The Rose & Crown

England
7:00pm, 23rd November 1842

"Good evening, Clara!" A middle-aged man called, his brown hair all greasy with dried sweat, but it did not stain the warm smile on his face.

"Good evening, Bob!" A voice called back, taking off her black but roughened winter coat. Underneath was a young woman, brunette of hair with a surprisingly round face. She set the coat upon the coat hanger after closing the back door of the inn, before involuntarily shivering and rubbing her arms, despite them covered by her crimson dress. "Apologies for my lateness-"

"No stresses!" Bob reassured. "Tonight's a quiet night."

Clara blinked, her head and neck arching back a little at his words. "Really?" Bob shrugged, to which Clara scrunched her nose in confusion. "Ok. Anyone actually in right now?"

"Only a few lads. Already served." Bob responded, cleaning off half a dozen mugs before wiping the sweat from his face with a used cloth. "Still, you never know. Some bugger might come for a drink."

"For sure." Clara nodded mutely before moving into the bar room of the inn, spotting the aforementioned "few lads" already mulling ale in their mugs, yet all was quiet. The woman relaxed, slouching her shoulders a little. Tranquil nights like this? A wonder, I say.

7:30pm

Clara looked up with a start, hearing the front door closing shut. She looked around, startled to realize that the "few lads" had all left. Whilst taken aback, she just sighed in content and leaned back against the wall, just breathing in and out. Maybe she could close her eyes for a while. They felt so heavy.

"Hello!"

Startled again, Clara blinked rapidly to clear her eyes, seeing a tall man standing in front of the bar. Where on earth did he come from? She wondered before looking him over. His clothes, whilst slightly proper in intent, seemed to lack care, yet it was not glaringly obvious. His posture, whilst straight, made him seem like he carried himself as a lanky, skinny fellow. It was the bright, wide grin on his face, framed by the large ears and his blue eyes that redrew her attention. "Ah, hello. Sorry, lacking focus at the moment."

The man frowned as he took off his top hat, revealing dark hair that would seem close cropped, but like his clothes lacked care. She even noticed now the short stubble of hair across his cheeks and chin. He shaved, but it seemed sporadic. "Ah." He nodded.

The man seemed awkward, or unsure. Maybe, like her, he couldn't focus on anything right now. "What can I get you?"

The man looked at her, almost as if he didn't hear the question. But he then drew his gaze away and to the floor for a moment, before looking back up, his bright, teeth revealing smile now just a warm, closed smile. "Brandy. One glass."

Clara nodded, and gracefully without any effort, poured the glass and handed it to him. "One glass of brandy. Enjoy, sir." The man nodded, taking the drink, and moving off to a table by the window. Clara quickly popped into the back room, looking at the ever-busy Bob, having already finished cleaning the mugs, and was now sweeping the floor. "Bleedin' hell, Bob, I should be doing that!" Clara admonished, but Bob waved her off.

"I know, but nothing happening tonight! And cleanings all done!" Clara glared at him lightly, despite him being the owner of the pub, but he just rolled his eyes at her. "Oh, leave it be, woman!" He admonished playfully, to which Clara rolled her eyes and moved back to the bar, despite the little smirk on her face.

The smirk vanished when she looked at the stranger by the window. The brandy was on the table, untouched, for he stared outside at the falling snow. Not in awe, likely he didn't even recognize that it was snowing. He seemed absentminded, distracted. Is he sad? Clara mused, for his eyes seemed glossy, almost to the point of tears. As softly as she could, Clara made her way over, noting with pity that he did not recognize her presence even as she stood by the table. "Hey." The man jerked to attention, looking at her with wide eyes but it did not dispel the sad frown on her own face. "You alright, stranger?" She asked softly.

The man gave a smile of social etiquette, nothing more than a mild reassurance as he shook his head. "No need concern yourself, luv." He said, his accent Northern, though what Clara couldn't venture a guess. He moved to stand, but Clara, as gently as she could, placed her hand on his arm.

"Wait." He stopped, looking at her like a cat regards an intruder. Wary, curious, but on guard. "I've seen a lot of men come through here. Seen all their faces, seen how they feel. Can tell joyous from sorrow."

