John cursed when he went for the door and remembered he'd left the psychic paper in his room in the TARDIS. It had been barely two minutes since leaving the blue box. Surely the Doctor and Clara were still just talking, and he could pop in real quick to grab it. Or, he could venture out without it. Which wasn't nearly as fun. Against his better judgment (not that he had much of it), John slowly returned to his room. Passing by Clara's room first, he noticed the door was shut now. It hadn't been a moment ago when he first left.
He then heard some noises that had him sprinting to his bedroom, throwing the TARDIS open, and shutting the door abruptly behind him.
"Okay, that was fast," he said to himself. John quickly grabbed the psychic paper from his room and was about to exit the blue box when he remembered why he had abruptly entered the ship in the first place. Rather than subjecting himself to more awkwardness, he spun around and went up to the console. John brushed his hair out of his eyes before sighing and thinking of where to go. The last time he'd taken the TARDIS on his own was when he and Clara accidentally ran into Amy and Rory.
He was trying to ignore the feeling in the pit of his stomach. Yes, he was happy that Clara could finally be with the man she truly loved, but it didn't make his own rejection and longing for companionship sting any less. He knew he could move on from Clara. It was not his first time falling for someone who didn't return the same feelings. But it scared him. Maybe he really was unlovable? Perhaps the others could sense he wasn't real.
Both the Doctor and Clara assured him time and again that he was just as real as anyone, but it still felt like something was inherently wrong with him. Like he wasn't supposed to be. He sat down on the steps of the TARDIS, knowing that the despair he was constantly running from was catching up to him. John tried to think of his friends and all the people who cared about him. Typically, that would help tamper down the looming depression. That and making jokes whenever he had the opportunity. But, instead, he couldn't help but cry.
Not because of Clara or really anything in particular. He was simply just sad. Throwing himself into medical school gave him purpose. He felt like he was on a good path and could really contribute something to the world. But now, having been going on his weekly adventures in the TARDIS, the thought of becoming a medical doctor didn't feel right. He wanted to do more. Be more. The more time he spent with the Doctor, the stronger his feelings about travelling the stars and discovering new places pulled on his hearts.
He felt silly for having an emotional breakdown. Finally, John calmed and reminded himself that he was only twenty-one. He was still young. There was plenty of time (and space) to figure out what the hell he was going to do with his life. Medical school or not. But right now, he just wanted to get away, take his mind off of his anxieties and just have some fun.
…
John strolled out of the cinema with a smile on his face. Using the psychic paper to gain access to a film reminded him of his first day on his own. The young Time Lord had taken the TARDIS to 1996 to see the premiere of Mission Impossible. Of course, it wasn't Die Hard, but still, he loved a good action flick.
Not feeling quite like returning to his own time, John took a sharp left down the pavement and stumbled into a bar. He wasn't really paying attention. Too lost in thought about whether or not to attend medical school. He knew Clara and the Doctor would be furious with him if he decided to drop out, but still. It was his life. He could do as he pleased.
The bar was sparse, but he could hear loud music pumping from the adjoining building next door. It was some sort of club that was connected to the bar. John took a seat, placed his elbows on the bar and put his head in his hands.
"What's wrong with you?" rang a female voice in a harsh Brooklyn accent.
John lifted his head to see a pretty blond woman staring at him.
"You look like your grandma just died or something." The woman immediately winced. "Oh, fuck. Don't tell me your grandma just died, please."
John just chuckled. "No. No one died." He paused. "Well, someone almost died but… she's fine." He then scoffed. "Really fine right now, I imagine."
"Ah, but she's not into you?" The woman asked as she cocked her eyebrow.
"No. She's into someone else," he sighed. "My…brother, actually."
"Oof. Well, if you need to, you should go next door. That'll take your mind off her."
John looked over to the connecting doors and then back at the woman.
"What's your drink?" asked the woman, changing the subject.
"Umm, just some rum and coke….mostly, coke?" He wasn't about to spit his drink out in front of the pretty blond. John ran his hand through his hair out of nervous habit.
"Can I see your ID?" she asked.
John had a puzzled look on his face. "Why?" He'd never had to show any identification before. But then again, he'd never been to a pub/bar in the States.
