New story.

Whouffle.

One of the best ships ever, in my opinion, thank you very much.

Now, let's begin, shall we?

He thought he'd try something new. Something that would help try erase the memories that plagued his mind. Get rid of the thought of her, the smiles they'd shared, the way they'd held hands, when they'd kissed, just purely them. He wanted to wipe it away, so that he'd be able to start afresh.

But honestly, he didn't think he'd be that infatuated.

He loved the way her hair bounced and curled along her shoulders as she walked with her red satchel down the street. He adored the way that she smiled at him, with brown eyes lightening and shoulders relaxing, and he had wished that time would be kind and freeze the moment for him so that he didn't have to pretend that it was slipping away. Her button nose was small and her hands were dainty, with long fingers that would tie his bow tie for him when he was struggling with it. He remembered her perfectness, just how she was brave and funny and short and just the right size for him, and he wanted to whip out a camera and snap a picture of her so that it'd always be with him.

'Yep, John, you've definitely lost your mind at this point.' Doctor John Smith sat at his desk and thought to himself. 'She definitely doesn't want to be with you anymore, so what's the point?'

You may think that, a little voice inside him whispered. But you don't know for sure. So are you going to sit her and mope about it, or are you going to go after her?

'It's too late!'

It's never too late.

"Yes it is!" John groaned in frustration and slammed his head down against the wooden desk, causing a cup of writing utensils to fall and clatter on the hardwood flooring. He turned his head and let his cheek rest against the smooth wood, floppy quiff falling into his green eyes. John sighed deeply. That new job with her not being there seemed to make each day go by more slowly.

John was a neurosurgeon and a doctor. He had worked at TARDIS Hospital and Medical Research Labs, one of the top hospitals in London. No one really knew what TARDIS actually stood for, and yet no one really cared because they always got the job done. To everyone else, Doctor John Smith was a hero – saving lives as many times as he could. No one knew his past. No one knew what he had been through, or what he had done. He had intended to keep it that way. Only Vastra and her wife Jenny, the head pediatricians, as well as Strax, the security guard, had known.

Oh, and Clara Oswald did too, after a while, of course.

She had found out a few weeks after they had become best friends. The Gallifrey Explosion was known all over the world, but no one knew exactly what happened. And no one knew who set off the bombs all over the city. The question was who?

The answer?

The Daleks. A violent, heartless, yet incredibly intelligent and cunning gang that haunted each street of Gallifrey. The four leaders were known as the Cult of Skaro – Caan, Sec, Jast and Thay. They were ordered by their "Dalek Creator" Davros to find new ways to kill. New ways to conquer.

And they did.

They had always held a grudge against John. No one knew why. But they didn't care to share.

They kidnapped John on the day of the explosion, and forced him to do their dirty work.

"Do it, Smith. Press the button. And as soon as you do, all of the people in this miserable excuse for a city will be gone. And boom. Bye-Bye family."

"Why do you do this?" John cried out, struggling against the bonds strapped around his waist, tears streaming down his face. "Why do you hate me?"

"I'm not going to tell you, John. Now press. The damn. Button. Or I kill your wife and family before the bombs hit."

"No!"

"Your wife is pregnant, John. River Song is pregnant."

John stopped. "W-What?"

Sec smiled nastily. "Ah, that got your attention. Hm, when I shoot her, should I aim the sniper at the womb first or just shoot her in the head, get it-"

"NO! No, please, no, don't kill her, I'll do it, I'll do it!" John pleaded. Sec grinned. "Good boy. Now. Press the button." Shakily, John took the silver metal square and stared at the gleaming plastic button that sat atop it. "Go on, John. Remember the price you will pay."

A tear splashed onto the red.

His eyes squeezed shut. His finger slammed down on the button.

And in the distance, screams and explosions filled the air, while blood colored the skies.

John shut his eyes, trying to block out the memory. Sitting up, he noticed he had been crying.

River had been pregnant.

And he hadn't even known.

John wasn't the same after the genocide. He was devastated, suicidal, even. Instead of being the silly, fun man he once was, he became an alcoholic- barely even able to pay his rent. Luckily, Vastra had found him lying in an alley, brutally beaten, and brought him home to not only tend to his wounds, but to help him clean up his act. Given him a job at TARDIS, and he had become the top neurosurgeon in the country.

But now he was away from Clara. His sweet, funny Clara, who would brighten his day. She worked with Vastra and Jenny in the pediatrician's offices, as a nurse. She would be the one who held the children's hands when they received their vaccine shots if they didn't want to hold their parents' hands, or comfort them if they were sick. She was beautiful, and kind, and she understood him and he loved her for that. He just didn't want her to get hurt because of him. The Gallifrey Explosion had had their yearly anniversary, and John made the mistake of visiting the memorial.

His mind was flooded with memories of River and his unborn child, his parents, his brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews and it was his fault, his fault that they were gone.

He had reverted to his old ways of drinking up his money. And he shouldn't have, he knew that, but it was too painful. He was becoming moody and he had snapped at poor Clara to the point where she burst into tears in the empty corridor. So he left TARDIS and went to the London Memorial Hospital, number two on the Medical Care list in the U.K.

He couldn't stand it. He had to go back. He was in love again because of Clara and he had to remember that. He had to apologize. He had to make things right.

'And I will.' John firmly decided. He picked up his work phone and dialed Vastra's number.

"Hello?"

"Vastra? It's John. Missed me yet?"

"Morning, Martha." John greeted Nurse Martha Jones, who sat rifling through papers on the reception desk. She looked up in surprise. "Doctor Smith! You're back!"

John grinned. "So I am. Have you seen Jenny?"

"Jenny? Oh, I think she's going through some papers for one boy. Poor kid's got strep throat." John grimaced in sympathy. Strep was never fun.

"Right. Thanks."

"Hey, Doctor Smith!" Martha called out as he walked away.

John abruptly turned. "Ey?"

She grinned. "You're looking for Clara, aren't you?"

"How'd you guess?"

She shrugged. "A hunch, I suppose. But she's downstairs, getting coffee. Go catch her before she walks away." John nodded. "I will, I swear to it."

John stepped into the elevator, greeting some other surgeons and doctors, who didn't seem too surprised at his sudden return. As he rushed into the cafeteria, she spotted Clara, who was heading in his direction. "Clara!" He called out, running towards her, white coat billowing behind him. Clara stopped and looked amused as she set down her coffee, right before John picked her up and crashed his lips against hers. "You-" he muttered in between kisses. "drive me bloody insane, do you know that?"

Clara giggled against his lips; this was just as good as an apology for all that had happened in the past. She pulled away and pretended nothing had happened with a large grin on her lips as she straightened his bow tie, while others gawked at the sight.

'She just made out with a man in public and she's just fixing his bloody bow tie like nothing happened?' was probably the exact thought running through their minds at the exact moment.

But neither person seemed to care. John stood and looked at her with a goofy smile on his face while Clara cleared her throat and looked up at him. "Miss me?"

"Yeah, lots." He replied, that goofy smile still plastered on his face, as he swooped in for another kiss.