"Oi! Quiet down, you!", Clara exclaimed as the TARDIS let loose with another loud groan as she entered the vast library.

She should be used to it by now, but it still annoyed her every time the Doctor's time machine made its feelings clear about her. She didn't understand what the TARDIS had against her, but didn't let it get to her too much.

She found her normal seat in the Classics of Literature section, and turned to face the steep sided bookcase to her right. She paused as the interface lit up before her eyes.

"What will it be today, Clara?", spoke the blue light in a calming dulcet voice.

Clara brushed the hair out of her face, and said "Well, I've finished all of the Agatha Christie novels in which, by the way, anyone could have seen the ending coming. So, give me something random. But awesome!", she said, aware of how much of a geek she sounded but caring very little.

"Very well", chimed the interface.

There was a loud groaning as the bookshelf began to rearrange itself, the shelves restructuring, books flying up and down like they had wings. Clara gave an excited giggle. The magical sight and feel of it got her every time. At last the shelves finished reassembling, and a book floated out to her, which she grabbed.

She read the cover. "'Living with the Sphere' by Ood Sigma Delta 113?", she said, smiling at the oddity that she held in front of her. The cover depicted a strange alien with tentacles hanging out of its mouth and a white glowing orb in its right hand. Clara didn't find that strange (she'd read many books by aliens and was not prejudiced), but what was peculiar was that the alien was also taking a sip from a mug of tea that was engraved 'Dad of the Year 4013'.

She shrugged and went to sit in her chair, but as her bottom made contact with it, without warning it was suddenly moved, and she fell on her bum hard.

She cried out "Ow!", and scowled at the chair. If she didn't know better, she could have sworn she heard a strange sort of laughter from one of the TARDIS' sensory nodes. She ignored it, stood up, and pulled the chair back towards her, and sat down.

She crossed her left leg over her right, and allowed herself to relax and get comfortable. She felt her muscles relax, the tension of the day floating out of them like a river through a creek.

She opened the book in her hand, and flicked to page one. As she began to read the first words on the page, she was momentarily stunned to see the words seemingly float off the page and into her eyes. She laughed softly. The Doctor had mentioned these kinds of books, 'holo-books', he called them. In order to experience books in a new way in the 25th century, they had been invented to literally plant the words in her mind, and create mental images as she read.

She found it odd at first, but wasn't going to complain.

She loved to read. Ever since she was a little girl, she'd loved to read adventures about pirates, and aliens. She'd especially loved the ones where the protagonists went on an adventure She'd just never thought that she would one day experience an adventure of her very own.

She'd been in seventh heaven ever since arriving on the TARDIS and finding the library on her first day. She always came here after an exciting day, to unwind, and be alone with her thoughts.

The picturesque silence that surrounded her was golden. She felt her skin prickle as she relaxed to the gentle hum of the engine.

She giggled as she read a sentence in her book she found amusing, even if it was an alien's sense of humour rather than her own.

Minutes in her perfect world turned to hours, and soon Clara found her eyelids drooping. She sighed, and closed the book, some one hundred pages in. She was really enjoying it, but it would have to wait for now.

She stood up slowly, and gave a deep yawn, stretching her arms over her head. She put the book back on the shelf where she'd found it, and turned to leave.

She almost shrieked as the room was suddenly plunged into darkness. She couldn't see a thing, and the silence all around her was no longer enticing, but ominous.

She began to feel her way to the bookcase, almost tripping up in the dark.

She couldn't understand why and how the lights had gone. The TARDIS was a time machine, so she was pretty sure it didn't run on mains electricity.

Her fingers touched a bookcase, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she began to feel her way towards the exit along the path she knew so well.

All of a sudden, she screamed as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped back and fell over onto her back. She began to crawl desperately in a random direction.

Then the lights were turned back on, and Clara found herself up against the back wall. Her breathing was quickened, and her heart was racing. She stood up and looked all around her person.

But the owner of the hand was nowhere to be seen.

Clara took a deep breath, and found herself whispering "It was only your imagination, Clara. Calm down".

She cautiously but briskly walked up the steps and out of the library.

