Author's Note: I've…never done this before. Writing for Doctor Who, I mean. I wrote this story before the new season had arrived, mostly due to the fact that my anxiety was absolutely killing me. I had nothing to work on, I hadn't seen the first season premiere and I was utilizing my imagination. This was the best I could come up with. Hopefully, all of you enjoy it, and don't nag about any discrepancies that are bound to arise. This is horribly AU, and maybe even a bit OOC, but everything will be explained in due time! Thank you all for reading.
Disclaimer: Don't own!
-x-
Smaller on the Outside
"You're the man in my dreams." "Well I've never gotten that kind of response before." Oswin/Eleventh Doctor.
-x-
Run you clever boy, and remember…
Clara woke up with a start, her heart still pulsing and breathing erratic. Her vision was blurry, and wiping at her eyes she realized she was crying. Her nose was clogged from the silent sobs she had dispelled while sleeping and she felt sluggish. But those weren't the worst things that overcame her senses. There was this horrible sinking feeling of dread, hopelessness, and despair sitting squarely in her chest. The feeling reminded her of when she found out her grandmother died. She was in university, studying like mad and not paying attention to the world, when her mother called with the news. Her world had crashed and halted, and it had felt as if she would never feel any type of happiness again. That very same feeling was drowning her, poking relentlessly at her stomach.
'That damn dream,' she thought, wiping tears away from her eyes, 'that damn dream and those damn Daleks and that damn Doctor.' The very title made her choke and gasp more. Had he not barged into her dream, she would have been content with making soufflés and believing herself stuck in a bizarre planet with no one for company. But every time she dreamed of Daleks and soufflés, he would come barging in, him and his cleverness, and his bow ties, and his horrid shoes.
Quickly glancing at the clock and seeing that it was too early for her to be coherent, nonetheless awake, she groaned. Another night of sleep lost, her Margaret will have a field day.
All she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and sleep for one night without any dreams. She had even gone so far as to get medication, but nothing was working. Through the deepest of sleeps the dreams would persevere and replay again and again. It had all started when she turned twenty. At first the dreams would start out hazy. All she could decipher were flashing lights, loud noises, and despair. But over time things started to get sharper. Soufflés and Carmen. Loneliness and regret. And then, of course, the Doctor.
"That damn Doctor." She muttered as stepped into the bathroom.
-x-
"This one needs to be re-categorized, these need to be repaired, and those need to be placed in the drive box." Margaret said, indicating different boxes of books that were around her. Clara however was dozing while standing, her eyes fixed on nothing.
"Hello? Hellooo? Clara are you listening to me? If you fall asleep in the backroom again you know I'll have to report you." Margaret warned. That snapped Clara back to attention because she knew that if she was reported again by Moony Margaret she'd lose her job.
"Yeah I heard you, don't worry." Quickly she moved towards the boxes.
"Uh-huh." Margaret said in skepticism, "Look I like you Clara, I really do, but you're walking on thin ice here. Just because you had a holiday due to your supposed 'sleeping problems' doesn't mean you can slack on the job, you here?"
"Loud and clear." But internally Clara was screaming in frustration. Margaret had so far gotten three former employees at the library fired because of their "unprofessionalism". However Clara knew it was because her three predecessors were close to winning the spot of Head Librarian, a spot that Margaret coveted, and so Margaret saw fit to eliminate the competition. Now, rumor had it Clara was the next runner up for the position, a position Margaret had yet to get, and now Margaret was ready to sink her claws into her throat.
"Not only that but think of the donors! If they see you slacking off, what will they think? They'll think we hire people directly off the streets! That we don't even care about the integrity of the workplace. You need to act professional Clara." Margaret reprimanded.
Clara couldn't bring herself to care, she had two other jobs to worry about (one was really an internship but it still demanded the attention equivalent to that of full time job). But thing was, her position at the library was the only job Clara thoroughly enjoyed. Something about surrounding herself in books made her feel content.
Margaret left in a hurry, something about scoping potential donators. Clara sighed in relief; she knew if she was in the company of that harpy for another minute, Margaret would have to answer to her fist aimed at her jaw.
