Claire shivered slightly in the cold air, tugging her jacket closed and reminding herself for what felt like the thousandth time to either fix the zipper or buy another second-hand coat. Her feet ached, her eyes itched and her ears rang slightly from all the noise of the cafe but at least her shift was over.
'Lady Claire.'
Claire smiled at the voice, 'Sir Thomas,' she replied, slowing down to talk to the old man sitting in a doorway. 'How goes the dragon slaying?'
'Oh, quiet, quiet, I have them on the run,' Thomas shifted some of his bags to one side, idly tidying up his space. 'You're late tonight.'
Claire grimaced, 'Pulled a double shift, Becky called in sick.'
'Again?' Thomas shook his head, 'must be nice being the boss's favourite, you can do what you like.'
'I wouldn't know,' pulling her large bag around Claire reached inside and scooped out three packs of sandwiches. 'Saved these for you, Marcus was going to chuck them out after closing.'
'Oh bless you,' Thomas tucked the sandwiches away in his sleeping bag. 'That's supper and breakfast sorted, honestly young people today are so wasteful.'
'Oi, I'm a young person,' Claire protested, smiling to show she didn't really mean it.
'And the exception that proves the rule, Milady.' Thomas smiled up at her, 'off home, then?'
Claire sighed, 'Yeah too tired and cheap to do anything else.'
Thomas nodded, 'Living is getting more expensive everyday.' he patted the door-frame next to him, 'have you considered a career change? Dragon slayers live rent-free you know.'
'I did not know that,' Claire said, 'but I'm afraid I lack your courage to slay dragons. I'll have to make do with rent and irate customers instead.'
Thomas laughed, 'Formidable foes in their own right, I hear.' he nodded up the street towards where Claire had been walking. 'Shall I keep watch until Milady's carriage arrives?'
Claire mimed a curtsy. 'I would be honoured, Sir Knight.'
Thomas nodded and settled back into his blankets. 'Until the 'morrow, dear lady.'
'See you tomorrow, Thomas.' Claire waved goodnight and continued walking up the road towards the bus stop.
Sitting at the stop, waiting for her bus, Claire tugged her jacket closed again and sighed. The wind was picking up it seemed, peering up at the black sky Claire tried to look for clouds but the bright lights of the city ruined any chance of that. She hoped it wasn't going to rain, Claire hadn't bothered checking the weather for tonight, assuming wrongly that she would be home hours ago. Glancing at her watch she registered the time, 10.47p.m early for a Friday night as the wandering groups of laughing and slightly drunk people working their way up and down streets would argue. But more than late enough for her.
She had an early shift tomorrow and suddenly was not looking forward to it. Not that she ever really looked forward to work, crap pay, lousy boss, everyone else expecting her to fill in at the last minute.
"Oh Claire can take the shift, she doesn't have a boyfriend or family. It's not like she has anything important to do".
Claire's left leg started to bounce in irritation, as her temper began to flare. A harsh screech of laughter from a group of women staggering their way down the road made Claire frown, why were they all so damn happy for? What did they have that she didn't? She bet they hadn't had to drop out of school to look after a sick mum, she bet they didn't have to watch every penny, skip the occasional meal just to make ends meet. She bet . . . Claire groaned as a flash of pain zigzagged behind her eyes, and now on top of everything else she was getting a mother of a headache.
'You can feel it, can't you?'
Claire squeaked in surprise as she leapt to her feet, hand fumbling inside her bag until she found what she was looking for.
'Back off,' she brandished the can towards the stranger who seemingly had appeared out of nowhere. 'I'm armed.'
The man leaned forwards slightly and squinted as her hand. 'Is that hairspray?'
Claire resisted the urge to glance at her hand, her choices had been limited, she was pretty sure a stick of deodorant wouldn't have worried anyone, except for perhaps Thomas. Which reminded her, glancing down the road she could see Thomas eating a pack of sandwiches oblivious to her current predicament. 'Some guard dog you turned out to be,' she muttered.
'What?' the man asked.
'I said back off.' Claire waved the can about, 'I mean it.'
'Of course, of course,' the man raised his hands in surrender and stepped back a pace. 'Although a spray can, really? It's not very environmental.'
'Seriously,' asked Claire incredulously, 'I'm about to get kidnapped and your judging my environmental credentials?'
