Chapter 2

Your Misfortune (None of My Own)-Thomas Newman

Several Hours Before:

"Grab his arms, James, this fucker's about to have himself an accident," snarled a voice at his side. He heard a stupid giggle somewhere among them before realizing the idiot who was giggling was himself.

A pair of clammy hands grabbed him by the arms and roughly tugged them behind his back.

"Ay-get your grubby little hands off me you filthy urchin! Tha' shirt is worth more than your years wages!" he slurred angrily.

"He's got quite a mouth on him this one, don't he?"

One of them leered. "Maybe we can put it to use for more pleasurable purposes."

He struggled to see who it was that was holding him. What the hell had he even done to get himself into this situation?

The last thing he could recall was…No. No he didn't want to remember that. Best to just forget the whole ordeal-

"-Twat," the big oaf in front of him spat as his thick beefy fist dug into his stomach. His knees buckled, and the men made sure to grip his arms tightly between them.

A series of blows began to rain down upon him from every direction. He refused to give them the satisfaction of hearing him cry out in pain. So instead, he took each punch with a restrained growl.

Someone grabbed a jack handle and struck him on the side of the head making his legs give out beneath him. With a grunt, he fell to the ground. The group of men took advantage of his fall and began kicking him. One of the men kicked him precariously close to his ancestral jewels. He felt the edges of his vision go fuzzy. The men's shouts began to echo in his ear, and before he knew it, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he was flying through space with the stars.

Clara stared, dumbfounded at the situation she now found herself in.

She thought she'd rid herself of alcoholic men when she had moved out of her father's house years ago. When her mother was killed, Clara's father had sunk deep into the bottle. Linda's arrival had done nothing to improve his condition. After several years of enduring her step mothers cold nature Clara had finally reached her breaking point with her father's pitiful state. The day she received her acceptance letter to Coal Hill University, she packed her bags that very day, eager to leave the miserable house. It wasn't so much her father's alcoholism that she wished to escape, but rather her step mother's lecherous presence, taking up the space and home that had once belonged to Clara's mother, contaminating the air to the rooms she had once breathed life into.

Now, Clara found herself stuck with a complete stranger who she had nearly killed. She had only met the man twenty minutes ago, if one would call his incoherent mumbling a meeting, yet she felt a peculiar need to stay close to him and make sure that he was safe for the night. Clara debated with the idea of taking him to the Oswald Ranch for the night, but then decided against it when she remembered her Grans desperate attempts to set her up on a date with one of her book club friend's grandsons. The old woman was adamant on finding her a husband before she met her maker.

Clara shuddered at the thought and then turned to the so called Doctor.

At least if her Gran ever set eyes on this particular target, his looks wouldn't be dissuading, unlike the last man. What was he doing out in the middle of nowhere? With these thoughts reeling in her mind, she began digging through his shirt and trouser pockets, giving him an apologetic look at invading his personal space. When she didn't find anything in his front trouser pockets, Clara reluctantly stuffed her hands down the back of his trousers and felt around.

Good Lord! The man has an ass! Clara cleared her throat as if that would chase her lewd thoughts away.

"Sorry about this old boy," she mumbled and felt around. Nothing. "Hmm." Clara leaned back and looked around her. "Ah!" she gave a cry of victory. There on the ground, Clara could make out the shape of a small wallet.

She reached over and grabbed it, frowning when she opened it. He'd obviously been mugged judging by the lack of money inside it. She rummaged through his cards, a library card, several credit cards, some she had never even heard of, and then she finally caught sight of the Doctors sharps features in one of them.

Clara pulled it out. "Just call me Doctor, eh? Mister…." she trailed off when she glanced down at the listed name and frowned. "Wow, your parents didn't really take the time to get creative about your name did they?"

His name simply read Doctor Smith M.D. So at least he wasn't completely out of his mind then, he was a doctor. And a Smith at that!

Clara whistled, impressed.

She had heard of the Smith family plenty of times before. They were an old family. The Smiths were known as the town recluses when she was growing up, since no one ever saw them out and about. Word out had always been that there weren't any Smith children to the eccentric Mr. Smith and his wife Rose, which was how kids had begun making the family a sort of myth among the history of the town. Obviously there had been at least one Smith boy in the family now that Clara was looking at his peaceful, sleeping face.

Many things had changed around here while she had been living up with her father and attended Coal Hill. The Doctor had probably debunked several of the stories she and her friends had made up during her childhood since he had come into the public eye as a man of medicine. Fortunately for him, she and the local kids used to make a game out of who could get closest to the Smith land on their way back home from school. The Smiths grand, blue colored farmhouse was said to be haunted by the ghosts who had died during the Time Wars. The family had always been revered by the towns' people for having lost so many of their men in the Battle of Gallifrey. It was a known fact among many that the war had nearly destroyed the families lineage.