"Violence is never the answer Clara, you know this." She muttered to herself, hefting another box of books up, the one marked for the drive box.
'No one has ever seen Margaret do any of the heavy lifting.' She thought bitterly.
"Here let me help you with that." A voice announced from behind her and before she knew it the weight of the box was lifted from her.
"Oh thanks Ian." She smiled in gratitude. Ian smiled back, however grimaced a little when he had to reposition the box in his grasp.
"No prob Clar." She winced at the nickname but didn't say anything against it. Ian was a nice boy who, while he had an obvious crush on her, was sweet and kind all together. Having worked at the library long before she was hired he took an immediate shine to her. If only he could take a hint.
Clara took the other box labeled for re-categorization, put them on the trolley and made a beeline for the door but Ian followed quickly after her.
"So, with all the donors coming in I thought they would be able to hire more people, you know, to do all the hard labor." Ian joked.
Clara laughed humorlessly, "That's why I was hired Ian."
"Oh," an awkward pause, "now that's not true. You're an integral part of the library."
"I'm an integral part of the restocking system. You on the other hand are an integral part of this library. Fixing computers is very important. The things you can do are impressive." They reached the E-H section of the library and she stopped the trolley so abruptly Ian almost ran into it.
"Oh, well, my skills aren't that great really." Ian stuttered, embarrassed.
"Nonsense. When you rid Archimedes of that virus in only four hours, I was awfully impressed." Her grin didn't really reach her eyes but it was enough for Ian to work with.
"Really? You think so? Well, I mean, I suppose that took some skill." By now Ian's arms were beginning to shake from exertion. Sweet he may be, muscled he was not.
"You should take those to the donation box before Margaret notices." Clara didn't want to say outright, 'you should put that box down before you lose your arms'.
"Right. Well I'll be seeing you." And with the last vestiges of strength he had left Ian skirted away.
Clara sighed. So maybe she had lied about the impressiveness of his skill. Truth be told it had been her who had to clean Archimedes of the virus it had contracted. All of the computers at the library were named and Archimedes was the computer on the second floor that had a trick server. Ian, bless his soul, had been working on it for four hours to no avail. When he had left in frustration Clara had cleaned the computer in less than ten minutes. A new personal record. When Ian had come back he had just assumed his stumbling had worked.
For the remainder of the day she worked on autopilot. Stocking books left and right while listening to the chit-chat of various clienteles mingling in the lobby. The Bad Wolf Corporation (the company she was interning with) was throwing a fundraising gala for the library in two weeks time. In the span of time from the announcement of the gala till now the library had become a sensation. People were coming left and right to have their names engraved on the placard in the library's entrance hall in their list of donors.
Clara had yet to see a single note of that money.
After putting the last book up on the shelf she left to gather the last box. A high pitched laughter reached her ears. She looked over the balcony that overlooked the first floor hall and saw Margaret chatting away with a strapping fellow who looked at ease with himself.
Yes, Margaret would be looking for a future husband amongst the clientele.
She shot the vile woman a brief look of disgust before hurrying to the front room with the trolley. Only the entrance hall and conference rooms A-C were reserved for the socializing that was taking place on the first floor. The rest of the library was still put to use as just that, the library. Children were still giggling in the child's section, a few had found comfort in the lounge chairs offered, and others were utilizing the internet in the computer lab.
There was a certain sort of peace to be had in the library. But an empty library was a desolate kind of place.
The rest of the day progressed in this fashion; picking up box after box, putting them in their designated areas, and then helping the occasional person locate the restrooms. By the end of the day she knew she would pass out from sheer exhaustion, so when the mingling ceased and closing time arrived she nearly wept with relief.
"Clara you close up." Margaret threw the keys on the front counter and left. Ian had all ready left; his shift having ended two hours ago, which only left Clara, Margaret, and Shirley. Shirley had left ten minutes prior, not wanting to face the wrath that was Margaret.
Clara said nothing; just watched Margaret's departing back. When she heard the resounding sound of the library doors closing she gave out a breath of relief.
