Before we begin...

Hello! My name is Elisabeth! I am a college filmmaker, but above all I am a storyteller. I do hope that you enjoy this story! Please follow and comment. I love all critique- good and bad. I must also mention that I run my own creative writing website and we invite all of you to join us! We create stories together and share ideas! It's a blast! So check us out at tresinunum . freeforums . net !

This is a novel I've been writing for a while. I've been a 'Whovian' since I was seven years old and I've been a writer for even LONGER! The novel below is a collection of random stories centred around an entire series of Doctor Who adventures. While there is a central theme to the novel, small adventures will fill in much like how the series works itself. I WILL take ideas and suggestions! PM me or leave a comment and if at all possible I will make an attempt to incorporate it into the novel- stretch it out for as long as I can! xD

The characters centred in this novel are The 11th Doctor, Clara Oswald, and Emma Waldron (an O.C.). I would like to take another moment of your time before you begin reading to give a full synopsis below:

'He took me to a planet I'd never seen before, but somehow felt so familiar. I walked those streets before. It's one of those strange moments in our lives where we remember things that never happened. Call it deja vu. Some say we're seeing into our future or senses something from a past life. But in no past life was I here. Except I was. Because there's me and... someone else. Some small girl with a trail of brunette hair braided down her shoulder and round chocolate eyes that smile bigger than her lips. But it's only a visions... something probing at the back of my brain and I swear that I remember... for a second I remember. I'm missing something. He's taken something from me. The Doctor. He's taken something important from me. But why? Why can't I remember who that girl is? And why is she everywhere I look? Everything I think? She's there. In the back of my mind. And suddenly... I remember her name. And her name is Emma.'

Now, without further ado... I present to you: The Hidden Chapter in Clara Oswald's Timeline! Series One, Part One.

Disclaimer: I do own any of the Whoverse characters nor do I have any association with the production.

SERIES ONE.

PART ONE
THE IMPOSSIBLE CHILD

There are a thousand different possibilities to how this story may end. There are a thousand different universes and a thousand different stories all circulating around, creating more and more possibilities. Possibilities at all corners. I have possibilities. I have lots of possibilities! But those possibilities don't matter if I don't take them! I have to make a choice. So many choices... TOO many choices.

I could turn around. I could find the Doctor and make this all better. I could make it how it was. Or I could keep going straight and see where the road takes me. I could actually make it to school on time for once. Or what if I turned left and walked towards the cemetery? What would be waiting for me there? My mother, maybe.

The Doctor taught me to believe that all things are possible. And you know what? I believe it! I believe everything that mad, brilliant man tells me because... oh, well you know. The Doctor made me alive. Can I turn my back on that? Does he expect me to? No certainly not... I am alive. I am alive. Doctor! I am alive and I need you. Don't make me choose. Make me stay. I want to stay. I don't want possibilities. I want one possibility! And that possibility must be YOU.

x x x

The Doctor was spinning around in circles. His coat flaring around him like a dark fog, swirling and swirling wildly through the crowded streets. Bubble men of blue and horned creatures of hornet yellow splashed the road with vibrant madness. Anicarthia, the Doctor called it. Pretty, it was. Golden in colour and fiery in character. He called it a haven. Haven for people and creatures whose planets have all been destroyed. Clara trailed behind him, her mind somewhere amongst the stars. There were so many stars even in the sunlight here. There was a dreadful sense of familiarities all around her. These streets. These people. These sunlit stars. It was so very familiar. So very strange.

She was propelled forwards towards the chaos of the city after the Doctor. He was twisting between shades under handles of tapestries plastered over roofs and rickety poles. His form disappeared between two bricked walls slathered in green vinery. Clara found herself in some sort of cavern of colourful flags. The Doctor was mumbling madly to himself. She wondered if he noticed himself talking. He rambled like a madman. Madman in a blue box. Her madman in a blue box.

"Doctor! Where are we goin'?"

He was in the clouds. Stopping only once to straighten his bowtie in a shattered mirror. He had been distracted lately, she noticed. He talked to her less. He took her to the suns of planets and avoided the horrors- taking away some of the adventure in the process. It was very unlike him. He was keeping something from her. He was… sad, sadder than she had seen him before. She could just tell. It was in his eyes.

Suddenly the Doctor stopped. He was staring down an alleyway and his back was arched back from approach. "Doctor?" Clara crouched forward, cautious and curious, all the while staring at the walls that the Doctor faced towards. "What is it?"

The madman tipped backwards. "Ah. Right. Well… Seems like I've got some unfinished business here. Thought I popped off farther in the future, but… TARDIS. Now!"

