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She’d been coming to the library almost daily, doing her own homework or studying with classmates. She’d always be loud and friendly, as if she belonged in the library the way the staff did. She was hilarious, and kind, and wild beyond words. She flirted with everyone and everything, and she had no qualms or worries about the world. I think that had been my favorite thing about Clara Oswald.
Had been, of course, until this year.
A lot of things were going to be changing after this winter semester. Clara had taken a semester off to travel abroad on a whim during her second year of college, but seamlessly returned and continued her degree in literature. Clara always announced that she would be a famous author someday, just like the Bronte and Austen. She was incessant about it.
To me, she seemed more like a Mark Twain style writer. She had these adventures in her head like nobody could imagine.
Nobody except me, anyway.
In addition to that, Clara had taken on an internship at a publishing house. She knew someone who knew someone, I supposed, that was able to get her a part-time internship so that she could get relevant job experience and a foot in the door. It wasn’t necessarily Clara’s dream to be the literary agent, and I didn’t fancy her one either, but she took it because it was an “adventure.”
Clara Oswald and her silly adventures.
Another thing that was going to change this year was that I planned to invite her to travel with me. Me and my blue police box. I had learned my lesson with Rose, and realized with Donna, that I need to invite people to travel the stars with me when they have a clear mind about the prospect. Bringing companions into my story when they are desperate and vulnerable creates a very unhealthy relationship. I became attached to Rose because she was attached to me, not necessarily because I had come to truly love her. I loved the idea of her loving me, and in the end - it put a permanent wedge between us. I bent rules for her that shouldn’t have been bent. Rules that I regret bending now.
Martha was wise to leave me. I couldn’t give her the respect and trust that she deserved. My head was always stuck in the mistakes I made with Rose. When Donna came around, I was cold and aloof in so many ways, but she brought out the human in me. I felt as though I was able to make better informed decisions with her at my side, but in the end, she too gave too much to me. Our friendship was healthy, but her desire to be special and important became a catastrophe. I’m just thankful I could save her.
Then there’s the whole mess with Rory, Amy, and River. They’re my family, the family I remember the most clearly, at least, and I let them become too much a part of my travels. We were co-dependent on one another in a way that was never going to end well. In fact, now I think that Rory and Amy are better off in the past without me. I never went searching for them. Maybe I should’ve done, but I didn’t.
River and I don’t have many more moments in our timeline. I fear the day when I see her for the last time, and that’s part of why I’ve come here. I want to delay it. I want to prolong the times where she’s still in my life.
But I know that it is not healthy to feel this way. I should be excited to see her again. I should be ready to enter into a new part of our tangled up romance where I get to show her how far we’ve come. Instead, I dread it. I wish I didn’t have to deal with it.
That’s why I love the library.
And I think that’s why I’ve come to love Clara. In a lot of ways she’s like River, after all. She knows what she wants and takes charge to get it. Whenever something is in her way, she powers past it. There’s nothing about the world that scares Miss Clara Oswald, and for that reason alone I know she would make an amazing companion. Alas, I had decided to wait for the right time to invite her.
My rules for bringing her along were that she was not desperate for something new, she wasn’t aching for a purpose, and she wasn’t looking for someone to make her whole. That last one was extremely important, since three of my last four companions had romantic inclinations towards me. I fell for it, too, a few times, and I wanted no more of it.
For all the beauty Clara had on the outside, I could tell she was much more than those short skirts and perfectly made-up faces. Clara was fiercely passionate about learning all there was to know in the world and using it to do good, no matter how big or small. In a lot of ways, she was every bit the man I had hoped I would become.
Having her as a companion might help me get back on the path of goodness that I feel I so long ago lost.
Then there was an unpredictable change:
Danny Pink.
He showed up in the library one day, not necessarily out of the blue, but it was unusual to see him around. He wasn’t actually a student at this university, exactly. He had come to finish a degree he had started while in the military the year prior. He wasn’t taking many classes for reasons that I could have guessed, if I cared to, but I hadn’t put much thought into it.
This is what made Clara and I different, of course, because she did put thought into it. She approached him after noticing that he was spending more and more time in the library. The image of her setting down on the edge of the table with her leather pants and crossed arms is still burned into my memory. Her hair fell over her cheeks and hid her expression but I heard her voice, rich and soft the way freshly whipped chocolate frosting might be before piping it onto a cupcake. Danny Pink looked up at her, confused.
“How badly are you failing?”
Danny was angry at her assumption and slammed his book shut, retorting, “I’m not failing!”
Clara grinned from ear-to-ear as she looked away, laughing at his animated defense. Not many people really stood up or across from Clara in any way. She was and always would be the loudest personality in the room. Not only because she wanted to be, but because it was in her nature. Even if she were shy, it would be hard to not see her.
“Yes, you are,” she had laughed at him.
“You can bugger off if you’re going to make assumptions like that,” he said, a passive tone taking over his voice. Danny Pink carried himself, usually, in a blocky fashion, as if he were scared of something and needing to be ready to defend himself at a moment’s notice. As it turned out, he felt the pressure to do exactly that when Clara accurately accused him of failing one of his literature courses.
