A/N: Hello, my lovelies! Long time no write! I know I should be continuing other things but I'm sort concentrating on grades so I've been keeping myself off writing a bit... BUT, I had a plot bunny jump into my head and I couldn't chase the damned thing away before it started to multiply so I'm posting the prologue now! My first Who-fic, so please keep that in mind, but otherwise, Enjoy!

"S, S, S, S..." The Doctor called as he dug through the trunk he kept as his attic, so to speak.

Clara Oswin Oswald stood behind him, arms crossed over her chest as she looked upon him curiously as she compared her travel partner to a certain British nanny from the early 20th century.

"Doctor, what are you looking for?"

The man paused and looked up, his flap of hair bouncing a hit with the force of his movement. "Truth be told, Clara, I don't know. Something Interesting. Something to do, something to show you." He responded excitedly as he went digging in his amazing magic trunk once more disappearing into it from the waist up. "Sash of Rassilon, my security disk, my skinsuit, ooh that belonged to the Slitheen, and-" He suddenly paused, sounding as if something had suddenly stolen his voice and he hadn't noticed.

"Doctor? Are you alright?" His companion asked, reaching out to touch his side, almost as if to prove his now still body alive.

He slowly slid back up and sat on his ankles, a small leather bound journal held loosely in his hands. The engraving on the cover was on a group of Stars, the initials S.R. a constellation in a brown galaxy, though it seemed the lines connecting them had been carved in as an afterthought, or maybe even added on by request, not as up to par with the rest of the carving. The leather was worn by the natural oils of human skin, but also from time and use, as if the person, this S.R., had written in it every night, or had never let it out of their sight.

"For all my lives, I can never remember this until I stumble upon it again."

The words jarred something in Clara that she initially did not like. "Like the silence? You can't remember it until you look at it again?" Large brown eyes flooded with worry as she kneeled with him, slowly reaching for the book as though she meant to dispose of it.

The time lord chuckled and shook his head. "Nice try, Clara, but no. I just seem to forget, it fades from my memory after a while and I can never tell why. I never forget something."

His reassurance calmed her a bit, but she grabbed it from him anyways, softly turning it in her hands as if she expected it to disintegrate into a pile of dust from age is she handled it wrong. An egg for her to inspect. "What is it?"

"That is quite obviously a diary of some sorts, Clara, do use your head." He playfully condescended, allowing her to glare with a similar humor at him.

He grabbed it back, considerably less careful with it than she was as he popped up, running down a corridor for her to clumsily follow. "Doctor, where are you going?" She shouted as she caught up to him, watching him skid into the library and stop, breathing in the familiar scent of books.

"It's a book, I thought we should read it in the library. The comfy chairs are in here, anyways." He spurted as he grabbed her by the wrist and led her to a small section with a coffee table and a living room set up, the sitting objects plush and quite comfy, as he had said.

Clara followed diligently, curious as to why he was willing to slow down and show her something as simple as a diary. She concluded that the author must have been an extremely important person as he settled on a couch patting the seat next to him with one hand as he pulled his glasses out of relatively nowhere, the book settled on his lap.

She sat and cuddled up to him as he finally lifted the book, earning her an awkward look from him. "What? I have to be close to read the book and it's comfortable!" She defended, earning another, more skeptical look before he placed an arm around her gingerly and held the book with both hands.

He took a breath to speak when Clara interrupted. "So the book was probably written by someone really important, yeah? Like, a great leader?"

"I don't know Clara, let's read and find out."

"I mean, it's gotta be pretty important for you of all people to just sit down and read because you're a pretty jumpy person." He took another breath to respond. "But, you know what-"

"Clara," he nearly snapped, sounding a bit exasperated. "I know that I've read this book over a hundred times, but I can never remember what's in it. I might as well read it with someone who might remember what I think needs to be remembered."

"How do you...?" She trailed off, knowing he wanted her to shut up so that they could read.

"I may be a bit of a pack rat, but I wouldn't have kept something like this unless it had some significance. At least, not in there."

She nodded in understanding and nuzzled up to him as he slowly began to read the contents of the story aloud.

A/N: Okay, I know that was short for me, but it's a prologue, give me a break! The first chapter should come up while I'm on spring break If things go as planned, but don't get your hopes very high, I would hate for you to be disappointed. NOTE! The entire story will not be written as them reading, so keep on reading this and find out who this S.R is, and why can't the Doctor, of all people remember?