There was a thought, instantly in the back of her mind when she pushed the key slowly into the lock with a set of slow shakes to work it in until the key sat firmly inside. She tried to ignore it, thought herself silly for even acknowledging it, but she could have sworn the box in front of her was trying to communicate with her and she stepped away a moment, looking up at it and turning to the Doctor with a worried look.
"What is it?" She asked.
"Go on inside," he prompted.
"No," Clara responded with a shake of her head, "Not until you tell me what it is!"
"What happened?" The Doctor demanded, shifting forward, brow now set in an anxious bar across his forehead as he reached out to touch her arm.
Clara bit her lip as she glanced back at the box and considered it, stepping away from the Doctor to begin a slow examination of its four walls, fingers trailing over the wood. She scratched lightly and then knocked at the back, hearing the thick hollow thud, and when she came around to the front again, she was met with the same persistent thought. One she couldn't ignore, nor could she explain.
Welcome home, Clara.
"Hello," she whispered at the box, fingers finding their way to the key again as she looked down at it and swiftly turned it on its side. She held it there a moment, other hand coming out to press against the frame that divided the two front panels and she felt her breathing quicken.
There was something about the box, something that sent her heart racing in her chest and made her feel dizzy with excitement. Except her logical mind, her twenty one year old mind, kept trying to explain that it was a wooden box. It was no more than five feet long, five feet deep, maybe twelve feet tall. Her mind tried to tell her that she'd open that door and she'd find herself staring into a tool shed filled with gadgets like his Sonic, but her heart argued that she was about to find something far more spectacular. Something that could take her to other worlds; and the thought brought an instant giggle to her throat, one she heard echoed in the man behind her.
Because he knew.
The Doctor absolutely knew what was inside and he knew that it was important. So important that he wanted to show her, but he waited to show her and he trusted that now she was ready. Clara wanted nothing more than to be ready for whatever she found, but she was terrified because… what if she wasn't. His worry was that she would freak out and it was completely possible – she knew by the pounding of her heart – that she might just begin an odd run back towards the house.
Except that her father knew.
Her father knew exactly what the Doctor was about to show her and he hadn't followed them out of the house, he'd simply argued that she shouldn't see it. Not just yet. Looking up at the Tardis, Clara knew this was one of potentially hundreds of secrets that the two men had been whispering and muttering about since she'd woken, and she was about to step into it. Clara knew it was the first door of a thousand doors opening for her and she held her breath, pushing the panel open with an old creak and closing her eyes to feel an odd warmth against her skin, a blinking blue light against her eyelids.
"Clara, open your eyes," the Doctor prompted, his hands landing softly at her shoulders.
Her chest was trembling when she finally snapped her eyes open and gasped at the room before her. Clara wasn't quite sure what to think. It was a grand space with metal flooring and circular lights along the wall and at its center glowed a sea foam colored set of tubes underneath a spinning top. A top inscribed with writing similar to that of her wedding ring and she smiled up at it happily because was certain now – it was writing; it said something important and maybe one day she could read it.
Clara laughed when the colors changed to warmer hues, ones that reminded her of the bedroom in their flat, and she slowly looked over the room, at the entrances to other places and stairways that lead below and her body surged with a need to rush about, but she was transfixed on the spot with a fear she couldn't understand. Except she did – it was her twenty one year old self knowing this was impossible even though everything else in her was at ease, knowing it was.
After a small chuckle, Clara breathed excitedly and simply, "How?"
Behind her, the Doctor laughed and, she noticed, hadn't moved. Because, she knew, he was terrified of her reaction and was trying to keep completely still to try and keep her calm and when she turned, his lips were pressed into a tight grin as he gestured around, "Bit of jiggery pokery really – it's dimensionally transcendental, it's…"
"Smaller on the outside," Clara turned to tell him with a nod, watching a look of surprised glee lift his eyebrows and his lips and he shifted to her side, pointing up at the console. "Is this one of your work projects?" Clara asked, but he frowned, so she corrected, "This is a pet project, like your Sonic."
The Doctor laughed as he pointed back, "Close the doors."
"You hate a draft," she laughed as she moved towards them and shut them. Clara worked her way towards him, hands coming up to rub at her bare arms as she became accustomed to the internal temperature and found it cooler than she'd initially thought. "So what's all this?"
The Doctor hummed slightly, as if trying to decide where to start, and he did a circle over it all with both of his hands, offering, "Controls."
"Pretty standard," Clara teased, hearing him chuckle lightly as she bent forward to get a closer look, and then she asked, "Wait, if they're controls – what do they do?" Then she looked up at the tube in the center and added, "And what is that?" Turning, she finished, "Doctor, what does the Tardis do?"
He side eyed her and smiled, shifting out of the purple jacket that had become so familiar to her, and he held it open for her to slip her arms into the already warm sleeves before he allowed, "Tardis; Time and Relative Dimensions in Space."
