My Impossible Girl, chapter 4
A/N: Lots of love for my reviewers! I'm so glad you all enjoyed chapter 3! Note: Yes, there will be appearances by Wilf and Donna in this story, and if you guys got any suggestions on anything fluffy you'd like to see, PM me! I'd gladly listen to your suggestions! Thanks to my reviewers, JackHarknessWouldLookGoodInAFez, Randomcat1832, Littlemissthunderbird, Winters-Dawn1221, dark-thyme-lord and acciobowtie11 for your lovely reviews! On to the next installment of My Impossible Girl, my lovelies! I do not own Disney's Wreck it Ralph, I am merely using it for my story and no claims of ownership is being shown. Note, this is a noticeably shorter chapter then the last, but it is a bit bittersweet, so I hope it makes up for it in length
"C'mon, Mr. John! C'mon, c'mon!"
"I'm coming, Clara! I'm coming!"
John about trips over the air as he rushes into his living room. On the soft carpeted ground, is his Clara, clutching a gigantic pillow. He sets the bowl of fresh buttered popcorn onto the carpet in front of her, and a tray of sodas on the side table. He sits onto the couch above her, grinning down at her. The DVD player flashes to life, and the living room becomes dark, leaving the Doctor and his Clara in their thoughts as the film begins to roll.
It's about eight, late at night. After dinner, John had asked Clara if she would like to watch a film together after dinner, just to wind down. When she had agreed, he let her have an hour of playtime in her room (or whatever she did, he hadn't bought her any toys yet, so he supposed she read that book), while he researched recent popular children's films. He hasn't been too up to date with the latest 3D animated films, so he went onto his laptop and did his research of popular films in the past three years or so. After an hour of research, including two phone calls to Amelia and David, he had settled on the film "Wreck it Ralph." It looked fun, with the great characters, and all the characters reminded him of when he was a boy, playing video games to cope with his loneliness. Asking Clara if she had wanted to see if, she had squealed excitedly and quickly got dressed in a red nightgown while John popped some popcorn and poured some Cola for the two. He absolutely adored Cola, along with fish fingers, his custard and Jammie Dogers. He would have snacked on those during the film, if he had any. He made a mental note to buy some next time he went out.
"My name's Ralph, and I'm a bad guy. Uh, let's see..."
"Mr. John, is he a bad guy?"
"Yes, Clara."
"Then why is the movie about him?"
"Well, we'll see, my Clara...we'll see..."
"We can't change who we are."
"Mr. John?"
"Yes, Clara?"
"What's a Bad-Anon?"
"It's...It's..." John pauses the movie while he tries to figure out how to explain what it meant. He couldn't use alcoholics anonymous, Clara probably didn't even know what an alcoholic is! He purses his lips, thinking hard. In this context, he had to try to think of another way to explain it. "It's when people like them come together to talk about how they are nice, even though the world sees them as mean."
"Why do they see them as mean?"
"Because that's their job, in their game."
"But why can't they just be nice?"
"Well, because their job in their game-"
"No, I mean the others in the game. Why can't the nice characters be nice?"
This hit hard to home. John pauses, his mouth opening, struggling to figure out what to say next. How could a five year old figure out what societies can't figure out in years. Why can't the nice people figure out that the people they view as different, as mean, are actually nice? Because their stereotypes and occupations already makes you think them as something different, but in reality, they are the same as you. They are the same as you, screw what the objectives of society says. It's something as simple as that, and why does his five year old adopted daughter figure it out faster then most of the world does? John grows a bit misty eyed, but he turns away a moment, taking a large sip of soda. The fizz of the soda burns his throat slightly, but he ignores it, and hits PLAY again.
"It's game over for both of you!
"No! Just for me!"
"Ralph!
"Vanellope!"
"I'm bad! And that's good! I'll never be good! And that's not bad!"
"There's no one I'd rather be then me."
Clara looks behind her, at the sound of a sniffle, though heartily saddened by the film, and sees Mr. John leaning forward, his elbows braced on his knees. His eyes are sad, full of tears, and she sees him looking as sad as he did first time she met him. It was his voice that echoed along with the film. She looks towards the screen, as Ralph's gigantic fist collided with the mountain. Setting down her pillow, she slowly gets up and pulls herself up next to Mr. John on the couch. Sliding herself next to him, she places her tiny hand on his arm. He turns his head towards the little girl, and when she squeezes his arm, he pauses the film and wraps his arms around Clara. She lets him hold her as he lets quiet tears leak onto his shoulder. Clara knew Mr. John has always been a sad man, and that he missed his friend, and she knew as a friend, she should be there for him. Little Impossible Clara, holding her friend Mr. John close as she could. They were both missing something, and they had enough to hold each other together.
