*Hello all! Merry Christmas! It's almost noon here in the UK and I've had breakfast, dived into my presents and unwrapped a lot of Who goodies, including Day of the Doctor on DVD, the 11 stories for 11 Doctors and a TARDIS key ring. I hope everyone is enjoying their day, so here's a new fanfiction to brighten your Christmas day, before we all break down and 11 regenerates. Less than 8 hours now... Anyway, this is an AU fic, set at University. In this first chapter, we see how broken and alone Clara Oswald is. Can anyone pick up the pieces? Please, please, review, follow, favourite and thank you so much for reading. Another chapter, coming your way soon... TPD P.S I totally gave myself a cameo in this story, because what's the point in being an author if you can't give yourself a cool job?*
Clara wasn't sure where she was. She was lost, unable to find anyone to guide her. She was so engrossed in her map that she almost walked into a lamppost, before diving to her left at the last minute, colliding with a young man similarly engrossed in a map coming from the other way. The two tumbled and she grabbed hold of his jacket to right herself, dragging him on top of her. She felt the wind knocked out of her as an elbow hammered itself into her stomach and she gasped as he rolled off her, crumpling her arm in the process. The boy scrambled to his feet, running one hand through his floppy dark hair and offering Clara the other.
"Oh my God, are you alright?" he asked frantically. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going, lost in my head. I seem to do that a lot," he mused.
"It's alright," Clara informed him, accepting his offer of a hand up and smiling warmly to show she was alright, despite the intense pain still throbbing in her chest. The contact between them lasted a second longer than it should have and Clara blushed. "It was my fault, I ran into you. I take it you're as lost as me?"
"Lost? Goodness no!" the boy chuckled. "I was just taking the scenic route. So scenic, I appear to have forgotten where I was going in the first place, funny how these things happen. We're just outside the Chemistry building, I think…"
Clara examined the boy properly for the first time. He was a lot taller than she was, but then she was very short. He was wearing a tweed jacket, suspenders and a long, black tie. His eyes were furiously intense but yet light and funny at the same time and he had a very awkward stance about him, the way he stood, the way he smiled, the constant look on his face like he'd forgotten what he was supposed to be doing. He was a thoroughly peculiar boy, Clara thought, but she couldn't help but warm to his gangly body and awkward demeanour.
"I don't suppose you have any idea where the English department is, do you?" she asked exasperatedly. "I'm supposed to be there in like 5 minutes and I'm hopelessly lost. This map is less than useless."
"Let me see," the boy moved alongside her, instead of facing her and clasped the map in her hands. She let him take it and leaned over so they could both see it. Clara tried to ignore the proximity his face was from hers. He seemed oblivious to it. Typical guy, Clara thought. "Ah, there we are," he pointed. "And that's where you want to be!" he indicated. "Just take the next left and then keep walking until you reach the psychology block, then turn right. If you hit physics, you've gone too far. Ah Physics!" he exclaimed, grinning and taking Clara aback as he clicked his fingers and thrust the map back at her. "That's where I was meant to be going! Shall we?"
Clara nodded, not even slightly surprised that this eccentric man-child, probably her age, was a physicist. Clara had never been big on science, but she'd still scored A's at her GCSEs and knew a bit of rudimentary physics. This guy looked like he could tell her everything there was to know and not even stop to breathe. As they walked, she ingested more information about the stranger, despite the fact that neither of them probed too much. The way he grinned at everything told her that he was carefree but his eyes betrayed him. She knew the type. So hurt by the world but so eager to hide it. He threw himself into life, ignoring the fact that he had clearly suffered in the past and was probably still suffering. Clara was the same, although she'd never admit it. She was like him; she threw herself into the bigger picture, rather than every little intricacy. Everything was part of a bigger picture. This was probably why she was studying English Literature, to try and pick the brains of geniuses. This boy, however, threw himself into the world, not into people. What did that tell her about him? Not a lot, she supposed. She tried not to let herself be too interested by this stranger, as it was unlikely she'd ever see him again.
"So where else are you applying?" she asked casually. "Is this your first choice?"
"This is my only choice," he admitted, causing her to raise an eyebrow. "I know I'll get in, I've taken a few courses early you see." He was embarrassed by this, Clara could tell. "I just wanted to check out the place properly before thoroughly committing myself to it. I take it you're starting in September too?"