"Time and Space – it's a vehicle," Clara narrowed her eyes to say before barking, "It's a time machine!"
He beamed, "Yes, Clara, it's a time machine."
"Are you being serious?" Clara laughed, looking between him and the controls, "I mean, are you really being serious?" Her smile dropped, not exactly out of fear, but out of confusion, "Doctor, is this really a time machine; can this really travel in time?"
"And space," he responded lightly with a nod before pushing his hands together and asking, "Are you ok?"
"So far," she began, nodding and turning back, "Yeah, guess so. Yeah."
He smiled and spun around, one hand coming up to point before he landed with both hands on controls in a way that made Clara's heart leap as he asked, "Where would you like to go?"
"Doctor, you can't be serious – where would you like to go – like pressing a few buttons and pulling on a few levers is going to send us into some other time period," Clara laughed, "I mean, that can't be possible."
His brow dropped as he grinned, "Bring you into a box that's clearly bigger on the inside and you ask if time travel is possible," the Doctor laughed, "Would I joke about something like this?"
She offered a sly grin and tilted her head, "Dunno, would you?"
"No," he told her quickly, shifting forward and explaining, "All of time, every moment, every day, every historical thing that has ever happened or ever will happen right here at your fingertips," he gestured with a point of a finger on each hand, "And every planet, every star, every crevice of every galaxy pouring out into every pocket of the universe to ever have been born or ever to be born. Every civilization, every accomplishment, every bit of insanity anything you can imagine has to offer," he held out a hand, "And it's ours."
Clara's mouth dropped open slightly as she looked into his eyes hoping to find some humor there, but instead she only found wonder. The wonder of his words and the expectation that she accept every bit of what he'd just said – as crazy as it all sounded – and join him and she reached out slowly with a hesitant giggle to take his hand. For a moment he stood perfectly still, fingers caressing her hand and she understood: this was their secret. This was their life.
All of the universe; all of time.
And it was theirs.
He began to smile and Clara's lips lifted as he slowly pulled himself to her, other hand coming up to her shoulder as he slid behind her, pressing himself lightly to her back and peering over her shoulder as he lead her hand down onto a large lever. He wrapped his hand around hers, but she turned, nose nudging his chin as she inhaled sharply with a pang of adrenaline.
"Is it safe?" Clara asked quietly.
He shifted to meet her eyes and he shook his head, telling her honestly, "No, Clara, it's not safe. It's travelling out of our own time and space, it's meeting people who aren't very nice, it's dangerous and scary and people die out there – you've almost died out there."
"Is that why my father doesn't like you?" She questioned, swallowing hard against the warmth of his breath rolling over her face as he spoke again.
"Your father disapproves, yes," he nodded, "But ultimately, though I wouldn't blame you at all for considering him in deciding whether or not to travel with me, the decision is absolutely only yours, Clara."
She could see the pained look on his face, the notion that she did have the power to say – right then and there – that she wouldn't be going anywhere with him. Not anymore. Because maybe her father thought this life lead to her being on a motorbike, which lead to her being in that accident, which lead to her memories being gone and her life being flipped upside down. And maybe her father was right.
Clara looked over the controls and she raised her eyes to find his again, finding the assuring nod as his fingers lifted slightly off hers before she inhaled, asking, "We've travelled together though?" Clara shifted again, turning against his chest to finish, "When you said we travelled, this is what you meant."
Nodding, the Doctor admitted, "Yes, when I said we travelled, this is what I meant."
Clara bowed, training her vision on a set of blue buttons in front of her as she questioned, "Was it the travelling that landed me in the hospital?"
She waited, refusing to look up, and when she felt his hand lift to squeeze her shoulder, she glanced back up to find him shaking his head, "We haven't lied to you about that Clara – you were in an accident, on your motorbike. That had nothing to do with this. You took my bike, as you'd done every morning, and you went to work and something terrible happened, as terrible things often do."
Nodding, knowing the association in her father's mind was merely a father's wish to protect his daughter, one she respected, but currently disagreed with, Clara looked back to the controls and she tightened her grip on the lever she held, asking lightly, "How do you fly this thing?"
He gave her hand a light push, driving the lever down with her and the center made an odd vworp vworp noise that elicited a bright laugh from just behind her that Clara mimicked, leaning back into his chest as he wrapped his arm around her to hold her steady. "Here we go!" He shouted and Clara instinctively brought a hand down to a set of buttons, releasing a laugh in shock as the Tardis rumbled around them.
Inside of the house, Dave shifted out of his seat when he heard the Tardis start up with a quiet, "No," and he rushed through the house and out of the back door. He ran through the yard, seeing the dimming light shining out in waves from the alley way and when he finally burst through the back gate and stood facing the Tardis, it was to see the final fading glimpses of the blue box blink out of existence.