'Kidnapped?' The man laughed at the thought, 'Do I look like a kidnapper to you? Would we be standing around talking if I was some sort of kidnapper?'
Now that he mentioned it, Claire thought, he really didn't seem like the kidnapping type. He was clean shaven and softly spoken, and definitely not wearing the hoodie and sweat pant ensemble that was depicted in most news reports and true crime murder re-enactments. In fact, Claire squinted wishing that the nearby street light was a little closer, was he going to some sort of fancy dress party? What he was wearing, had to be fancy dress, no one from this century would be seen dead in a waistcoat let alone a velvet jacket, unless he was some sort of wanna-be hippy rock-star.
'Biggest influence, Beatles or the Doors?' She asked.
'What?'
'Not important, where did you come from?' Claire demanded.
'Over there,' the man waved an arm vaguely off to his left, towards a nearby abandoned lot. 'And you can never go wrong with the Beatles.'
'Good to know,' Claire said, 'but if you're not a kidnapper what are you doing here?'
'I'm looking for something.'
Claire snorted, 'Worst pick up line ever, buddy.'
'I said something, not someone.' The man retorted, 'and why are you here, hmm?'
'Uh, hello,' Claire nodded towards the bus sign. 'I'm waiting for my bus.' Right arm beginning to ache from holding the can fully outstretched, Claire shifted it to her other hand.
'Ah,' the man gestured towards Claire, 'you're pointing the nozzle towards yourself now.'
'What?' Claire glanced down at the hairspray.
Stepping towards Claire the man knocked the can from her grasp.
'Hey!' Claire yelled, as her only weapon quickly rolled down the sloped road and into the gutter.
'Much better,' the man said, 'shall we start again?' He reached out a hand towards Claire. 'I'm the Doctor and you're Claire.'
Claire clutched at the strap of her bag tightly. 'How do you know my name?'
The Doctor gestured towards her, 'Its on your name-tag.'
Of course it was, Claire tugged her jacket closed.
The Doctor, wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand. 'It's considered rude not to shake.' He pointed out.
Reluctantly Claire took the man's right hand and shook it once, as she went to let it go he tightened his grip and stepped closer.
'Hey!' Claire's fear ratcheted up a notch and her headache flared. 'Let go!'
The Doctor reached out with his left hand and cupped Claire's elbow, keeping her from stepping away. He peered intently into her eyes, 'I was right,' he said, 'you can feel them.'
This was not happening, this was not happening. Claire glanced about trying to attract someone, anyone's attention. But the street seemed suddenly deserted. What she had taken for the background hum of traffic was only the weather. 'Please, let me go,' she begged, 'don't kill me.'
'Why would i want to kill you?' the Doctor said, 'I'm trying to save your life.'
'Then let me go!' Claire shouted at him.
'If I do that,' he shouted back at her, 'you'll die!'
The Doctor winced in pain as Claire groaned and rubbed at her forehead.
'They feed off our negative emotions,' the Doctor tried to explain, 'fear, anger, pain, grief; any of these sound familiar?'
'Who?'
'The Reaving, at least that's what they are called. No one knows what they call themselves, since few live long enough to ask.'
Claire sucked in a deep breath and screamed for help, causing the Doctor to wince again.
'Was that really necessary?' He asked, 'no one can hear us, the Reaving has separated us from the herd, we're on our own.'
'We're on a busy street,' Claire tried to reason with this mad man, 'how can we be on our own?'
'A busy street with no people or cars,' the Doctor pointed out, 'where did everyone go?'
'How should I know?' Claire raised her voice slightly trying to speak over the increasing roar of the rising wind, 'you never heard of a lull in traffic before?'
'It's not the wind,' the Doctor said, seeming to read her mind.
'What?'
'That noise, it's not the wind, look around.'
Claire looked up and down the street. Everything seemed normal enough, if you ignored the lack of people. Then she really looked and noticed little things like: the empty chip bag resting on the lip of the garbage bin and the plastic flag bunting hanging limply outside the pub down the street. How Thomas was sitting quietly eating his sandwiches, he'd never even heard her scream. 'It's not the wind.'
'No,' the Doctor's quiet voice seemed to cut through the increasing noise. 'I told you, its the Reaving.'
'A gang?' Claire guessed.
'Not exactly,' the Doctor said, 'try a non-corporeal alien entity.'