Clara nodded. "Providing I get the grades," she added quickly. "But my parents and teachers seem to think I will." She was about to correct herself but couldn't bring herself to do it. She couldn't reveal herself to this stranger. She bit her tongue and tried not to cry. She'd gotten so used to saying parents. Instead of parent. Instead of just Dad. Thankfully, she must've been fairly convincing as all he did was smile warmly and squeeze her arm. It should've been an odd gesture, coming from a total stranger, but it made Clara feel better.
"You'll get in. You're smart. I can tell," the boy informed her. "Trust me, I know these things. And this is psychology. So I suppose, I shall see you in September, if luck would have it. Goodbye, Clara."
"How did you know my name?" Clara gasped, taking a step away from him. "Who are you?"
"Name tag," he chuckled and Clara glanced down and blushed furiously. She felt stupid. She looked for his but he wasn't wearing one. "And as for me? They call me the Doctor." And before she could quiz this strange boy further, he'd already raised a hand in farewell and wondered off towards the physics block, assuming he'd remembered where he was going. Clara shook her head and watched him stroll off. She checked her watch and swore, before running to find the English department.
For Clara Oswald, this was the first day of the rest of her life. The day she started university and moved forwards instead of looking back. Instead of crying on Angie's shoulder while she and Artie tried to comfort Clara. They had a permanent babysitter now and Clara was an adult, it was time for them both to move on with their lives. It had only been a year and a half since…but Clara didn't think about it as much anymore. And when she did, she was getting much better at controlling the swirling inferno of emotions that overcame her. She could smile now and almost mean it. She could tell people fell for the act she'd put on, the warm smile, the light chuckle, the flirtatious nature. Guys thought they had a shot with her and they probably did, she'd been desperately hunting for ways to make the pain stop. The minute she'd turned 18, she'd hit the booze like never before and had had to actually work to ensure that her grades didn't slip as a result. Clara didn't quite consider it a miracle she'd come out with an A* and three A's, but she knew that if she hadn't managed it, she'd have let her mum down. And that was the only thing in life that she still strived to avoid. As much as she hated to admit it, she had stopped looking to her dad for support and approval.
University was a way to mix everything Clara wanted. Booze, on a scale like she'd never witnessed before, a chance to reinvent herself, pretend like she'd never pretended before. Maybe even pretend to the point where the act she was putting on might actually become her. And she could come out with a decent degree and get a good job, make her mum proud. She'd grow out of needing to numb the pain. Eventually, hopefully before the end of uni, the pain would start numbing itself.
Her dad carried the last box from the car to the small building. Clara would be sharing a block with ten other people, she didn't know what they would be like. They had en-suite bedrooms and two kitchens between them, so if needs be, she could avoid them. But they might provide useful distractions and be able to help Clara get so hammered that everything stopped making sense. She smiled at that thought. She was the first to arrive, but then the accommodation had only been open half an hour. And it had been a long drive from Blackpool, so they had stayed overnight at a hotel not far away.
"Are you sure you're alright sweetheart?" her dad asked once more. "Is there anything you need?"
Her mother back. "No dad," Clara's standard answer now. "I'm fine." Keep saying and it might become true. Her dad believed her now. He'd given up trying to look for cracks in Clara's act. Because there weren't any. Ever. And when the cracks did show, Clara had become very good at making sure nobody was around to see it. She was a perfect unit, nobody and nothing could penetrate her outer shell. At least, that was what she thought.
After she'd finished unpacking, Clara went for a stroll, to familiarise herself with the campus she'd only visited a couple of times, and not for about four or five months. She still had the map from her last visit and after a few hours of strolling around campus, she was fairly sure she had a very good idea of where everything was. It was Saturday and her first lecture was in her optional philosophy module she'd selected on the Monday. She settled down for a nice cup of tea at the café on campus, mainly because she wanted a bit of peace from having to deal with her new potential flatmates. She could sit here, not having to utilise her fake smile, with only the bottom of a tea cup to stare at, alone with her thoughts.
