channel. She hadn't told her children, Lily and Cyril, yet. She couldn't. Not at Christmas. "Always," the Doctor replied, finally coming home for
"Don't open it," he warned, his eyes twinkling. "Not until Christmas morning. It’s a portal—I mean, a present!" And there, standing in the morning mist next
As she flew through the stars, the Doctor told her to focus on home. Madge focused on Reg. She focused so hard on the memory of his plane falling into the dark that the pod didn't just fly through space—it tethered itself to him.