Summary: After the Maitland kids outgrow their need for a nanny, Clara Oswald lands a job at TARDIS Industries, the world's leading company for technological research. It is there that she meets a man they call 'The Doctor', and the next chapter of their lives begins.

Author: Rebecca (whoufflepuffsanonymous)

Rating (so far): T

Author's Notes: This is dedicated to every single one of my readers because you guys are so supportive and kind that I really just can't

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Chapter Fourteen

A Year Earlier

The Doctor looked around at the sad group of people congregated in the church basement and felt nothing but bitterness towards them. He didn't want to tell his story, he didn't want to share in their pain, he just wanted to be left alone… and he'd gotten his wish. Amy had taken the job offer in New York, and she and Rory had left him the month before with promises to write and call and visit him whenever they were in the UK. Before she left, Amy had asked the Doctor to see someone. She knew him better than anyone, and she knew that if he grieved alone, his grief would consume him. He needed help. The Doctor just didn't understand why Amy couldn't have stayed and been the one to help him.

His life wasn't recognisable with her and Rory gone. He wondered if he was doomed to lose everyone he ever loved.

The tea was abysmal, just lukewarm water and off-brand tea bags, but he drank two cups as he stood in the corner and watched everyone talk nervously to each other. A young woman walked into the room with two even younger children, both pre-teens by the look of them. The Doctor couldn't help but stare at her; she had one of those faces that stood out in a crowd. It was a pretty face.

Right away he decided he didn't like her.

Their grief counsellor called for them to gather 'round and sit in the circle of chairs. The Doctor considered running upstairs and leaving, but he knew that Amy would find out somehow. He wondered why he still cared.

The girl with the pretty face sat three chairs away, the two kids she came with on either side of her. Dr Simeon, the group leader, introduced himself and explained what they were going to be doing over the next eight weeks. This was all about healing, he said, about understanding one's grief and about making the transition into the next stage of their lives. The Doctor stared at the floor as the man spoke, unable to tune him out even though he had very little faith that this session would mend his broken heart. Every now and then, the Doctor would look over at the woman with the two kids, and each time she was either watching Dr Simeon or the girl and boy next to her. It was clear that she was there for them. They looked about as happy to be there as the Doctor was.

They went around the circle and introduced themselves. There was no mention of loss yet, and the Doctor wondered if this first meeting was an exercise in denial. He was a master at that.

When it came time for him to say his name, the Doctor remained slumped in his chair with his arms crossed and tried not to look at anyone in particular. "John Smith," he said simply. "Twenty-nine years old. I live in Belgravia. I work for a tech company."

"Nice to meet you, John," Dr Simeon replied with what he supposed was a kind smile. The man had a very severe face.

The Doctor glanced over at the woman when it was her turn to introduce herself. Her name was Clara Oswald, twenty-six years old, and she worked as a nanny for the Maitland family. That explained the two kids who were with her, Angie and Artie, both of whom looked sullen and resentful. They were too young for this.

The introductions were torturous enough, but now came the time where they all had to share what brought them here. It was too much death; how was this supposed to help? One woman broke down when she announced that her three year old son had drowned two months ago. The Doctor watched her shoulders shake and wondered how her life could possibly turn around.

"John. Tell us what brought you here," Dr Simeon said kindly.

The Doctor sat up and stared at the floor. "I've lost someone."

"Who?" Dr Simeon prompted kindly.

The Doctor met his eyes. "My wife."

"How long ago was this?"

"Four months."

"I'm so sorry," Dr Simeon said kindly. "Would you like to tell us about her?"

The Doctor scratched his bearded chin and glanced away. "No. I really wouldn't."

Dr Simeon nodded, said something about time and patience, and then turned to the man sitting next to the Doctor. That was it. That was all he had to say, and it had been painful enough. The young girl next to Clara, Angie, didn't want to speak when it came her turn. Clara offered to speak for her but Angie sat up and summoned her strength.

"Our mum died, Artie's and mine." The young boy shrank into his chair, avoiding eye contact. "It's been six months."

