A/N: I wanted this AU to be a proper AU in which the show was completely reflected in a different setting. In the show, Clara jumped into the Doctor's timestream to save him, and in this fic, Clara jumped in the path of the bullet to save him. What's going to happen now? You'll have to wait and see. I've added quotes from The Snowmen in this chapter; let's see if you can spot them! That was a lot of reviews, thank you so much! I'll try to reply to anyone who had questions, so big thanks to: My Dark Paradise, Xandrota, Second Silver, Yugicanbesexy, molliquin, The Potter Doctor, Azkabella, orchids117, TARDISBlueBox, Guest, Guest, Noirthrus (the War Doctor is making an appearance actually – most likely next chapter!), OhMyStarsShiz, BloodLily16, allthingsafangirldreams, Dede42, Linesy, Guest, ImpossibleClara9, Anonalways, Dragongirl628, truenarnian, magiclover222, Guest (I try and use 'John' in relation to Clara and 'the Doctor' in relation to everyone else, but sometimes I like mixing it up because I hate repeating one too often!) and sasswriterchick. You're all amazing, truly – especially for pushing this fic past 300 reviews! Enjoy this one.
Chapter Twenty Six: The Tracks of His Tears
It was one o'clock in the morning, and the night was still young for Jack Harkness.
He and Ianto were at a club with a gathering of their mutual friends – Gwen, a special police officer; Owen, a doctor and Tosh who was a computer scientist. They were all friends from university, who frequently met at large house parties and drinking sessions. They were sitting around a large circular table, drinking tall glasses of Prosecco and chatting animatedly. Gwen was still in her uniform since she was working a late night shift, which caused many of the club-goers to stare at her cautiously. Jack found this hilarious.
"You'd think I was dressed as something more sinister than a policewoman!" Gwen said easily in her smooth Welsh accent. "Can we not enjoy a drink too?"
"I'm almost jealous," Jack joked. "Usually all eyes are on me. You're stealing my limelight." Grinning to himself, with his eyes lighting up, his redirected his attention to Gwen's belt. "Actually, Gwen can you pass me those handcuffs?"
Gwen leaned her arm on the table and pointed sternly at him. "No, Jack Harkness, I bloody won't – I don't know how many pairs of handcuffs you've stolen from me over the years. I'm bloody-well embarrassed asking for more in work!"
"Oh, but come on, Gwen," Jack pleaded. "I have a really funny idea. Then everyone will stop staring at you, I promise."
"People are probably staring at the police officer because they're trying to do a little business and they're afraid to be caught," Owen said tiredly, grabbing hold of Jack's arm to keep him seated in his chair. "And besides, Jack, if you're thinking about doing one of your party tricks…"
Before he could answer, Gwen put in, "Oh come on, Owen! Look at this posh place. Not exactly the kind of pub that sells drugs over the counter!"
She took a long sip of Prosecco to emphasise her point. But Jack was no longer listening – at the word 'drugs' he flinched and glanced towards Ianto, his mind immediately focusing on John and Clara, and how they were keeping. He got out his phone and checked for messages or missed calls, but there was none. Surely if they had a problem they would call him? You can never be too safe…
He patted Ianto's shoulder and slipped outside to the cold night air. Walking past the bouncers and further up the street to where he was sure no one would overhear, Jack dialled up John's house number and listened to the measured ringing.
There was no answer.
He tried again.
Jack knew he shouldn't be worried – John probably wanted an early night. When he checked on their apartments earlier that evening, everything was in place and in order. Maybe he should check up with Vastra and make sure everything went okay after he left.
But Vastra wouldn't answer too.
Now Jack frowned. It was half one and from personal experience, Jack knew Vastra was a night owl. She always stayed up the latest when he hosted parties at his house, she was always bright awake and the perfect picture right up into the small hours. So why wasn't she answering her phone?
Jack tried Jenny – no answer. Strax – no answer.
He was either greatly unloved tonight or something was terribly wrong.
As quickly and calmly as he could, Jack rushed back inside the club. He nodded towards Gwen, not particularly caring he was interrupting the middle of their conversation, and asked, "You have access to call for immediate back up, right?"
Gwen looked worried. "Of course, but why?"
Jack shook his head, his hand still holding onto his phone. "I think my friends are in danger."
Clara didn't feel the bullet sinking into her skin at first.
All she felt was something slamming against her chest, like an iron punch that sent her staggering.
There was no pain, no fear. Just a jolt of surprise.
She didn't have the chance to fall, because the Doctor's strong arms clasped around her shoulders, pulling her into a protective grip. Her mind was slow, a little disorientated, and the next thing she knew was the Doctor bent over her covered in blood.
And then the pain came.
John was shouting and Clara wished he would stop – her chest was constricting painfully, sending throbbing spasms through her limbs. She gasped for air, there seemed to none around her, and one of her hands came up to her chest to rest on the soggy material, drenched in her own blood. Her voice sounded panicked as she called out, "John, John…"
The Doctor stared down in horror at what he was seeing. Clara was crumpled in his arms; there was blood over his hands, now accompanied by streams of tears falling from his eyes. She was muttering his name but he had nothing to say, no hope to tell her, because Vastra was trying to wrestle the gun out of Simeon's grip and the two gunmen, Montague and Davey, were attempting to keep Jenny and Strax away from the commotion.
