A/N: If anyone is wondering about the time frame, Clara joined Gallifrey in early March with the election in May, and now it's around about the end of April, going into early May. There's foreshadowing everywhere, especially in the last chapter, so continue to keep a look out for that! We're on the road to the end now, and if I planned out my chapters correctly, there should be nine chapters left. But I always steer of course and break my own guidelines, so I might run over slightly. This chapter is a bit shorter because the last one was so long, so hope you don't mind! Big hugs to the wonderful reviewers: ImpossibleClara9, xandrota, Foeseeker, Sassywriterchick (thank you!), Denton1122, Dede42 and ThePotterDoctor. Here we go.
Chapter Twenty One: A New Hour
From the outside, Walter Simeon's mansion looked clean and well-cared for. Inside, it was empty.
The odd portrait covered the curling wallpaper, two or three rugs lay on the creaky wooden floor and there was at least one piece of furniture in every room, but apart from that, it was used for living and nothing else. The cupboards were bare because he usually ate out. The fireplace was cold. Even some of the chandeliers hadn't any light bulbs.
Tonight, however, Walter Simeon had company.
Davros and Saxon were with him in the supposed lounge, each one sitting on a high-backed green armchair and sipping whiskey out of crystal glasses. They were in silence, listening to the clock strike out its ticks, strike out its rhythm. Simeon finished off his whiskey with a long sip, but held the empty glass in his hand with the tips of his fingers. Harold Saxon glanced from the clock, to his glass, to Simeon himself. He sighed.
"So, we never decided. Where do we go from here?" Harold said.
The clock chimed a new hour. The three men waited for its song to pass.
"Why do I always have to make the decisions?" Simeon muttered, his eyes glued on the floor. "This is a three way partnership, after all."
Davros shuffled in his seat. He picked up the bottle of whiskey from the floor and filled up his glass to the very brim. He passed it, wordlessly, to Harold. It was clear from the look on Davros's face that he was trying to choose his words carefully. The truth would fall out eventually, everyone knew it.
"I thought we weren't actually going to use the men," Davros erupted. He sat forward on his seat. "I thought they were just for the blackmail, for the support."
Simeon glanced up at him, rather tense. "And?"
"And, the impression I received tonight, when you threatened the girl, was that you wouldn't hesitate to use them." Davros raised his nose into the air, looking down at his colleague.
Simeon laughed it off. He waved his hand, physically swiping away the suggestion. "I was acting, you fool."
"Good," Harold put in, pouring himself more whiskey. "When we formed this alliance, we never mentioned anything about killing. We're not underground criminals."
Simeon snatched the bottle from Harold's grasp. He studied the label while saying, "She was getting comfortable. I just wanted to scare her."
"Well, it didn't work, did it?" Davros retorted.
Around his glass, Simeon's grip tightened into a fist, his knuckles white. If he was being honest then no, he wasn't expecting her to react like that. He'd expected her to take the threat and run to the Doctor. She wasn't supposed to give cheeky and confident remarks. It made his very essence burn with hatred. He would do anything – anything to protect his business and reputation. Simeon would go further than either of his two colleagues put together. He had no limits, no boundaries.
"We all know what the Doctor's like. She'll tell him what we did. It'll either provoke him, which we can use to our advantage, or make him back off completely. How do we really make the Doctor scared? By scaring the people he loves."
Saxon snorted at that. "You tried to threaten her and she threw the bullet back at you. That wasn't her being scared. So what do we do now?"
Simeon frowned. It looked as if he'd finally met his match.
It was seven o'clock in the morning when Clara woke up. More out of instinct than want, since this was the time she usually got ready for work. The memories from the night before came pouring back into her mind, vivid and as clear as the sea in the Caribbean. She felt completely split down the middle – half of her was bursting with happiness, the other was focusing on Simeon's ominous threat, icy and resolute.
To shake the latter feeling, Clara propped herself up on her side to stare at the sleeping figure beside her. He was sprawled out in an awkward position, one arm dangling across his pillow and the other reaching out to where Clara's head had been moments before. They'd fallen asleep in a similar position. Afterwards, last night, he had held her tightly and they talked until she had fallen asleep.
He was starting to stir, as if he could feel her staring at him. John looked up with a squint. His eyes brightened when they rested on Clara, and he beamed. "Morning!" he greeted, sitting up on his elbows.
"Morning," she said, matching his smile. "How're you feeling?"
He breathed out a large gulp of air which ruffled his haggard fringe and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Honestly, I have never felt better. And you?"
