*Hey troops! Bad news, my lead has been cut significantly down to 3 chapters. Good news, I know where I want to go and once I've finished my essays, which will be tomorrow, I have free reign to let loose and I'm hoping to write loads this weekend. Also, my bad on the titling for the last chapter, I've fixed it now. This is Chapter 11 and this is in fact, The Jack Method. It picks up where chapter 10 left off and I really hope that you guys enjoy it. Please please let me know what you think of it and, as ever, thanks a huge amount to everyone who has and keeps on reading, reviewing, following aaannnd favouriting, I know I say it everyday but I mean it everyday :) TPD*
To say that Clara was in a bad mood was an understatement. The Doctor slunk up to the bedroom after Ten left and slipped in alongside her. She was sitting up; staring at a book, but it looked as if nothing was going in. After ten minutes on the same page, she turned to the Doctor, glaring at him.
"Stop watching me read!" she accused. "I can't concentrate."
The Doctor held his hands up defensively, and Clara's glare was quivering, before eventually shooting up into an adorable little smile, and she quickly hid her face behind her hair to save face. She couldn't stay mad at him and they both knew it. In truth, she wasn't really mad at him and they both knew that as well.
"I'm sorry," the Doctor said after a moment and Clara paused at this.
"So am I," she replied. "I was hard on you. We've both had bad days it seems. Want to tell me about it and then I'll tell you about mine?"
"You remember Jake, Ten's friend from uni?" She nodded. "Well he saw Rose was back and working with you at the school, so he asked Ten about it. Ten came over and was slightly angry to say the least." Clara bit her lip at this. "He threw a couple of punches, I held back. Then, it turns out he knew about my parents' deaths being my fault all along. And he said I showed no remorse for it and had no conscience."
At this point, Clara made a small noise. It was mainly shock, but anger and pity were there too. Her eyes, her soft brown eyes, were swimming and she was looking at the Doctor like she could hardly believe what she was hearing. She covered the short gap between them in an instant and pulled the Doctor into her arms. He seemed relatively okay with it, considering. She pressed a long, intimate kiss onto the corner of his mouth and then stared deeply into his eyes.
"It's alright," the Doctor reassured her. "I mean, I got so angry I threw him through our coffee table, but it's okay. He didn't mean it, I know he didn't. He realised that he was completely out of order as soon as he said it, I could see it in his eyes. And he's forgiven us for not telling him about Rose, he completely understands why we didn't. Truth be told, I'm more worried about him. I'm worried that he won't be able to get Rose out of his head. It's not as if things with Martha are peachy anyway. I worry that the closer we get to the wedding, the more likely Rose is to pop up and put ideas in his head."
"That's his choice," Clara replied tentatively and she and the Doctor shared a look. They were both thinking the same thing. That they had no right to tell Ten that he shouldn't throw away what he had with Martha, but the truth was, he was happy and he did have a good relationship. Rose's return would be unfair to Martha and if Ten and Martha were going to work as a couple, it wouldn't be fair of Rose to undermine that. But it was still up to Ten.
"What do we do?" the Doctor asked.
"Nothing," Clara replied solemnly. "We let Ten make his own decisions from here on out. It wasn't necessarily fair of us to keep Rose's reappearance from him in the first place, regardless of whether we had his best interests at heart. Rose herself, as I said, is doing great. She's still job hunting, and I think she has a couple of interviews lined up."
"So what about Annabelle?" the Doctor asked probingly, ready to wince as he worried Clara might be angry or worse upset. She shot him a look that showed that it was bad and she chewed increasingly on her lip. The Doctor touched her arm gently. It was a light tough, but enough to induce a smile from Clara. The smile then swiftly faded.
