A/N HALLO! If you're wondering why this is an irregular update...um. Only good answer I can come up with is 'not the most fantastic week and writing makes me feel better.' Izwick- YES YOU GOT IT YAY! Tbh, I love Queen and the song in the first draft of the fiftieth AU was nearly Good Old Fashioned Loverboy. Also-to you and dark-thyme-lord- the hypochris pun was literally last second because I was half asleep. Guest-Thanks :). Son-of-Whitebeard- sorry, no idea what Toymaker is. GriffinGirl- Hm, how does Clara play this game? Probably fiercer...love is a much more vicious motivator. acciobowtie11- one of them has already found the boy from gray September. They just don't know it yet- mainly because nobody knows where to look. *cackles* Ahem. This chapter is mostly Stormwolf being Stormwolf and then a John paragraph near the end. Still don't own. Read and review? The Search, my dear readers, is ON!

Also- apologies for mistakes, but my sort of beta Milo is out of town :(

The Search For Gray September: Strangers

David

When his eyes opened, they were met by several small lights. He blinked a few times, and the image focused- and then he realized. They were stars. Star fairy lights.

He swore softly under his breath. It had happened again. And indeed, when he looked next to him, there was Rose, lips curling upwards slightly in her sleep.

David propped himself up and turned to see the clock on Rose's bedside table. Five in the sodding morning. Nobody would be awake, he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, and he couldn't leave. Rose had given him hell the one time he left for work after this.

He had been forgetting to go home more and more lately. This was the third time it had happened this week.

Beside him, Rose shifted a bit, face tilting to the sky. David smiled a bit. Oh, but it was worth it for this. For her.

He stood, making sure that he still had all his clothes on- good. Very slowly, taking care not to wake her, David stood and made for the living room.

Rose's house was so much different than his. He hummed a bit to himself as his fingers skimmed along the bookshelf, tapping over spines until be selected one. Where at the Smith residence, there would be someone's jacket on the table, books resting everywhere one could put them, and a general sense of mess- Rose had her books tucked safely on the two bookcases in her living room. Her jackets were in the closet or laundry. And her lights...her lights were magic.

David flipped the switch to the living room, and couldn't help grinning to himself as a few feet above his head, a full string of star fairy lights flickered on, bathing the room in a pale yellow glow.

She had gotten the idea a few years back- why use ceiling fixtures when you could use fairy lights? Inexpensive and beautiful, they lit most of her home now. Rose lived alone, which meant that she could do what she wanted to her house. David often wondered what that would be like. He was often bored or scared alone; his job wouldn't support him anyways. Rose worked two- her local one at the coffee shop, and another that wasn't very local at all: she wrote editorial sections for a few newspapers around the area-out of Neptune Creek, obviously-occasionally an article or two for these same ones if she had a particularly strong opinion. Rose was what John could have become if he had actually chosen his gift to his focus; an author, and a fine one at that. But where Rose worked more in facts and opinion on them, John worked in the verses of starry-eyed dreamers; he was a poet, and she was a journalist. Different worlds with a bridge of words.

David settled in the dark violet couch next to one of the bookcases and opened the book to page one.

Thirty minutes passed. Then an hour. And finally, at seven o' clock, a soft yawning noise came from her room. Rose padded out, eyes still half closed. She yawned again, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Hallo, sleepyhead." David peeked up from the book and then looked back at the page, but he wasn't reading anymore. She always had that sort of effect on him.

"How long have you been up?" she leaned against the doorway and blinked a couple of times.

"Couple hours." he admitted. Rose could always tell when he was lying.

She nodded at the book in his hands. "Which one?"

"Er, Airborn. Haven't read it before."

"Airborn? At seven in the morning?"

David shrugged. "I started at five," he said unconcernedly; and Rose narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"

"You didn't go home again last night."

"You're right. I didn't."

"Not that I'm complaining- believe me, I'm fine with it-" David smirked and set the book to the side. "why didn't you?"

The smile disappeared, and David wondered about that. He supposed he could have gone back- he wasn't drunk, and his car hadn't broken- so why did he stay?
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a very small voice whispered because you're afraid. You're afraid of your demons there when you return. You're scared of the monsters under the bed at night, and you're so scared that he's not coming back and they'll just get stronger.