Artie reached for Clara's hand and she grasped it tightly. Angie remained closed off, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared insolently at one of the legs of Dr Simeon's chair.

They took a break. Several people fled to the bathroom or outside for a cigarette, but the Doctor found himself at the refreshments table again. He didn't think he could gulp down another cup of cold, anaemic tea, but he needed something to distract him.

"It's usually safer to bring your own snacks."

The Doctor flinched internally, but managed to turn and look at her with a cool gaze. Clara smiled politely at him. "John, right?"

He nodded. He wanted her to go away, but there was something about her that captured his fascination.

"It must be hard, listening to all of these people talk about loss," he said almost harshly.

Clara's friendly smile faded slightly. "I'm here for them," she insisted kindly. Clara glanced over her shoulder to where the two remained seated in their chairs. Artie was playing on one of those mobile gaming devices. Angie was texting on her phone. "They've just lost their mum and they don't know what to make of it. I know what that's like."

"Do you?"

He didn't know why he was being so rude. She seemed like a nice person, but something about her made him angry. And it wasn't because she wasn't suffering like the rest of the poor sods forced to congregate here to discuss their misery. It was more than that.

It was the curve of her lips, the sharpness of her eyes, the slight curl at the ends of her hair. The Doctor resented her beauty, or rather how he couldn't help but notice it. He shouldn't feel so drawn to another woman so soon after his wife's death. It felt wrong, but rather than try to understand what he was feeling, he decided to be angry.

Clara smiled tightly. "Yeah. I do. I was just a bit older than they were when my mum died."

"I'm sorry," he replied as he fiddled with the packets of sugar on the table.

"Do you watch football?"

The Doctor looked at her for the first time since she'd approached him. "Sorry?"

"Football. You a fan?"

He didn't understand. "Yeah."

Clara met his eyes and heaved a sigh. "I really don't know how to follow that. I was just trying to change the subject."

The Doctor tried not to smile. He watched her finish stirring the creamer into her cup of tea out of the corner of his eye. "Shouldn't you be watching them? The kids, Angie and Artie. That's why you're here, isn't it?"

He was trying her patience, he could tell, but for some reason Clara refused to snap at him. He didn't know why he wanted her to.

She turned and leaned against the table with a sigh. "I think they could do with some space, to be honest. They need to feel like they can be unhappy without worrying about what anyone else thinks. We want them to be OK, but they're not. I was sort of hoping that they didn't have to be OK here." She glanced at him and then stood up straight. "I still think they're trying too hard."

He watched her walk back over to her seat, unsure of what to think of her. He didn't know why he bothered thinking of her, why he cared what she said or what it meant or how it related to him or anyone.

He didn't sit back down when the break was over. Instead, the Doctor threw his fourth half-drunk cup of tea in the bin and left. He ran upstairs to the sanctuary where he thought about stopping to pray, but the idea didn't sit right within him. He walked outside to the street where he leaned against the hard stone of the church and wished he smoked so he could do something with his hands.

In that moment, he felt lonelier than he ever had in his life. He stared up at the sky and wished he could see the stars through the bright lights and the dark clouds that constantly hung over the city. He wondered if he should pack up and move like Amy and Rory, but he had TARDIS Industries. That was the only thing keeping him in London.

His eyes were closed and his head tilted back against the outer wall of the church when the sanctuary door opened. One by one, the other members of the support group filed out in subdued silence. The Doctor hid in the shadows so they wouldn't see him, feeling ashamed of himself for leaving so early. He peered around the edge of the pillar he was hiding behind until he spotted Clara and the two kids. Unlike the others, they turned in his direction and were talking at a normal level.

"It wasn't so bad," he heard Clara say as Angie crossed her arms even tighter over her chest.

"It was awful. That Dr Simeon looked almost happy that we were all there. Like he takes pleasure in other people's pain."

Clara froze. "Angie! Why would you even say that?"

"Because it's true! You saw his face, Artie!"

Artie shrugged uncomfortable and focused on his DS. Clara sighed and the trio continued walking until they'd passed where the Doctor was standing.