"She had a meeting with her publisher. They hated the book. Absolutely loathed it. She's going to have to start from scratch and find herself a new publisher because they're done with her. She's been late at every step and now the final product is poor. Apparently her writing style was all over the place and the ideas thrown in were haphazard at best. Her confidence is completely and utterly shot. It doesn't help that the book was about Tom. If publishing it was a step in her development, then she's going backwards and I don't know what to do about it. I read the book Doctor…"
"I read it too. It was awful. Truly terrible. I know writers normally produce good things with pure emotion but I don't know if Annabelle was high or…"
"Christ," Clara muttered. "Supportive friends we are. Between judging Ten for things he hasn't even done yet and crucifying Annabelle's book, we're pretty much on a roll. Next thing you know, we'll be slagging off the Ponds. Doctor, I hate this. I feel like I need to be doing more to help Annabelle but there's nothing I can do. She won't accept our help or our money, not that I'd just want to throw money at her anyway. Maybe if we commissioned her to do a piece, you must have something important that you need a writer for or…"
"Clara!" the Doctor placed a hand on each shoulder and she buried her head into his chest. "Don't blame yourself for any of this. You can't help everyone. Ten will do the right thing, you'll see. He'd never cheat on Martha and he has more than enough dignity to go crawling after Rose. As for Annabelle, she needs to find her own way in the world. She just needs to get a measure of control and then her writing will be back on form. She'll show those publishers what they're missing out on, you'll see!"
Clara didn't look even remotely convinced as she removed her head from the Doctor's chest, a perplexed look strewn across her face, her eyebrows knitted and her lips wide. The Doctor kissed the top of her head lovingly. He decided not to tell her about Vastra. Not only did Clara have enough on her plate worrying about Annabelle, but Vastra was much more the Doctor's friend than Clara's and he wasn't sure that Jenny would want Clara to know. She had been reluctant to tell even the Doctor, who suspected that she was more worried about Vastra than she had let on. He promised himself that he would visit the hospital the next day, on his way back from seeing Amy.
Sleep that night came fitfully and whenever the Doctor woke, he could feel Clara stirring next to him, her sleep equally troubled. It did not do well, he told himself, to dwell on the worries of others. Nevertheless, he still struggled to sleep. When the morning rolled around, Clara had finally fallen into a deep sleep. The Doctor was half tempted to call the school and tell them that she had fallen ill but he knew that she wouldn't be impressed. He let her lie-in nevertheless, waking her with a cup of tea and breakfast in bed, her bag for the day already packed with everything she'd need, her lunch made and her clothes for the day lying on the end of the bed. All she needed to do was shower and dress. Clara promised to thank him properly later as she wolfed down her bacon pancakes, but the look in her eyes when she realised what he'd done was more than enough for the Doctor. He just loved to see Clara happy.
When she had left for school, the Doctor worked until 1pm, knocking out a good four hours of work, which for him, meant that he was entitled to a long break. He went to check on Amy, who was on her lunch break at work, with less than two weeks until she had worked her notice. She seemed happier that day and they were able to talk about Rory without Amy tearing up. It seemed that they had resolved to work things out and she almost crushed him, so big was the hug that she gave him when he gave her the marriage counsellor's number. He had expected stubborn Amy resistance, but he realised that her love for Rory exceeded anything else and she was willing to do whatever it took to keep him. He understood that as well as anyone. He would do anything for Clara, and if that meant a weekly humiliation in front of a third party then that was a small price to pay. The Doctor just hoped Rory felt the same as Amy on that front.
After seeing Amy, the Doctor resolved to check in on Vastra. Luckily, he'd arrived during visiting hours and she was awake, so it gave him the chance to talk to her and check up on her. Vastra seemed fairly comfortable and insisted, like Jenny before her, that she would be out in a couple of days. The Doctor was unsure whether to believe her, but her chart and nurse both said appendicitis as well, so the Doctor supposed that she was telling the truth. Nevertheless, there was something that the pairing weren't telling him. He could have asked Strax, but that was probably pointless. If Strax knew, he wouldn't care. And even if he knew, he wouldn't tell the Doctor. He was a man of honour and would keep his mouth shut if Vastra asked him to. And no doubt she would have, if she was lying to the Doctor about things. It was none of his business, they were only colleagues after all, but the Doctor liked to think that he and Vastra had become good friends and this was the sort of thing that good friends were honest about. Not that the Doctor had ever been truly honest with anyone, except Clara. And even then, he still kept things from her when he needed to. He had lost any ability to lie to Clara, but he could keep secrets easily enough.
Satisfied that Vastra wasn't dying on him any time soon, the Doctor bid her farewell and bumped into Jenny coming the other way as he left. Jenny seemed flustered but the Doctor put that down to Jenny being nervous about Vastra. Even so, they weren't their normal selves and the Doctor couldn't put his finger on exactly what was bothering him.