The man sighed, rolling his eyes as if she were wasting his time. "And what do you see on mine?"

"I don't know." Clara admitted, and the man cast his eyes down, the same expression of meek sorrow sliding back into place. "Please, what's wrong?" The man said nothing, so Clara moved to sit in the seat opposite from him, her hands clasped together on the table in front of her. "Have a drink. It might help."

The man finally looked back up at her, sliding himself fully back onto the seat, no longer on edge. His eyebrows raised, however, to which she found puzzling. "Would you believe me if I told you I've already touched…that?" He asked, pointing at the glass of brandy in between them.

"Not really." Clara admitted, to which he shrugged, picked up the glass and took a swig. In an instant, he spat the drink out into the glass again, which took Clara aback, but also lightened the mood a little, as they both lightly giggled. "Ok, brandy not to your taste."

He shook his head, wiping his mouth. "It's awful, that. You sure people drink that stuff?"

"Of course, they do." Clara defended before moving the drink aside not so subtly. "You won't see me drink it. Can't stand it." The stranger smirked as Clara leaned back in her seat. "What do you drink, then? Whisky? Rum?"

"Water?"

Clara laughed, heartily. So did he. "You wouldn't be visiting an inn if you wanted that?"

"Water's marvelous." He retorted, which only delayed the end of the laughter.

When silence fell, surprisingly comfortable and serene, Clara leaned back forward, her hands once again clasped in front of her. "Why did you come here?" The man looked down at the glass, unwilling to answer. "Are you alone?" The man flinched, and it made Clara pause. Struck a nerve of some kind. "I'm sorry."

The man frowned, looking back up at her. "What for?"

Clara sighed. "You're alone," he flinched again, "and you don't like to be reminded of it." The man froze, his eyes wide as he stared into her own, and she stared back, kindly, comforting. "What happened to you?"

The man broke their gaze, staring out beyond the outside world. "You wouldn't believe me. Wouldn't believe a thing I'd say."

Clara unconsciously reached out and grabbed his hand, bringing his attention back down to earth. "Don't say that." He stared hard at her, but his hand returned the embrace. "You're in pain. Don't make it sound so…trivial." The man sighed, and he gave her a soft smile, like he was thanking her for her concern. "Do you have friends?"

"A few friends. They look after me." He looked back out the window again. "When they shouldn't."

"If they love you, they'll always do it, even against your wishes." The man looked back at her, and she tilted her head to the side. "Do they love you?" The man froze, and she sighed in sorrow. "You think they take pity on you? Maybe repaying a debt?" The man looked back out the window, a traitorous tear leaking out his eye. "Got any family?" The man shook his head, his gaze falling down as he choked down a sob. "Hey, it's ok." Clara rubbed his hands, but he shook his head again. "Ok, not ok." She admitted, but her concern never ceased. "What happened to you?"

"Don't wanna talk about it." He grumbled.

Clara nodded lightly. "Alright. I won't force you." He looked up at her, a thankful smile on his face despite the red eyes. His gaze darted back out of the window, and he took his hands away from hers. "Hey, where are you going?"

He stopped, even as he stood up. "Sorry, gotta dash." He put the top hat back on and hastily left, closing the door shut behind him, leaving her stunned, confused, and a little hurt.

She quickly got up from the seat and poked her head into the back room. "Hey Bob, just be out for a mo. Gotta check something."

"Alright. Not too long, eh?" Bob called, but she didn't respond as she fled out of the door, down the street a little and slowed down upon hearing voices in a back alleyway. Peaking her head around the corner, she saw the stranger with his back to her, and three others down the alleyway. One was a pale pretty girl, her height, one was taller, a veil over her face to complete her look of grim black and the third was short, stocky and…a potato? Clara's eyes widened at that, and when she saw his hands in the light, there was only two fingers and a thumb. Big hands too.

"Doctor, we're so glad you came." The tall woman responded, her Scottish accent nervous as she drew back her veil, and gave Clara yet another surprise of the night. Green scales instead of skin, like a lizard yet the…lizard woman carried herself with a strange upper class English propriety, letting her green scales come across as…gorgeous, in an otherworldly manner. "We have news, I think, of particular interest to you-"

"No." The man sighed, turning his head away from her, looking elsewhere.