"That bloody harpy." She muttered. And knowing that bloody harpy she probably sabotaged something in the library, knowing that if she left Clara to close up shop, she'd be the one blamed for it.
"All I wanted was to go home, warm some coco, and snuggle with Barnaby. That's all I wanted, and is that too much to ask? Lord Almighty when I get my hands on her I'm going to twist her neck." An empty threat and she knew it.
The entire library comprised of four levels. The first had the conference rooms, the entrance hall, and the gift shop. The second had the fiction books, children stories, more conference rooms, the computer lab, and the lounge area. The third had the editorials, non-fiction, biographies, another computer lab, the encyclopedias, and the old cassette tapes collecting dust in the back. The fourth was the attic, a place hardly anyone ever went, where the oldest of old books went to die.
Knowing Margaret she'd have to check every level thoroughly just so she could sleep happily. If she would get any sleep at all.
Floor by floor she trekked, searching for anything that might give any indication of being wrong. By the time she reached the third floor, she thought that maybe she was being paranoid; Margaret wouldn't really do something so diabolical. But when she saw the misplaced periodicals and the rearranged biographies she realized that yes, Margaret deserved to go into the deepest pit hell had to offer.
It took another twenty minutes to get everything arranged, especially the periodicals, heavy things that they were.
"There, that should do it." Proud of her accomplishment she was ready to leave, until she saw something in the corner of her eye.
The stairwell leading up to attic was open.
"Oh you've got to be kidding me." There was no way Margaret even had the balls to go up to the attic by herself.
But then the door widened just a bit more.
Clara blinked.
"Can rats open doors by themselves?" but then another thought occurred to her, "Did Margaret let a rat inside the library?"
She shuddered in disgust, of all the things she expected Margaret to do, and that was the last thing on the list.
But she steeled herself, if there was a rat infestation in the premises she would find it and report it. It was her job. She had the duty to the library. Even if it meant going up to the attic. And she relished the thought of reporting on Margaret if she was the one who let in the rats.
First she needed a torch, and a goddamn decent one at that.
She rushed back to the front desk, grabbed one of the torches and as a second thought also brought her pepper spray she kept in her purse. Quickly she ran up the stairs, light on her toes. Once she reached the stairwell leading up to the attic she didn't even hesitate.
The stairwell hadn't been used for the longest time due to there being a sort of stigma against going up the attic. Sure, there would be the occasional person who would have to go up there, put as a whole, most gave it a wide berth.
The way up was dark, the lights having not been replaced for the longest time. Add the creaky staircase and everything was fantastic.
"You idiot. What are you doing?" Clara asked herself. Sure, there was some enjoyment at the thought of ratting out (no pun intended) Margaret but at the same time Clara didn't fancy having the living daylights scared out of her by whatever might be hiding out in the dark.
As she reached the top of the staircase she looked about. The attic encompassed the entire length of the library. Meaning the attic was very, very large and very, very dark.
"Well, let's do this Oswald. One…corner at a time?" Slowly she crept forward into the abyss. There were shelves of decrepit books and out-dated technology.
She walked slowly, anticipating anything.
There was a shuffling noise behind her.
Anticipating anything, except that.
Her torch light briefly hit on what looked like a gigantic cat. Covered with black fur and four legged it ran deeper into the attic. She gasped in shock because that was most definitely not a rat. Bigger than a rat and could possibly do more harm than a rat.
But that wasn't the only thing her torch light hit.
Something had shined against the light seconds before it had landed on that…thing. Going back to it her eyes widened in surprise. This, whatever it was, did not belong in a library. If anything it probably deserved to be in a museum.
It was blue. Magnificently blue. At the top the words "Police Box" were blazoned across. A plaque was on what appeared to be two hinged doors but whatever it might've said was worn and gone. Clara walked forward slowly; this Police Box was a thing of beauty. Dust had accumulated on the doors, Clara noted, as she brushed her hand against the old plaque. Glass windows were white washed and barred. A small tug at the handle and Clara realized it was locked. She pulled with more force and was surprised at how firm it was. For something so old, it was locked tighter than her mother's old cookie jar.
