A/N: So sorry about this being a day or two behind compared to my usual update rate! I have an assignment coming up for uni, which I have to do this week, so that might mean either the chapter through the week will be slightly shorter than usual, or the update at the weekend will be the short one. But I will definitely update twice. This chapter is a bit of a mixture of everything because this is really the slow start of the actual plot. When the plot starts the pace is going to pick up to a level I'm comfortable writing at. Slow paces unnerve me a little bit. Anyway, thank you to everyone who reviews: Azkabella, Guest, ImpossibleClara9, XxSnowyDreamsxX, remembermecleverboy, Guest, Dede42, OhMyStarsShiz, Whoufflemysouffle, Guest, BloodLily16, Yugicanbesexy, UchihaHakura64, ThePotterDoctor and Guest. You're all fantastic!
Chapter Seven: Future Plans
Clara was excited as she entered the office on Monday morning. For the meetings and political agenda, she was sure of it. In no way was it because John was waiting at her desk, holding a very friendly cup of tea and wearing a huge, bright smile at her arrival. As soon as she had entered the foyer this morning and had stopped to spare a few words with the bubbly Donna, she realised the extent of chaos being created by the election campaign. Everything was now officially in full swing; there was an unanimous chatter collecting in the centre of the Gallifrey offices and collective shouting of commands. Donna was in the centre of it all, and it was clear to Clara that she didn't have the patience for it.
"The Doctor wants you to –" Donna had tried to say, but the phone started ringing out angrily from her desk again. "Oh for god's sake! Where's the bloody mute button for that bloody phone?!"
As Donna attacked the red handset, Clara had to stifle a laugh. A man, slightly plump around the middle with a mischievous, boyish face interrupted their already interrupted conversation, slapping a rather large pile of pages on Donna's desk.
"Photocopy these for me will you, Donna?" he said before turning on his heel.
Donna practically hissed at him. "What am I, Gustus? I'm a secretary, a bloody secretary, not your slave from human resources! They pay me for answering phone calls and telling people memos, not for photocopying your stupid leaflets!"
But Gustus was on the move and his walking steadily turned into a run as Donna continued to yell at him to take back the pile of paper. Now she was grabbing random sheets, scrunching them up into little paper balls and throwing them at the escaping Gustus, while all the while, yelling, "I'm going to kill you, Gustus! You still owe me that bloody fiver!"
Clara had silently slipped away, turning around briefly just before she entered Research to see Donna hadn't even noticed her gone, and was instead, shouting at someone from an above floor, just as passionately as she had with Gustus.
"Bit crazy today," John said, handing her the cup.
"Little bit!"
"It's going to be like this for the next few months, I'm afraid. Don't worry, you'll get used to it."
Clara fell into step with John as they made to leave the office. "I'm finding it all very… exciting."
"Sure you don't mean stressful? Busy? Scrutinising?"
"I've only experienced politics from the point of view of a textbook and a passionate university student with a clear focus on principles," Clara told him. "Being in amongst it now, campaigning instead of voting is really exciting to me."
John raised an eyebrow as he held the door open for her, as if she had said something completely ridiculous. He remembered back to his first campaign when he was a nobody, fresh out of university and a junior minister after a year of experience. He hated every second of it; the competition, the underhand tactics used by oppositions. It was all too melodramatic for him, all too over the top.
And now he was in the centre of the public eye. Deputy for Gallifrey.
The Cabinet meeting room was very fancy. Curtains draped over the windows, crimson red and detailed with golden thread. Large items of furniture, polished mahogany, so perfectly polished that Clara could see her reflection in the wood. The chairs had high backs and velvet cushions, the pens personalised with fruitless fluidity. The tea was flowing from the dispensers, with caterers waiting at the side to showcase the biscuits on display for their tea break later; cupcakes with crystallised leaves and biscuits imprinted with their party slogan and symbol. John caught Clara staring at the selection of tray bakes and chuckled.
