A/N: Finally off hiatus. Development chapter ^_^ Much slower and easier than the others, also very, very, very short.
Chapter Eleven: A Grave Nod (No Pun Intended)
460 words
Jackie Tyler
Jackie frowned at the monitor, huffing in frustration. She was absolutely on edge – not to even mention that Clara. The Senior Lieutenant had already had to pay off at least six journalists to keep quiet about it. The people of London seemed to intensely distrust the police already; they didn't need more fuel for that fire.
Where would that stupid girl have gone, she pondered grumpily. Off with the Doctor? Bless her soul, she's probably high as a bird by now. We'll be fine without her, Jackie reassured herself. Although Clara was her best officer, no doubt about it. The twenty-four year old almost seemed to do the work of two people, the rate she solved crimes.
Clara and The Doctor
She could hardly breathe from the euphoria, her head buzzing all the way home. Clara barely registered the feeling of The Doctor clutching her hand tightly, also feeling the after-effect of witnessing her first murder. Then her phone rang.
"Clara? Clara dear, it's your gran. How've you been?"
Her stomach clenched with guilt. It had been nearly a year since she'd seen her dear old grandmother.
"Hi gran! I'm, er... I'm good, you?" she answered uncertainly. There was silence over the line for a moment.
"Clara, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, gran, I've just not had my coffee today. Or too much, I can't remember."
Her beloved grandma laughed warmly.
"That's my girl. Just checking in on my favourite granddaughter."
"Bye gran."
When she looked up, The Doctor's eyes were clouded with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked. Clara smiled, but her expression was watery. "I'm just – I'm not used to this," she answered earnestly, "hurting people. It's not really something you can get used to, I think."
The Doctor nodded gravely in response.
As the sun's rays of light peeked blithely from a summer cloud, Clara's hands grasped her burning tea mug with an involuntary tremble. The Doctor's snores could be heard from his bedroom, and it occurred to her again how easy he was with all of it. The murder. I think I need to see someone professional about this, Clara worried to herself. Then she laughed aloud at the irony. She'd been 'the professional' for the past three years, as Oswin. I wonder when they'll start to think I'm a fraud, she continued thinking, when they'll see a missing name in the Cambridge graduation records.
They will never know.