"There was a meteor shower in the southwest, with unexpected timing and density. I have a calculated a 34% chance that it is the result of alien intervention." Some of these words posed no real meaning to Clara, but it was the stranger's…the stranger's silence that drew her attention and curiosity again. "24%." The lizard woman corrected meekly, as the stranger's silence made her more embarrassed. "Well, they could just be meteor's, but it's worth looking into. There is a pleasant tearoom in the area." The lizard woman added but it did nothing to appease this man.

Clara only now realized that the lizard woman called him "Doctor." A medical doctor? Did he fail to save someone?

"No." The man repeated, turning back to look at the woman. The man inhaled deep and long, before shaking his head. "I know you mean well, but I keep telling you." He said, casting his head back with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "I'm retired." The pale woman went to speak, but the man held his hand up, halting her in place. "You…have more important matters than me. Don't stay. Please, just go."

The trio looked at each other, emotions warring on their faces before the potato man and the pale woman moved away. The lizard woman stayed for a moment, looking out at the pale woman before turning back. "Why is it you never believe in accepting help? You always give it out freely for anyone else but the moment you need a helping hand, you reject it. Do you believe you don't deserve it?" The man didn't respond, and the lizard woman sighed. "Doctor, this pain you carry, you are only letting it fester by suffocating it. Withdrawal to grieve is one thing, but isolation entirely?" She shook her head, letting her arms clap down to her sides. Then, she sighed and placed her veil back over her face. "Please do have a pleasant evening, Doctor. But know that your actions…you worry us. More than you realize."

The lizard woman turned and left, Clara remaining puzzled, yet her brain was firing off, trying to figure out the meaning behind their words. When she drew her gaze back up to this doctor man, she drew a sharp breath as he stared into her soul, unblinking and unmoving. His expression looked neutral and focused, but his eyes were a complete mystery to her. Then, he turned and walked away without a word, and this time Clara chose not to follow. She knew not to intrude any longer and after a moment's silence, she turned and walked back to "The Rose & Crown".

The night passed without event for her, yet even as she left for her small but habitable home, the strange man never escaped her thoughts. She hoped she could see him again, not only to satisfy her curiosity, but also just…Is he ok? What happened to him? Cara sighed and got ready for bed. November would pass in the blink of an eye, and before she knew it, it would be Christmas. She wanted badly to return to the Latimer family again, but for another month, she would be helping the pub. She had already made up her mind, that she was not looking forward to Christmas this year.

Author's Note: Ah…hello again. Been a long time.

I'll cut straight to the chase. I took so long because I honesty lost interest in writing. Then Jodie's last episode, "The Power of the Doctor" aired, and it brought me back to why I loved "Doctor Who" in the first place. Also it reignited my desire to write again, so here I am.

I haven't started the next chapter, "The Snowmen" but here's hoping that it'll come out faster than I initially planned. This story redo won't write itself, you know.

Soundtrack:

What's Wrong with Silly? {0:00 – 0:20} – Doctor Who: The Snowmen by Murray Gold
Clara's entrance into the inn, The Rose & Crown.

David and Syd {0:00 – 1:20} – Legion: Season 1 by Jeff Russo
The Doctor orders a glass of brandy.

Daemon and Rhaenyra – House of the Dragon by Ramin Djawadi
Clara witnesses the Doctor staring in silence out of the window, and find herself concerned for him.

Footprints in the Sand {0:00 – 0:45} – Doctor Who: The Day of the Doctor by Murray Gold
The Doctor kindly rejects the Paternoster Gang's efforts to bring him out of isolation.

Daemon and Rhaenyra – House of the Dragon by Ramin Djawadi
Vastra attempts to reach the Doctor one last time before bidding good night. The Doctor and Clara lock eyes once more before he wordlessly vanishes into the night, leaving Clara alone, her curiosity sparked, and her concern inflamed.

Honestly, this entire chapter was influenced by the piece "Daemon and Rhaenyra"…and I say that as someone that has not watched "House of the Dragon" but the piece fit perfectly here, and this prequel at least acts as a little wake up call, so I can hopefully remember how to write before I do the more complicated chapter next time. Hope to see you all then…sooner rather than later. :)