"You must try the jam-filled sandwich biscuits later. They're absolutely exquisite," he whispered in a mock posh accent. Returning to his normal tone, he added, "Just an unnecessarily posh description of a jammie dodger, really."
Vastra took her position at the head of the table, John on her other side and close to him, Clara. Rose was directly opposite her with Martha, Jenny was accompanied by Strax and Jack, and the other figures around the table Clara faintly recognised but didn't know their names.
"Thank you all for being here," Vastra began, her arms crossed on the table. "As you know, this is a Cabinet meeting intent on discussing the political direction of the upcoming election. If we succeed in the election, everyone here will have a position on the Cabinet." There was a beat in which everyone nodded. "Now, does anyone have anything they would like to suggest?"
As with any group meeting, there was a group pause, where each person waited for someone to start talking. It was Jenny who broke the moment of silence.
"Skaro," she started. "I heard they're directing their campaign towards businesses and investment."
John shuffled in his seat. "Oh? That's a new direction for them."
Jack sat forward, using his hands to illustrate his point. "Listen guys, we're all friends here. Well, everyone apart from Rose." Jack shot Rose his best grin, to which Rose responded by throwing her pen at his head. He continued, "Let's all be honest with each other. After the fiasco of the last coalition, there is no way in hell that Skaro are going to win this election. We have this in the bag. We're stronger than they are, we're all best friends, our team has the best reputation it has ever had. People admire Vastra, people adore the Doctor. Who's really going to vote for stuck up Simeon and his brat, Saxon?"
"But that's precisely it, Jack," Vastra said, patiently, kindly. Clara wondered if the woman ever shouted or lost her temper. She was always understanding and collected. Perfectly paced. "We can't get too comfortable. Yes, we have the upper hand from the electorate. But Skaro will do everything in their power to pull us down. We're fighting against them more than we are fighting for the votes. They know that we will be everyone's first choice because of the strong leadership and media representation."
Strax frowned, his small hand slapping against the polished wood. "Are you suggesting that Skaro are going to ruin our reputation, Ma'am?"
"They've always been known for their underhand tactics. It wouldn't surprise me." She paused, taking the time to stare at everyone individually. "This is why we cannot give them the opportunity. We have to put ourselves above their tactics. Every word we say to the media will have to be scrutinised before delivery. One sentence wrong and Skaro will blow it out of proportion, twist the meaning and try to turn people against us."
Directly across from Gallifrey, on the opposite end of government buildings, Skaro were also having their election proceedings meeting. It was a smaller meeting that that of Gallifrey's, with only the people present who absolutely had to be there. That meant Simeon, Saxon, Davros and Kovarian all around the table, in their room decorated green and blue, all of them listening to Simeon intently.
"As a party, we already have close connections to businesses all over the UK. As a business, ourselves, we have mutual understandings with the top chairmen and women who are the representatives for these corporations."
Kovarian narrowed her eyes. "By mutual understanding, you mean…?"
"Blackmail," Simeon said simply.
Kovarian sighed. "Blackmail will only get us so far, Walter."
Davros barked out a laugh. "You'd be surprised how a few guns pointed towards someone's chest can change their opinion. Quickly."
"Change their opinion while you're still in the room, yes, but what's stopping them from going back on their word once the weapons are removed? Hm?"
"Absolutely nothing. Apart from the few extra measures I've had put in place." Simeon curled his hands in his lap and leaned his elbows on the desk. "No one has betrayed us thus far. Have faith in me, Kovarian."
"Besides," the woman continued, intent on challenging him further. "All of this only matters if we win the election. How are we going to win the election, Walter? I thought we agreed Davros would be Deputy? If you keep manipulating our decisions to suit yourself we aren't going to get very far. No offence to you, Harold, but such a young, inexperienced member of our party getting a position as –"
"It was a wiser move than you give credit for. We have alerted people to Harold. We've sparked their interest. Soon people will be asking why such a young minister achieved such a high position."