“Or -” she had turned back, tucked her hair behind her ear, and looked him dead on. The only person in the room in that moment was Danny Pink. She looked into his eyes so deep that I think she changed every timeline in existence. And she said to him, “we could move this operation to a coffee shop and I could help you out free of charge.”
Clara Oswald asked Danny Pink on a date in her roundabout way.
Naturally, Danny accepted.
The weeks that followed were a whirlwind for me as an outsider, so I can only imagine what a wild experience it must have been for their friends and family. Over time, it came to my knowledge that Danny was an honorably discharged soldier - which I hated quite fervently at first - and that he struggled with civilian life. Oh, but Clara was his anchor. She did everything with him that she could, arm in arm more often than not, and she was his buffer to the world.
In the library, everything seemed perfect. As she’d always been, Clara was loud and social with everything. She didn’t change at all, despite how normal it would be for a young woman of her age. Danny watched her flirtatious personality in action, often joining in with her antics, furthering the evidence that they were an item and secure in themselves at a level of maturity that was far beyond their peers. Each time I saw them only cemented the reality that Clara and Danny were the type of couple that lasted. They would stay together forever.
There was no moment when I accepted that my opportunity had passed, or that I could no longer invite her because she had so much going for her on Earth. When Rory and Amy married, traveling with me put up major obstacles for them, almost leading them to a divorce. The trouble they got into with me has caused lasting damage on many lives.
With the holidays right around the corner, though, I had all much declared my time at the university over. After my shift, in fact, I had decided to sit down at a table and draft my resignation letter. Leaving during a holiday was best. Nobody would even know I was gone. I pull out the computer I purchased a few years ago when I first started working in the library and open a word processor. I’ve never written one of these things before, so I open up a search engine next to look up a few examples.
“Are you quitting, then? Trying to sneak out at the holidays thinking nobody will realize you’ve gone?”
I turn to my right and see Clara hovering over me. She hadn’t been in today, so I shouldn’t be surprised, but I had learned she didn’t generally come on Tuesdays if she didn’t come right after the lunch break lull. Without meaning to, I smile, and I nod shortly.
“I’m afraid it’s time for me to go,” I say to her. “I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
Clara huffs. “I doubt that.”
My instinct is to correct her, though the effort would be futile. Instead I tell her that I could use some help drafting one, if she wouldn’t mind. “I’ve heard you say that your major is literature, is all.”
Nodding, she walks behind me and takes the seat to my left. She draws a deep breath and then looks at me with her eyes wide and attentive. “Are you leaving for another position or are you just leaving without a plan?”
“I’ve got a plan,” I say, and she nods again, and then I finish my thought. “But I don’t have another position. I’m just leaving?”
“To where, if I may ask?” she inquires, a pure curiosity that is refreshing beyond any of the words she might able to string together and put on a page, or speak with her lips. She would’ve made the perfect companion. She would’ve loved traveling with me.
“Anywhere, everywhere,” I say, restraining my desire to tell her the truth. Not only would she not believe me, but it would be too tempting to invite her.
Clara smiles gently, and then lets the conversation shift to that of focus and productivity. She helps me draft the entire resignation letter within about ten minutes or so. She helps me to print it and walks with me to put it on my supervisor’s desk. We leave the building together, though she keeps me moving slowly. It isn’t until we’re on the last few steps that she starts a conversation again, cycling back to my leaving.
“You love this library. Why are you really leaving?”
Clara has a special way of being persistent and getting what she wants. She’s not bossy, usually, and she’s very rarely inconsiderate of those around her. It is one of the ways in which she differs from River, and I can’t pretend that I don’t prefer it. I put a smile on my lips and put my hands into my pockets.
“If I told you, you would never believe me, young Clara, and I fear what might happen if you did,” I weave the truth into words that are unclear and indirect. It is not wrong that she might not believe me, and it’s not unreasonable to be concerned about the consequences of her trusting me completely.
“You’re not secretly a pervert or serial killer, are you? That would be very weird.”
I fire back instantly, “Indeed it would be, which is why it’s quite good that I’m not.”
“If you tell me the truth about where you’re going, then I’ll buy you dinner. Consider it a going-away party from your favorite library-goer. You and me are like friends, aren’t we? We’ve seen each other every day, almost, for nearly five years now. Only seems right,” the confidence that she exudes, and the comfort she has, is unbelievable. I know that I should be turning her down, but I don’t.
I negotiate with her instead, “I’ll pay for my own dinner, but I’ll tell you the truth after I walk you home.”
“I suppose that works. Looks less like a date that way,” she laughs. “Danny would appreciate that.”
In no time at all, we’re at a pizza place off campus, per Clara’s request, and we’re chatting away. She tells me about the internship and more about Danny that I hadn’t known previously. Clara is completely open about everything in her life, but not necessarily in a revealing way. In fact, she’s forthcoming about the things happening to and around her, but she doesn’t say much about herself. She is too invested in everything else.
