A Tale of the Long Dead

Chapter 1: The Companions

The Doctor and Clara made their way back into the TARDIS, making sure not to touch anything, since their recent adventure with the Raxacoricofallapatorians left them covered in vinegar. "So, Clara, where to next?" The Doctor asked his companion, eager to start on another trip.

Awkwardly trying not to let her arms touch her sides because of how messy she was, Clara stared at the bewildering Time Lord, wondering how he could pilot such a complicated machine, yet miss the obvious that was standing right in front of him. "Actually, Doctor, I'd rather fancy a shower, yeah? I mean, don't get me wrong, fighting monsters is great... I'm just not sure how well I would do that while smelling like a salad." "Oh, right, yes! That's fine, you can just tidy up a bit, then we'll be off!" He gave her his biggest grin, positive that she would be just as excited as he was.

As Clara turned away into the depths of the TARDIS' corridors, towards her room, The Doctor finally noticed that maybe he would do well with a shower, too! Once he flew the TARDIS into the time vortex, he jogged down the stairs, and deeper into the TARDIS to find his room. On his way, he began to be lost in thought; thinking back on what Clara could possibly be. He had met her twice before, and she died BOTH times. She could be a Teselecta, but that hardly seemed probable. No, he had scanned her, she was completely human. Perfectly normal! Yet feisty and stubborn at times. Ooh, yes, he did like that about her. And she was the same each time he met her. Though, if he had saved her before, would this 21st century Clara be alive now? The first time, it wasn't his fault, she was already a Dalek, and he was running out of time. He couldn't do anything...right? But in Victorian London... He wasn't paying attention... He was boasting about how wonderful her life with him in the TARDIS would be. He could've saved her! He could've saved all of his companions.

As he pondered on how their lives could've been without him, he noticed that either he strayed WAY of course from his room, or the TARDIS was messing with him, leading him towards his old companions' archived rooms. He ended up in a vast, circular area; all of the walls were completely white. One of the gray doors had a red glowing 'EXIT' sign, which he decide was the rest of the TARDIS, and every other gray door had its own name. A name of either the long dead or the long forgotten. But to him, they were never forgotten, not really. The doors seemed endless, labeled from Susan Foreman, all the way up to Amy and Rory Pond. He closed his eyes tight as he dared not to think of what happened to his beloved Ponds. What tragedy occurred at his hands right after he promised Brian that he'd take care of them.

As he slowly opened his eyes, looking for the exit he had seen before, he noticed that it became harder to see, as if there was a film blocking his vision. He felt something fall onto his cheek, lifting his hand up to his face, he brushed away the tear: he had been crying. His breathing became a bit heavier as he saw the rooms of those he loved the most: Susan Foreman... Rose... He saw Martha's door next. 'You turned her into a soldier' Donna had told him. He hated fighting, yet made her his warrior. ...Donna. She'd never remember. At least with all of the strange stories she'd missed before, she was able to hear about. She would never even be able to know of him.

Then he saw another door.

One he'd rather not translate.

The name was written in the language of The Forest.

He'd had enough. Almost everyday, for the past few weeks, he would go into states of depression, thinking back on his friends, but this time, he was done. He was leaving. Off to take a shower, then make his way to the Console room, where Clara would be waiting for him. Though once he turned around, and was about to touch the red, circular button on the side of the gray door that would let him exit, he heard the sound of air escaping from a door sliding open from behind him. He was prepared to reach for his sonic screwdriver, instantly developing a plan, without moving an inch, on what to do with the intruder that had somehow gotten into his blue box. Yet, before he could reach for his sonic, putting his plan into action, he heard a voice.

"Hello Sweetie"

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