Claire fought off an hysterical burst of laughter, 'You're kidding.'
'I wish,' the Doctor tugged on Claire's arm, 'kneel down.'
'What?' Claire resisted the Doctor's attempts. 'Why?'
'Because it's harder to run when you're not on your feet.'
Claire gave up and knelt on the cold concrete. The pressure behind her eyes was almost constant now. 'My head,' she complained.
'I know,' the Doctor replied, 'I feel it too.' He reached out and cupped both hands around Claire's head, 'I need you to concentrate, don't listen to anything but me.'
'Listen?'
Now that he mentioned it, Claire could almost hear voices faintly off in the distance. Was that Thomas, was he calling her? She tried to turn her head to hear better but the Doctor restrained her from moving.
'They're toying with us,' the Doctor said, 'they want us to run, so they can chase us down. They're like the lions in an animal documentary and we're the fuzzy lunch.'
'I hate those shows,' Claire muttered, she reached out and grabbed the Doctor's arms.
'Me too.'
you're useless, you're weak. No one wants you, no one loves you, your sister has her own family, your mother left you alone. You're a waste of space, why don't you just die?
Claire tried to stand, but the Doctor refused to let her rise. 'Braveheart, Claire.'
Do it, do it, jump in front of a bus, slit your wrists. Nobodies deserve nothing, everything's going to die anyway, get in first.
Claire began to cry as she fought against the Doctor, the voices were right, she was useless. Wasn't it easier to just give in?
'Fight, Claire,' the Doctor shouted, 'whatever you're hearing, its lies. Fight back, tell them to go away.'
Go away? Claire shook her head, you couldn't tell the voices to go away, they were too powerful, they wouldn't listen to her.
The Doctor rested his forehead against hers. 'Go away,' he commanded, 'tell them Claire, go away.'
Claire closed her eyes, 'Go away,' she whispered.
'Louder!'
'Go away,' Claire's voice wavered at first then strengthened as she began repeating the words. 'Go away, go away, go away, go away GO AWAY GO AWAY! GOAWAYGOAWAYGOAWAYGOAWAY!'
The Doctor's voice rose along side hers, yelling the same two words over and over again. The sharp spike of pain behind Claire's eyes continued to build until suddenly the voices just stopped. The relentless pressure disappeared and Claire sagged with relief.
'We did it,' the Doctor said, 'it worked, good girl.'
Claire opened her eyes and was about to tell the Doctor that she wasn't his girl, good or otherwise, when a terrible scream rang out behind them. It was quickly followed by a second, even more horrifying scream that quickly trailed off into a deadly silence. Who could that be, Claire wondered, there was no one else still on the street, except for . . . 'Thomas!' Claire struggled to her feet and began running down the road.
'Claire, no!' The Doctor shouted at her fleeing back, 'wait.' Staggering upright the Doctor chased after her.
Claire stood in front of the body of Thomas. The old man's possessions scattered up and down the street.
'Oh Thomas,' Claire whispered, wiping away her tears. 'What happened?'
The Doctor arrived in time to hear her question. 'The Reaving happened.'
The Doctor stepped past Claire, blocking her view of Thomas. Reaching into a pocket and pulling something out, the Doctor knelt down and began to examine the body. There was a strange buzzing sound that Claire realised was coming from whatever the Doctor was holding. 'I'm sorry, Claire,' the Doctor turned to look back at Claire, 'was he a friend?'
'His name is, was, Thomas,' Claire said, 'I used to bring him sandwiches and soup from work, sometimes.'
'That was kind,' the Doctor stood up, dropping a metallic rod back into his pocket.
'He seemed lonely,' Claire replied with a small shrug, 'it was the least I could do.'
'Many people don't even do that.' The Doctor said, sadly.
Claire wiped at her face. 'You said it was the Reaving,' she remembered, 'what did they do? He looks so scared.'
'Adrenaline overload,' the Doctor explained, 'turned all his emotions up to eleven and fed off of him until he was sucked dry.'
'That was going to be us!' Claire said. 'The voices, the headache, that could have been me.' Claire felt her heartbeat increase, her breathing hitched in her throat. 'No, no, I can't -' Claire backed away from the Doctor, 'this is not happening, this is not real.'