The Doctor watched them disappear around the corner and wondered if he would ever be able to talk to people like he used to. It used to be easy, before his heart broke.

"Are you angry?"

"No," Clara snapped. "I mean - no," she added more delicately, "I'm not angry, I just—Why didn't you say anything?"

The Doctor gave an enormous shrug as she stepped towards him. "I thought you'd remember."

Clara stared at him like she was seeing him for the first time. "I can't believe that was you." She laughed softly. "John Smith."

"Yeah… That's not my real name."

Clara scoffed. "I know it isn't. You wouldn't work so hard to keep a name like that to yourself only to share it with the Indian Restaurant. I'm guessing the credit card company doesn't accept 'The Doctor' as the name on your application?" she teased. Her smile faded. "Oh my god, did you lie on your credit card application?"

The Doctor smiled and shook his head. "I don't have a credit card. Not one with my name on it, at least."

"Was it your wife's?" Clara felt like her mouth was running faster than her mind and she immediately pressed her lips together. "Sorry."

"No," the Doctor said patiently as he started pulling containers of food from the large paper bag on the counter. "Company card."

Clara shifted to her other foot and furrowed her brow curiously. "Why would an IT guy have a company card?"

Once again, the Doctor turned to her slowly with a heavy sigh and Clara felt like another one of his secrets was about to hop out of the bag and onto the table.

"Clara, can we not talk about this?"

"Why not?" she asked almost defiantly. "You're starting to scare me."

"Scare you?" he replied with concern. "What have I done?"

"I dunno! You're keeping all these secrets, not telling me everything you know about me."

"You've known that about me since the beginning."

"Have I?"

The Doctor dragged his palms across his face and groaned with frustration. "Please, please don't be afraid of me."

"Why shouldn't I be?" she challenged, desperate for an answer.

"Because that's the last thing I want," he said fervently.

He stepped closer and reached for her face, but the movement startled her so she stepped away. Clara could tell she was breaking his heart and she wanted to stop; she wanted everything to be alright. But with the realisation that he was someone from her past along with the revelation about his wife, Clara didn't know how much she trusted him anymore. She didn't feel like he was going to hurt her, she just felt betrayed by how little she really knew him.

She didn't flinch away when his hands came to rest on either side of her face, nor did she look away when his eyes met hers. Clara could feel his emotions radiating from his skin like the pungent smell of stale perfume, but his composure remained intact. His eyes, however, were desperate and pleading.

"I'm sorry that I keep secrets. They're not just from you; they're from everyone. And they're not there to harm anyone, they just…" He removed his hands from her face and wrung them together, suddenly aging back fifteen years. "They keep me safe."

"I understand," she replied softly. "I do. But these secrets don't make me feel safe. They make me feel like I've got buckets of industrial paste hovering over my head and I never know when one's going to drop."

He grinned at the allusion. "You're pretty fast on your feet, if I remember."

"Doctor," she chided tiredly.

He shut his eyes and heaved a sigh. "I'm trying."

"So am I."

Clara took his hand and squeezed it before pulling his face towards hers for a soft kiss. The tension between them ebbed and she smiled against his lips.

"What?" the Doctor asked curiously.

"I can't believe I didn't recognise you. 'John Smith,'" she said again, grinning lightly.

"Well, I hadn't shaved for months, so I was a bit harrier."

Clara chuckled. "I remember."

She touched his face, wishing she could memorise every angle. There had once been a time when he was just another face in a crowd, a time when he'd just been a guy from work with a funny name and odd manners. Without realising when, Clara realised he'd become the most important person in her life.

Her heart swelled with emotion and she kissed him again, catching him by surprise. When they broke apart, the Doctor was still searching her eyes for an answer to a question that he finally voiced.

"Are we OK then? You and me?"

Clara nodded. "Yeah. We're OK. But I think our food is getting cold."

The Doctor laughed and started to unwrap their food. They sat in front of the TV and talked between mouthfuls of curry and naan until Clara fell asleep against the armrest of the sofa.

edited 6 Dec 2013 - please message me if you see any glaring omissions or errors that I've overlooked!