Clara scrunched up her nose. "Meh," she teased, shrugging.
But she couldn't keep her face straight for long. John gaped and encased her in a hug, holding her around the waist as he tickled her neck. Clara shrieked, trying to break free, until she gasped, "Okay, I was joking, I was joking!"
He let her go, but both of them were laughing. Clara was lying on his chest, her hair dangling across his skin. John cupped her face and stroked her cheek. His eyes were glazed, hazy. "You're so beautiful. I love you so much."
Clara kissed him, swiftly, while grabbing the blanket with her right hand. Before John could even realise what she was doing, Clara had swiped the blanket off him, leaving him bare on the bed, while she wrapped the blanket around herself, quite like a toga, and walked towards his ensuite bathroom, letting the material trail behind her.
John watched as she turned around in the threshold. "I know." She smiled, and with that, shut the door.
Vastra had called a meeting. A very secret meeting. One only involving the people closest to her.
Jenny, Strax and Jack were all seated around the table. She felt guilty for not involving Rose, now that she considered herself a good friend of Clara. Out of everyone Vastra was determined not to get Rose involved. She was pregnant and had no need for the extra stress. Jenny was reliable, not to mention Vastra's significant other half, Strax was resourceful and had yet to fail her despite his negativity and Jack was the man to call in a crisis. He was the man who could make the difficult decisions. Not to mention he was extremely intelligent when it came to the topic they were about to discuss.
"This has nothing to do with Gallifrey – or politics for that matter," Vastra started. She had her hands folded at the top of the table, her eyes moving from each face. "This is a personal matter."
Jack smiled, his face lighting up with suggestion. "I have been waiting for this day since –"
"Jack," Vastra interrupted. "This is serious. Just this once, please, leave the innuendos to one side."
Slightly taken aback, Jack fell silent. His eyebrows pulled together as he veered towards the table, to get a better view of Vastra. "Okay, I'll file them under 'jokes to use later.'" Jack shook his head slightly. "But what's wrong, Vastra?"
The poised woman glanced down to the table, silently wondering how to start this conversation. She didn't want to say too much, she wanted all of them to make their minds up on their own. The truth was that she was worried, more worried than she'd ever let them both know. "This is about the Doctor and Clara," Vastra said, "and they're not to know we had this discussion, is that understood?"
Muttered agreements, concerned stares, an uneasy silence. She continued, "As you may have already guessed, Skaro – particularly the main faces of Skaro – are up to something. I managed to wiggle some of the information from the Doctor, but it isn't what Skaro are doing that concerns me. I'm worried about our friends."
"Why?" asked Jenny.
"They're caught up in the middle." Vastra sighed. "They've been delving into Skaro's secrets, and in return, their lives have been threatened. Last night Clara was cornered by Walter Simeon, Davros Dalek and Harold Saxon."
"Can't we pin them? I mean, they shouldn't be able to get away with that! If we get the police involved, maybe –"
"Simeon has left no evidence for us to use against him, Jack. He's covered all of his traces. It's our word against his. But that's not the point of this meeting today." Vastra looked at the three people in front of her; Jenny, confused and worried; Strax, silent and probably thinking about attacking Simeon with grenades, and Jack, angry and defensive. She went on, "My main priority is to protect the Doctor and Clara. To keep them safe."
"And that's what you want us to do," Jenny translated. "Keep an eye on them."
"Yes, my dear. Don't let them walk anywhere on their own, make sure they're always with someone. We have to avoid any confrontation."
"We'll do everything we can, Vastra," Jack said sincerely. He looked as if the news was affecting more than he even knew. "You can count on us."
When Clara and John arrived to work, Captain Jack Harkness was standing in the threshold, leaning against the doorway. His eyes were dark when John saw him at first, but when he took in Clara and John walking towards him, his whole expression changed. His eyebrows rose to his hairline, his lips turned up into a cheeky grin and his eyes glittered mischievously.
Jack let out a low whistle. "Would you catch a look at you two! Never knew you to be a fast mover, Doctor."
Clara looked horrified. She turned on the Doctor. "Did you tell him?!"
"You know I haven't, I've been with you all morning!" the Doctor defended. At the smug look on Jack's face, he added, sadly, "Jack just has these weird senses."
Laughing, Jack hung is arm loosely around Clara's shoulders, pulling her away from the Doctor. "So, Clara, tell me. What's the Doctor like when –"
"I couldn't possibly tell, Jack," Clara interrupted, smiling up at him, winking. "I don't give away my secrets."