After a few hours, Clara headed back to her room. She nearly made it, but bumped into a couple of her new flatmates, who'd arrived while she was out. They were two of the four people in her kitchen (other than Clara herself) and both seemed like pleasant girls. One was called Britney and she was a mathematician. She was taller, older and prettier than Clara, blonde and wore glasses. But she was too nice to let all those things irk Clara; not that she ever let such petty annoyances get to her anyway. The other girl was called Josie and she was a redhead, short but still slightly taller than Clara and she studied French. The two girls seemed intent on learning everything there was to know and that they'd all be best of friends. This was exactly the sort of situation Clara had been trying to avoid. What was worse was that she couldn't bring herself to dislike the girls, because they were very nice. It was harder to avoid people that you could consider and that considered you, a friend.
After what seemed like an age, but in reality was probably only 45 minutes, Clara managed to escape and opened her window to get some fresh air. She quizzed herself on whether it was too early to crack open her first bottle of vodka. It probably was. She lay on her bed and decided that whilst it was probably too early for her first drink, it wasn't too early for her first cry. So Clara buried her head into the pillow. And screamed.
The next two days were a drunken haze. Clara had gotten utterly smashed on the Saturday night with Josie, Britney and Jack, the fourth member of their kitchen. The fifth didn't arrive until Sunday. Jack was handsome as hell, with some of the biggest muscles Clara had ever seen. He was a total dude though, rugby player, way too full of himself and a law student at that. Clara disliked him instantly, which made her feel better. He flirted with all the girls, but as Clara continued to drink them all under the table and began to care less and less about anything, he focused more and more on getting Britney into bed. They went to a club, danced for a few hours and Clara managed to let her façade come crashing down around her. She heard their fifth member arrive Sunday morning, he was in the room opposite her, but she couldn't be arsed to go out and greet him. She made herself some toast, waiting until the coast was clear as her hair was a mess; she was wearing no makeup and was wearing her white teddy-bear onesie. Let them not see that she was a desperate wreck when hungover just yet. Clara didn't leave her room until Monday morning.
She made it to her first philosophy lecture with a couple of minutes to spare and sat as far back as she could, making her home in the corner, but still managing to smile warmly at people that filed in. The façade would not fall. She had agreed to go out with the girls that night. It was partly because she needed to drink but also partly so they'd think she was normal and fun. It was a tossup for Clara, between avoiding them as much as possible and acting normally so they wouldn't think she was weird. She didn't know why she cared. Mum wouldn't want me to be lonely, she told herself. But she was. Desperately so. She'd bothered putting on makeup and picking out a nice dress. She wanted to impress her lecturer and her classmates on Day 1, even though this was only one module in her course.
The lecturer, Professor Holmes, strolled in, cursing as he dropped his pen and stooped to get it. He was insanely tall and thin, but he had a warm smile and a cool nature that quickly meant that Clara liked him instantly and she was sure she wasn't the only one. His lecture was on the role of God in modern day society and Clara found herself fascinated by it. Almost a third of the way in, she heard the door behind her fly open and someone stumble in but she paid them no attention, absorbed in the slides. She didn't even realise the person was moving to sit beside her until about a foot from her, she heard the phrase: "Clara."
She jumped but managed to supress a squeal as she spun to face the person who'd said her name. She recognised him, but it took her a few seconds to realise where from. He was wearing a tweed jacket, had floppy hair and the biggest grin known to man, despite the fact that his eyes were the saddest she'd ever seen, behind the glint in them that was. The Doctor, that's what he'd called himself.
"Sorry to scare you," he grinned. "Can I borrow a pen? I forgot mine."
Clara smiled despite herself. "Oversleep did you?" she whispered as she slipped him a spare.
"Nah, I tend not to sleep much," the Doctor told her. "I've been up since five, working on a project of mine. I just lost track of time. These things happen. If only I could control time," he chuckled as if it was an in joke. "I could be a Time Baron."
"Time Lord sounds better," Clara informed him, snorting with laughter. "How did you remember my name?" she asked, curious as to how he'd remembered her. She remembered him because he was very odd, eccentric to the point of no return and because he called himself the Doctor. Clara herself was nothing special. She had brown hair, brown eyes, she wasn't tall or even that skinny. She was ordinary, but he had remembered her. And he always smiled at her like she was different. Not that she was, of course, that was probably just his way, she assured herself.