The silence that had surrounded them suddenly ended. Claire could hear raised voices coming from up the street as a group of people tried to enter a pub. Faintly she registered the rumbling sound of an approaching bus. The bus, that was normal, that was real. That would take her home and away from whatever this was.
'I just can't,' she said, turning Claire stumbled up the road towards the bus stop. Ignoring the Doctor's call for her to stop, and only remembering at the last moment to scoop up her bag, Claire waved towards the bus driver.
'Bad night, luv?' The bus driver took in her tear streaked face as Claire waved her Oyster card over the reader.
Claire ignored the driver as she found a seat halfway down the near empty bus. Sitting down with a heavy sigh she placed her shaking hands on the headrest in front of her, bent forward and rested her head on her arms.
'I don't want no trouble.' Claire heard the driver yell.
'No trouble,' the Doctor said as he sat down next to her.
The bus driver muttered to himself as the bus pulled away from the curb.
The Doctor reached out and rested his hand on one of Claire's, cool fingers curved around her wrist. 'Elevated heart rate, shaking, shortness of breath,' he diagnosed, 'Claire, you're having a mild panic attack, to be expected considering.'
'I know what I am having,' Claire hissed back at him.
'Then you probably know what you have to do,' he replied, 'take a deep breath, that's right.' He watched as Claire breathed in deeply, 'hold it, then out.'
Claire held her breathe for a count of four, then breathed out again; she repeated this several times as the Doctor's quiet voice washed over her.
'There you go, doing much better,' the Doctor said, 'think of something that makes you happy. Reading a good book; a nice meal; walking along a beach, nobody but you and the waves washing over your feet. No, how about a room full of puppies or kittens? Brown paper packages tied up with string?'
Claire let out a slightly hysterical snort of laughter. 'Are you seriously quoting Mary Poppins?' She asked, without raising her head.
'I've always had my suspicions about her,' the Doctor said, 'floating about on an umbrella? Smacks of alien hi-jinks to me.'
Claire raised her head and stared towards the front of the bus, not yet daring to look at the Doctor in case she suddenly burst into tears again. 'You know you're talking about a fictional character?'
'Every story has a kernel of truth,' the Doctor patted Claire's hand a couple of times then let it go. 'Are you feeling better?'
Sighing deeply Claire sat up before slumping back in her seat. 'Aliens are real.'
'And how does that make you feel?'
Claire lent her head against the cold glass of the window and looked up at the black sky. 'Glad we're not alone,' she said quietly, 'but I really could have done with an E.T. style first meeting rather than the Predator.'
'What are you talking about?' The Doctor protested, 'I like to think I'm cute and cuddly and I have my own phone.'
'What are you talking about?' Claire turned and looked at the Doctor. 'You're no alien.'
'No?' The Doctor scoffed, 'one encounter and suddenly you're an expert?'
Claire opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. Nah, this was just another way the Doctor was trying to distract her from what happened tonight. 'I just left him, Thomas,' Claire realised. 'I just left him alone, shouldn't we call the police or something?'
The Doctor shook his head. 'Leave him to me, I'll notify someone, make sure he has a proper burial.'
'But the Reaving? What was it, is it gone, will it come back? What do we do now?'
Now?' The Doctor pressed the button in front of him for the next stop. 'Now I'll stop the Reaving and you, Claire, you go home. Have a nice cup of tea, binge watch your favourite soap. Whatever you do to unwind and you forget about me.'
'Forget about you,' Claire reached out and grabbed at the Doctor's sleeve as he stood up. 'How could I ever forget?'
The Doctor gently untangled Claire's fingers from his coat. 'Humans always forget, it's one of your more endearing qualities.' He raised her hand and for a moment Claire thought he was going to kiss the back of it. Instead he just pressed her hand between both of his, 'Thank you for your help tonight, and I'm sorry for your friend. Goodbye Claire.'
Claire watched as the Doctor walked towards the front of the bus. 'Wait.'
Turning to look back at her, he stepped off the bus. As the bus pulled away Claire moved across the aisle to sit on the opposite seat. Looking out the window she could see him standing on the side of the road, looking back at her. He raised one hand in farewell and Claire found herself doing the same. Smiling sadly the Doctor turned away and began walking back towards Claire's bus stop. Claire sat at the window staring back at the ridiculous man in his fancy dress costume, until he disappeared from sight.
