A tentative knock came from the other side of her door. She'd finally been allowed into her new room for the month and had whole-heartedly planned to barricade herself in for it's entirety after the incident in the library. Clearly fate had other plans.

Heaving herself off of the grand four-poster bed reluctantly, Clara made her way to the door her feet weighing like she was walking through a swamp not on a plush carpet. She really didn't want to deal with whoever was on the other side of that door.

Clara opened it only slightly and peeked through ready to politely ask whoever it was to go away. After seeing John like that; the fury that swirled in his eyes like a whirlpool and a flame at the same time, she just wanted to go home. To be safe. Where a man who named a dog Sonic and laughed with his whole body- especially his eyes- didn't turn into a man of anger who caused fear and anguish with the slightest word. A man who wasn't so complicated. Something about him though made her want to stay while at the same time she yearned to flee.

The only answer is: John Smith is a walking contradiction, and he was turning her into one too.

Amidst her thoughts of home and John himself, she thought she was imagining him stood on the other side of the door, realisation soon hit that no she wasn't, he was really there and looking rather sheepish.

"Can I come in?" He asked barely above a whisper. She was going to slam the door, she really was but something about those eyes that were once aglow with rage now only showing sorrow, regret and pain. Old eyes: another contradiction to the young man.

She said nothing and simply stepped aside allowing the door to fall open. He stepped forward unsure of himself, only briefly looking at Clara clearly shamed from his previous outburst. A small voice in Clara's head nagged 'rightly so' but she brushed it aside giving him the benefit of the doubt though she couldn't think of a single reason why.

"I, uh, I came to apologise." He shuffled awkwardly on his feet and finally lifted his face to meet Clara's eyes, which had grown wider in surprise. Suddenly she just couldn't help it. A snort of laughter burst from her nose as she doubled over laughing, clutching at her sides to prevent her organs from spilling out at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

"OI stop laughing! I was coming here to give a profound apology!" John pouted.

"I'm, I'm sorry," she managed to say between laughs "It's just I didn't think you, of all people could apologise," another burst came out and she had to sit on the bed to steady herself. John watched the girl giggling and decided it was one of his favourite sounds in the world- not that he'd ever tell her that- she just was so much nicer laughing. Despite his previous strop he felt a smile tug on the corners of his lips and was soon laughing too, a low, throaty chuckle in contrast to the high pitched giggling coming from Clara.

He sobered up from his brief stint of laughter and made his way over to the bed flopping down to join her much to her shock and his amusement. With a sigh he produced 'Emma' again and flipped to the page that usually struck a chord within his heart like a knife had been slammed into his chest. Clara immediately fell silent, a wave of hush crashing over the room.

"My mother," he began, again no longer able to meet her eye, "She used to read the classics like they were a lifeline, like they were the only thing that held her to this earth, well they didn't do that much of a good job," he gave a small laugh so clearly forced but she held silent waiting for him to continue. "She read them to me once I was old enough to understand but by then I'd been exposed to them for so long they were second nature." He sucked in a sharp breath and couldn't help but wonder why he was telling this random girl his deepest pain, nevertheless he carried on "She wrote notes…beautiful notes that had a deeper insight than I could ever think of and she challenged me to read the book and truly understand what she was saying. Instead I replied. In the only way I knew how, I joked and it spiralled from there. In every book she read and I read soon after there was us pouring our own thoughts onto the paper." He looked at Clara like he was asking for permission to continue and she simply nodded with an encouraging smile. He nodded and turned his attention back to the book in his hands.

"My father thought we were crazy, never let us near the first editions of course but she didn't care, she was different. It wasn't the price of the book that was important but the story it told. My father will never understand that. 'Emma' was the last book she read, of course she'd read it a million times before but she said 'Wanderer if there is one thing I can give you in this world that's truly from me, it's words'" He swallowed and bit back tears he knew were beginning to form. "The rest of the book was never filled in, the car crash took away the ending. The last bit of advice she ever gave me was that," he pointed to the line Clara had read to Sonic earlier and her eyes drifted over to his mother's words of wisdom.

"I have never and most likely will never feel that. The closest I ever came, well, I told her I loved her everyday and thinking about it now I didn't mean it." He seemed to finish as he snapped the book shut harsher than you would normally.

Clara finally found the courage to speak, "I'm sorry, I didn't know." Now she knows perfectly. Her own mother was gone and the pain still burned like the day it happened and that was years ago, Clara remembers the bitter sting he currently felt as she once felt it too.

His head snapped up and he looked at her. Properly looked at her and saw a grief beneath the surface much like his own. That's what gave him the idea, his mother had shaped him and her advice was what he turned to.

"Don't be alone"

"We're all stories in the end"

"Here." He pressed the book firmly into her hands before running one hand along the spine as if to say goodbye to an old friend.

"What are you doing?" She looked at him as if he'd gone mad. Well maybe he had.

"I've read that book a thousand times, I've got her notes memorised. It isn't going to bring her back but it might bring her to someone new." He gave a half smile and let go of the book he had clung to for a year.