"Meanwhile, we can sit here all day and bicker. We're not really getting anywhere," said Harold, crossing his arms across his chest. "How do you suppose we take down Gallifrey?"
Simeon sniggered. "It's all about reputation."
After another hour of agreements and tasks put across to the cabinet, the committee meeting was dismissed. Clara had to admit that it wasn't as exciting or entertaining that she imagined it to be. Whether that was down to unusually high expectations for such a dull matter or once Vastra had predicted Skaro's grand plan, everyone was a little more subdued than usual, Clara couldn't be certain. All she was definite of, she found, was that there was something bothering John for the rest of the day. He was smiling and joking and being his usual charming self, but there was something behind his eyes, as if he was secretly worrying.
That was when Clara first thought she could see through John. His eyes made everything transparent, as if they really were the windows to his soul.
Clara resolved to ask him what was wrong when he offered her a lift home that night from work.
However, the Doctor had a question of his own.
"So, Clara," he started, his eyes glittering with curiosity in that way she was used to now. "Can you drive or do you just prefer public transport?"
Clara found herself smiling. "Oh, um… I can't drive. I'm a terrible driver. I'd be a danger to everybody."
"Nonsense. You just haven't had a good instructor, that's all."
She considered this for a moment. "I haven't even attempted it, John. I just know I'd be terrible."
His eyes widened at that. "Well, how about I teach you then?"
"You… teach me?" Clara repeated slowly.
But now John was a bundle of energy at the prospect of teaching Clara how to drive. He was rambling, trying to convince her. "Yeah, think about it! I'm a really good driver, if I say so myself. I have an amazing car. Of course, you wouldn't need to pay for a single thing, and even if you wanted to, in no way would I accept. It would be fun – me and you, driving. Or, you could at least give it a go. I reckon I would be a good teacher. What do you say?"
Clara was weighing up her options. Deny John of his generous offer and watch his face crumple slightly with disappointment, or endanger everyone on the road in her attempt to drive, cause a risk to life and curl up in embarrassment when she showed John how terrible she was. She didn't know which the better option was.
Sighing, she said, "Okay – but one lesson. I mean it John. And don't blame me when I kill us both."
He smiled in his small victory, and Clara smiled too. He was so easy to please sometimes; it was really nice for Clara to see. The more she made him happy, the more she wanted to do it.
After that, every worry from the day was forgotten in an instant.
Once John had dropped Clara home, he was reminded by a text from Amy that he was still having dinner at their house later that evening. He'd almost forgotten about it altogether – between worrying about Vastra's words earlier that day, the Question Time tomorrow and being distracted by Clara for most of the space in between, somehow his arrangement with Amy and Rory was nearly wiped from his mind. To be fair to him, it wasn't like he saw much of his two best friends anymore. Once a month, if he was lucky.
By the time he got home, he didn't have much time. He changed out of his tweed blazer and bowtie into a loose open shirt and black jeans, picked up a bottle of champagne from his fridge (after smiling for a moment or two, remembering his weekend with Clara) and jumped back into the TARDIS – his car – to make it there on time.
In the end, he was around fifteen minutes late, but Amy and Rory didn't mind. As soon as he stepped through the dark blue door of their house, he engulfed them both in a group hug. For a moment or two the conversation held that awkward stiffness, only found between friends who hadn't seen each other in a while, and didn't really know how and where to begin. But as the conversations started, it was hard for any of them to stop. Amy was telling him of her new career in modelling. This was no surprise to the Doctor – Amy had a new career every time he saw her these days. Rory still loved his job as a nurse for the Royal hospital, and was looking forward to the prospect of being promoted. The Doctor shared his news too, on his own promotion, even though Amy and Rory had already heard all about it on the news.
It was during dessert that the Doctor found himself hot under the collar.
"Clara," Amy said unexpectedly. The name sounded weird for Amy to say – as if it were two things the Doctor never expected to hear overlapped. Two different eras of his life. "Who's Clara?"