The Doctor went home and set himself in for the long haul, prepared to work as late as necessary. Then, his screen lit up. It was Jack, inviting him for a drink that evening. Well, not so much inviting as telling him that they were going out on the town. Naturally, the Doctor was free to invite Clara as well but judging by the way that Jack had phrased it, he was hoping for the Doctor to be riding solo and wingmanning him. The Doctor texted Clara anyway, expecting her to decline and relieved when she did. As much as he loved spending every second he could with Clara, when he was with Jack, he had a different kind of fun and he felt that if Clara was there, he'd want to spend every second with her. Jack's nights out were three different shades of crazy and he wanted to appreciate it properly.
Jack texted him the details and the Doctor needed to be ready to leave by 8pm. Clara arrived back at half 6 and they had time to eat dinner and try to make a child before the Doctor had to get ready to leave. Clara's day had been above average, the Doctor didn't say much about his. He didn't want to mention Vastra but noted that Amy had responded positively to the idea of marriage counselling and Clara's lips had curled upwards at that.
If the Doctor had left when he was supposed to then he probably would have arrived at the bar a few minutes early. However, he had been distracted by pro-creation sex or Clara's beauty, it was difficult to tell which and the net result was that he was almost ten minutes late, much to Jack's chagrin. After punishing the Doctor for his lateness with shots of tequila, Jack got the show on the road…
The Doctor woke in a hedge. His clothing was torn to shreds by the thorns in the hedge and the Doctor had plenty of scratches to match that. His left shoulder hurt considerably and he wondered if he had pulled a muscle or dislocated it. He crawled out of the hedge as best he could, a stinking headache overtaking him and he groaned in pain. His favourite bow tie was missing, his phone, wallet and keys were all gone and he only had one shoe. To say that it had been a heavy night would inevitably be an understatement. As the Doctor found his feet, he lurched round and vomited into the hedge that he had just climbed out of. He hated alcohol, he really did. It made everything fuzzy and horrible and he just wanted to be dead. As he turned back around, a blonde woman was staring at him. He'd never seen her before in his life and he had no idea where he was, his sense and memory not kicking in properly.
"Oi!" she shouted and the Doctor groaned. "Get the hell out of hedge before I call the police!"
The Doctor went pale and the woman burst into laughter. The Doctor frowned in confusion and she dismissed him with a wave, cheerily smirking as the Doctor stayed rooted to the spot, perplexed and terrified.
"Sorry!" the woman laughed. "Jack said that you'd react like that. He also said it would be bloody hilarious. We're at his new place, the one you ranted on about last night, claiming you'd never seen it and you weren't impressed. You never did get to see it either; you didn't make it past the garden. Jack's upstairs, waiting for you. Better head up."
The Doctor thanked the strange woman, who he assumed was a one-night stand once he managed to cotton onto the state of her clothing and the fact that she was vaguely familiar from his foggy at best memories of the previous night. They were coming back to him in dribs and drabs. He stumbled over to the door of the apartment block and pressed the little button next to the name: Jack Harkness. He was buzzed in and the Doctor took twenty minutes to climb two flights of stairs as he failed miserably at life, his shoulder flaring up whenever he tried to move it, meaning that his left arm was pinned to his side.
Jack was waiting for him, the smell of eggs frying and cheery whistling filling the Doctor's nostrils and ears. He let out a moan at the bombardment of sensations and Jack laughed when he saw his friend.
"You were a right state last night Doctor," he chuckled. "I swear that that is the last time we play The Jack Method with you. You almost threw up on Cindy and that would have undone all of our hard work. You met Cindy right? I asked her to wake you on her way out."
"I met her," the Doctor replied hoarsely. "How was she?"
"No idea," Jack replied breezily. "My memory isn't much better than yours. I do remember, I rescued your keys, wallet, phone and left shoe. Well the left shoe was for fun more than anything, but the others were so that you didn't get them robbed while you slept in that bush. I apologise for not carrying you up here, but in my defence, I was so drunk I could barely get myself up here and it was bloody hilarious. Also, I rescued your bow tie. Clara would kill me if I let you lose it. It was the one you wore…"
"On the day that I asked her to marry me," the Doctor finished. "Yes I know Jack. Thanks for all of that. Except The Jack Method. What even is the Jack Method?!"
