Clara stepped out of the Tardis into her tiny living room. She threw the cat carrier onto the sofa. Fat lot of good that trip had been. She marched to the kitchen, aware of the Doctor following her silently. They'd lately fallen into a habit of hanging out in her flat after an adventure. She'd make them tea, and they'd sip it at the table, laughing and chatting about their experience. Not this time. She flipped the switch on the electric kettle and banged one mug down onto the counter.
"Well, that was fun, don't you think?" asked the Doctor. "Pity you didn't find a cat you liked."
"Shut up, Doctor."
He flinched as though she'd slapped him.
"Do you know why I wanted a cat?"
The Doctor shook his head slowly.
"When my mum died," began Clara, looking him directly in the eye. "It felt like the end of the world. I cried myself to sleep every night. And sometimes I'd hear Dad too, crying, when he thought I was asleep. I didn't want to go anywhere; didn't want to see my friends or listen to music or go for a walk. I didn't leave the house for days. But you know what helped?"
He shook his head again.
"Our cat. The family cat. Her name was Soxie. We got her from the shelter when I was ten. Even though Mum was gone, Soxie was still there. She slept on my bed every night, and I didn't feel so alone. And I had to feed her and let her out and look after her. That made things feel normal again. Eventually."
"I didn't know," he said softly.
Behind her, the water in the kettle started to bubble.
"Soxie died three years later," said Clara. "Buried her in Dad's backyard. And I said to myself, 'one day I'll get another cat'. And then when Danny and I…" a lump came to her throat and she swallowed hard before continuing. "We'd talked about moving in together. I wanted a cat. He didn't. And then he died."
"Clara-"
"And so I'm here, all by myself. Yeah, I've got Dad. And Gran. But they've got their own lives. He's got his girlfriend. She's got Bridge Club. And you, Doctor…"
"Go on."
"Sometimes you go away, and I don't see you for weeks and weeks. Oh I know, sometimes you need to be elsewhere and I can't come, but I get lonely, Doctor. I thought a cat would be good company. Someone to look after, while I'm waiting for you to come back."
The kettle boiled more furiously.
"And then you take me to that horrible planet with those awful alien cats" Clara felt angry tears prick her eyes. She didn't want to cry; not now, in front of the Doctor. But she felt them spill down her cheeks, regardless. "It's like you wanted me to have a rotten time. Like you wanted to turn me off getting a cat."
"Clara-" the Doctor stepped toward her, but she held up a hand.
"I don't know why. Perhaps you hate cats after all, and you presumed that I shouldn't like them either, but whatever the reason, it was weird and selfish and unkind!"
The kettle emitted a piercing shriek.
The Doctor stared at Clara, his face expressionless. Then he turned abruptly, and walked out of the kitchen. She heard the Tardis wheezing as it dematerialized. Then the apartment was quiet.
Clara let out a long shuddering breath. He was gone. Just like that. She'd spilled her guts to him, and he'd literally walked out on her. She dumped a teabag into the mug; splashed hot water over it. Lots of milk, and one, two, three teaspoons of sugar. God knows, she needed something sweet. No doubt the Doctor couldn't cope with her outburst. Feelings – too complicated and all that. Or worse, he was offended, and was now parked somewhere in space, glowering at the stars, sulking.
She picked up the mug (with a rather shaky hand), then she heard it. The Tardis, materializing in her living room, making her heart catch a little. She heard the door creak as it swung open; heard the soft clump of the Doctor's boots, as he walked across the kitchen linoleum. She knew he stood behind her.
Clara did not turn around. He had gone away without a word of understanding and comfort. And now he was back. Probably to tell her she was overreacting. Or to blithely suggest they visit a new planet, as if nothing had happened. No. She would not turn around. Nothing could possibly make her turn around.
"Miaow."
She turned around.
The Doctor was there, cradling in his arms a small, grey tabby.
"Oh!" Despite herself, Clara moved forward and held out a finger, which the tabby licked with a small pink tongue. She felt a smile creep across her face.
"I went to the local Animal Shelter, five blocks from here," said the Doctor. "This chap seemed in need of a good home. He's yours, if you want to keep him."
Clara held out her hands, and the Doctor gently transferred the cat to her. She stroked its head, and the cat purred loudly.
"Does he have a name?"
"Miaooow."
"The Tardis doesn't translate Earth-based animals," explained the Doctor. "Luckily, I speak fluent Earth Cat."
"Let me guess," said Clara. "It's something like Mr Superwhiskers. Or King Catster. Or Mouseageddon."
"Miaooow!"
"Actually, it's Brian," said the Doctor.
Clara laughed. She carefully put Brian down. Then she poured some milk into a saucer and set it on the floor. Brian enthusiastically lapped it up, pausing between laps to purr. After a second's thought, Clara took another mug, and made a tea for the Doctor.
"You were right," said the Doctor abruptly. "I didn't want you to get a cat."
"But why, Doctor?"
The Doctor sipped his tea, looking slightly embarrassed. "I was scared."
"Scared? Of what?"
His grey eyes were soft. "Clara, I've travelled with many people. And I've lost them all. Sometimes it's because of…circumstances. But often, it's their choice."
This was what he was afraid of? "Doctor, I'll never want to stop travelling with you. The things you've shown me-"
"You say that now. But Clara, what if you change your mind? What if you decide you want to put down roots right here on Earth? I just… I just… worried, you know, that first it'd be a cat. Then a dog. Then a station wagon. Then a toaster. Then a new boyfriend – or girlfriend – whatever. Then before you know it, you'd rather spend your time darning curtains and hanging up socks. Or is it vice versa? Either way, you'd have sweet and compelling responsibilities right here on Earth, and you won't want to be flinging yourself around time and space with a daft old man." He took a deep breath. "Clara, I didn't want you to get a cat because I was scared that it would be the beginning of the end. That eventually, there wouldn't be room in your life for me."
Clara shook her head. For a smart man, the Doctor could sometimes be very, very, stupid. "Doctor," she said. "There will always be room in my life for a cat and a Timelord."
He grinned at her awkwardly, and she smiled back. Brian had finished his milk and butted his head against her leg. She picked him up.
"Miaow."
"Well that's good," said the Doctor. "Because he definitely wants to stay."
They both stroked Brian silently for a minute; their hands briefly brushing against each other. Something occurred to Clara.
"I already have a toaster!"
"You do?"
"Yep. Kettle too."
"Well, that's even worse."
"But don't worry. Kitchen appliances are not enough to make us miss an adventure."
"Us?"
"Brian's coming too, from now on," said Clara. "You don't expect me to leave him here, do you?"
The Doctor frowned. "Fine. But he's not allowed on the Tardis console, or in the swimming pool, or on my bed."
"Miaow!"
Clara did not speak Earth Cat, but judging from the Doctor's expression, she believed that Brian would find his way to at least one of those places – most probably the third one. She smiled. Traveling with a Timelord and a cat was going to be a lot of fun.