"I always remember a face," he informed her; with a matching smile that told her he meant it. "So, what's the lecture on? Ah the role of God, love it." He set about scribbling notes and Clara found herself watching him for a good fifteen seconds before she caught herself and returned her attention to the lecture. Whoever the Doctor was, he was not going to break down her façade. That much she could be sure of.
"So why do you people call you the Doctor?" she asked him as the lecture ended and they packed up their things. "What's your real name?"
He seemed to wince at this question and it was the first time she'd seen him anything other than cheerful. He recaptured his composure and shot her an abashed look, that she knew was about as fake as the majority of the smiles she made. She felt sad looking at it, as it felt like the first time that the Doctor had tried to hide his true emotions from her. They stood up and left the lecture hall, as he considered her question.
"My real name?" he asked with a rueful grin. "That's...I don't know," he answered. "My name is lost to the ages," he chuckled theatrically. Clara rolled her eyes. She didn't want to probe him about his real name, as that would inevitably lead her to the reason behind the sad eyes. "People call me the Doctor because I fix things," he told her, as their footsteps echoed against the stone floors, people flooding around them as they found their way out into the bright, late summer sunshine. "I'm very good at it too. If you ever have a broken toaster or a kettle, or a car. Or even just a Barbie doll," he chuckled. "I can repair it."
I bet you can't fix people, Clara thought bitterly, but she didn't vocalise that thought. Nor did she say what that thought led her to. I bet you can't fix me. But she wasn't about to say that. The façade would remain intact. She hadn't even realised, but they were still walking together and she wondered where they were going.
"Where are we going?" she asked, stopping abruptly. He was a step ahead of her and swung back round to face her, another stupid grin on his stupid face. Did he ever stop smiling? It only attracted attention to his giant chin. "I mean, I was going to head home. Where's home for you?"
"Home is where the heart is," the Doctor quoted cryptically. "But I suppose, home for me is Marston's. I can't remember the block number though. Let's just walk in that general direction. I mean, I'll walk in that general direction," he stumbled over his words in that awkward way that she had realised was very endearing. "You can walk in the general direction of your accommodation. Wherever that is."
"Relax Chin-Boy!" Clara giggled. Chin-Boy? Where had that come from Oswald? "I mean, sorry, Marston's is where I'm going too. We can walk together. So I thought you were doing physics?"
"I am," the Doctor informed her, as they continued walking across campus. "But I like to stretch myself occasionally, try different things, so I thought, what the hey?! Philosophy is cool. I could be a philosopher. I'll do a philosophy module. I didn't realise I'd see you there though, I presume you're just doing it as an option like me?" Clara nodded. "Awesome. I've already decided that Professor Holmes' lectures are the only ones I'm going to bother to go to; I prefer to do physics on my own terms, in my own way. A lot of what the lecturers will say is outdated anyway, by the time they catch up…" he stopped speaking and shook his head. "Sorry, I'm rambling. I have a tendency to do that, no wonder my therapist gave up."
Clara's eyes widened at how casually he'd slipped that into the conversation. He must've noticed because he bit his lip. She wanted to ask him why he'd been to see a therapist but he looked so uncomfortable and had caught himself so quickly. He had slipped into an awkward silence and his head was bowed. Clara put a hand on his shoulder instinctively and felt a surge like an electric current run through her. She wanted to retract it more than anything, she didn't know what had possessed her to grab this stranger but he needed to know that she wasn't judging him.
"So did mine," Clara replied, before she could stop herself. His head snapped like a shot to look at her and she went crimson. Of all the things she could've said to him, she had to have said that. She'd never spoken to anyone about her therapy, not even her father. He'd known she'd been kicked out of course, but he never brought it up and she had no intention of letting him know what had happened. So why was she telling this Doctor? He ground to a halt at this point and smiled at her, this one both real and still slightly fake.
"Well, this is me," he announced. Clara's eyebrows shot up as she took in their surroundings. This was K block. Her block. The Doctor lived in her block. But, surely not?
"This is me too…" she trailed off. His mouth formed an 'O' and he nodded understandingly, indicating for her to go in first. Sure enough, as she'd thought, the Doctor followed her down the hall, all the way to the end and they pulled up at the same point, facing each other and turning to their respective doors. "Goodbye Doctor. See you round I guess?"
"Count on it Clara," he smiled. "Count on it."