~10 years ago~

After days of cold and rain, it was a clear night in Paris. A perfect night for Gypsies to have a festival for the citizens of France. A ballet instructor and her young assistant from a local Paris Opera house agreed and brought their young students to see the Gypsies' exhibits as a small treat for working hard and to explore new types of dance. The young ballerinas were both thrilled and frightened by what they saw, but one 9-year-old was mostly curious.

The young ballerinas grew excited when they saw a sign leading into a tent for "the Devil's Child." They begged and pleaded to the lead instructor to let them go inside until she finally agreed. When they went inside, they found that the tent was mostly filled with a giant cage with two people inside. One was a clean shaved man in a worn, but expensive looking suit and a dirt covered child with a bag covering his face. The man stepped forward towards the crowd with a charming grin.

"Welcome my friends! I am Harold Saxon, and this," The Master pointed at the Boy "is the Devil's child!"

The child sat there, hardly giving a reaction to his master and played with a dirty stuffed monkey. His master kicked the ragged toy away, tore the bag from his head. The crowds had a mix reaction. They screamed in horror, they laughed at his misfortune and one woman swooned. His face was young with a bit of a large chin, pale green eyes that changed colors in the light, while his hair flopped in his eyes, his cheeks were sunken from lack of food, but the left side of his face was a disfigurement. It looked as if the skin was peeling to the bone.

"Who believes the Devil's Child should get what's coming to him for being so wicked?" Saxon cried, holding up a stick as if it was a mighty sword and he was to slay a horrid beast.

The crowd cheered as he started to beat the child for 5 minutes straight. As a finale, he grabbed the boy by his matted hair, so the people could see his face one last time, and then shoved him into a pile of mud. The people cheered and laughed at the now even more dirty and bruised child. The lead instructor met the eyes of Saxon with a smirk on her ruby lips and threw coins into the cage which he greedily picked up with the rest of the crowds.

The 9-year-old girl was horrified by what she saw and by the reaction of the people around her. She was slow to leave, but was stopped at the entrance by the sound of a gun cock. She turned around to see a pretty blonde woman in a fancy red dress pointing a gun at Saxon.

"Lucy. My wife." he glared at her "You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?" She asked, then pointed towards the boy "Release him."

"Never." Saxon kicked the boy in the stomach to prove his point.

"Very well." The woman, Lucy, pulled the trigger and shot him in the chest.

He fell onto the boy's lap and gasped out his final words, "Always the women…" he died in his arms.

"W-why, d-did you do that?" The boy stuttered quietly, pushing his former master off him in disgust

"No one deserves what he did to you." She replied, glaring at the dead body that laid face first in the mud.

The girl watched in the shadows, hoping not to be noticed when suddenly she had an urge to sneeze. She tried as hard as she could, but she could not help the quiet "A-Choo!"

Lucy turned and pointed her gun at her. "You! What did you see?"

"I-I saw it all, but I pr-promise not to tell! In fact, I think I can help him." Clara stood up slowly, with her hands in the air, "I live at the Tardis Opera house and I can hide him in the cellars."

Lucy thought for a moment before nodding and lowering her gun, "That is a good idea." She turned to the boy "Theta, go with her."

The boy looked into the girl's eyes searching for any dishonesty or mockery. Finding none, he slowly nodded. He stood, putting the bag back over his head and picking up his stuffed monkey.

"Hurry." Lucy said, opening the gate to the cage and pushing him out towards the small ballerina.

She grabbed his hand in a firm grasp and pulled him into a run toward the opera house.

Minutes later, Lucy was arrested and sent to the "Daleek Asylum." Where Lucy spent her life for a year before it caught fire. She then ran away to London, England, where she fell in love with a Barber named, Benjamin Barker…but that is a story for another time.

The children ran into the Tardis Opera house and snuck into a bared window leading into a small chapel and from there down to the cellars.

"I know it's not the best place to live, but maybe a few dozen candles can light this place up." The girl looked around the cold, dark and damp room, "And they just used a Gondola in the last opera, maybe we can bring it down here so you don't get wet every time you come and go?"

Theta silently looked around the room, and then he turned to look at her with gratitude. "What is your name?"

"Clara." She smiled at him.

"Clara." Theta repeated with a nod of his head, "Don't ever change that."

"Why would I change my name?" She raised an eyebrow in surprise "That's silly."

"What's wrong with silly?" He narrowed his eyes threateningly.

"Nothing, still talking to you, aren't I?" She teased, giving him a warm smile.

He looked at her in surprise but let out a soft chuckle "Thank you for taking me here."

"Of course." She smiled "I'd do anything for a friend."

"Friend?" Theta repeated, the word foreign to him.

"A companion." She smiled "What is your name?"

"It is Theta." He said quietly, looking at the ground "I don't care for that name though."

Clara tilled her head curiously, "Well, is there anything you would like to be called?"

"The Doctor." He mumbled and nodded, "That is the name I choose."

Over a year pasted and Clara would come down every day and help the Doctor remodel the cellar. She brought down old props from past Operas, clothing, food, books, music, and anything she could get her hands on. The lead instructor was suspicious, but she convinced her aunt that it was to help the less fortunate, which was true in a way, and she allowed her to continue.

"You never told me." Clara, the newly 10-year-old, looked to her bowtie wearing friend, "How old are you?"

"I'm not really sure. If you do the math of how many years I was with the Gypsies and how old I was when I was taken there, I'd say, give or take, 11ish." The Doctor said calculating it in his head, "But I don't know, I could be lying. That's how old I am."

"Oh! That is a year older than me!" Clara clapped her hands happily and walked over to the make-shift kitchen to make a soufflé.

The Doctor chuckled at her bubbliness "I know, Soufflé girl."

Clara rolled her eyes at the nickname, "I know you know, Chin boy, I just thought I would point that out."

The Doctor sat down on his piano bench with a hearty laugh, "So, tell me, anything new in the world above?"

She shrugged, mixing milk with the eggs "Not much, I heard a new ballerina is coming to stay with us. My aunt says we are going to share a room."

"Interesting." He tapped on his piano keys, "I'm sure her coming won't change anything."

She hummed in response, putting her soufflé in. "I will be soufflé girl." She mumbles to herself, thinking of her mother.

The Doctor turned fully towards the piano and filled the room with a pleasant melody.

UPDATED: 2/15/2016