Clara was snapped out of her thought when the Doctor let out a soft moan. Poor man…He was having a rough night, and by the looks of it his morning wasn't going to be any better either.

"Come on then you idiot, up you get!" Clara stood up and began pulling him up to a sitting position. She laughed in sympathy when he groaned at the movement. "You're gonna have to help get you on your feet, otherwise you'll be lying out here all night."

The Doctors stormy eyes fluttered slightly before shutting again. He moaned and lethargically moved his long limbs about.

Good. At least he could hear her.

"Alright, on three we're gonna pull you up."

A loud bark from the truck reminded Clara of her four legged passenger, Rowan. The lazy mutt cocked his head to the side and stared.

"Fat lot of help you are!" she called out to him and adjusted her grip on the tall lanky man. She scoffed in astonishment. Just her luck! He was almost all arms and legs!

"Alright Doc, one, two, three!" Clara tugged with all her might and breathed heavily but realized that the Doctors body wasn't budging. "Ugh-Doctor!"

The silver haired man, for his part, grunted.

"Honestly! You'd think that in your situation you would at the very least have the decency to be worried!" Clara said tartly as she grabbed the Doctor around the waist and began heaving him to his feet with tremendous effort.

"Christ!" Clara huffed, red faced and neck burning. "For such a skinny man you weigh a lot! You could stand to lose a few pounds!"

His head lolled to the side as he grunted in response.

Clara rolled her eyes at that and then began the task of dragging him towards her red, beat up truck. She nearly tripped several times with the Doctor practically crushing her. Twice-he came close to falling on top of her. She briefly considered just shoving the ungrateful bastard into the ditch again and driving home. She was able breath a sigh of relief when she finally managed to get the truck door open and propped him against the side, making sure to keep a steady hold of his shoulders so he wouldn't fall forward.

He didn't look that old now that Clara was able to seem him a bit more clearly. A bit worn out if anything. He almost had a youthful aura about him that made her want to find out more about him. Too bad he was too drunk. And passed out…again.

With a giggle, Clara dared to brush the side of his face, running her fingers through his cropped wavy hair. He seemed to lean into her touch with parted lips when she brushed his hair, but she told herself she was imagining things. Clara nearly jumped when she heard a whisper escape his thin lips.

"I am alone…" he breathed.

Clara leaned in closer to him so that she could almost feel the faint brush of his breaths. "What?" she whispered.

"I am….alone….the world….the joy has been sucked out of my…world. And I am alone." he drew in a shuddering breath. Clara felt her heart get stuck in her throat at his words. What had happened to him?

"Doctor are you alright?" she asked, hoping that he would regain consciousness. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I won't see them…"

"Won't see who? Doctor?"

"Never again…." She felt a chill run down her spine at his next words. "They're dead…."

Clara stood up with a frown. "I think you'll have one hell of a hangover come morning," she told him as she adjusted him in the seat and pulled the seat belt across his body. "Lucky for you," she clicked the buckle into place. "I know where the Smith estate is! See?" she smacked his chest. "It pays of to be nosy and bug the neighbors when you're a kid!" With that said, Clara shut the door and went to the driver's side.

Rowan watched all of this with intent eyes.

"Don't you judge me you lazy mutt," Clara narrowed her eyes accusingly at him. "You could have at least come out to lend some moral support!"

The Retriever blinked at her and then began panting happily before muzzling the new stranger sitting in his usual spot. Rowan gave a snort into the Doctors open mouth when his sniffing nose got a whiff of the booze reeking from it.

Clara grimaced in disgust. "Eww…doggy germs…" Her heart went out to the Doctor.

"He's been down in the dumps I think…" she told the dog, hoping he'd go easy on the poor man. She turned the key in the ignition. The old truck groaned and sputtered for a moment before trembling to life with a deafening roar. Burning motor oil and gasoline quickly filled the air around the cabin along with the booze making Clara's nose and throat burn.

"Here we go Doc," Clara said as the truck pulled back onto the dirt road towards the Smith's Tardis Manor.

Sorry for the long wait guys! Wrapping things up for my first year of college! Whoo! Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed and or followed! Really appreciate the feedback! Let me know what you guys think of this chapter and the song if you listened to it! If you guys see any mistakes let me know since I didn't have this edited by my pal, JackandSam. She's got real life duty right now...