He turned then on his heels. He ran right past Clara, hitching her hand in his in one swift motion. "Doctor! What is it?" She repeated herself, stumbling along the carved path weakly as her boots dragged in the ricks and hicks of the cobble. The Doctor, however, was not listening. Or if he was he was not going to answer. Chaos rang out from above them and tapestries of wild colours fell behind their backs and in front of their path. Violent lights of orange and green shaved the air like razors, missing their heads… barely. Slices of weaponised colour pried apart shops and stops along their paths, most definitely aimed at the fleeing Doctor and his companion.

"Doctor! Doctor!"

The Doctor slid under a fallen pavilion, releasing his companion's grip in the process. Without the support of her quirky Timelord, Clara stumbled to the ground, catching herself only with her palms and knees. The mud splashed up onto her skirts.

"Clara!" That wasn't the Doctor. It was small. Feminine. A child?

Clara Oswald dared to turn her head towards the sound, but she was snatched up by the Doctor in a second. "What are you doin' down there on the ground for? C'mon! Time to Run!" On their feet, again, the Doctor and Clara scrambled into the TARDIS with seconds to spare. She spun until her palms slammed against the console and her madman was flipping switches and popping buttons. Hissing and wheezing, the blue box evaporated into the void and the air smoothed beneath them.

"Doctor!"

Mumbling to himself again, the Doctor was talking to his TARDIS. "Okay! Next stop- the Red Galaxies. You're gonna love it there. Skies of Green and grass of blue- it'll really-"

"Doctor! Are you gonna tell me what the hell that was back there?" Clara demanded. Her lungs working extra hard to catch her breath. "What did you do?" Her feet stomping against the platform. The TARDIS rumbled, displeased.

"Me? I didn't-" He stopped then. His face changed so suddenly that it startled his companion. "It's a long story."

"That's never stopped you before."

He went quiet. He didn't usually do that either. The Doctor always had stories to tell. There were hardly any secrets between them. Right? That was the thing about travelling with the Doctor. No matter how well you thought you knew him... you'd never know everything. Clara's barely scratched the surface and she's stepped into his timeline. "Doctor?"

His big sad eyes. The Doctor's big sad eyes stared down at his console. Lost in thought. His hands fondled something buried his coat pocket. And still he refused to answer. "Story for another time. Trust me."

Clara shut her mouth. Now was not the time. "The Red Galaxies sound brilliant." Her mouth formed a smile, a frown disguised as a smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Let me change first, though, yeah?" The mud had started to cake over the fabric of her skirt.

Clara's room was located on the left in the first corridor to the right. The TARDIS was a labyrinth of corridors and rooms with various purposes or no purposes at all. There was an entire room dedicated to a plastic ball pit and another completely submerged in purple gelatine. But there were other rooms filled with books and locked with a TimeLord's secrets. Across from Clara's room was a sealed vault, which she never bothered to even look at for the Doctor was very private about that room. Perhaps it was his bedroom? She had never seen him sleep nor did she think he needed to, but he must, mustn't he?

Her bedroom was hidden behind a solid white door, a wooden landmark in an otherwise mechanic landscape. Behind her wooden privacy was a generously proportioned bed laced with a handknit quilt from her Gran and two hardly-used pillows of plain white. There was a plain dresser and a closet, opened and scattered about her floor. She wished she was better at cleaning this place, but there was always some sort of distraction.

Clara started to slip from her clothing. She had copious arrangements of ensembles to cover her; it was a necessity when travelling so long with the Doctor. With her old clothes discarded and a new ensemble assembled to her frame, Clara started to regain some control of her disheveled hair, now matted and scattered from it's part. She followed the cleared path to her dresser, which doubled as a vanity, and started to comb through the fine strands of her brunette locks.

It was at that very moment that Clara looked into the mirror and a familiar voice travelled across her memory caverns. "You're supposed to be the control freak. How come I'm the one bothered by this room, then?" Clara looked into the corner of her mirror and for a split second there she saw the face of a girl she thought she knew. She turned her head to find the space around her completely abandoned. There was no voice. There was no one there.

When Clara's gaze returned to the mirror her cheeks were stained with tears. Her fingers brushed the bump of her cheek and the wet clinging to her skin attracted to the lines in her fingers. Clara's smile seemed to evaporate into the thick of space and she was lost. What was this? Where did these come from? Tears.

Clara returned and the Doctor had not changed. He was still pattering about the control room. He moved around the room like a busy bird. He caught her immediately; but refused to notice the changes in her posterior. He didn't always notice those little things. He didn't always recognise emotions. Or maybe he did and chose to walk over it. It was hard to tell behind those old, sad eyes.

"Red Galaxies, then?" Clara hopped down the steps with a clicking following her every move until she made it to the console.

