Clara Oswald was just an ordinary human female - nothing peculiar about her. So why did she confound him? Why did she seem like this mystery he had to solve? He knew, with quite certainty, that she wasn’t anything ordinary but something much more.
To him - she was a riddle, a phenomenon that kept haunting him through time - a woman turned Dalek in the future, a governess is the past, and here she was again, a regular normal woman who called on him for WIFI help - his special number even, that no one else had access to - or should, certainly not some woman in a shop, whomever that was. (Another mystery to consider, but later…)
He kept stealing glances at her, sweeping his eyes up and down her body, trying to find something that would set her apart from any other human. Why was she so special? And why was her timeline intertwined with his?
“You alright?” she asked with a small smile, looking at him with those big eyes as the sound of her voice drew him out of a thunderstorm of thoughts.
“Hrmm,” he said, turning back to the center console of the TARDIS, aimlessly poking and pulling at levers and buttons that did nothing other than make an occasional protest beep. His thoughts were still distracting him, alerting him to some sort of danger about her. Perhaps those internal alerts were what drew him to her. He admitted, it was exciting not knowing - of having to unravel a puzzle of a girl right before his eyes. And she was always keeping him on his toes. She had a taste for adventure, something he admired, but he couldn’t help but always glance over his shoulder at her when they were running - not knowing what to expect next from her and always on his guard.
“Well, it’s just that you keep staring at me like I have something on my face,” she said, inching over to him. He felt her arm brush against his. He automatically tensed. “Do I?”
“Do you?” He turned to her and shot her a hard stare. “Eyes, nose, lips, hair…”
“Those are all things that belong there,” she said with a snort. “Is there anything that doesn’t?”
He said nothing and continued to stare.
“Sholar III!” He burst out before she could say anything else. She seemed to be getting closer to him, leaning and swaying into his person.
“Excuse me?” Clara asked.
“The planet. I’m thinking of taking us to Sholar III, beautiful place - lots of shops, some hiking adventure and ancient places to explore. Some great cultures…” he rambled on, and she grinned.
Clara tilted her head. “Hold on, that sounds great but you seem… I dunno… out of it? Should you be flying this way? Er…or whatever this snogbox does in time and space?”
He turned and stared at a spot on her curved up inviting lips, a delicate coy smile that was - well, rather attractive. Damn this youthful body! He cursed to himself. He stalled again, playing with levers, nodding and mumbling to himself scientific things, trying to regain his cool and hold back what he really wanted to say to her - to shake her and demand to know who she was!
Maybe he should kiss her. He’d certainly dabbled in the endeavor with people before - more than just to see into their minds, more than just a telepathic link and a moment of physical pleasure.
“Yes, yes, that would get some answers,” he said to himself aloud.
“Sorry what?” He turned to her again, and she was laughing. He didn’t realize he had said something. She covered her lips with her mouth and he met her shining eyes.
“That’s not exactly what I was going for…”
“What, sorry, what did you ask me?” he said, letting out a sigh, hoping he could release his frustration in a breath. He couldn’t.
“It wasn’t a question. I said… you keep staring at me like you want to kiss me. I mean, it’s alright if you do, but then you said something about answers…”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“Well, it’s your snogbox,” she said teasing him. He grumbled, and she laughed. She pulled on the sleeve of his coat. “Cheer up, Doctor. We’re going to a wonderful planet, aren’t we?”
“Sholar III,” he said. “Yes, well, maybe now we shouldn’t.”
Clara raised a single eyebrow curiously. “Oh?”
“Well, indeed some of the cultures are a bit salacious there; I don’t want us to unnecessarily encounter one of them and be forced into any sort of festivity or ritual that would leave us embarrassed. Not since you made your intentions known now…”
“My intentions!” Clara laughed. “You’re the one that’s been staring at me all this time like I’m some kind of conquest. Come on, Doctor, you must have some motive for even suggesting such a planet. Now, just admit it, take your medicine (she moved closer, licking her lips) and let’s get going.”
“Going?” the Doctor said miffed. Clara leaned into him, sliding her arm through his for a side hug.
“To Sholar III,” she said. “Come on you, clever boy, show me this so-called beautiful planet.”
Automatically, he tripped the lever and the TARDIS went into motion. Her words haunted him for a minute, echoing in his head as he felt the familiarity of them. Oh, Clara Oswald, who are you really? This impossible, peculiar girl.
And knowing - and learning who she was had presented more of a challenge than he’d ever expected.
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