I'm rather confused today. That usually doesn't happen to me. I mean, I don't mean to brag, but life has always come in a rather logical sense to me. Even the Doctor has a logical side to him. But there's something else. Something I'm not quite grasping. Perhaps I'm losing my touch?
Of course, it's about the most confusing thing of all: men.
I've never had very good sense with them as a child, and even now I don't really quite get a grasp on them. I've had a boyfriend or two, but nothing you would call rather serious. They just aren't a challenge. They're so simple, and they tend to be lacking in one area or another. One who's good in bed happens to be an idiot, another who's highly intelligent can't be social to save his life and so on and so forth.
So what makes this so difficult? I think it's because I've never ran into a man quite so alien (forgive the pun). I mean, he is rather handsome. Almost too skinny, but with a lean build. He has the mind of a child, finding new toys wherever he treads. He's bizarre, always keeps me on my toes, and doesn't give you two seconds to breathe. One minute I'm chasing a child priestess through an alien street market, the next I'm on a submarine being chased by an enraged Martian, FROM MARS, speaking fluent Russian!
And of course I am loving every minute of it.
Although, running around with a rather attractive man isn't too hard either. If I'm to keep this a secret, I'm rather happy running behind him to watch his rear. However, just running around from galaxy to galaxy would be easy. Too easy. That's why there's this bloody catch.
I think it's when he looks at me. When I gave my parent's leaf to the sun God, the Doctor looked at me with the joy of…I don't know. I want to say a man in love but I don't know what that looks like. He's kissed me on the head like a child, but he looks at me like something I can't quite describe. But he's at least 900 years old! He must have a wife, children, something.
Though he did say once he was the last of his kind. There are so many things I want to ask, but I'm too afraid to. What do you do when you don't know the past of someone you love really care about?
Clara closed her journal, tucked the chewed pen back inside the spine, and placed it back under her pillow. She looked around her room with its lavender walls, the ceiling painted a deep blue with little stars on it. The bed was not nearly as large and lavish as she had seen in some other rooms, but it was big enough, and made her feel at home rather than in some formal mansion.
When had everything become so familiar?
Her fingers itched to write again, but she shook her head. She knew if she started up again, she'd never stop and be in her room for hours trying to write out equations for her heart and her feelings. Thankfully something distracted her from herself.
"Clara!" It was his voice.
She smiled to herself. Strange, she had only known him for a short time, and yet she knew the tone of his voice like she knew the number of stars on the ceiling. He was cross about something.
"Clara!"
"In here!"
The door slid open to reveal a rather frustrated, huffy Doctor. His bowtie was askew, and his fluffy hair was a bit of a mess. Clara thought it was adorable, but kept the feeling to herself to avoid a temper tantrum.
"Oh dear. What did I do this time? You look so cross with me I must have done something rather bad this time."
He gave a hard laugh. "The library is a mess! There are books in there as old as I am, and they're strewn about in a flurry of pages! It's a literary massacre!"
"Oh don't worry. I was just looking for something to write in." She pulled out the journal. The leather looked new, but had the smell of an old book. That was partially why she had chosen it in the first place. She couldn't resist the smell of a book with a history, even if it had no words.
"What do you need a notebook for? Is it a journal?" Suddenly his huffiness was gone and replaced with a sly smirk Clara could see from a mile away.
"No, you can't read it."
The huffiness came back. "Oh why not? I could figure out which boys you fancy, what Sally Sue said the other night that offended you, plenty of things that girls think about!"
"Actually, I wrote down interview questions."
"For who?"
"You, Doctor."
That took him by surprise. "Why would you want to interview me?"
She sighed. "Seriously Doctor, you know practically everything there is to know about me. For goodness sake you stalked me through time. So I think it's high time that I get to know you a little bit better, since the T.A.R.D.I.S. won't let me drive."
"And for good reason."
"Just sit," she demanded. He took a seat opposite her, sitting knee to knee with her on her bench in front of her dresser. "That's good. So! First question. What's the real name behind 'Doctor'."
He pulled on his tie, looking rather uncomfortable. "I can't tell you that one."
Her brows furrowed. "Why not?"
"Because it's something that I can only share with personal family."
"You mean like, parents, wife, kids?"
"Yes."
She wrote that down. Name: unknown…for now. "So did you have a wife? At one point I mean."
He sighed. "That…that I'm not sure about."
There was something in that answer that Clara caught. Something that cried. Something that she decided was better to be left unsaid between them until the time was right. So crossing the question off her list, she cleared her throat and moved on.
"How about this one: why doesn't the T.A.R.D.I.S. like me?"
"She does too!" That seemed to lighten his mood a bit to Clara's relief. For a moment, she thought the lights flickered, and there was a sudden groaning from outside in the hall. "She's a bit the jealous type. She shouldn't be though. She has NOTHING TO BE JEALOUS ABOUT!" he called out into the hallway. An engine somewhere hummed, and Clara giggled a bit while she pictured the large time traveling machine blowing a raspberry at her. "Just ignore her. She just doesn't know you yet. She thought the same of Amy until…" he trailed off.
Another touchy subject, she wrote. He seems to have a lot of touchy subjects. "Doctor?"
He looked up from his lap. The face she saw brought on an ache that she had only felt in fleeting instances, but now it hit her in full force. She realized. "Nine hundred years."
He nodded.
"Nine hundred years of sadness, of loss, of watching and only being able to do so much." After closing the journal and putting it on the dresser behind her, she reached for his hands. "I didn't mean to pull this up for you."
He smiled a little at that. "It's all right. I know I'm a bit 'mysterious' sometimes. It's just some things are better left that way. Besides, I found you! And you're an adventure to be had."
She blushed at his words, only making the ache worse. It didn't help that he had moved a hand to cup her cheek and press his forehead against hers. Like a father, like a friend, or like a lover she wasn't sure. But in her classic form of determination, she decided to find out. All it took was a slight incline of her neck, and her lips pressed against his. It was the slightest of brushes, to merely experiment, to be sure of what he wanted from her. Did the T.A.R.D.I.S. moan? Or was that just her heart releasing the tension it had been holding for far too long?