Clara couldn't quite bring herself to understand John Smith. One moment he was the happiest man on the planet, making jokes was second nature and a cheesy grin was permanent but the next minute he was broken into a million pieces that seemed as if they could never be pieced together again. It had been three days in this great house and she'd grown somewhat used to it- meaning she didn't get as lost as she did before. The days travelled like a flurry, never ending at the time but over in an instant. Nothing could quite compare to the first day. The extremes she'd witnessed. John mostly avoided her now whenever possible; a wounded animal who'd shown it's wound but wanted no one to help heal it.

His father seemed to be pushing them together whenever possible which wasn't often as John always had an excuse at the ready usually something to do with the company which a business man like Mr Smith could never argue with. Clearly John had worked out how to manipulate his father a long time ago. Clara's own father had called once but had seemed only interested in John, not how she was feeling in the place, not even whatever corporate espionage he had originally set her out to do, just John.

Being so isolated often kept her thoughts in one direction and that happened to be him. He was just irregular. She found herself wandering the corridors at every hour of the night with Sonic at her heels thinking about what goes on in that man's head. Clara put it down to curiosity of course- she'd always thrived with a puzzle- but that didn't make it any less important of a task. She had no end goal she was just purely fascinated with the way his mind worked. It had only been a short amount of time but she had already established her routine (something she managed to do in every aspect of her life, it seemed to be the only thing that kept her sane). She joined the Smith's for a stiff, formal breakfast every morning and toured the library soon after doing anything to stave off the boredom. At night was when she took her moonlit strolls, completely at peace with the world in a bubble of her own. When no one else is awake it's like the pressure is gone, just you and your thoughts. The dog she'd grown so fond of in the few days she'd known him tagged along too, she assumed he enjoyed the company. At first she'd been shocked to see his wet nose and caramel eyes in the dark, the moonlight shining on him to alert her of his presence. Clara thought he would have slept with John. But he was there every night like he was specifically waiting for her. She was so small and he was so large that they were the perfect height for each other. As they walked she would absentmindedly let her hands drift through is fur not even realising she was doing it.

Sometimes she'd speak to him. Sonic felt like her only real friend in this entire house, not the fake senior Smith or the distant junior Smith but the dog with eyes like his owners: endless and old. She'd ask him questions, obviously not expecting an answer she wasn't that insane, but he'd look up to her like he was wishing he could answer her.

Either she wouldn't admit it or simply hadn't noticed it but the most common theme in her questions was John.

The understanding had stretched between them: they each knew the other had some sort of pain and they each knew the best thing to do was to avoid each other. Or at least that's what Clara had thought.

John had other plans.

He was the first to break the silence when he burst into her room mid afternoon with an insane glint in his eye and a smile to match. He was so focused on his ingenious plan he definitely didn't notice the way the sun lightened her hair to look like honey when she read curled up in the window seat. Totally didn't notice.

"What on Earth are you doing," she attempted to sound angry but his smile made it impossible so she caved and grinned back.

"I or should I say we," he emphasised the last word, "Are going for a drive."

She barked a laugh. "Uh I don't think we are," she returned to her book but he didn't miss the way her eyes didn't fully return to the pages.

"Oh come on. You've been stuck in this house for three days it must be driving you mad!"

"Is that what happened to you?" She teased.

"YES! Now I am being ever so kind to save you from the same dire fate."

"Bit dramatic."

"Just a touch." He admitted with a shrug that rolled off his back as he carried on not caring in the slightest. He grabbed the book from her hand and tossed it onto the bed, silencing her with a finger on his lips before she could protest. "It will be fun, I'll pop some tunes on, we can sing like crazy people and go way over the speed limit but not care because we're absolutely rich," he pleaded with her like a kid asking for a puppy.

"That is a terrible outlook on life,"

"Fine it was a bad attempt at observational comedy." He pouted before letting his bottom lip wobble, going full throttle committed to his bit.

"Fine." Clara sighed instantly regretting her decision and purposely ignoring the twinge in her that wasn't regretting it in the slightest, "But only because you've been cooped up for so long." She said it mockingly without realising this was the actual case.

"And for that you are a saint," he said with a bow, clasping her hand in his, dragging her out of the door. It took her a moment to get her feet untangled from how she'd been curled up and if it hadn't been for the tight grip John had on her hand she would have tripped. You wouldn't have tripped if he hadn't been dragging you a stern voice echoed in her head. She swiftly brushed it aside.

"God you're as bad as Sonic when he needs a walk," she laughed as the pair nearly crashed into one of the many china vases some would say decorating the hallway, others would say cluttering.

"No Miss Oswald I think you'll find I'm worse. Oh and Sonic isn't invited on this particular outing, not after what he did to the interior last time…" He seemed to shudder at the thought and Clara thought best not to ask.

"I mean it was scratched to bits!" He gave a pointed look to the dog curled up by the fire in one of the many living rooms they were passing through.

"Oh, he only scratched it?"

"ONLY?" John seemed genuinely insulted by this. "Bit of an understatement Clara."

"I never thought you would put anything before Sonic but here we are, really attached to an appliance."

"Pretty cool appliance!" He said in mock offence, though a part of him twinged in sympathy for his beautiful TARDIS being mocked this way.

"God I bet you're the type to talk to it as well, full on relationship with it."

"I do not!"

Lie.

"Besides Miss Oswald," he said that glint in his eye again as he fumbled with the keys to the garage.

"You haven't seen the car."