Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Doctor Who, BBCA, or any other works of fictions I may make references to.
I'd also like to point out that I developed Clara (Clara Honorine being her full name) LONG before we even knew where was going to be a new companion this season and she has no connection what-so-ever to the companion Jenna Louise Coleman is supposed to be playing this season.
With that being said, enjoy.
The distinct ringing of a bell sounded as the door to the real estate agency along the busy Cardiff street opened, the blonde waving back at her co-workers as she stepped out, having clocked out for the evening and wanting nothing more than to head home and curl up with a good book for the night.
"Right, yeah, I'll see you tomorrow, then." Backpack sagging, Clara tugged the strap a little more over her shoulder, straightening the hem of her sweater—She'd changed previously, of course; she could never get away with wearing jeans and sneakers in such a professional environment. If she ran a shop one day, perhaps, but not today.
As she rounded the corner of the door and directed herself for the parking garage, a man roughly the same age darted clumsily out of the door, chucks smacking against the pavement as he gave chase. "Clara, you forgot this." Breathless, he stopped short just behind her as she turned on her heels, and handed a copy of Paradise Lost over to her.
"Thanks plenty, Charles." She took the book, bowing her head slightly and studying the cover for a moment before turning back to him. He shrugged, smiling for a moment as it appeared he was contemplating saying something.
"Uh… Hey, what are your plans for Friday?" Charles asked, his words decidedly rehearsed, a little nervous.
"Curling up to finish my latest book and probably watching Jimmy Fallon and Craig Ferguson till I fall asleep on the couch, as usual. Maybe some Graham Norton. Why, have you got a proposal?"
"Ah- well, you know, maybe if you wanted to go catch a movie or something, that would be… cool?"
Quirking an eyebrow, Clara stared at him for a bit less than a moment before a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, pulling him out of his mild panic.
"I'll look at what's in the theatres and get back to you on that one, alright?" She shrugged slightly, thinking on it for a moment. "The fair is in town, if nothing good is in the theatres that might be a more enjoyable alternative."
"Right, that sounds good. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, then?"
"Yeah, see you." As Charles waved goodbye and rushed inside to clock out, Clara gave a small wave goodbye in return, a slight smile on her face as she ducked her head and continued for the parking garage. Despite the unexpected question her friend had just posed, it was simply an average Wednesday again. Wake up, go to work, come home, read, sleep, and start the whole cycle over again. Of course, on weekends and off-days, she got some well-earned down time with room to schedule anything she liked in. But for the most part, it was a monotonous schedule. And she was fine with that; content, even.
As she passed by an alleyway, one she'd not give a second glance to ordinarily, she stopped—A blue police box, looking someone broken and abused, sat haphazardly in the alleyway like it had always been there. She'd never seen a police box in Wales, and she wasn't certain they had them anywhere else even in England anymore. The last one Clara recalled sat on a street corner in London when her father had taken her on vacation in 1990. She hadn't seen one since—That one looked rather old as it was, she doubted it was there anymore. So the presence of a police box in an alleyway in Cardiff was quite the shocker. Peering around the corner, Clara looked at the box for a moment, then around the street before entering the alleyway, puzzled. It looked rather damaged; the question was, how did it get that way? As she approached it, she, quite tentatively, began to stick her hand out to touch it; however, her actions were short-lived as the door was thrown open, a man standing there staring down at her with a dim, gold-toned light for his background. His brown hair was a tad messy, but it wasn't as though it didn't work, just like the trainers he wore with his blue suit. The color or the pinstripes reminded her of the box he'd emerged from, she decided.
Stepping out, the man quickly closed the door as though he was at haste to keep her prying eyes from within his mysterious booth, eying her quizzically all the while. His russet trench coat caught in the door for a moment, and he looked away only for a moment to tug it loose. As Clara had finally decided to speak, he cut her off, his tone bright and exultant.
"Hello! Ah—You may want to stay away from downtown today. Just a warning, trust me on this one. I know. Just head home, yeah?" A warm smile sat on his lips all the while, and he made a motion as though he was about to turn and leave, but was stopped short as Clara stopped him.
"Um, hold on, is this yours?"
"Oh, of course it is, when do you see strange men walking out of boxes that aren't theirs?"
"It- Well, it looks damaged."
