It was admittedly a rather morbid thing to do at 17.
Her Dad warned her against it, told her it would only do damage to wounds she was just starting to heal from.
But she didn't listen.
But she pride herself upon that.
She, Clara Oswald, would do what she thought was right.
They needed help, the committee. Cataloguing the dead, the devastation from the Battle of Canary Wharf left the entire country in chaos, people scrambling to find their loved ones, endless phone calls, emails, anything to find out what happened to them.
She wanted to help.
Her boss was reluctant to hire her, told her she was a bit young for the subject matter.
But as she told her story, the loss of her Mother just last year, and how she was probably better equipped than most to deal with grief, he relented.
She packed up her things and went to stay with some family friends in London, despite her assurances that, if anything, her volunteer work would look good on her Uni application, her Father trailed alongside her, trying to convince her it was a terrible idea.
And some days he was so completely right.
There was no-one found, no-one reunited like a scene from a Hollywood Blockbuster.
Some days she'd packed up her desk, got into her Dads car and cried all the way home.
A Mother, reporting the loss of her 3 children.
A Husband, whose Bride died just 12 hours after their wedding.
It was relentless.
So when her final day came along, she set up her desk and counted just 6 hours to go, Clara felt a guilty sense of relief.
'Hello.'
Clara looked up, a tall man looming over her.
'Hello Sir, please take a seat.'
'Er, no.. no thank you i won't be staying long'
'Well its a bit unnerving you standing over me, for my sake?' He gave her an odd look. 'Please?'
He relented and sat opposite her.
'My name is Clara Oswald, how can i assist you?'
The man scratched the back of his head, emitting a pained expression.
'Like i said, cant stay long, just need to give you names.'
'Names Sir?'
'For your list.'
Clara sighed, rubbing her temple as she pulled up the appropriate file on her computer. She shouldve known. Known by the hunch in his back, his eagerness to leave.
'Jacqueline Tyler, Powell Estates, London, Earth'
'Yeah i could've guessed Earth'
A ghost of a smile appeared on the Lonely Mans face.
'Do you have a postcode?'
'No, sorry I... never asked.'
'Okay, right, next?'
He furrowed his eyebrows, seemingly a bit put out.
'I'm sorry?'
'Er sorry that was rude, i meant because well.. you said names, i assumed you meant more than o-'
'Yes Rose'
'My names not-'
'Rose.' He looked away, his adams apple bobbing as he struggled to keep calm. She'd seen that before, that faraway look. The look her Father had as he read her mothers favourite poem at the Funeral.
'Rose Tyler.'
Clara nodded, closing Jacqueline's file.
'Relation to Ja-'
'Daughter.'
'Same address?'
He nodded.
'Your name?'
'Mr John Smith'
'Relation to either Victim.'
He snorted.
'Victims, they weren't vicitims!' He stood up from his chair, kicking it to the ground, Clara backed away abruptly. 'They fought to save you all they-they... she'
Before she had realised what she was doing, she held the hand of the lonely man, the rest of the room staring at them, Security eying them up, arguing amongst themselves weather to interfere with the grieving man.
'I know Mr Smith. I'm sorry, i'm sorry they're just questions. I know how it feels, to lose someone you love, I do, I lost my Mother last year and you think that pain is never going to stop, and it doesn't, not right away. But i promise that eventually those big, sad eyes will not be so sad anymore.'
'Do i know you Clara?'
'No, unless you're a friend of my Dads, your way too old for me.'
'Oh more than you know.'
He smiled sadly.
'Jackie she was... a pain.'
Clara went back to her seat as Mr Smith returned to hovering over her desk. She wouldn't bother him to sit down again, if he wanted to stand, let him be.
'And Rose?'
As that look returned, she clicked upon Rose Tyler's file and filled in the missing section.
Confirmed deceased by Long Term Partner, Mr John Smith.
'Okay Mr Smith that's all i need for now, if you could email all the necessary to documents to this address whenever you feel you are ready.'
He nodded. She pulled a pink strip from her Post-its and began writing down some telephone numbers.
'Can i recommend you somebody to talk to? A Councillor? A Doctor? I-'
'Thank you, Clara Oswald'
'No problem i-'
As she went to pass the post-it a blur of pinstripe flew out of the exit.
The annoyingly nosy girl from the desk opposite shouted over to her.
'Bit of a nutter that one eh?'
'Oh shut up Donna.'