"What's a beautiful thing like you doing in a place as dull as this?" her eyes raked over its entire surface. It reminded her of Police Boxes her grandmother would describe. And by describe, her grandmother would regale how in her youth she would use the Police Boxes for a quick snog.
More shuffling was heard behind her. She whirled to face the source of the noise. Her light found nothing except dust covered shelves and statues. A shaky sigh escaped her.
"Okay…" she started, "there's nothing here. Except a gigantic…cat. Yes that's right. There's nothing here except a gigantic cat and an abandoned Police Box." Odd how she said abandoned and not old.
"There's nothing here," she glanced quickly at her watch, "and I really need to get home. I have the presentation tomorrow, and the design still to plan. Shit. Okay, I can do this. There's…there's nothing here." Reasserting herself she quickly fled the attic, but not without giving the Police Box another glance. For some reason it gave off the impression of being lonesome, depressed even.
"I'll come back." She whispered. Although why she was making a promise to an old Police Box was beyond her.
But those simple words seemed to work, the atmosphere in the room seemed brighter, happier.
She left without another look back.
-x-
The next day, she woke up to Barnaby suffocating her face.
"Pfft, oh, Barnaby." She whined, spitting in an attempt to get cat hair out of her mouth. But the fat block of a cat merely meowed at her before plopping himself on her chest.
"Oh yes, that's definitely better." She grumbled, picking up the cat and moving him off her. Slowly she raised herself out of bed, Barnaby still meowing for attention.
"All right, all right, you selfish little cat." After rubbing his head she walked downstairs, the cat at her heels. The bag of cat food was exactly where she left it the day before, open and untouched. Barnaby could have just dipped his perky little head in and ate to his heart's content, but he was far too lazy for that.
Clara put the bowl of cat food in front of Barnaby, which he lapped at eagerly.
Today was a study day, she could feel it in her bones.
But first, internet.
However before she could even make it up the stairs the main phone in the kitchen started ringing. Clara pivoted back down the stairs, the quicker she could answer the phone the quicker she could check Facebook.
"Hello?" she answered.
"Clara?" a familiar voice questioned.
"Gemma?" Clara's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Where are you dear? Your shift started thirty minutes ago." An elderly voice asked in concern. Clara, however, had no answer to supply, she simply gaped for a few seconds.
"W-what? But I've had this day off since the new schedule was printed!" Clara practically ran to the refrigerator, which is where both her and her flat mate posted their schedules.
"Is that so? Well it says here you were scheduled for the morning shift." Gemma indicated.
"But I'm looking at my schedule right now, and I didn't schedule for the morning shift today." She started to drum her fingers against the refrigerator. A deep unsettled panic nestled itself inside her stomach.
"Clara, I'm so sorry dear, this is obviously a gigantic mix-up, but I have no one at front desk for the remainder of the morning and I need to help stock up the main shelves." Now Clara felt like a horrible person because no one in their right minds should ever make Gemma, gentle, kind Gemma, beg.
"No, Gemma, its fine I'll be right there."
"Are you sure? I can always call in someone else for the shift."
"Oh there's no need to wake up anyone else this early. I'm awake, I might as well do something productive with my day." Well, there goes studying.
"Oh Clara, thank you so much."
"It's no problem at all Gemma."
-x-
She was now an hour late to her supposed shift, but Gemma didn't seem to mind, and she even put this down as overtime.
"You didn't have to do that, you could've just put me down as late." Clara was absolutely touched that an angel such as Gemma worked at the Library.
"None sense. Make you late to a shift you didn't schedule?" Gemma Lusbee was an elderly woman, with short grey hair that clung to her skull. Currently, she was the Head Librarian, the position that Margaret coveted so much. She always wore bright colors that instantly made her the center of attention in any room, however she never exploited it. She claimed the bright colors were so her husband could spot her amongst the row of books, but Mr. Lusbee had passed ten years prior, so she filled most of her time in the Library. But she never stopped wearing the bright colors.
Today it was a neon green scarf atop a bright pink kitten sweater, and conservative (on Gemma's part) brown pants that were patterned with puppy paw prints. While it might have looked ludicrous on any other person, Clara found it rather suitable for Gemma.
