AN: Before I continue posting for this story, I'll be revising the first two chapters and fleshing out the rest so that I will be able to consistently update. Since I am on break from classes right now, I might be able to make more progress in the coming weeks! Thanks to those of you who have sent encouraging reviews, your words are much appreciated.

9th Doctors Theme-Murray Gold

Chapter 1

Clara still wasn't sure how it had happened. Her old truck had barely been able to cast a white glow across the pitch black road up ahead. So it came as a relief when a wild deer had abruptly thrown itself in her path. A relief because when she'd stepped out of her truck to check on the poor deer and the damage to the truck, she'd caught sight of a groaning, huddled figure illuminated by the warm headlights lying near a ditch.

Clara's breath caught in her throat when she realized how close she had come to hitting whatever it was that was lying on the side of the road instead of the deer.

"H-Hello?" Clara was afraid of approaching the crumpled heap, afraid that she might have not actually hit a deer at all and killed this person instead. The lack of reply worried her.

"Hello?" she called out again. Her voice carried across the nearby cornfield disturbing the eerie calm evening usually brought with it. Clara waited a beat, nearly jumping back in surprise when she heard a man's groan and watched as he turned to lie on his back.

His white shirt was stained crimson with blood and was mud splattered across his face and chest. A gash ran alongside his temple, still oozing ruby drops. Clara fought to restrain a gasp at the state he was in.

"Jesus Mary and Joseph," the man wheezed loudly. He began gasping with heavy breaths.

Clara watched as he blearily gazed up at the sky, confusion etched across his face. He didn't look at her, nor even acknowledge the fact that she was standing right next to him. It seemed as if he was intent in just lying there for the rest of the night. Clara decided to make another attempt at making herself noticed once more.

"Are you alright?"

He started at her voice as if just realizing that she was standing right over him. His glassy eyes widened and his face contorted at the glare of the headlights above him.

"What?" he said in a brash, gravelly voice. He sounded annoyed at having been disturbed.

Clara rolled her eyes. Great, he'll be a bag of fun, this one.

She inched forward and knelt beside the him, the gravel crunching as she lowered herself to her knees. The overwhelming urge to gag seized her as a whiff of whiskey and blood engulfed the air around them.

"I asked if you're alright," she said again peering at him against the headlights. Clara coughed as the strong odor brushed against the back of her throat. She gripped the bumper of the truck to keep from falling on top of him.

The man's eyes flickered over face for a brief moment before sweeping back to the starry sky above them. His chest rose and fell rhythmically. He was quiet for a long stretch of time so that Clara briefly considered that he might be too drunk to understand what she had just asked him. She half expected him to start babbling like all the other drunken idiots she had come across in Coal Hill Village. However his words were the last thing Clara expected to hear from him.

"Don't fucking care if I'm alright do I?"

Right then someone is having a terrible night isn't he?

Clara took in his torn trousers and scuffed boots, which seemed to have been very expensive at some point. His nails were clean and his face closely shaven. This man had to have a family somewhere out there looking for him. Or at least, she hoped that was the case.

"What's your name?"

He grunted. "Does it matter?"

"Actually it does, I nearly ran you over with my truck 'cos you're lying in a heap of your own filth in the middle of the road," Clara replied through gritted teeth, precariously close to losing her patience.

"What?"

Clara scoffed incredulously. "Haven't you noticed?"

"You nearly ran over me?"

"Yeah, had it not been for the deer-are you okay?" Clara asked in alarm as the man began pushing himself up to his knees and crawling on all fours to the embankment at the foot of the cornfield. He nearly fell when his hand slipped, and promptly began heaving his innards into the ditch.

Clara winced in sympathy and disgust, and walked over to him. She wrapped her arm around the front of his chest to keep him from falling head first, watching as he dry heaved for several agonizing minutes. Finally after a thin layer of sweat had broken down his back, Clara eased him back and propped him against her chest.

"Can you tell me your name?" she asked as a shudder ran down his body.

He gazed at her with tired eyes.

"Just call me the Doctor," he said quietly before passing out.

Clara groaned.

Fuck.

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