"Cl-Clara? What about Clara?" he asked innocently, a steady blush rising on his cheeks.
"Well, you haven't shut up about her since you got here, for a start," Amy said.
The Doctor struggled with this. He took an extra big spoonful of the lemon meringue for something to do. But they were watching him, intently now, and he was aware of that look.
Amy's eyebrows pulled together. "Are you seeing her? This Clara?"
"No!" he said too quickly with a small jump. "She's my new personal researcher. That's all."
Rory nodded, knowingly. "Personal researcher."
"Vastra hired her," the Doctor added, forcefully.
But Amy was still staring at him with a piercing glare, calculating his every move and reaction. Judging it, adding it up. Very slowly, she asked, in a tone just slightly too high to be casual, "Doctor, do you like her?"
"Of course I like her, she's very –"
"Like like her, I mean."
"Well, I um – I mean –"
"Oh my god," Rory said, astonished. "You do!"
Well and truly feeling the pressure now, the Doctor snapped, "Just because she's the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, and she makes me laugh and – and forget everything for a while, every time I talk to her, does not mean I fancy her. No, it doesn't." But his mind was drifting into ungoverned territory and his face was burning and the words had slipped out without them meaning to, and he felt the need to add an extra, "No," onto the end of that particular sentence, more in the need to tell himself than to convince his two best friends.
They went back to studying their pudding, none of them actually eating, each one of them feeling rather immature. There was a long stretched out pause, in which the Doctor thought Rory was rather amused and Amy – well, Amy was bristling a little bit.
"I was talking to River the other day."
Her words were like cold bullets flying through the air. Intent to cause impact, but the Doctor felt none of it. His face was still feeling too warm after their conversation about Clara.
"Oh?" he commented flatly.
"She misses you."
Rory clamped his hand to his cheek, avoiding direct confrontation with either of them.
The Doctor felt strangely numb. Not fussed at all. "Really?" he said.
Amy dropped her fork. "That's all you can say? Really?"
He met her gaze now and registered quite quickly the hurt and anger in her gaze.
"What do you want me to say?!"
"That you miss her too!"
"What, a lie?"
Amy raised her eyebrows. "Hasn't stopped you lying before."
"Enough, enough, enough!" shouted Rory, raising his hands in the air. He could see this was turning into an argument, and he couldn't let it happen. "None of us want to argue so… let's not, okay? Let's just enjoy tonight without worrying about anything. Okay?"
He was met only by silence.
So, Rory nodded to himself. "Okay."
But the atmosphere was already ruined. They ate the rest of their dessert in silence, and as soon as all three of them were finished, the Doctor got up to go. He thanked them, genuinely, for the meal and for the evening, despite the tension still obviously hanging in the air. They arranged their next meeting for two weeks from now, on Rory's strict instructions. The Doctor insisted it take place at his house instead.
Then he left.
Rory let out a long and low exasperated sigh as they watched the Doctor drive away from their living room window. With his head hanging, he complained, "Why did you have to bring that up tonight, Amy? You knew the reaction it would cause."
"I couldn't help it, Rory. When he started mentioning Clara –"
"What about what we were supposed to tell him? What tonight was all about?" he said, eyes rounded with concern. "The plan was to tell him about us moving to New York. When he finds out we've been keeping this from him, he's going to be destroyed."
There were stressed tears in Amy's eyes. "I know, I just thought… if he was with River again, he wouldn't be as lonely. You know?"
Rory opened up his arms and pulled his wife closer. She rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes tightly, suddenly rather ashamed of her angry outburst at him. She didn't mean to sound so cold; she was just worried for him. Worried about him. She didn't want him becoming resigned with loneliness just because they were moving away.
"Next time," Rory promised, himself and Amy. "We'll definitely tell him next time."
Dun dun dun, cue dramatic music: Next time we will have a motorbike, awkward media questions and Clara crashing a car. Reviews would be amazing, guys!
