Coffee poured from the spout of teapot and into a cup. Not a teacup - just a normal glass used for everyday drinking. The teapot was set down on the counter and the cup was picked up by a small hand before the girl attached to it made her way to her couch in the living room. She sat down on the couch, glancing over the various articles spread across her coffee table. None of the headlines interested the girl like they may have if this had been a year or two before.
At that moment, the papers began to fly from the coffee table, making a smile spread across Clara Oswald's face. She set her coffee down, the contents nearly sloshing out as she got up and hurried over to the blue box that had appeared in her living room, excited for another adventure.
The doors of the blue box opened just a tad, and a man's head popped out. "Hey you!" Clara greeted, and took a step forward, ready to enter the box. However, a hand stopped her and she looked back up at the Doctor. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice holding a note of concern.
"Nothing," he answered. "But I wouldn't want you seeing anything you might wish you hadn't later."
"Doctor, what did you do?" Clara pressed, not taking "no" for an answer. She took another step closer, but the Doctor stepped out of the box just in time to shut the doors behind him, blocking them. Clara folded her arms from where she stood. "Doctor."
"Clara, please," he pleaded, staring straight down into the girl's eyes. "Right now, I'm busy doing something really, really important and I need you to be really, really patient."
"Why?"
"Clara, I know what I'm doing." And the Doctor really did, but there was no way he was going to let his companion know what it was yet.
"Do you?" she pressed even further, expression fitting for her folded arms.
"What does that even mean? Of course I know what I'm doing!"
"Have you seen you?" this was a question Clara asked the Doctor a lot, often because she needed to. She knew more about the Doctor than he knew himself, and she was willing to prove that, being the control freak she was.
The Doctor rolled his eyes, staring off to the side as if considering it would be best to let Clara have a peek. However, Clara gave in, which was quite surprising. "Fine, fine," she began, walking away with her hands up. "I really should do some reading anyway. We're about to go over 'The Tragedy of Julius Caesar' in fifth period and I'm not even through the eightteenth page."
"Good, good," the Doctor commented, turning back towards his TARDIS and cracking the doors open. "Though maybe ironing your clothes would be a more sufficient and time worthy task."
Clara rolled her eyes. Comments like these were common with this incarnation of the Doctor, and sometimes Clara wondered if he meant them. She couldn't quite tell anymore. "Alright! But next time don't just pop in here and tell me to wait a little while longer, especially when I have nothing else to do except be bored."
"Well, you don't just need to iron your clothes. In fact, if I were you -"
"Go!"
At her command, the Doctor wheeled back into his TARDIS, shutting the doors back behind him. He stared back at the mess of books in front of him, piled on the stairs, and knew his companion wouldn't be dissatisfied by what he was planning. Clara deserved something to be her own on board the TARDIS, besides her room and her soufflé kitchen. She was developing more interests than soufflés and napping (though sleeping in was never objected by her), and ever since she'd lost Danny (a.k.a. "Good Ol' P.E."), it was harder to keep her happy in the TARDIS. Sometimes Clara would stare off into space at the controls, thinking about steering the TARDIS in a failed mission to save her boyfriend. Anytime she'd find a TARDIS key, a teardrop would enter her eyes, knowing that she'd betray the Doctor again if she could save Danny in any way. The Doctor couldn't let her keep this up. She needed something good, something that could be hers, something that would bring her happiness to spend time in the TARDIS rather than whisking out of it, leaving the hard memories behind. Something that would make her feel safe in the Doctor's home. That's all the Doctor wanted for her - to feel safe and happy.
The Doctor took a breath and headed up the steps. "Enough dawdling," he scolded himself. "Back to creating."
The Doctor poked his head out of the TARDIS, finding Clara on the couch reading her book. He could hardly contain himself, excited for her reaction to what he'd done, but he was actually brilliant at maintaining a calm disposition...when the moment was right. Though that didn't stop him from smiling.
As soon as the TARDIS doors had opened, Clara glanced up from her reading and at the Doctor. He motioned his head for her to come inside, and Clara set her book down and got up, quite curious of what she was about to see. Hopefully nothing she really wouldn't like, something worth the wait. As soon as she set foot inside the TARDIS, she noticed quite a few books missing from the shelves in the console room. And yet, the Doctor was nowhere to be seen. "Doctor?" she called softly.
"Down through here!" he called to her from one of the halls. Suspicious, Clara, folded her arms around herself and headed his direction, really wondering what was going on. She didn't like being in the TARDIS too long - it started bringing up memories, the "not-good" kind. It didn't help that the TARDIS and Clara weren't exactly what you'd call best friends either.
After about a minute of walking, Clara spotted the Doctor standing at a closed door. "Ah." She joined him at the door, her gaze flitting from it to the time lord. "Invented a new room, then?"
"Yes," he answered quickly, then double-taked. "Well, sort of, anyway. It's not really what you'd call an invention, but..." the Doctor took a moment to open the door wide so Clara could look in, his hearts pumping with excitement as the impossible girl's eye began to take in the whole room. "...it's definitely new." The smile returned as he stared down at his companion, waiting for her reaction.
"It's a library," Clara pointed out, taking a step inside. It wasn't very big, maybe about the size of the console room. Yet it was homely, complete with a fireplace and a dimly lit chandelier. There were books of all kinds on towering shelves, and there was a rolling ladder for someone to step onto to reach a highup book.
"Correct!"
"But you already have one. Up in the console room."
The Doctor leaned against the doorframe, scratching his forehead with his thumb. "Clara, why would I do a pudding brained thing like move all my books from there to here just to have another library for myself?" He smiled down at Clara, who was finally getting it.
"Do you mean..." she began to roam the library, glancing over the books and the interior design. "...this is all for me?" She turned her head to stare back at the Doctor, her hair flicking behind her.
Instead of answering her question directly, the Doctor flitted his gaze towards the shelves. "Look at the bookends."
Clara followed his instructions, and smiled wide at the sight of them. The bookends were metal and shaped like the leaf she blew into the world upon. On one side of each bookend, her name was written in cursive, and on the other, in Gallifreyan circles. She picked one up, which was quite heavy, and felt the engravings with her fingertips.
Meanwhile, the Doctor explained, gesturing. "Those I had made in Akhaten. Special-order. I didn't even have to trade anything because I told them who they were for! Y'know, you're a real legend there. They've written books. In fact, I placed a few somewhere in here." He began searching the shelves briefly, but stopped, wanting to continue. Clara still stood gazing at the bookend she was holding. The Doctor went on. "And I went to several bookstores around the universe and found a few books I thought you'd might like in your posession. The universe is full of Robin Hoods. And I picked off a few of my own books I'm not -"
"Thank you." It came out as a squeak, and a teardrop rolled down the impossible girl's cheek.
The Doctor was confused, and stopped. "I don't get it. What's this?" he motioned at her face. "Why are you crying? I've just given you your own library. You should be happy."
"I am," Clara told him, and she stared back at the time lord. She made her way over to him, bookend still in hand, and obviously a little heavy for her - she was so small. "Thank you. But why?"
The Doctor took her in nervously. She was giving him the eyes, the malfunctioning face, and yet it was good to see it. This time it meant she was happier than she was sad, and that was good enough. Yet they were pressing, and the Doctor had no idea how to answer her question...except...
"I don't know why," he began, bending forward to stare into "the eyes." He smiled at her kindly, meaning what he was saying. "I only know who." His grin widened, and so did Clara's, who sniffed and wipe her tears away, but they only kept coming.
"Am I really that important to you?"
The Doctor gave a small chuckle. "Clara. Have you seen you?"