Simeon spun around and punched Vastra in the stomach, kicking her to the floor. He held the gun in his hand, but now it was quaking as he shuddered violently, realising the extent of the mistake he had made in shooting the wrong person.
"Move away from her!" yelled Simeon, pointing the direction of the weapon to anyone who moved.
John had never felt so angry in his life. If it wasn't for the warm blood on his hands acting as a stark reminder of what he was holding, he would've lunged across the room and pelted Simeon with punches and kicks until he begged for mercy. He would've beaten him within an inch of his life – and he wouldn't stop. For a split second, the Doctor's impulse was to move, to follow his instinct, to take all of his frustration and fear out on the coward holding the gun –
But then Clara's shaking hand reached up to John's chin and weakly guided it back down to her. Her tired fingers tried to trail across his bow tie, but ultimately fell short. His watery green eyes met her pained brown, and she released a breathy whisper, "Run… run you clever boy and –"
"No," John said firmly, yet softly, "Clara, I am never leaving you. That means you have to stay with me, okay? That's it, stay awake. Clara, please…"
Her eyelids were closing again and John feared it was the last time he would see her warm gaze. Scared beyond belief, John gave her a mild shake. "Clara, please! I need you. Please, Clara. I can't do this without you."
It hit him like a lightning strike. Everything he'd feared before when he was staring down the barrel of the gun – about losing Clara, about not growing old with the person he loved… the fear was still real. It was happening right now. His world was breaking down the middle. He hadn't been brave enough to die at Simeon's hands, but Clara was. While he was mourning something he hadn't lost yet, Clara had sacrificed all the days to come, all the things she had yet to see – for him. With a single step in front of the bullet.
He thought she was braver than ten of him put together.
Bang! Bang! BANG!
Everyone in the warehouse shrieked when the sound of shooting erupted from outside. Car tires were skidding to a halt, angered voices shouting through the early morning air. Thuds and running footsteps, threats on the tips of tongues.
Donovan ran in through the double doors, throwing his weapon onto the floor and yelling, "Police! Too many of them! How did they find us? Police, Simeon!"
Wide eyed, Simeon glanced from the gun in his hand to the doors of the warehouse, and then turned on the spot, panic stricken. He hadn't expected to be caught. He thought no one would find out. What did he do now? He wasn't prepared for this, he had no plan. He could see Davey and Montague from the corner of his eye, ready to make a run for it, to abandon him and save themselves. That was the price of bought friendship.
The first person to come to their rescue was Captain Jack Harkness. With a gun in each hand, followed by a group of armed police officers, Jack bellowed, "Drop your weapons and put your hands on your head! NOW!"
Simeon hesitated. Is this what life meant for him? Just yesterday he had more money than he could count, friends he could rely on, a blossoming future of hope and sustainability…
What did he have now?
He didn't ever imagine seeing a dozen or so men pointing their weapons at him, treating him like a criminal, no better than an average thief. What would they do? Mock him, question him, put him on trial, force him to face everything he'd done wrongly in life… throw him in prison and lock away the key.
No. He wasn't being controlled. He wouldn't allow these men to take away his freedom; he'd lost too much already.
Before anyone in the room realised what was happening, or recognised the signs, Simeon slowly raised the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
The noise of the final shot barely touched John's eardrums. His sobs were getting worse, growing louder, and when the paramedic gently touched his shoulder, he met the woman's gaze with beseeching eyes full of heart breaking agony. "Save her," he muttered, "Please, save her."
"She's in a serious condition, Mr Docherty," the paramedic informed, her voice a soft caress, "you'll have to cooperate with us, alright? We have to lift her onto the stretcher."
There was two men in front of John now; one assembling a stretcher and the other one trying to take Clara from the Doctor's grasp. He shook his head, in denial again, saying, "No, no…"
"You can travel with us in the ambulance, but you have to let go, Mr Docherty!"
But he couldn't let her go, he couldn't. He was sobbing again, uncontrollably. There was a void in the centre of his body and everything he'd ever felt for Clara was falling into it, to be lost forever, nothing but a memory. Rough hands grabbed his shoulders and a familiar figure knelt by his side. He met Jack's eyes, confused and scared, and his old friend patted him, muttering words of comfort. Jack pressed his hand to the back of John's neck and pulled his head towards his chest, trying to calm his friend's vicious cries. Slowly, John released his hold on Clara to the paramedics, his arms coming to wrap around Jack instead.
"She'll be okay, Doctor. She's strong. She's brave."
"I love her, Jack. I love her."
And it was the honest truth, and it hurt the most, because everyone the Doctor loved left him eventually, one way or the other. The self-blame washed over him with the same amount of force as the grief. It should've been him lying on the stretcher, fighting for his life. He shouldn't have dragged her into this mess, he should've protected her. What was he thinking involving Clara? Why did he even think their relationship would work? He ruined everything.