"On a scale of one to eleven –"
Clara grabbed Jack down to her level, so she could whisper into his ear. "Oh, he's eleven, alright."
Jack pulled away, turned to the Doctor and back to Clara before letting out a high-pitched chuckle. "That's what I thought!" he said out loud.
Meanwhile, John was standing behind them, mouth hanging open, unable to hear anything passing between Clara and Jack. "Hang on!" he shouted as they walked into the office. "What did she say? Jack, what did she say?"
"How about I take the two of you out to lunch? Eh, we can celebrate," Jack offered kindly, also hanging his arm around the Doctor.
Clara glanced at him incredulously. "That's a first. I've never been asked to celebrate sleeping with someone before."
"You didn't know me," Jack teased.
"Very nice of you, Jack – if not a little weird – but I'm not very hungry." Clara looked to the Doctor. "But you go, John."
John frowned and clasped his hands together. Clara wasn't hungry? That wasn't like her. They didn't have any time for breakfast this morning. Come to think of it, they didn't even have dinner last night. John was starving; surely Clara ought to be too. Before he could question her, however, Rose was striding towards them with a newspaper in her hand. John was immediately distracted by the pure look of annoyance on Rose's face.
She thrust the paper into his hand. "David bought this early this morning. But it doesn't make sense – I watched the late night paper review at eleven o'clock last night. That's the programme where they talk about the headlines for each paper the next morning. That wasn't the headline, I would've remembered. Which means…"
John unfolded the newspaper and held it out for all of them to see. Clara gave a little gasp and Jack swore, but John remained quite quiet.
"Which means they changed their headline at the last minute," Jack concluded.
And sure enough, in bold letters, the headline read: DOCHERTY THE FRAUDSTER.
Before any of them could begin to read the article, John scrunched it up in his hands and tossed it to the side of the room with the rest of the mess. This whole room was a state; after all, it didn't make a difference. As for the article, he didn't need to read what it said. He knew what Simeon was doing again; planting the blame on him for everything Simeon has been doing in the first place. He'd done it once and he was bound to do it again. It was only a matter of time.
"It's the Daily Mail, though," Jack put in, attempting to help. "You know what people call the Daily Mail."
"The Daily Fail," Clara answered.
Rose sighed. "It's also in the Sun."
Jack shrugged it off. "You know what they call –"
"The Scum," Clara answered again.
"Yeah, guys, don't really think taking the piss out of newspaper names is going to help, is it?" Rose retorted.
There was a moment of silence. Clara pierced John with a knowing stare, just as Jack started, "Could've been worse. It could've said DOCHERTY THE FU –"
"Jack," Rose warned, shooting his a disapproving stare.
The captain turned on Rose, sniggering. "What was David doing buying the Daily Mail?"
Avoiding his gaze, Rose muttered, "He likes to read a spectrum of newspapers to – and I quote – get the whole picture."
"What, of page three?"
"Jack!"
Rose slapped him, hard, on the arm. He laughed, taking Rose's hand and pulling her closer. "I'm joking, Rosie, of course I'm joking. This pregnancy is taking away your sense of humour."
It seemed that was the worst thing Jack could've said to pregnant Rose who turned on him with such fire in her eyes that even he stepped backwards out of fear. Clara placed her hand on John's forearm, gently pulling him away from the conversation and into his private office. As soon as they were alone, John fell onto his sofa, his head in his hands. The words were imprinted onto his inner eyelids: Docherty the Fraudster, Docherty the Fraudster…
He'd been nothing but honest in his political career, ever since he started.
Clara sat on the arm of the sofa, rubbing John's shoulders, trying to calm him down. He looked up at her, such helplessness in his eyes, that she had to refrain from visibly wincing.
"Listen to me," Clara said, taking his hands into her own. "We find the last piece of the puzzle in Simeon's master plan and we get help as soon as we can. As soon as we get enough evidence, okay? He can't run from it forever, John."
They both knew it was a lot more difficult than what Clara described, but it was hope that kept them believing that somewhere out there was a happy ending away from all of this chaos and drama. One day they would reach it, if only they kept holding onto each other.
Note: Reviews have been falling a little bit recently, so if you're still reading and interested in the plot, let me know. Next time: Clara and John find out Simeon's last secret and what Davros and Harold individually bring to the table, Nina and John have a heart-to-heart which reveals a whole new reason why John should be concerned for Clara. Hope you enjoyed!