"So, Clara, here we are!" the Eleventh Doctor said in a joyful voice "you've finally gone through the most boring days of your week, and Wednesday has come! Now, where shall we go?"
"Why don't you choose the destination for once? Dunno, well, why don't we go visit one of those companions you had."
He stopped dead in his tracks, and silence fell – even the TARDIS had stopped humming.
"Oh, Doctor" she said quickly, feeling she had recalled some gloomy memory "I'm sorry about that."
But the Time Lord still did not answer until ten minutes, all of which Clara had spent in an anxious daze. She could almost feel pain and indecision radiating from him.
"Clara, this once... just this once," the Doctor whispered abruptly "I'm going to allow you into my mind."
"What?" she said "why would I want to read your mind?"
"So you can see what the symbols mean."
She was puzzled at his cryptic answer, but she did not resist when he put his hands on her temples.
She shivered and closed her eyes when all the ideas, all the thoughts, all the memories rushed into her head. Once again, she lost herself in the twists and turns of that man's life.
"It's over, Clara" he said – or was it herself? - softly "you can open your eyes."
She slowly did so, feeling light headed at all the memories. As she looked around, she saw much more than she usually saw – she felt the connection to the TARDIS, she remembered console rooms long gone, with their stark white walls, their majestic columns and their round things.
But it was nothing compared to what she felt when she looked just above the column. The circular symbols she could never have read had turned into familiar names and faces, and she was suddenly filled with joy and warmth and humanity, all of which did not belong to her.
She remembered the tales, brief or long, joyful or sorrowful, of all those persons that had crossed his lives. She recognized the faces of a young genius from E-Space, of a Greek girl, of an American student, of the most important woman in the universe, and, the most vivid of them all, of a blonde archaeologist.
She finally tore her gaze away from the words, and turned her eyes on the Doctor, who was standing still, offering his mind to her.
"Clara" the Doctor whined "let go of it, now."
But she couldn't, she was not ready to do it, how could she go back to the small life of a teacher when she was offered the chance to share the life of the greatest hero ever known, whom every star, every planet would forever remember, who had battled all the strange, strange creatures.
The connection deepened as she once again looked above the pillar, but everything became gloomy, and she felt agonizing pain as all the faces were seized from her, and she could now only see a single angel statue in a graveyard, a young girl crying on a bay, and, worst of all, dear friends stolen by his own people. She threatened to be crushed under the weight of inhuman grieving.
She fell to the floor of the TARDIS, weeping, the pain now her own.
"Clara" the Doctor repeated, in a soft tone "let go of it."
It was now easier to break the link, and she was suddenly freed from the pain, as the Doctor got his mystery back.
"Hush, Clara" he said in a soothing tone "it's all over now."
"Doctor" she told him, between tears "I did not see myself."
"Clara, my Impossible Girl" he answered, clutching her tightly as he tried to bring her to sleep to ease the pain "may your name never be written on the TARDIS."
She was now fast asleep, and, as the Doctor carried her to one of the bedrooms, he tried not to look at all the names of the people who had always referred to themselves as his companions, but the Doctor knew were only his victims.