"Because monsters are afraid of starlight." he murmured, and noticed Rose sitting beside him in his peripheral vision.

"Sometimes I wonder if you're the poet." David didn't respond, and she placed a hand on his arm. "I'll listen if there's something you have to say, okay?"

"What's to be said?" he asked, voice empty.

"You can't just keep all your negative emotions pent up."

"It's worked absolutely fine for the past few years." He stated in that same hollow tone.

They were both silent for a few seconds, and then-
"Do you believe in her?"

David turned to Rose, startled. "What?"

Her hazel eyes were dark and serious. "Do you believe in Clara Oswald?"

"I...I guess I don't know."

"Well, I do." Rose said, stronger than before. "I know that she can save something in him. I know that she can do it."

"We're all searching, though. We'll all be doing it too-" he trailed off when he saw Rose shaking her head.

"He trusted her more than anyone else pre- Incident. He tried to love her, and she tried to love him back, but it was too late."

"How do you know?"

Rose shrugged. "Who do you think she ran to when you lot essentially kicked her out?"

David was affronted. "We didn't kick her-"

"She felt unwelcome. That was enough." Rose said sternly.

"Oh." he was unsure of what else to say. She took his hand.

"My point is- if any one of us is going to find the boy from gray September, it's her. The rest of us are practically strangers to him."

He was silent. She squeezed his hand, and he looked at her. "Can we not talk about this today?"

Not think about the fact that a petite Northerner knew more about his brother than he did? Not think about the cold, pristine hospital prison John was locked up in? Not think about the demons that would begin to turn their heads the second he set foot in the doorway?

Not to think about that would be the second best blessing on this starlit morning.

Rose was the best.

He kissed her then, and when they broke apart he could feel her smile against his lips. Her hazel eyes glowed in the light.

"Not talking about it," he whispered,kissing her again, "would be fantastic."

"Mm."

"Should I go make some tea?" he suggested.

"That'd be lovely- and I can go put some half decent clothes on." she giggled a bit. David gave her a once over and smiled.

"But you look all pink and yellowish! It's nice!"

"You're my boyfriend. You're required to say that." she rolled her eyes. "Besides, it's cold. Pants weather!"

"Pants are stupid." David grumbled over the pot he was filling with water.

"We all know that you'd traipse around in nothing but your underwear if you could." Rose called from her bedroom. "But you can't."

"I can when I'm alone!"

"You did it to me that one time!"

"You're my other half, so I'm still technically alone."

A few minutes later, Rose emerged, fully dressed. "Love you too." she said,kissing him on the cheek. "What kind of tea?" she opened the cabinet and pushed aside a couple of bowls to find the tea.

And it felt so wonderfully normal again that he had to resist the urge to start grinning like a madman. Sonehow, with her, everything was right again.

Alternatively: somehow, away from the monsters in the night, everything was right again.

"Green, if you've got."

"I always do."

"I know."

The room was very dark, and he was just coming to.

Where was the bookshelf? The cluster of papers at the base? What was this...inferior cannula doing in his nose?

Oh. Right. Hospital.

Every time John woke up, this had been awhile now, and he was used to it.

It had been a while.

it. had. been. a. while.

Wait.

No.

Was there something going on? He wasn't supposed to be here this long. He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain pushed him back down again.

Had several days passed since Clara came? He wasn't sure. But somehow his fingers still tingled with the warmth of hers. Had the others come by? Perhaps. He couldn't remember. Currently, his memory was drowning in some sort of bluish-green liquid that was currently pumping through his veins...

There was something going on. Because when he planned the Incident, he had taken tremendous precaution. He had calculated everything out- if whoever found him hadn't when they did he would have died about an hour later. However, it was possible to recover even at that point. Possible to quickly recuperate.

Something had gone horribly wrong.

So why wasn't he happy about it? Wasn't this his end goal?

A wave of tiredness began to over take him, but he fought to stay awake and answer. The door clicked open at the other end of the room, but John Smith was already asleep.

Small note- there may be another chapter up later on this week(end). Thanks to everyone!