"I still feel bad about taking the extra money." Clara confessed.
Gemma laughed, "With all the donations we've been receiving, it wouldn't be too much to give one employee overtime, dear."
There was no arguing with her, and so Clara left to man the front desk. As it was a Sunday morning, not many had risen yet, and Clara found herself distracted by sudden urge to found out why she was scheduled to work today of all days.
All right, Clara shifted her line of sight from side to side to ensure no one was around. She sat herself down on the desk chair and aligned the computer monitor towards her.
Logging onto the System Operations she used the master code, which wasn't all that hard to figure out (001Library), to the records of all computer systems. First, she went to the shift schedule to see when exactly her new shift was scheduled. Two days ago, at 5:01 P.M. using Donatello (a rather fickle computer located on the third floor). Well, that didn't entirely help matters; Donatello was located near the entrance of autobiographies and was a frequently used computer.
Oh-kay, with more clicking of the mouse Clara then checked all employees logged onto the system that Friday afternoon. Dylan, Ian, Mary, Landen, Carlisle, BB, Morgan, Renee, and Margaret.
Huh.
Margaret.
Double-clicking on Margaret's name, it indicated that yes, Margaret was online that Friday afternoon, on Donatello, from 4:50-5:30.
Clara then wished she had teleportation abilities, just for the sake of being able to teleport to Margaret's room, dump rotten milk on her, and teleport away before she could be suspected.
The little hacker narrowed her eyes however when she took stock of what Margaret was doing exactly for that amount of time while on Donatello.
Margaret was currently bidding on a pair of metallic grey boots on eBay. Her starting bid was three dollars. The bid was ending in five minutes.
"That cheap cow." Clara muttered.
Well all right then. A few more clicks and some methodical key strokes, Clara was signed in as Margaret on eBay, and not only that, but Margaret did end up winning the bid in the last five minutes, after placing a bid of fifty dollars. As well as purchasing a matching clutch purse, an absurdly priced Beatles vinyl, and a poster of the Eiffel Tower that's claimed to be urinated on by Bono. Thank God for .
It was petty, she knew, but at the same time it was utterly gratifying. In a matter of minutes she had erased all evidence of her being logged onto the System Operations. Now, she felt like she had a genuine reason to smile.
-x-
The morning shift was spent quietly. Hardly anyone had found reason to go the Library on a Sunday morning, and when it came time for her shift to end, she went to the back to clock out.
Gemma was there re-organizing children's books.
"My shift just ended Gemma, and BB is on his way." Gemma looked up and smiled.
"Oh of course. Thank you again Clara for coming."
Clara smiled, "As if I would let you man the castle with less men." It was a running joke between the two of them to refer the Library as a castle.
"Well, this old place has had to deal with worse. Especially now with that gala occurring, oh Lord, I pray I have enough energy in this old bones of mine to deal with Misters and Misses who want nothing more than to be in the books than to actually read them." Gemma shoveled more books onto a rack.
"It is a pity, that." Clara sympathized.
"Which reminds me, Clara, we're actually short a few people in setting up the morning before the gala. If it's not too much trouble-"
"Gemma I will be there. I'm actually surprised you even bothered to ask." Of course Clara had originally planned to help Louise with the pastries at that time, but it was still up in the air, so now she knew she could dedicate her time to the castle while still being able to help Louise later on with the fondant.
"Clara, Clara, Clara," Gemme started, a fond look in her eyes, "you will go far in life, I'm sure of it."
The brunette was a little taken back by the sudden admittance, but didn't falter.
"What makes you say that?" a quick of the eyebrows is all she gave away.
The elderly woman shrugged, "You're a rare breed of person Clara. A person like you comes few and far between. And darling, someone with your intellect shouldn't be working at a Library."
Now she was confused, "But I like working at the castle."
"And the castle loves you, but you're squandering your talents by staying here." There was a brief pause, "Which is why I'm thinking about giving the position to Margaret."
"WHAT?!" Clara screeched.
Gemma was visibly started, and Clara had to blink and cover her face with her hands in mortification.