After a good few minutes of crying, John pulls back, looking down at his Clara. He smiles down bitterly at her, and carefully runs a hand through her long brown hair.
"Thank you, Clara."
"I promised, Mr. John. To be your friend. So I am. Why were you sad."
"...Clara, I...I am a funny man, right?"
"Very funny."
"Well, I am also a very very mad man...a bit mad, actually."
"Mad?"
"But...I am also a sad man, Clara. I told you about my friend that I lost, right?"
"Yes."
"She was the one who told me to be no one but me. And I believed her."
"Then why did she leave you?"
Because she's the devil in heels. Because she never truly loved me.
"I don't know, my Clara, I don't know."
Maybe I didn't deserve her love
"I think it's because she didn't understand." Her soft voice catches John's attention, as he looks down at her. Her little hand is gripping his arm tighter then he remembered it before. He didn't know a five year old girl could have such a strong grip. "She didn't understand that you're very mad. And very funny."
Oh, Clara
"Ms. Noble said people don't like what they don't understand." Clara pauses, before biting her lip, "Because since they don't understand, they don't like it."
How I wish it was this simple.
"I guess so." John forces a smile onto his face, before slowly bringing Clara into his arms. As she crawls into his lap, he presses play, and is glad to find the film that is giving him tears has a happy ending. Seeing Ralph accept himself and being accepted by the others. Vanellope getting the world she wanted. In a way, he supposed he and Clara were like them. An odd bunch with nowhere to go, and finding it's okay to not be good. It's okay to be mad, as long as you have someone to hold your hand.
"Cause if that little kid likes me, how bad can I really be?"
After the film, Clara was tucked into her bed, John stood in the doorway of her bedroom, grinning at the little girl who held her picture book close in her hands. The lamp beside her cast a soft glow across the room, not bright enough to keep her awake, but bright enough to let her read her book, or at least look at the pictures. John bites his lip, as he watches her face light up every time she flipped a page. What childlike amazement she held, he forgot what it was like to be a child. He was a child in himself, until River had left. Now, he was recovering that lost childlike quality in him, one his friends had always admired. Taking a deep breath, he takes one of the tiny child sized chairs and sits it next to her bed. Managing to fit his butt onto the chair, he smiles as Clara has paused in her readings, watching Mr. John.
"Clara, what're you reading?"
"A book my Mummy left behind for me. One "o" One places to see." John forces himself not to laugh as she calls 101 as one 'o one. He leans over to her side, to read the book. Simple sentences anyone could read, but the pictures that were captured in the book were amazing. A photographer in every country was probably employed to create this book, because John has seen photos of the world, but nothing like this.
"Can you read it?" He questions, and Clara shakes her head vigorously. "Well, we'll have to fix that. D'you want me to read what each sentence says to you? Best place to learn is by having someone read to you and explain it."
"Yes, please."
"Alrighty, then," John shifts the book so it lingers at the edge of the bed, in the middle of the two, "I'm going to read this page, okay? And you can guess where the photo is. Alright?"
"Okay!"
"Lovely! So...'A big great forest with fields of green. It's somewhere where people will never be mean.' Oo! Rhymes! I love rhymes! Clara, dear, what does the picture look like to you?"
"Lots of trees. A big blue sky. And a big white bird!"
"What bird do you think that is?"
"A seagull? Or a dove?"
"I think it is, my Clara."
Their game of reading and guessing the pictures went on for another good hour, before John decided it was time for his Clara and himself to sleep. He hadn't been sure whether Clara could read or not, but seeing as she couldn't, he found himself wondering about school opportunities. It was just the end of the school year, so he'd have to wait for the new year. He had wanted Clara to be able to read, and write like a normal kid should. He isn't sure if she had had those opportunities at the orphanage, but with him, she will have every dream she could possibly hope for. As long as it wasn't going to destroy the world, she should be able to have everything John couldn't have growing up.
Finishing up the last sentence, he ruffles her hair.
"Ah, that's good, Clara. We can continue this tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay, Mr. John!"
"That's my girl!"
"Um...Mr. John?"
"Yes?"
"Can...um...you t-teach me how to read one day?"
"Of course!" John jumps up excitedly, almost hitting his head against the doorframe, "Books! Books are the foundation of this world, my Clara! Just you wait! You'll be reading Shakespeare before you're 12!"
"Shakespeare?"
"Ah, we'll get there, Clara. Get some rest, now."
"Goodnight, Mr. John."
"Goodnight, my Clara...my impossible Clara."