So I ask her about it. “Do you ever take time for yourself? To find out what you care about?”
Clara shrugs. “I don’t stop running to think about it, really.”
“Are you running from something?”
She looks at me and stares for a moment. In a way, it seems like I’ve crossed a line with the intensity in our shared eye contact, but she doesn’t shy away from it and neither do I. We remain locked on each other until she takes a very long time to blink and then pull her gaze back to the plate in front of her. “I don’t know why I’m running or what I’m running from. I guess there’s just the feeling in the back of my mind that keeps telling me to run. My mum, before she died, used to tell me that it was just self-motivation to do something with my life.”
“Mums are wise that way, sometimes,” I tell her calmly and with a grin. Some people are destined to go at the world non-stop. Some people can only make it to success on one speed. Perhaps Clara is one such person. She certainly seems to be.
We sit awkwardly and finish the pizza after that - Clara pensive and myself distant. Our evening felt very natural and easy. It feels wrong that this should be out last time meeting. When it’s time to take her back to the university campus, I bring up Danny.
“You guys met at the library. It’s very cliche, don’t you think?”
She laughs, “Oh yes. That’s why I wanted to leave with him. It gave our story a bit of flavor.”
“Oh, I rather thought you were going to say adventure,” I remark coolly. “You’re always going on and on about this adventure or that. Sometimes it seems like there should be a storybook written about you .”
Smiling, “I would need to have a proper adventure first.”
“What would that look like, do you think? What would Clara Oswald’s adventure look like?”
It takes her a moment to think, and she wobbles as she walks to help process the information I know she must be mulling over. Maybe if I can’t take her on my adventures, I can help create the ones she wants to have… As a parting gift…
“I don’t know exactly. I guess saving people, saving the planet. Really, I just want to do something unique that nobody else has ever done. If I’m going to have an adventure I was to make life-changing discoveries and help humankind move forward. If I’m going to have a real adventure, it had to be a story worth telling. I want the person reading to run through the pages as fast as I’m running through my life,” she monologues with passion and enthusiasm, but in a quieter way. In this moment, Clara is as plain as I’ve ever seen her, and it makes me change my mind about everything I had set in place for myself.
Instead of going to her residency hall, Clara keeps us walking. She says she’s not ready to go home just yet, and that she’s enjoying talking to me. I tell her how much I appreciate it, since I don’t often get to know the students very well. “They come and go, and I get to know the regulars just because they’re always around, but I never get to form lasting friendships with them. I don’t think I’ll forget you, Clara Oswald. You are truly one of a kind.”
“You’re so weird about saying names. Do you even realize that you’re doing it?” she asks.
“Oh, I suspect it’s because I don’t like mine, so I like to say other names. Maybe I’ll find a new one someday,” I explain.
“I mean, the last name Doctor is quite strange, but it’s not the worst last name I’ve ever heard. Surely your first name isn’t that bad,” the debate comes easily from her, though there’s no debate to be had on the matter. Instead, I explain further.
“No, my name is Doctor. I have no first or last name. I’m just Doctor. The Doctor, if I’m telling you exactly what I go by,” I say simply.
“Of what?” she asks, questioning my credentials instead of the usual “Doctor Who” inquiry that I’ve come to love. It does tickle me to have someone asking when I introduce myself. In a way, it’s like I’m not known all over the universe.
So I share more with her, “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“I’m just The Doctor. It sounds made-up because it is. That’s the name I chose and it’s the only name I know after my long life. More memorable, though, are those of my companions. That’s why I say names, too, to find the ones I like. If I like your name, then I can travel with you,” I drone, sharing a method that shouldn’t matter to her. It is also just one aspect of the companion process. Not that there’s an official process, though. There was going to be, but in a true-to-form turn of events, I’m turning what started as an innocent bit of assistance in the library into something much more than it needs to be. More than it should be!
But I can’t stop myself.
“Do you like my name?” she asks, brightness in her voice that I catch glinting her eyes when I stop and turn to her. We stand like this only for a second or two before I resume walking. Clara doesn’t move with me, though. It is my intention to keep going but she asks again, only as a demand this time. “Do you like my name.”
So, very gently, in very nearly a whisper, I tell her, “Yes.”
I hear her let out a breath of relief. So do I.
“Yes, I very much do.”
“Good,” she says.
But it’s what she doesn’t say that really matters. It’s what she doesn’t have to say that means the most to me. I don’t have to ask her to do anything, and I don’t know that I ever would have had to do so. When it comes to destiny, I’m convinced that Clara Oswald is the only one who dictates what does and does not happen.
When we get back to the TARDIS, she isn’t skeptical or worried. She doesn’t make jokes about my being a serial killer or a pervert. There’s no hesitation. There’s no questioning of my motives. There’s nothing like what happened with companions in the past.
No, when Clara gets into the TARDIS, it’s like she belonged there all along.
“So, where does your adventure start?”
“Anywhere,” she laughs, running her hands over the buttons and knobs. “Anywhere and everywhere!”