The Doctor looked up for only a second, pushed a button, and looked back at the console- for a second. The next second he was looking back at her. He noticed. He noticed her cheeks. Her eyes. Something had given it away. "Why are you crying?"

The Doctor stepped closer, his brow narrowed in examination. Are. He said 'are' not 'were'. Clara shook her head, confused herself, until she felt another tear hit her cheek. "I don't-" Another smacked against her cheek. "I don't know."

The Timelord swiped his index finger under her eye and placed the salty tear upon his tongue. Smacking his lips in an exaggerated show of taste. "Old. Very old." His eyes were so dark, staring at her. "Excuse me." The Doctor brushed past her in such a blur that Clara wasn't even aware of the change. The air hit her cheeks and ceased to stir around her. Clara was left alone in the console room and the Doctor had disappeared behind one of the corridors.

"Doctor?" Her voice was quiet. He was out of sight and out of earshot. So, Clara picked up her feet and followed his path into one of the corridors.

The Doctor disappeared between the confines of one of the rooms well before Clara had faced the corridor. The TARDIS lights flickered with a wheeze and a hum and the sound of the controls rumbled beneath her feet. She started down the corridor with slow intent, glancing from room to room until flags of dark purple shot past her vision. The Doctor was rummaging through something. Bottles or boxes. It was an entire room dedicated to vaults of vacuous bottles, glass boxes, and a singular metal vault bolted into the wall at the back of the florescent room.

"Doctor?"

He turned then, facing her, and then charging her with his finger at the ready. Nose to nose, the Doctor thumped his finger against the centre of her forehead. "Ow!" She protested, but he was lost. The Doctor's voice chimed across the echoed corridor as his mind raced from thought to thought. He was speaking, but Clara wasn't hearing a word.

"Doctor, what are you talkin' about?"

His vocals were running on about something. Time and faults and memories. "Don't use the Retinentia-The Retinentia always finds fault-Never finishes the job- always thinks-always changes-"

"Doctor, what are you on about?"

"The Retinentia. They left something-" His finger pressed against her forehead again. "there."

Clara's gaze followed his very movements back to the glass vaults. He tumbled over a few clinking bottles and Clara looked off at the shelves of bottles next to her person. It wasn't what she expected- there were names on the bottles. Names of the dead, maybe? She reached for one labelled Donna Noble.

"Don't-"

Startled to be reprimanded in the middle of his ramble, Clara replaced the empty space with the bottle again.

"A single crack could- it could destroy- don't touch anything. They're very delicate."

"Okay."

Silence poured over the vaulted room and within moments the Doctor was back on his rampage until his fists clasped around a silver locket among the bottles of clear. Not until then did Clara make another motion forwards. Her person was close enough to hear the breath of the Doctor humming through her auditoriums. "There's a crack."

"A crack?"

The Doctor's hand unfolded before her. The locket appeared to be engraved with gibberish designs. Not of origin she would recognise. There on the edge of the locket was a slender crack down the front of the circular structure. The crack interfered with the opening and thus...

"The crack." The Doctor started. His palm graced the bones of her cheek and his finger swiped another tear that had fallen unknown. "It's seeping through. What can you see?"

She shook her head, suddenly scared. "Nothing. I can't see anything."

His hazel orbs studied her for a moment, waggling back and forth in a hurried manner. His brow collapsing over his gaze, the Doctor's mien illustrated confusion and curiosity. He was staring now, not into her eyes, but into her mind. And just when he had her distracted, he plucked a hair from her scalp, encouraging a little yelp from her in reaction. "Oi!"

"This one. It's an entire year older than the others."

"What? How can one strand of hair be older? It's just hair!"

The Doctor smiled, that big goofy smile that he got when he found something new. "It's not just your hair. It's your tears. Your tears. They're old. There's a crack in your mind. A crack in your locket and it's bleeding through-"

"Hold on. My locket?"

"Right. You've forgotten." His tone formed more of a question than a statement. "The memory is so powerful that it's braving cracks in it's prison."

"Doctor, what are you talking about?"

The Doctor froze. "I am so so sorry, Clara. I can't fix this." He wasn't talking, but he wasn't saying anything. Typical.

"Fix what?"

"Your memories."

x x x

Hush. There's voice coming from inside the bedroom. It's whispering, but it can still be heard. It's coming from the bedroom- my bedroom. I had to investigate. Creeping towards the door, I hopped from one board to the next until I was standing nose-to-nose with the wooden door. The whispering stopped. But there's still noise coming from the room. Breathing. I can hear them breathing.