"Hon, you look like you could be 11 years old. I don't give a fuck about underage drinking, but I'm not about to lose my job over it," she chuckled. "Where are you from? You sound like James fucking Bond," she laughed.
John huffed a laugh as he pulled out the psychic paper. "I live in London, but I'm from…well, all over really." He held it up to her. The woman snorted out in laughter when she read it. John was worried for a moment. He was sure it read "Smith" and not "McClane", seeing as he was in the states and Die Hard was fairly popular at the moment, given the franchise's third instalment had recently come out.
John looked at the paper. Sure enough, it read "John Smith."
"What's so funny?" he asked.
The woman gave him an odd look. "Is your name really John Smith? Like the English guy from that Disney movie?"
"Umm, it's a fairly common name. I don't see why it's funny. What film?"
The woman calmed down. "I'm sorry. You must think I'm insane. You wouldn't get the joke." She came around the bar and up to him. John was a bit taken aback at her forwardness when she grabbed his hand as she yelled to the bar backer. "Hold down the fort for a minute. I'm taking him next door."
John's eyes went wide as the woman dragged him to his feet and began guiding him towards the club.
"Umm, I really don't understand what's going on," stuttered John. "Why…" before John knew what was happening, the very forward bartender pushed him through the doors. John's eyes went wide, realising that it wasn't just any ordinary club on the other side of the bar. It was a strip club.
He was initially in shock with the number of people and the noise. But once he saw the dancers, he quickly averted his eyes as he tried to stop the woman who was near pulling his arm off. She then pushed him into a seat.
"A new world for ya, isn't it, hon?" She laughed as she turned to whisper in one of the girl's ears. The girl simply pointed to a dark corner of the room. The blond woman turned back to John.
"Stay here. I'll be right back."
John was ready to run out of the building as fast as possible. He craned his neck to scope out the nearest exit, but someone approached him before he even had a chance to stand. He turned his head to see a scantily clad younger woman standing in front of him with the blond bartender next to her.
"This here is Mr John Smith. He's from London. I'm not even joking," she laughed. "He needs some cheering up, and I thought who better than Pocahontas herself."
The bartender winked at John before disappearing back into the crowd.
He turned his gaze towards the woman in front of him. She was tall. Not as tall as him, but still, tall for a girl. (Or maybe he was just used to Kayla and Clara.) Her long black hair was in a thick braid, slung over her shoulder. She moved closer to him as he tried to sink into the chair.
"No need to be shy," she winked. She then straddled his lap and began to run her fingers through his fluffy brown hair. "Is your name really John Smith, or did your buddies put you up to this?" Her hands slid down his chest as he tried to control his breathing.
"Nnooo buddies. Name is really John Smith," his eyes were wide, trying to process what the fuck was happening. It was as if his brain shut off. Her dark eyes had a devilish glint in them.
"You really are English?" she laughed. She then began to undo her already very tiny top.
John once again could not help his bodily reaction of having a beautiful woman in his lap. He wasn't about to have an embarrassing moment like the Doctor and roughly pushed her off of him without thinking. She fell back in shock as he ran to the loo. His breathing was heavy while his pants were uncomfortably tight.
"What the hell was that!" he said to no one. John then registered that he had just shoved the poor girl right onto the floor. 'Fuck,' he thought. He was about to go back to apologise but thought better of it given his state. He was alone, so doing the only thing he could think of with a barely functioning brain, he went into the stall and finished the job.
When he emerged, he scanned the room for "Pocahontas" but was unable to find her. Finally, he caught one of the waitresses.
"Excuse me, but do you know where…um, Pocahontas is?"
The woman gave him a look then spoke.
"She just got off shift. Probably heading home now." The waitress then turned and walked away.
John didn't know why he couldn't just let it go, but soon his legs were taking him out one of the side exits into an ally. His eyes quickly caught onto her as she was in some kind of argument with a man. The man then pushed her. Without thinking, John ran over to them.
"Oi! Don't touch her!"
