Chapter One: Two Dead (A Smile)

1558 words

Clara Oswald - Present

"Doctor John Smith, you are hereby under arrest for the conviction of the following: three premeditated murders, an armed robbery, large-scale trafficking of the illegal drugs LSD and cannabis, serial murder, a mass murder, one case of grievous bodily harm, and a manslaughter charge to put the cherry on top. You've got quite the list there, sir."

He looked up at her from his position on the ground, green/gold eyes sparkling with vulnerability – then shock. He was so prepared to beg for mercy until he saw her face. Her devastatingly pretty, minimal makeup, heart shaped, familiar face. "Wha... Oswin?" he asked, seemingly in a daze. She shook her head at him, lips pursed in what was almost pity. Probably drugs in his system I'll have to test for later, she thought drily. Clara went through the familiar process of the cuff and the key, and it didn't feel quite as satisfying as she imagined it would. Maybe she had done it too many times by that point.

"I don't think you'll be needing that," Clara said calmly, plucking the Doctor's state-of-the-art smartphone out of his handcuffed hands. After three years of on/off pursuing the most wanted man in the world, she'd caught him. Clara Oswald caught the serial murderer, occasional hit man and former drug dealer code named 'The Doctor'. And she wasn't even Senior Constable yet. The tall (or at least, in comparison to her), gangly, eccentrically dressed man groaned as Clara and her probationary apprentice Angie Maitland hauled him towards the police vehicle.

He flicked his hair out of his eyes and gave his best pout at Clara, who rolled her eyes at him and locked one of his cuffs to the railing in the still-undercover cruiser. The Doctor continued to hold his pout even as his facial muscles got sore, and she glared at him, noticing a strange look in his eyes. Almost like that of a plea for recognition. Like he wanted her to know who he was. Well of course she knew. You tend to remember people when you spend years trying to get them locked up for their crimes.

"Oh, you think you can just charm the pants off of anyone, don't you? You're already under arrest for the conviction of numerous crimes, don't try that with me."

He sat back in defeat, hands curled in his lap performing the same nervous habit repetitively, running his left thumb over his right over and back again, over and back again, over and back again. The Doctor was plotting, and Clara was having none of it. "Sit still," she commanded sternly, and he threw his hands up in defeat as the cruiser pulled into the uncharacteristically nearby police station. Typical reverse psychology rubbish, she noted. Go exactly where they won't expect you to, and stay there. Although she had to admit – the man was clever. On the run from her for three years, from the law for nearly ten. He wasn't caught a single time. The only reason they even knew he was responsible was the mocking bowtie he left at every scene with a sheet of paper with some kind of swirly, circular code on it in invisible ink.

And then there was that psycho wife of his who got locked up for trying to kill the poor bastard. Professor Song, her code name was. Professor River Song. She got put in the Stormie for that, Clara recalled with satisfaction.

After an hour and a half of the typical confirmation-of-details procedure that she could never be bothered to remember the formal name for, they walked him to the interrogation room. It was a cruel, white-lit, archetypal interrogation room. Usually he would stay handcuffed to his chair while she paced around him with a menacing glare, but instead she took a seat in front of him and discretely unlocked his cuffs, staring him square in the pupils. "Do you remember me?" he burst, and immediately bit his lip at his impulsive question. Clara smiled and shook her head.

"Aside from the news reports and three-year face hunt, no. I can't say we've met before. I'm sorry."

She cursed herself silently. Never apologise to a criminal.

Oswin - Three years ago

The young couple of exactly a year stood by the relentless ocean, the murky grey water spraying and frolicking lazily between the entangled legs of the Doctor and Oswin. The scene looked like it was taken from a Nicholas Sparks novel, but the Doctor felt nowhere near as confident as Noah. "Do you like it?" he asked anxiously. Oswin shook her head knowingly. "What do you mean, do I like it? I love it!" she squealed, wrapping her arms around him tightly. The Doctor smiled into her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Yeah," he replied, voice gravelly and lowered to just above a whisper. "I thought you would."

She took advantage of the precious moment-in-the-making and, to his dismay, splashed his suit pants with the ocean water. He gawped at her in mock offence. "Oswin Oswald, you rascal! Come back here!" he cried in indignation. She tried to run, but he caught her around the waist from behind, earning him a squeal of laughter as the cold water sloshed around them. Her phone rang then – her mother insisting on her going home. The Doctor gave her one of his famous puppy eye pouts as she shoved her phone in her bag and made towards the car park, to which she rolled her eyes in response. "Come on then!" she chirped, hips swinging deliberately all the way to the shiny teal passenger door of his vintage 1970's Plymouth Hemi Cuda. "Oh, Soufflé Girl," he whispered to himself as he tugged open the beloved door, "you will be the end of me." She looked at him in confusion. "What?" she asked, but he shook his head. "Nothing," he replied smoothly, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips with a smile and driving away.

Four years ago

Seventeen-year-old Oswin never questioned the Doctor's dress sensibilities or his possessions. His parents were probably well-off, she reasoned. Were. One of the first conversations they'd had was in the women's section of the Gallifreyan Cemetery. She was standing by her mother's grave, tears rolling freely down her cheeks, but while she allowed herself that 'luxury', she did not sob or whimper. She chose to stand silent vigil there; hair wild and unkempt, in her favourite leather jacket and jeans, no makeup. It had been a year, and yet it still hurt like a fresh wound.

Oswin never thought anyone would be there on the same day, until a boy about her age strolled up to the grave neighbouring her mother's and laid a rose there casually. Almost... too casual. Everyone grieves differently, Oswin, she reminded herself sternly. Don't be judgmental. She couldn't help but notice how relaxed he was. Like he expected that poor woman to die and was okay with it. Oswin secretly wondered if he had killer her himself. (Rose Tyler, she saw from the gravestone. Ironic choice of flower, she thought grimly).

Then he smiled at her. "Mother, sister or friend?" he asked knowingly, but not unkindly. She tried to smile back, but it came off as a grimace. "Mother," said Oswin, and mentally kicked herself for talking to a strange boy. She'd never stop now.

"You?"

He shifted his weight somewhat nervously. "Girlfriend," he told her, wincing after the second syllable. Oswin looked to the ground. Poor guy, she thought to herself. "Poor you," she whispered aloud, and immediately clapped a hand to her mouth. He raised an eyebrow in light amusement as she began to stutter her apology.

"I – I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that sarcastically, I completely meant it, um... Not that I'm taking pity on you, I mean I'm really not, not at all and I'm totally digging a hole for myself right now why can't the Earth just swallow me up too?"

The tall tweed-clad boy grinned at her, the sparkle in his green-gold eyes seeming out of place with his gloomy surroundings. "It's okay," he whispered back. "I'm John, by the way. John Smith, but my mates call me the Doctor. Just a little something that they came up with after something stupid we did," he continued, eyes never leaving her face. She gave him a little smile, and it surprised her how genuine it was.

"I'm Oswin, by the way. Oswin Oswald, my friends call me Oswin, because that is my name. Shocking, I know."

His eyebrows shot up again, her humour and new confidence taking him by storm. The Doctor laughed a little.

"You're really something else, you know that Oswin? You're different."

"So said 'the Doctor'. Oh yes, I am very aware."

A/N: Bit of an awkward place to end, sorry. It was getting too long and I'd really hate to bore you all.