"The Jack Method, as I told you no less than five times last night, is the strategy I employ when picking up men or women, depending on the mood. Apparently last night, it ended up being Cindy. Every time someone gets shot down, they have to take a shot of vodka, with whiskey for every fifth shot and tequila for every tenth. The idea is that early on you want to be knocked back, but after a couple of rejections, you up your game, so you get progressively more determined not to be an arse as the night goes on as you get drunker. It's fascinating."
"But I wasn't trying it on with anyone last night!" the Doctor protested.
"Yes I know," Jack almost sounded disappointed but there was a teasing nature to his voice. Jack knew how the Doctor felt about Clara and despite his own lifestyle, he thought it was beautiful. "So you were my team mate. Whenever I got rejected, we both drank. I guess we can see which of us handled it better."
The Doctor wanted to complain but couldn't. Instead, he looked for his phone as Jack served up the eggs. The Doctor was expecting a couple of missed calls and a handful of texts, but Clara had only sent him the one text:
Hey Sleepyhead. I trust you two had a wicked night because you called me last night at 2:30am to tell me just that. Don't worry I'm still too buttered up from yesterday morning to be angry. Just drop me a text when you read this so that I know that you're still alive and I don't have to kill Jack. I love you and I'll make dinner tonight, as I expect you'll still be a zombie when I get home xxx
In that moment, he remembered exactly why he loved Clara Oswald. The Doctor smiled and groaned as he tried some of Jack's eggs and they played havoc with his stomach. Jack smirked like a smug child as the Doctor frantically replied to Clara, informing her that he was alive, loved her more than anything and was deeply regretting letting Jack drag him out. His every word was written all over his face as he pressed send. It was the middle of the afternoon; he had been in that bush for so long. He only had a few hours until Clara returned from work. Letting off a string of finely chosen curses, the Doctor felt his shoulder pop as he tried to move it. This sent a fresh wave of pain through him and Jack pulled a face.
"I think you've done some real damage to that," he informed the Doctor. "Better go to A&E to get it checked out." The Doctor shook his head and indicated for Jack to look at it himself. Jack sighed but gave in, examining it carefully and letting out a whistle of exclamation. "How the fuck did you sleep on this, it's definitely dislocated. Hang on, I'll pop it back in, in 3…"
Jack popped it back in before he said two and the Doctor let out a howl of pain as he did so. The Doctor grimaced, nodding his appreciation to Jack as he gritted his teeth to avoid the pain. He asked Jack if he could shower and Jack showed him through to it. The Doctor showered quickly and painfully, the amount of scratches on his body painfully apparent as he doused himself in hot water. His shoulder was agony. After he dressed in some clothes that Jack had lent him, an old t-shirt and jeans, he pocketed all of his stuff, threw his shoes back on and headed out. Jack chucked him a couple of painkillers, which the Doctor swallowed for good measure and the two arranged to meet in more calm circumstances so that they could talk properly as whatever secrets had been spilled the previous night, they had both been too drunk to remember and even properly form their sentences.
When the Doctor got home, he had time to change into his PJs and wrap himself up in a blanket on the sofa before Clara got in. Her immediate reaction was one of amusement mixed with pity as she walked over and kissed the top of his head. He had done nothing to earn her being super nice to him, but super nice to him she was anyway. She made him tea, cuddled with him for a bit and then cooked dinner and did the washing up. When the Doctor had asked her what he had done to deserve her being so sweet to him, she had replied: "Because I love you. And I hate to see you in pain, no matter how self-induced it may have been."
She massaged his shoulder and she made sure to promise to sleep on his right side after he had explained about his shoulder. She offered to play nurse and they had a fun, relaxing evening that almost made the Doctor forget about the agony he was in as she soothed him. She rubbed cream into his scratches and they had a long hot bath. As they crawled into bed that night, she kissed him lightly on the cheek and the Doctor had a startling realisation in that moment. That this would be the rest of his life. That when he went out with Jack Harkness and drank too much, then Clara would never judge him, but she would care for him. And she would always be there. To massage his injured shoulder, to sleep on his stronger side, to kiss his pain away. And the idea that the rest of his life consisted in Clara Oswald made him the happiest man alive.
*Tomorrow: Rory falls off his chair, the Doctor shaves his hair again and Annabelle makes Clara a cup of tea! And some interesting stuff happens as well, I promise*