A/N: Ahh I loved the Rings of Akhaten so much I think I squealed. It was beautiful and adorable and asdfghjkl I just had to post this one-shot. There are some very *slight* spoilers for the episode in this. You have been warned lol. However, I hope you enjoy!
Please review/favourite as they do make my day and I love them!
Disclaimer: don't own don't sue.
A New Chapter
It's not impossible to read a book if the first page is missing. It's just one page of ten or twenty or a hundred or thousand, a tiny minority of the ratio of the whole tome- nothing is ever revealed in the first page, so it is not vital to have it to read and understand the whole thing. Once you get to the second or the third or the fourth, the first page is long gone and forgotten. You don't go back to it because there isn't much point.
But it's different when you know what's meant to be on that first page. When you've seen it time and time again, studied it in great detail and know everything about it and grin at the prospect of seeing it again. If you've never seen the first page you don't miss it because you've never had the pleasure of having it in the first place. You can't miss what you've never received. You can't long for what you've never lost.
But if you know that first page off by heart: the book isn't the same. The story is all out of proportion and odd and wrong. It doesn't make sense and it never will. A once favourite book is now destroyed. All the sentimentalities and the memories it once held are no longer as precious and gradually, they begin to fade.
All because of just one page.
She can't look at '101 Places to See' in the same way any longer. She still physically sees the pages but mentally, they just don't sink in anymore. They're just paper with words that she can't make sense of in her head; all jumbled and scrambled because of that page one. It's like the retentions she's collected over the years she'd had the book are just slipping between her fingers because one massive chunk has been taken away.
But she doesn't regret it, not at all. All those people (aliens?) she'd saved at Akhaten because of that one leaf and all the recollections it held; it's well worth the pain and the coldness of letting her past go to let so many people live. That leaf. Isn't it funny how many lives have changed thanks to that one leaf?
She smiles at the thought. Her parents' story may have ended, but the way it began had stopped so many from concluding. And that seems right, somehow. One door closes another one opens and all that. She's sure that's what her mum would've wanted.
She rummages through her little red satchel bag for the book, and sure enough, it's still there because she takes it everywhere with her. It's one of those things she's always kept within arm's length because it means so, so much to her. It's worth pennies, maybe not even that, but if you count up all the years she's kept this one book close to her it's worth a lot more than money. Priceless.
She opens out the cover and is greeted with that familiar smell of yellowing paper and age and love. She skims her finger across her mother's maiden name, Ellie Rosenwood, where the ink has smudged and blurred thanks to the tears she'd shed at her graveside. She then sees her own name, Clara Oswald, scribbled messily at the top of the next page and the list of the years she'd cherished this one book.
But then she sees the next page but it isn't page one. It's page two. And she just can't continue skimming through it like she's done pretty much every single day of her existence- because what story starts on page two?
She hasn't noticed the Doctor looming over her for the past few minutes and it's only when he sits down beside her and pulls an arm round her shoulders than she realises he's there.
She looks up at him, blinking back the little tears she's tried so hard not to form. He automatically notices them though and his face is instantly in a worried expression. He can't stand seeing her upset.
"What's wrong?" he asks, placing a strand of her brown hair which has fallen into her face behind her ear, so he can see her properly. Her sadness is making him sad, if that's possible. He decides it is, this empathy, because Clara Oswald is just a normal Earth girl even though she isn't, technically, possible.
She doesn't talk for several moments, just staring down at her lap. He doesn't coax her into talking because he knows when she's ready, she'll talk. He just keeps his arm looped around her body, tugging her close.
She then pushes the book which is balancing on her knees into his. He just looks down in surprise. "Take it."
He looks at her confusedly, immediately pushing it back into her possession. How can he possibly take this from her? "No! Why? Not this, Clara."
She rubs her cheek with her hand. "It's… Different."
He lets her head rest against his chest, the beating of his hearts a comforting sound against her ears. He lets his hand smoothen down her hair because he knows this is his entire fault. The ring, he could find and give back to her. Easily. But the leaf? Her page one? That was something that couldn't be replaced. It was gone, destroyed, dancing through space broken into billions of pieces like the billions of stories it could've held.
"I know it's not the same," he tries to tell her, "But this was your mothers book, Clara. Just because one page is gone, it doesn't mean that everything else is gone too."
"But it does!" she retaliates indefinitely, "I can't… Please, Doctor, take it. Please."
Of course he doesn't. He can't possibly and he never will. So he grabs her hand and drags her down to the control room, where he spins and dances around the central panel with absolute expertise. She's not far behind him, a little bit subdued but still aglow with the excitement of another adventure.
"Where are we going?" she asks, still gazing up with wonderment in her hazel eyes as the TARDIS bursts into life with fizzes and sparks and a whole lot of spinny-ness.
"A page, once lost, can never be replaced fully," he says, pulling back on a red lever with flourish and the TARDIS jerks: throwing her back slightly, but she's used to the unexpected tremors and grabs onto a bar in order to stand upright. "But we can always find another to put in its place."
He gives her a reassuring grin which she can't help but reciprocate, pulling on her hands as he drags her from the control room to the doors. Her heart flutters at the thought of a new world like it did on their first trip to Akhaten and she swears she's never going to get tired of it.
He opens the doors and instantly, she's surrounded by colours. Red and green and orange and gold dancing about in front of her eyes and she can't help but gasp at the sheer beauty of it.
He links his hand into hers and their arms swing in time with each other as they walk. "The Forests of Muhala Five, home to some of the rarest and most beautiful trees in the universe."
She looks up at the sky and smiles, the heat of the two suns hanging peacefully in the sapphire-blue sky basking her face in a golden glow. "It's beautiful!"
Oh, he loves her amazement. He's missed this resolute innocence in his companions; finally, someone he hasn't yet corrupted and spoiled. She's still so at wonder with the universe and he hopes to keep it that way.
A leaf brushes against her shoulder and he picks it up. It's beautiful- a mix of red, orange, gold and yellow with five pointed edges, like a child's drawing of a star. He smiles to himself as he spins the thin stalk around with his thumb and forefinger. Clara just looks on at him, her eyes glittering with amazement and mischief.
He lets go of the hand that he's holding and opens out the palm, laying the leaf inside. "A page, once lost, can never be replaced fully. But we can always find another to put in its place."
She grins as the sun reflects of it, creating a soft, yellow glow.
"This is where your new life starts, Clara Oswald." he reminds her, "A new chapter in your story, so many adventures and loves and losses and memories. You can fill it with what's to come and what won't ever come, an infinity of infinities of tiny little moments which eventually make up you."
She looks at him, this incredible man.
"You, Clara Oswald." he smiles down at her, "You. Not anybody else. You."
And she cries, just a little bit, but it's not for what she's lost anymore.
It's what's to come.