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Chapter 7

Why on earth had he agreed to this? What was it about Clara Oswald that made it so hard for John to be himself around her? He wasn't a nice guy, he wasn't the type to apologize for being who he was, especially not with a present and he certainly wasn't the type to go cycling with a stranger who should just stay the hell away from him.

And yet here he was, standing in front of his house, watching Clara push her bike down the road in his direction. The weather was too beautiful to cancel on her and now he just had to go through with it.

"Good morning," Clara greeted him cheerfully and John wanted to groan in response.

"Why are you pushing your bike?" he asked Clara when she had reached him, "I mean, it's got wheels, you could. . . ah, nevermind. Shall we go?"

But then John took a closer look at her bicycle and only now he noticed the two very flat tyres. "Ah, I see."

Clara gave him an apologetic smile. "Got a tyre pump?"

With a sigh he bent down and unhooked the pump from his own bike before he went down on his knees next to hers to get started when he suddenly noticed the big pile of dust that was gathering all over the frame.

"When was the last time you used this thing?" John asked her as he started to pump air into the first tyre.

"Uhm, I'm not exactly sure," she replied sheepishly.

"But it was in this lifetime, right?" he eyed her with suspicion. Clara didn't really seem like a bicycle person at all. "Do you even know how to ride it?"

Clara stared down at him, looking more than a little hurt as she folded her arms in front of her chest. "Of course I can ride a bike!" she answered defensively, "My Dad taught me when I was 6."

He huffed. "That's been a while."

"Oi!"

When he had finished pumping up her tyres John rose back to his feet and took another good look at Clara, noticing that she seemed anything but prepared for a bicycle tour. She was wearing a skirt and tights, the only thing really suitable for riding a bike of a different appeared to be her boots.

"And you are absolutely sure you want to do this?" John raised his eyebrows at her, giving her – and himself – one last chance to call off this entire thing.

"Absolutely," Clara confirmed and swung one leg over her bike.

John watched her for a moment and was hardly able to refrain from laughing as she struggled to reach the saddle with her height. It was more than obvious that she hadn't used the bike in at least a decade and right now he had his doubts that she would even be able to reach the pedals.

"Okay, I'm ready," Clara said a little breathlessly once she had sat down, wobbling on the bicycle and trying very hard to keep her balance when she had finally managed to find support, holding on to a street lamp.

John was torn between going ahead or asking her just one more time if she was sure, but he knew that it would just end in the same answer. Clara Oswald was stubborn. He had learned that much about her.

"Alright," he exhaled sharply and jumped on his bike.

John started to cycle along the lane in the direction of Hyde Park and Clara followed after him, still struggling to keep her balance but getting better as they went ahead.

"I finished An Unearthly Child last night and Forest of the Dead earlier this week," she told him after a moment, "It's quite intriguing. That girl, Melody, is she based on someone you know?"

"Yeah. She is my wife."

"Your what?"

John had meant to warn Clara as soon as he saw it, but everything went too fast for him to react. Within seconds the branch got caught in Clara's tyre and she lost her balance for good, falling forward over the handlebar and landing on the pavement with a thud.

"Clara!" John cried out, jumped off his bike and immediately bent down to see if she was alright. She groaned when he reached for her arm and as she turned around he realized to his horror that there was blood running down all over her face.

"Don't move!" he bellowed at her while he racked his brain for a solution to stop the bleeding and the only thing he could think of right now was his jacket. Quickly John stripped out of it and pressed the dark fabric against the wound on her forehead at which Clara winced with pain. The wound looked bad and John knew that the jacket wouldn't do the trick. Especially since Clara was getting paler with every passing second.

"We need to get you to the hospital," he reasoned and took a glimpse under the jacket. The wound was bleeding too heavily for it to stop on its own. It probably needed stitching. "Can you get up?"

When Clara nodded slowly John reached into his trouser pocket and drew out his key, quickly fastening their bikes against the nearest street lamp before he held out his hand to her and dragged Clara back to her feet.

"I don't think the hospital is necessary," she argued weekly.

"Oh, yes, it is," John corrected her strictly, "My car is parked back at the house. Just a few steps. Come on!"


John hated the hospital corridors. He hated how much time he had already spent in them and even though they were here because of Clara, it didn't aid to making it any better. Above all he hated that these corridors always gave him time to think while a doctor was patching Clara up. It had taken him a while to realize it, to make sense of these strange feelings, the need to apologize, the dread in seeing her hurt. He liked Clara and he had probably liked her from the start. John reasoned that it could have been worse, but it had been so long since he had felt any kind of affection towards someone else that he wasn't quite sure what to do with it.

Damn Dr Martha Jones for being right once more. Maybe he really was in need of a friend and maybe Clara could be it. At least she seemed to want to stick around, but John knew that sooner or later he would end up scaring her off with who he was, so he probably shouldn't get too attached.

"Mr Smith?" Dr Jones' voice tore him from his thoughts, "You're not scheduled for an appointment today, are you?"

John turned around and opened his mouth to explain his presence, but he couldn't think of anything. Except to admit that he had met with Clara. "No, I'm not," he blurted out, "I'm here with someone else."

His doctor raised her eyebrows at him but luckily he was saved the explanation as the door next to him opened and Clara stepped out, looking pale but otherwise fine. The wound on her forehead had stopped bleeding, but was still red and looked quite painful beneath the stitches.

"Ah," Dr Jones' put on a knowing smile. Of course she would recognise her. "I see. Well, I'll see you at your next appointment."

Dr Jones rushed off and John made his way towards Clara to take her home. "How's the head?" he asked her when they started walking in the direction of the exit.

"It'll be fine. Hurting, but that's natural, I guess. Cycling was probably a stupid idea."

"Yeah, it was," John confirmed, "You should probably stick to exercise bikes for now."

Clara chuckled, which was a good sign. It meant that despite the pain she must be in there was still room for humour.

"Sorry about your jacket," Clara said after a moment and handed it back to him.

He shrugged. "It'll be fine after a wash. That's the advantage of black clothes."

To his surprise she chuckled once more. "Is it my imagination or have you gotten nicer all of a sudden? You haven't insulted me once since the fall."

John let out a groan. "Fine, if that's what you want. You hit your head, so of course it's your imagination. You're probably hallucinating right now. Better?"

"Yeah," she giggled, "I should probably call a taxi now."

"Don't bother," John replied, "I'll give you a ride home. It's on the way."

Suddenly he could feel Clara's eyes on him and he was almost afraid to turn around and look at her.

"Wow, you really have gotten nicer."

"On second though," he added, smiling at her to let her know he was joking, "I think a taxi would be better."

Clara only grinned at him in reply and together they made their way back to the car.