Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairings: Doctor x Clara

Rating: G

Words: 1447

Summary: When Clara fails a History test, her friend introduces her to the Doctor, a weird bloke who might be able to help her

A/N: I have no idea where this is going, so let's go together, shall we?

It was the last day of midterms at the new university, and I was pretending not to be nervous. What had started as a mere six-week summer vacation had ended up with me staying with the Maitlands for the past four months, and registering at Hazelwood University. Finishing my degree abroad wasn't something I had ever considered, but leaving the children so soon after their mother had passed away was not an option. I couldn't pretend pretend to know exactly what Angie and Artie were going through, but I knew how heavily the loss of a mother sat on one's heart. I wanted – I needed – to be there for them like George and Olivia had been there for Dad and me on our darkest days. The bureaucracy of transferring my credits from the uni in England to the one in the suburbs of Boston almost made me give up for good, but everything was finally settled, so here I was at the library, cramming for my History exam.

A big "clomp" at her table alerted me of the arrival of Kath, my newest friend.

"Hey England," she said jovially, setting a paper cup in front of me.

"Coffee?" I asked. "Please tell me it's coffee." My head hurt from all the information I was trying to get into my brain at the last minute.

"In the two months I've known you, this is the first time I see you asking for coffee," Kath replied. "Sorry, dude. It's tea."

"I drink coffee all the time," I protested, getting the tea from Kath anyway as she made herself comfortable in the chair facing me. "Might as well try and soothe my nerves."

"How's that studying going?"

"Oh it's wonderful. History has always been my favorite subject in school."

Kath propped her feet on the table, dislodging my notes from their original place.

"I can never tell when you're being a sarcastic little shit or not, that accent of yours. I don't know how you can think you're in trouble when everything you say sounds smart and proper."

I would have smiled if I weren't so nervous.

"That's because History is my weakness, my Achilles heel. I've always hated History, I even needed a tutor to help me get through my A-levels."

"Easy there, England," Kath said, getting her own notebook out of the backpack she had dumped on the floor. "Tell you what: you flunk this test like you think you will, and I will find you a tutor. In fact…"

"What?" I asked, sipping my tea as Kath grew pensive. "Are you coming up with some kind of time travel machine so I can go into the past and experience History firsthand?"

"That," Kath answered, coming out of her reverie, "would be awesome! But no, I was actually thinking I might know just the person to help you out."

At my inquisitive gaze, Kath continued, "I don't really know him, but he's got a rep around here. Well, in the science department at least."

"A science bloke?"

"No judging, England," Kath said, lifting a finger. "Science blokes and girls too, can have other interest in the never-ending academic field. Although not this girl, obviously."

I sighed.

"Okay. So when I fail – "

"If you fail, Clara. If you fail."

"If I fail this test, what then?"

"Then I'm gonna find a way to introduce to this guy. He helped a friend of mine with Quantum Physics and horticulture last term. Guy's supposed to be a genius. Does research for the M.I.T. He's a big nerd. I'm gonna ask around, I bet he knows History as well. Sounds like the stuff he would read for fun, y'know? I actually think Brian knows him. You know Brian, my roommate? The one who's always asking about you?"

Kath smiled and I groaned, ignoring the comment about Brian. It was hard enough not being in control, not knowing what to expect from a given situation, and that's exactly how I felt whenever I had to study History. Yes, I knew it was important to understand the how's and why's of civilization's greatest achievements and disasters, but failed to appreciate why I had to take it as a required subject in college.

I stretched my arms and pulled my book closer to her once again, knowing I needed to get back to dates and facts.

"Alright. When I fail this test, which is to say, in one hour and forty-five minutes, I'll be accepting any help I can get, even if it's from an outer-space alien. Now off you pop, I got to shove 150 more pages of useless information into my brain."

"I failed my test," I told Kath over the phone that night, resisting the urge to say I'd told her this would happen.

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. My mini essay that was supposed to be 500 words long ended up being 50. The other four hundred and fifty words hid from me. They should just sort of… be there, but they weren't."

"Calm down, England. Was it really that bad? Aren't you exaggerating for dramatic effect, perhaps?"

"Yes," I groaned. "That is to say, yes, it was that bad. There is no way I got a good grade on that one."

"Alright then. Are you free now? The history bloke is here."

"The- he's there? At your house? Right now?

"No need to sound so incredulous. Yeah, turns out he's friendly with Brian, they're sort of working together on this project about cosmology or whatever. So, can you come over?"

I didn't even think twice. As annoying and frustrating as it was, this was a required course that I needed to pass if I wanted to graduate.

"Yeah, I'm on my way."

Kath lived near campus, which was about 20 minutes from Boston and the Maitlands. Her parents had recently gotten tired of life in the city and moved to Martha's Vineyard, leaving the house in the suburbs all for Kath. She made the most of it, renting all rooms – except the master bedroom – to college students. Besides Brian, she also roomed with Jeanine, an exchange student from France, and Sarah – Brian's girlfriend and main reason why I did not take his advances seriously. I was pretty sure Brian would act if I so much as hinted there was any possibility of something happening between us, so I never gave him the time of day. I wasn't planning on getting involved with anyone in America – I liked being single at the moment – but if it happened, better be someone who had something real to offer. I could just imagine Brian's response if I ever said something like that to him, and it wasn't anything I'd be comfortable letting Angie or Artie hear.

After parking George's car (he usually let me drive his Honda at night, after rush hour) in the driveway, I was ready to climb the steps to the front door and ring the bell, but a voice coming from the front yard surprised me, not because of its place of origin but because it was clearly someone from the motherland.

"I doubt they will hear you knocking. They're all very busy playing a Edwardian drinking game," the stranger said very seriously. "Apparently it is about someone with forty hands, which is scientifically interesting but highly improbable."

I stopped and turned to the voice. He was sitting in a stool, working with what appeared to be some wires and not looking my way. It was hard to see in the dark – there was only one lamp on the grass, close to where the stranger was – but he seemed to be wearing a very noticeable purple coat. I had an idea of this guy was.

"You must be science bloke. And how come you don't know about Edward Forty Hands? I thought it was required knowledge for any college student," I said, approaching his stool.

"Not a college student," he said easily, still working the wires. "And I see you're British. Lancashire, I presume?"

That caught me by surprise.

"How –"

"Oh just the way you talk."

I looked at him suspiciously. Kath had never said he was British, and it seemed unlikely she would forget to mention such a thing. Then again, in the few months we were acquainted, Kath had proven herself to be unpredictable at times.

"Are you the science bloke?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Science bloke," he repeated, a smile escaping through his voice. "Yeah, I suppose I am."

He finally took his eyes off his wires and looked at me. I was close enough now to see him properly, and he was… weird. Good-looking, yes. I couldn't make out much in the dark, but he appeared to have big, beautiful eyes, and he was tall and lean. But there was a weirdness that emanated from him, a little something that seemed to say 'watch out because I'm not like you.'

I took a deep breath, thinking 'oh what the hell," and asked what I had come to ask him.

"So, what do you know about American History?"

A/N2: As usual this fanfic is only here thanks to my good friends Lany and Mari, and as usual, I post it on my blog first. You can check it out at clarainthelibrary on tumblr.