Arriving in the corridor, Clara thought about calling for the Doctor on the intercom on the wall. But then she pictured his smug face as she explained to him that she 'was scared' and wanted him. She shook the image from her mind.

She was not that easy.

Clara walked hurriedly down the winding passageway, until she found her room, marked by the insignia of a maple leaf. She had requested the image on her door. A reminder to her leaf , the most important leaf in human history, to which she had lost.

She pushed open the door, stepped over the frame, and closed the door behind her.

Now inside her room, Clara began to relax again. She must be playing tricks on herself. Everything was fine.

She brushed her teeth and flossed in her private bathroom, which had towels imprinted with the initials CO in gold writing.

She had felt more special than ever before in her life when she had seen the quality of the room the Doctor had set up for her. She had thanked him, of course, but didn't go into lengths about just how grateful she was for the absolutely perfect accommodation.

As she spat the last remnants of the minty paste into the basin, she paused to wash her face over with cold water.

Clara watched the water drip from the end of her nose and splash into the filled sink.

She noticed how much make-up she was wearing, and convinced herself she definitely wasn't out to impress the Doctor. Definitely NOT.

A sudden movement behind her in the reflection of the mirror caused Clara's pulse to quicken, but as she franticly turned around, she once again found herself looking at nothing.

She ran her hands through her long brown hair, and breathed deeply. She was so on edge tonight. she needed to calm down.

Clara turned off the bathroom light, and settled into her velvet duvet. Her bed was so unbelievably soft, she always found herself sinking into it like a camel on quicksand. Once again, she had the Doctor to thank for spending a fortune on the Light Matter mattress which she lay on. She silently thanked him. She owed him a lot. He was very kind to her. More than any other man she had ever met.

She smiled, and her eyes closed. Soon, she was adrift in the land of dreams.

"Clara."

Clara awoke with a jolt, separated from the wonderful dream she ahd been having, which she was unashamed to admit had involved the Doctor in Speedos.

She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. She had heard it, for sure. A voice, soft but unnervingly so in nature. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw flickers of movement in the corner of the room. She would have put it down to her mind, but then the same voice spoke again, making her blood run cold.

"Clara Oswin Oswald", it spoke, a disembodied voice that despite having no mouth, sounded like it was right there with her in the room.

"Who are you?", Clara asked the invisible speaker. The panic was rising in her voice. She hated being afraid, but she was overwhelmed by an undeniable fear in that very second.

Silence followed for a good few seconds, before her unidentifiable tormentor replied. "Who I am is unimportant. You should be asking yourself the same question, Clara Oswald."

The voice was terrifying her, but Clara, ever the defiant one, spoke back to it, determined to hide her intimidation. "How do you know my name? What are you? Where are you?"

A terrible laughter rang out through the room, a sound reminiscent of two broken pieces of china being rubbed together. "So many questions from the little girl. But you and I both know that there is only one question in all of time that is important that you ask, don't we, Clara?"

Clara began to shake unstoppably. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. She suddenly felt unnaturally unwell, a queasiness in her stomach threatening to rise and burst from her lips.

"I can sense your fear. It smells like petrol, and old eggs. Why are you so afraid? Why don't you try and hide?"

Clara rolled out of bed and addressed the voice directly. "If I am the one who is afraid, then why don't you show yourself? Afraid you can't take on an unarmed girl in fisticuffs?"

More grating china. The voice sounded incredibly tickled by her bravery. "I can crush you like a twig any time I like. A fight is not what you wnat, for I have no corporeal form, and yet, I am every kind of form imaginable."

Clara piped up, adrenaline rushing through her, numbing the fear. "Why can't I see you?", she asked, twisting around to try and identify the owner of the voice.

"Because there is nothing to see. I am everything, and nothing. I have no body, but I can take the shape of anything. If a face is what you want, then I will bind myself to a form that will bring out your fear"

Clara frowned, confused. "Speak English, please", she retorted, a new confidence rising in her. It didn't last long, however.

Her bedside light flickered as the shadows from all around her began to draw themselves in, as if attracted by magnetic force.