The man turned and looked at him. "Who the fuck are you? And I sure as hell can touch her. She stole my wallet, and I intend to get it back by any means necessary." The man once again turned to the woman. John stepped closer and didn't even hear her yell at him to "mind his own fucking business." John threw a punch, but the man dodged it then swiftly kicked John right in the balls. John's eyes instantly watered as he buckled to the ground.
"Goddammit," he heard the girl yell. She reluctantly handed the wallet back to the man, who then left the two in the ally.
"What is wrong with you? He could have killed you!" She helped John stand up. When he finally caught his breath, he spoke.
"He could have killed you!" he retorted. The woman just rolled her eyes.
"I can handle myself, thank you very much. Have done for a while now."
John leaned back against the brick wall and took a few deep breaths. The woman began to walk away.
"Hey! Wait! Where are you going?"
"None of your business." She turned the corner and was out of sight.
John was arguing with himself. Before he'd even come to a decision, his legs had already taken him around the corner to catch up with her.
"At…at least let me walk you home." He didn't know why he felt compelled to help her.
The girl scoffed. "Although I appreciate your Mr Darcey act, I'm afraid you'd be walking for an eternity seeing as I don't currently have a home."
"What? Where are you going then?"
She stopped and turned to face him. He took a step back.
"Well, I was going to go buy some food. But seeing as I had to give the man his wallet back, plus all my tips went to the club, I have no money as I keep asking for advances on the pitiful checks they provide. So now I'm just walking. Away. From you." She turned and picked up her pace.
"I have money…sort of. I could buy you a meal if you're hungry."
Once again, the girl stopped abruptly and got in his face. "Why? Why spend your money on me now if you weren't half-decent enough to tip me tonight? Not to mention the fact you pushed me right on my ass in front of everyone! Do you know how humiliating that was? I've only had this fucking job for two weeks. They're probably going to fire me! If it wasn't for the fact that that stupid fucking movie came out recently and I happen to be Native American, they probably wouldn't have even hired me in the first place! Do you think I actually wanted my stripper name to be Pocahontas?"
John was at a loss for words. He hadn't meant to upset her in the club.
"I…I didn't mean to upset you. Honestly, I wasn't expecting you to uhh…do all that for me. I was just sitting at the bar when that bartender dragged me to the club because my name happened to be John Smith. I sort of just…freaked out a bit."
The girl once again turned and started walking away slowly. John felt dejected that she still didn't want his help. But then she suddenly stopped and turned to him.
"Well? Are you coming or not?"
…
John was now sitting across from his new friend. She was eating some "fries", as she called them.
"They're chips."
"No. Fries. French fries, actually."
"Why French? What does France have to do with an overly deep-fried sliver of potato?" he questioned as he snuck one off her plate.
"Ah!" She immediately slapped his hand, causing him to drop the offending potato sliver on the floor.
"Ow! What the hell?"
She was giggling now. "They're my fries. You don't get any. You stick to your tea," she said with a face of disgust.
"What's wrong with tea?"
"Everything! It's basically just bathwater with a tiny bit of caffeine. In fact, I'd rather drink actual bathwater rather than whatever the hell you've got in that dirty mug."
John looked down into the ceramic coffee house mug. He lifted it to his lips and took a sip, trying not to grimace. He successfully kept a straight face but, being so focused on his facial muscles, he ended up spitting the tea back into the mug.
"See," she said playfully.
"Okay. I see your point. But that's only because we're not in England. I can assure you that the tea I could make for you back home is by far better than bathwater.
She gave a smirk. "You offering to take me home?"
John stuttered. "No! Not…I didn't mean…."
She was laughing now. "God, John. I'm just joking. You English boys are such prudes."
"I'm not a prude!" He paused. "You American girls are just…" he didn't know where he was going with the sentence.
"We're just what?" She had a smug look on her face.
"You're very…confident," was all he could think to say without putting his foot in his mouth.
"So," he began. "Seeing as your name isn't actually Pocahontas, what is your name? If you don't mind me asking."
She sat back in her seat and looked him up and down. As if she was contemplating whether or not he was worth telling any personal information.
"Citana," she said softly. "It means star in the sky."
Citana then went back to eating her chips…fries, er potato strip thingies.
John smiled as he spoke, "Citana, nice name."