Chapter Two

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Present Day

Running late again, always late. Clara rushed around her small flat, making sure she had everything she needed for her date with Danny Pink. She hardly noticed the now even smaller cramped living room as she squeezed her way passed the blue box parked in the middle of the floor. She was so used to seeing the TARDIS there, it had practically become part of the décor. Slipping on a pair of black high-heeled shoes, she passed through the hall and into her bedroom. She ignored the old man in her kitchen observing her small washing machine as it spun around in circles. He had been making a habit of showing up unannounced over the past few months. At any other time, she would have dropped everything and gone running at full speed towards the open doors of the smaller-on-the-outside time machine. But not tonight.

"The Satanic Nebula," the Doctor shouted towards the other side of the wall. "Or the lagoon of lost stars. Or we could go to Brighton!" He followed the sound of her shoes tapping in the next room and stopped at the entrance of her bedroom. "I've got a whole day worked out." He watched obliviously as she stood at the mirror, applying what he could only assume was some sort of reddish war paint to her lips.

She placed the cap back on her lipstick and continued to overlook his existence. "Sorry but, as you can see, I've got plans." She grabbed her jacket and placed it on.

A confused look passed over his furrowed face. Since when did his companion have anything better to do than travel with him at his every beck and call? "Have you?" he inquired, failing miserably at sounding interested.

"Look at me," she requested, finally acknowledging him for the first time all evening.

"Yeah, okay," he replied. A test maybe?

"No, no, no. Like, no. Look at me." She signalled to her hair and clothing.

"Yep, looking." Definitely a test. But what could he be missing? If he could figure out how to hide his entire home planet from the Daleks and even himself, surely he could figure out this one woman's ambiguous clues.

"Seriously?" Giving up on his frustrating cluelessness, she checked the mirror one last time.

"Why is your face all coloured in?" he wondered, still working out if he was getting warmer or not. "Are you taller?"

"Heels." She lifted her foot to reveal one of her heightened shoes.

"What, do you have to reach a high shelf?" he asked, feeling he was getting close to solving this mystery.

"Right. Got to go. Going to be late!" Time machine or not, there were just not enough hours in the day to explain why humans dressed up from time to time when the importance of making a good impression was involved. She grabbed her keys and headed for the front door.

"For a shelf?" he called, trying to stall her.

"Bye!" She reached for the knob and began to turn it when a strange sound was heard coming from the living room. A telephone ringing. But it was not her telephone, it was the TARDIS emergency line. Curiosity got the better of her. Sighing, she released the handle and slowly made her way towards the sound of the ringing phone. The Doctor stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed upon the blue box in the room. The TARDIS phone hardly ever rang. But when it did, it nearly always meant something bad was about to happen. Her heart beat slightly faster as she wondered who or what could be calling him. Another adventure maybe? She could almost taste the excitement emanating from the unknown. No! She shook the sudden urge to stay from her head. Not this time. If she had any hope of living a normal life between near-death experiences and saving the world, she would have to know when to walk away. "There you go. You've got another playmate," she noted, trying to sound as uninterested as possible as she started for the door once more. The phone continued to ring.

"Hardly anyone in the universe has that number," he baited her.

"Well, I've got it."

"Yes, from some woman in a shop. We still don't know who that was." The mystery of the unknown woman with the emergency TARDIS number had eaten away at his thoughts ever since the day Clara first called him. A mystery in which there were no leads other than an unfamiliar face and a piece of paper.

"Is that her now?" She felt herself being drawn to the sound of the phone, suddenly realising she was being pulled right into his unavoidable trap. But she could not free herself from her curiosity.

"There are very few people that it could be." He entered the room and approached the TARDIS.

Clara watched as he opened the outer hatch concealing the phone. His hand reached inside towards the receiver. "Don't," she cautioned nervously.

"Why not?" He paused.

"Because, if you answer it, something will happen." Something she knew would certainly interrupt her much-anticipated date with Danny.

"Like what?"

"A thing."

"It's just a phone, Clara," he assured her, ignoring her ridiculous worrying over nothing. He proceeded his way inside the compartment. "Nothing happens when you answer the phone." He picked up the receiver and placed it to his ear.

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