As she watched, frozen in terror, the shadows began to wrap themselves around an invisible figure standing a few metres in front of her. The outline of its body made it look humanoid in appearance, but Clara was certain that it was anything but.

At last, the manifestation was complete, and a faint figure stood before Clara. It was barely visible because it was only a few shades blacker than the darkness itself. Its 'arms' hung at its sides. The figure was as close as anything could get to looking unearthly.

Clara tried to speak up to dispel her fear, but found no sound in her throat. She was unable to move, and stood rooted to the spot as the figure watched, a ghastly sight especially since it had no eyes to watch with.

At last, a familiar voice emerged from the figure. "Are you afraid, Clara Oswin Oswald? You are. You stink of it. 95% of all human beings are afraid of the dark. An irrational fear, they say. The dark cannot harm you. Or so they thought.

Without warning, one of its tendril-like appendages shot out at Clara, extending without limit. It crashed right through her stomach, and carried on through. Because it was made of shadows, it caused no damage. But the pain was unbearable, like a needle pushed through the soul itself.

Clara screamed in pain, doubling over as the tendril wriggled around inside of her. Tears glistened in her pretty hazel eyes, and rolled down her cheeks. She started to sob heavily. "Please! Make it stop, please", she cried. She was a pitiful figure, and her usually bright eyes were extinguished by the blackness.

The tendril was withdrawn, and Clara fell to her knees, sobbing like a newborn.

"What... do you want.. from me?", she gulped between wrecking heavy sobs.

"You have given me more than enough for now, Clara Oswin Oswald. You have shown me the power of fear. The truly limitless and untapped potential of the human mind as its own tormentor. Remember this, in the darkest of nights, in the coldest of winters. The Doctor can't help you. No'one can. No'one is coming to save you."

Then the shadowy figure was gone, dispersed into the air. Clara found her legs again, and hobbled weakly to the intercom on her wall.

She coughed heavily into it, and sobbed "Doctor... please.. Doctor.. please help.. me..."

She lost the will to stand again, and fell to her knees. She had never felt so alone, or helpless. She wrapped her head in her arms and cried heavily, hot tears rolling down her cheeks.

After a few minutes she heard thunderous running and the Doctor burst in to her room. His face was one of great concern, which only increased when he saw his beautiful companion in her intense state.

He ran over to her and pulled her up into his arms. She submitted without resistance to his warm and comforting touch, crying into the fabric of his shirt.

The Doctor whispered and soothed her gently. "Its okay. It's okay, Clara. Nothing's going to hurt you. I won't let anything hurt you". He stroked her hair comfortingly, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. He wiped her hair out of her face, where it was plastered from her tears.

He looked right into her brown eyes, and she looked straight into his. He gave her one of his biggest smiles.

"It's okay, it was just a dream. It's over, now, shush, it's going to be okay", he whispered to her soothingly.

She gave him the slightest of smiles, suddenly aware of how ugly she must look in her state. She pulled out a tissue, and tried to clean her self up.

The Doctor reached up held her hand to her face. "Clara. You don't have to hide anything from me. I care about you."

Clara tried to give him a smile that indicated her mutual feeling, but found it impossible. She just sniffed, and fell into another hug. She could've stay there all day.

The Doctor stayed with her until she was calm, and offered her his bed for the night.

"It's completely safe in there, I promise. I'll take your bed. It's not a problem!"

Clara was overwhelmed by feeling for this man. He was so kind, and she had no way of repaying him. Instead, she rather feebly nodded, to which she responded by taking her hand in his his, and leading her out of the room.

As they left, neither heard a final comment from Clara's unseen tormentor. It chose not to appear as a shadow, but hung in the air, like the impossible being it was. Its voice, a cold and calculating demeanour, it spoke in a way that captured its great amusement, and its hunger for power.

"Soooooooooooon"

TO BE CONTINUED...

NEXT CHAPTER: EGGS

So then, readers. We have ourselves an antagonist! If you enjoyed this chapter or any chapter, please leave a review. I couldn't ask for more from all of you wonderful people!

Until the next time, this was a SlyvsClockwerk story.