"Yeah, she is." The man patted his box affectionately. "I've got to run off and get some supplies, all of her circuits are all messed up and I don't seem to have what I need. Imagine that! You ought to run home, though, you really should. Stay away from the capital building too, I mean it!" Without another word, he turned on his heels and jogged off, leaving Clara there.
She stood for a moment, making hesitant moments as though to leave at first, but after a moment grew extremely frustrated and proceeded forwards. She examined the box a little closer; "POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX", the top read, in big white letters that glowed against the back backdrop of the sign. The lantern inside glowed dimly of a blue color reminiscent of that of the box itself, really only visible in the shade of the buildings around her. And—quite noticeably, in fact—the boxed was dinged and banged and bruised, the paint scuffed and a few small patches missing pieces of the wood altogether, those areas being where the wiring poked out, sparking and humming, livid with electricity.
It didn't seem like the man was returning any time soon, so she settled herself on the soiled concrete, dumping her backpack beside her and rummaging through it. She was an amateur, of course, not having gone to school to become a mechanic, but she'd spent her childhood and teenage years tinkering with machinery and electronics and reading up on their mechanics, and at the very least she was determined to patch up what she could. Her fingers eventually found her toolbelt among the other clutter in her bag, snatching up the handle of a wrench and pulling it out. A wrench, that was a start, even if she couldn't use it for much else. The circuitry in one of the empty patches was rather remarkable; she'd spent a good amount of time studying it, attempting to make some sort of sense of the wiring when footsteps emanated from behind her. She didn't notice at first, of course, engorged in her work, but the presence looming over her from behind was too foreboding to ignore and in an instant she stood, whipping around as her wrench clattered to the concrete.
"I thought I told you to head home," the man said, the look on his face clearly a little distraught.
"Well—Yes, but—"
"Oh, never mind that." Brushing past, he carried the plastic bag into the box, pushing the door open and disappearing inside. Tentatively, Clara watched him, glancing around at her surroundings for a moment before stepping in—and, of course, having to step back out again to make sure the box wasn't just a door in the wall. Sure enough, it was an independent unit, and its exterior didn't match its interior in the slightest.
"It's… bigger on the inside…" Her words were a bit breathless, muttered without the intention to be heard. Of course, though, they were.
"Yup," he replied, with a pop on the 'p'. "Amazing, isn't it?" The man continued on with his work, running off on a tangent. "The thing that does it is a chameleon circuit. What I'm working on right here. The wire always seems to pop loose, see, never wants to repair the exterior of the ship after a major collision, because it always manages to shimmy itself loose. And I seem to have misplaced my solder, so I had to pop out for some more."
Clara went a little further in, reaching the steps before she stopped her slow wander up. Glancing back, she saw that, upon further inspection, the man was soldering some wires together inside a panel within the wall that was lined with the golden lights that had framed him upon his advent. Suddenly, he jumped back, dropping the iron and cursing hoarsely under his breath, having burned himself with the scalding tip.
"Are you alright?" Clara asked, her tone with palpable alarm. Still shaking his hand back and forth in an attempt to ease the stinging, a wide grin spread across his face.
"Oh, yeah, just a little burn is all," he replied.
"That doesn't seem to horribly pleasant, though..."
"Oh, well, heavens no, it stings like a bugger! But it's just a little burn, I'll be fine."
"Right, uh—" She glanced around for a moment, realizing she'd left her bag outside. "I might have some first aid supplies in my bag, do you need them?"
"Nah, I'll just go run it under some cold water." He made a face, shrugging. "You wanna grab your bag while I do that?"
"Wait—Pardon?"
"Well, you're coming, aren't you?" The look on the man's face was rather expectant, if only a little dejected.
"I—Um—" To be honest she had to think on it for a moment; a strange man in a strange box was asking her to come along and she didn't even know his name? Well, considering the events of the day, it seemed pretty logical to her. Besides, for the most part none of this was rational, and it was likely she was running through a dream. Perhaps if she went along with it she'd wake up, though she wasn't sure she'd want to when all was said and done, should things continue to take a more amiable path.
Without waiting for an answer, the man flashed her a quick smile and loped off down one of the hallways. "You decide, then, while I go run this under cold water!"
Clara stood there for a moment, visibly confused and a tad bit startled. She contemplated her decision for a moment, growing a little more exasperated as she stood. Eventually, becoming visibly frustrated, she groaned, rushing out of the box and snatching up her bag and her wrench before dashing back inside.