"I mean, oh dear God, I don't mean-well if you say you want to give it to Margaret, I shouldn't stop you, but oh God-Margaret? You're sure? Margaret? The walking harpy of the castle Margaret? That Margaret?" Rambling was never a good point in starting an argument, but the girl was to shocked to formulate a good enough sentence.
But then Gemma burst out into laughter.
"Oh my dear child. You're face! You should have seen your face!" Gemma continued to guffaw into her scarf.
Clara made a face of disbelief. "W-what?"
"Me? Give the castle to Margaret?" the elderly woman scoffed, "When I die!"
This woman is so crazy she's awesome, Clara concluded in her mind.
-x-
Egg...egg…egg…EXTERMINATE!
A gasp escaped her as she shot up in bed, fighting off an attacker that was only in her mind. In the tussle with her imaginary invader she had knocked over a picture frame. It clattered to the floor with an audible clang.
"Clara? Clara is that you? Are you all right?"
She took in a deep breath. Christ, what time was it?
"Clara?!"
"Yeah Stace I'm fine!" Was she? Was she really?
The dreams were getting worse. Before, the vividness would just be enough to astound her, but now she could actually feel the burning inferno that consumed the planet. The fire biting at her skin as her Dalek form collapsed in on itself. The screams that echoed in her ears. She shivered.
A knock was heard from her door before Stacy popped her head in.
"Hey, you sure you're all right? That was an awfully loud noise." Her flat mate asked in concern.
"O-oh yeah don't worry about me. I just, uhm, accidently knocked over the photo trying to hit the snooze button." Clara deftly grabbed the photo she had knocked over. It was a picture of her niece Gabrielle, her two front teeth missing, grinning for the entire world to see.
"If you say so. Look, I'm gonna be home late, something about Louise wanting specific pastels for the gala. Don't forget to check in with her Clara, she's right mad when big occasions are right around the corner." Stacy reminded.
Louise, the owner of the catering business Stacy and Clara both worked for, did indeed go quite mad when catering dates were coming. A perfectionist at heart, she demanded perfection from her employees. Even if that meant working them to the bone beforehand.
Clara groaned at the reminder. Louise was the last person she wanted to talk to but Stacy was right, she had to confront her one day.
"Hurry up yeah? Or else you'll miss the bus, again." Stacy left at that. Clara flopped back down in bed, unwilling to face the problems of the day. She knew she should get up soon; after all she had missed her bus twice this week due to the nightmares.
'But never before have they been so bad,' she thought morosely. She could still feel the heat nipping at her skin and she rubbed at her arms to dispel the feeling.
"It's not real; it's not real at all. They're just dreams. Horrible, horrible dreams of the same thing over and over again. Yup. That's all they are." Even she couldn't kid herself with this.
Getting out of bed she spied a quick glance at her dresser, the picture of Gabrielle smiling back at her. She knew she should call Elizabeth, Gabrielle's mother and her sister, sometime soon. Ever since the preparations for the gala had taken flight she hadn't been able to contact them in the longest time.
Going through her normal morning routine she even had to iron her clothes in the kitchen before she left. The Bad Wolf Corporation demanded that all their employees, yes even their interns, come suited in a professional matter. What did that mean for Clara? Ironing and washing the same five outfits every week, mixing and matching every other day so the outfits don't seem repeated. Once everything was ironed, tucked, and brushed to perfection she knew she was confident enough to walk out the door and stride into Bad Wolf Corporation as if she belonged there.
Quickly she gave Barnaby his breakfast meal, a quick rub on his furry little head, and grabbed her attaché case near the front door.
As she walked out the door she tripped on a crack in the cement and broke a heel on her pumps.
Oh yes, today was definitely her day.
-x-
Author's Note: Yes, that is the end of chapter one and (hopefully) there will be more to come. But as of right now with Finals and all the second chapter might be slow in coming. Also, I've never actually written a multi-chapter fic before, usually I've stuck with one-shots. This is completely new territory for me, but hopefully it'll be thoroughly enjoyed! Please excuse any grammatical errors. Thank you for reading.