John pulled out of Jack's grip – he didn't deserve the comfort. He glanced around for Clara with a jolting panic. She was lying in the back of the ambulance, and they were doing something to her; attaching wires and an oxygen mask. His mouth pulled into a snarl as he saw the scene, half disgusted at his own fear and the other half of him angry, bitterly angry. The whole warehouse was packed with police now – making arrests, checking if people were okay, reporting to higher ups on the events that just took place…
So cold and formal. He felt like yelling out at them, he felt like yelling at everything. They didn't understand, they didn't understand how he was feeling right now. With the guilt biting at his every movement, the fear stinging his skin, the emotional torment pulling apart his heart, he felt like he was tearing into a million pieces.
"It should've been me," John muttered in the direction of Jack. Then, shouting, "It should've been me!"
Jack reached out to him, but he pushed his arm away again. He continued, "Take it back! Take it all back! I don't want this – I want it to be me. Take my life, take mine, but please, please, let Clara –"
Vastra was walking over, her nose raised in the air, tall and proud; her eyes burning with irritation. "Are you bargaining with the universe to save her life, Doctor?"
"Yes," John said, spinning around to stare at her. "And don't you think, after all this time and everything I have ever done, that I am owed this one?"
Vastra's eyes looked over his blood soaked hands, travelled to the ambulance, and then back to the Doctor's face. In a soft voice, she told him, "I don't think the universe makes bargains."
Brokenly, John croaked, "But it was my fault!"
Vastra raised her eyebrows. She was annoyed at him, truly annoyed that he could think such things, that he could be so ungrateful for being alive and being able to still care for Clara, to still save her. "It would take one hell of a bargain for the universe to listen. Better get ready to save the world."
"I would. For her, I would," John said, as if it was Vastra making the decision. She frowned at him, her own eyes feeling wet.
"Life doesn't work like that, Doctor. You should be grateful that there's still a spark of hope instead of shouting at the universe and everyone in it because of an act full of pure love and defiance. You should be with her, saving her. Clara wouldn't want your bargains. Clara would want you."
It was as if Vastra had lit a lightbulb in his clouded, tired and emotional mind. He sniffled and looked reluctantly at the ambulance getting ready to leave. This, right here, this moment would change his life forever. Everything was hanging in the balance and he felt too much of a coward to face it alone.
But he had to do it for Clara.
As he turned away, Jack held onto his shoulder, silently supporting him. His friend was nothing but sympathetic and it made John's heart twinge – he knew that look in Jack's eye. His friend was expecting the worst. Jack had seen the amount of blood and Clara's pale lips, and deep down he knew that this would only end in heartbreak.
From the corner of his eye, John could see the police gathered around a pool of blood, with Simeon's body crumpled in a heap. He took no satisfaction in the sight, only a reluctant swell of relief. He couldn't hurt them anymore, but had the last laugh. He'd avoided justice for his actions, he'd avoided the consequences. In his game of politics, he'd made sure he made the last move. Victory after all, while the most valued player fought for her life.
The woman paramedic met him halfway, cautiously glancing him over and calculating the amount of blood on his clothes. "Are you hurt, Mr Docherty? Or is that –"
"It's – it's" – but he couldn't say 'Clara's blood' because it was too harsh, and the words didn't feel right in his mouth. Instead, he gestured vaguely towards her direction, hanging his head low.
She nodded, understanding. "Are you the next of kin?"
His head shot up, as if she had electrocuted him. "No, no, I'm her boyfriend. Why? Is she – she's not…"
"We've stabilised her for now but she's lost a lot of blood. She needs to go in for emergency surgery, and for formality, we have to alert the next of kin."
John winced. The tears were falling from his eyes again, he couldn't control them. "Um, that would be her father. Her dad – her mother's not, she's not… I'll call Nina – that's her best friend – she should have his number."
The woman thanked him. A little lost, John ran over to where Simeon had dropped Clara's phone and picked it up. He brushed his hand over the cracked screen to see the one missed call Clara had received while Simeon was talking. As he unlocked the menu, he realised it was Jack who had phoned. He would need to thank him for that later, right now wasn't a good time. Clara's screensaver was of the two of them – smiling and laughing at the camera; John pressing a lopsided kiss to her cheek as she winced in mock distaste. It was only taken a few days ago. An unsteady breath left John's lips and he had to press his hand to his mouth to stop him from sobbing all over again.
He quickly flicked through Clara's phonebook and found her three most called numbers – him, Nina and her father. Looked like he wouldn't have to phone Nina – yet anyway. He ran back to the paramedic and passed her Clara's phone, pointing to her dad's number. The paramedic allowed him into the ambulance with a small wave of her hand.
John paused as he saw Clara. She was lying on the stretcher, fitted into position, wires attached to her chest and an oxygen mask covered most of her face, so different from the happy picture on her phone. The only reassurance he had was the steady beep of the heart monitor, offering him a silent kiss of comfort that Clara was still with him and maybe, just maybe, the universe made bargains after all.
Next time: Clara's life hangs in the balance as she goes in for surgery and the Doctor meets Dave Oswald for the first time. How will he react to the news of his daughter? Will Clara pull through? Why is this sounding like an episode of EastEnders? Reviews would be great, thanks for reading!