I knocked. There was no answer. Of course there was no answer. The door squealed and suddenly I was inside. The room was dark and bitter with a damp cold. Cold filled the space like a wave. The wind broke through the window and the shutters shattered against the wall. There was a wicked storm brewing outside and this ramshackle hatch wasn't enough to hold it back. I was forced backward, crunching the floorboards under my feet and revealing my position. Whatever was lurking in the dark knew I was there now if it didn't before. I was vulnerable.

Scratching came from under the bed. My heart started to beat against my chest so hard that I thought it might burst from my skin. I scanned the room. It was definitely coming from under the bed. "I know you're there." I huffed, fearful in the slightest. How many hid there?

My hands pushed against the floorboards until my chest was pressed against the surface and my cheeks cooled against the wood. Once at eye level I was able to peek under the bed and through the duvet to see the smile staring back at me, white and sinister. Then a thump! I was smashed against the floorboards and my skin puffed around me with the horrible pressure that met with my spine. I think I screamed, but all sound went numb…

Laughter followed. Horrible, evil laughter.

"Ouch!" Pushing the monstrous figure from my back, I rolled up onto my bum and glared down at my foster sisters with foul contempt. "That hurt! If you're going to play hide n' seek 'least play it fair."

"C'mon, Emma. I's only fun if you break the rules." Ronnie was older than me. She's just turned eleven while Olivia was pushing thirteen. She'd be moved from our home soon. That's how it was when you turned to a teen. You moved where other teens were.

"That still hurt…" My arms crossed across my chest as if by extinct. They often teased me for it. It was a gesture I participated in often.

Clap! Clap! There it was. The sound of our caretaker clammering up the stairs. It was enough to drive all three of us into bed. Olivia was in more trouble than we. She wasn't even in her own bedroom. "You girls are causing a racket up here." Ms. Kathy was a plump old woman. Sweet as strawberries usually, but mean as a bat when we broke the house rules. Luckily, there weren't too many of those.

With our hands around the duvet corners we threw ourselves under the darkness and waited. Whispering gigglings and biting our tongues. Olivia hushed us, but that only made us want to laugh more.

"Olivia." Ms. Kathy was there. "To bed. Emma in your own bed. C'mon now. You've got school in the mornin'."

Olivia climbed out from the sheets immediately and scampered past Ms. Kathy to her own bedroom in a breathing hurry. Soon to follow the closing of the bedroom door and Ronnie and I were left alone. Guess we should listen. It was my first day of school tomorrow in London. I had spent all summer here. Now it was time for me to be part of the routine.

x x x

"Keep up, Emma!" Ronnie was far ahead of me. She much more excited for school than I was. I didn't like starting over. I never did.

"I'm comin'," But I wasn't. I was shuffling behind, kicking my feet and staring at the pavement as if it would actually make a difference. I was going to school. No other way around it.

Schools in London were not very different than those in Blackpool. I thought they'd be different because it's London, but it was the same. Ronnie walked in with me, but she disappeared instantly when she found her friends. This was her last year in primary school. If I stayed another year here in Ms. Kathy's house I'd be walking to this school alone.

"Your classroom is right down there." Ronnie pointed down the hallway. There were at least six rooms down that corridor. How did I know which was mine? "I'm in the other hallway. I see you out in the courtyard after school, yeah?"

I nodded. I could follow instructions. Didn't mean I would. Ronnie left me after that and I was wandering down the hallway, looking for the room with my number on it. I did not like change. I should've been used to it at this point, but that didn't make it any easier. It made it harder, actually.

"C'mon. Hurry in. Take your seats."

Laughter filled the room for a moment until it all settled and the sound of chairs scraping across the floor replaced the chatter and all the human rumble. I slipped my backpack from my shoulders and swung it around my assigned seat, located towards the back of the classroom. There was my name taped on the corner of the desk: Emma W.

The woman had her back turned. She wore dark leggings and short, short skirt. The sweater she wore was thin, hugging around her torso like a band. Hair short, cut perfectly at the bottom and flattened against her head. And, she was very, very little. I think I could match her height if I stood on my toes. "Good morning, class. You may call me…" Her hand fell from the board and her gaze turned towards us. I found her big, round, brown eyes and she smiled. "Miss Oswald."

Next Time on Doctor Who...

There's something coming. It's hiding in the shadows like a monster, taking children from their beds, and stalking their schools... and it all starts here.

"What's your name?" The Doctor asked me.

"Emma. Emma Waldron."

"Hello, Emma Waldron. I'm the Doctor. Now... RUN!"

It's following us. It's clinging to the walls and scratching the surface of the universe all to get to the Doctor. That strange, funny madman with a bowtie. He said he can save us. He said he can save us all, but it's like the children... the beast under the bed. It's real and it's here in London.