A/N: Welcome to my new story, I hope you like it. Critiques are welcomed.
"Mingle," she had said, "Try not to annoy anyone."
It was not surprising that they had been forcibly ejected from the insalubrious establishment within half an hour of their arrival. The bar was roughly equivalent to the toughest biker hangout back on Earth, complete with intergalactic hogs and fierce, bald aliens with scars and more facial piercings than could be counted in the second in which it would be safe to look above anyone's neck. The most terrifying hog rider in the place was a four foot tall, stocky female with green scaly skin and white punked hair who the Doctor had somehow insulted with his eyes alone. The bar tender, a giant of a man with wild red eyes and a scar from eye to chin, had lifted the Doctor clear of the woman's spiked fist and deposited him outside, stopping short of throwing him across the moonlit parking lot, preferring to drop him, still protesting angrily in an especially thick Scottish drawl, between two large, stinking, trash cans.
"Don't come back," Red Eyes barked, a lizard tongue flicking from his scared mouth, "We don't want your sort here. If I see you here again I won't protect your worn out hide from anyone, especially not Malita."
Clara stalked out of the bar, narrowly missing Red as he barged passed her. Clara's heals clicked angrily on the steps and her biker jacket, ripped from shoulder to waist, swung from her clenched fist. A twelve inch barb held her hair bun very firmly in place. She glared at the Doctor, watching him straighten his jacket and attempt to adopt a casual disregard for the entire affair. The affectation was undermind by the wrinkling of his nose at the stench of stale alcohol and what they both preferred to assume was rotting food waste in the containers either side of him. Under Clara's fierce gaze he eventually capitulated.
"It was the eyebrows," he said defensively, "They have a life of their own."
Clara rolled her eyes and pulled the sharp piece of wood from her hair tossing it to the floor.
"You owe me a new jacket, a stiff drink, an apology and a thank you," she returned, blocking his exit from between the trash cans and throwing her ripped coat at him which he caught deftly.
The Doctor had the decency to look a little sheepish.
"Clara, I'll buy you a new coat, there's whiskey in the TARDIS, and I'm sorry for letting my eyebrows insult the oversized chameleon with a serious body odour problem. Perhaps I should shave them off? Do you think that would be less threatening?"
"Leave the eyebrows where they are," she shook her head in desperation, "And what about the 'thank you'?"
"Thank you?" he scowled in thought, "For what?"
A quirky smile spread across Clara's lips and reaching into the pocket of her trousers she withdraw a fine silver chain from which dangled a tiny, platinum key which sparkled in the moonlight.
"Not just a pretty face," she grinned.
"You humans, you're so full of yourselves."
A broad smile cracked across the Doctor's face, it was all the thanks Clara expected to receive.
Inside the bar there was a sudden roar of anger and the sound of tables being flung across the room. Clara pocketed the key and jerked her head in the direction of the TARDIS.
"Either someone else has dangerous facial hair or someone noticed they're missing their keys," the Doctor observed as he grabbed Clara by the arm and pulled her into a full blown run.
The TARDIS door slammed shut behind them with a volley of mini javelin shrieking through the night air and landing harmlessly at their feet. As fists began to beat on the exterior walls the Doctor threw a switch on the console and the TARDIS moved itself to some other, potentially safer, place in time and space. Clara laughed and tossed her coat over the nearest rail before fishing the tiny key out of her pocket.
"So, then, Doctor. What is this the key to?"
"My new Ferrari," he replied, concentrating on his work for a moment, "I thought it was time I owned a car."
"The way you fly your TARDIS there's no way I am getting in a car with you at the wheel," Clara retorted as she examined the key more closely.
It was the smallest key she had ever seen, no bigger than the nail on her little finger. The platinum was etched with a miniscule tree, its roots and branches reaching out widely to form a circle around the whole trunk. If it hadn't been for the silver chain dangling out of the lovely Malita's retro denim jeans Clara wasn't sure she would have found the key at all.
"What's it for?" she asked again, dropping it casually on to the console from where the Doctor snatched it up rather too eagerly.
"It opens a door," he said slowly, "A door to a place that, if the myths are true, should be protected from every living being for all eternity."
"Enigmatic," Clara moved closer to take another look. "Why did I just steal it? Did they know what it was for?"
The Doctor shook his head, "No, to them its a good luck charm. It works, to a point. Not outrageous good fortune, not wealth or happiness or love. Its more subtle. It's probably what saved you from getting one of chameleon girl's barbs through your skull."
"Not bad," Clara admitted, "So can I keep it in the pocket of the new jacket you're going to buy me? I could do with a bit of luck considering my current extracurricular activities."
"Did you not just hear me say it should be kept away from every living being? Humans are the worst, if one of your lot got hold of this... it would be a disaster waiting to happen. Maybe not in your lifetime, but eventually, when you lot finally get yourselves off Earth and into space, the legend of the key and the key itself would meet. It would be a disaster of universal proportions."
"Why?"
"Because, if the legend is true, it opens the gates to Fel-har-dai."
Clara frowned and caste her hands wide, "In terms I would understand?"
The Doctor looked at her sombrely.
"In your terms, the closest single word is Eden."