OI. It's my first Doctor Who fic. This obsession has hit me hard and fast. I have about eleven unfinished short fics and one other multichapter that may turn into a freaking monster.
Anyway. Hello, I'm Jules, I'll be your author this [time of day], very nice to meet you. Please enjoy my story.
*Is disclaimer*
"Are you ready?" He looked back at his newest companion, fresh from the grave. Donning new, twenty first century clothes, The Doctor didn't know what to make of the situation just yet. But he found her. He found his Clara. She stared suspiciously at the police box with her head cocked to the side and an eyebrow quirked.
"No." Her lips formed a perfect 'O' shape.
Slightly surprised, The Doctor smiled. "Perfect." He swung the doors open with a certain amount of grandiose. "So, this is it. You've seen the TARDIS before. Do you remember?" He watched as she took her second first steps into the spaceship. This was his favorite part of meeting a new companion.
"…No." She spun on her heel and pushed past him. She walked around the police box, awestruck. By the time she made it back inside, The Doctor was leaning up against the console, facing her. "It's smaller on the outside."
He smiled his secret little smile. "So I've heard. This is the TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimension In Space."
"So this is your spaceship?" He nodded hesitantly. He was pretty proud of the recent renovation. He felt it… matched him more. He could only hope that Clara saw it the way he did. A small smile cracked her cheeks and he chuckled with her as she breathed out her response, "cool." She nodded and swiftly walked around the console room. "Is this all?"
The Doctor scoffed. "'Is this all' she says, 'is this all.'" He gestured to the staircase to his left. "Why don't you go and see? Your room is in there somewhere." He waved her off. Clara waited a while before her face busted into a smile and she dashed up the staircase. The Doctor paused a moment before giving up hope that she would be returning any time soon. Even the Doctor was never one hundred percent on how many rooms there were on the TARDIS, as it changed every moment, given the situation. Sometimes, she gave you the directions you needed. Others, you were on your own. Clara explored willingly, opening every door she could. Each door had a picture on it. As she traveled through the winding hexagonal corridors further and further, she was certain she was very, very lost. She didn't much mind, though.
Moving slowly, she made her way into each room she came across, playing a little game with herself. She would take the picture on each door, and guess what was inside. The TARDIS was incredibly unpredictable, in most cases.
The picture was a top hat; she guessed it was a hat room; it was a wardrobe.
The picture was a sheep; she guessed it was a farm; it was a room made entirely of wool.
The picture was a pillow; she guessed it was (finally) her bedroom; it was like one of those rooms you see in crime shows, a room that was entirely white with walls padded with pillows.
The picture was a vase; she guessed it was… she didn't know; it was a room filled entirely with glass
The picture was of the TARDIS; she had given up guessing at this point; it was mini museum dedicated to each incarnation of The Doctor and his TARDIS.
The picture was a flower; she guessed it was a garden; it was locked.
The picture was a torch; she guessed it was a sitting room with a fireplace; it was locked.
The picture was a stethoscope; she guessed it was the medical bay; it was locked.
The picture was a wedding dress; she guessed it was a wardrobe; it was locked.
The picture was a lake; she was excited, she guessed it was a campsite, or the swimming pool, or something; it was locked.
She finally found her room. It was surrounded by all the locked doors. No picture, just 'Clara' written in cursive. She felt somewhat discontented. She walked in, taking in her surroundings. A kind bed sat on a peninsula that was three or four steps up from ground level. She turned to her right a tad and took a breath. A floor to floor window let out onto a balcony, enclosed by an atmospheric shield, but the sky was the most amazing part. It wasn't the sky. It was outer space. She wanted to see the stars, and he made sure that she could.
"You like it?" She was snapped out of her reverie by the voice of The Doctor, leaning up against the door frame.
"Like it?" She scoffed as she jogged toward him and grabbed him in a hug. "I love it."
"I'm glad." She released him and he turned to exit the room, leaving a confused Clara in his wake. "Well then, come alon-" he paused, in mind and body, visibly flinching.
"You alright, then?" Clara came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Quite alright. Come to the console room, there is much to see, much to do, much to learn. Tell me Clara, do you know what you like to eat?"
As they finished up their meal of beans on toast and tea, Clara's curiosity was a peak, and she just couldn't help but ask, "Doctor, if I may ask, why are there… four boxes of fish sticks, and a load of custard in your trashcan?"
He paused mid-chew, and accosted the trashcan with his stare, eyes saddening by the second. He meant to get rid of that stuff… but he couldn't bring himself to it. He cleared his throat and looked down into his near-empty tea cup. "Expired."
She recognized the aversion immediately and changed the subject. "So, where to, Spaceman?"
He looked up at her with puppy dog eyes that could rival an actual dog's.
Shoot. Another nerve. "You ready?" he stood, taking the dishes and depositing them in the sink, where they vanished immediately, and reappeared in the open cupboard, sparkling clean, new.
Just like her.
This story makes me sad. You'll see why, maybe tomorrow or the next day or the next or the next. I already have the next chapter and it induces a lot of feelings in me but you have to ask for it. It's very feelings. It's all very nostalgic and lies and PONDS. I can't. I can't. Okay, continue your reading experience.