Chapter Four: The Biggest Little City in the World
"J-John?" Clara breathed, eyes never leaving the two men as they approached her.
What scared her the most wasn't the fact that they were drawing themselves closer, but that when they were near enough to be seen, they looked like ordinary people. People she could've easily passed on the street and thought nothing of. Now, as her vision adjusted to the darkness, she took into account every detail she could absorb, for if there was any chance of them escaping, they were heading straight for the police. Even in fear, the young writer was always thinking ahead, making plans.
"What do you want?" she demanded, her voice as sharp as a whip. It was in no way a reflection of the panic that made her heart beat wildly out of its rib-cage.
The first man, the one who drew the weapon from his pocket, stopped just a few feet from her, as if he were trying to be polite. He was a lanky man, appearing lost in his unfitted flight jacket, the asymmetry of his oblong face making his small smile all the more noticeable. "Nice car, pretty girl, you tell me."
"You'll have to forgive my partner here, missus, he's quite the one to flirt," said the man beside him, flexing his hand into a fist and relaxing it repeatedly. He was about a foot shorter than his friend, but stockier in build, the muscles in his face settling upon a permanent scowl. "I do hope we're not sending you mixed messages."
"No, I think you've made your point perfectly clear," Clara muttered, backing up until she hit John, who had just gotten out of the TARDIS and was now wearing a rather perplexed expression on his face.
"Clara," John murmured, his breath grazing the top of her head as he spoke. "What's going on?"
They both knew the answer to that question, but Clara understood the denial in his tone. Perhaps there was a small chance that this was just one, huge mistake.
"I think," she whispered under her breath. "And I could be wrong—" She hoped to God she was wrong. "—but I think we're being mugged."
The words were so absurd that she almost didn't believe them. To be fair, she wasn't dense; people were robbed all the time. People on the news, characters in movies, elders with purses on the street, but never her. Never in this strange city with these strange men and a doctor whom she hadn't known up until five hours ago. She was responsible. Careful even. And robberies didn't just happen to careful people.
"Huh," John nodded, sounding strangely okay with all of this. "That is a new one."
"Well, now we can both just brag about it, can't we—?"
"Now here's what I want you to do," the man with the scowl spat impatiently. "I want you two to line up against the fence, and empty your pockets completely, you here me? No one has to get hurt."
"Yes, but you see, my friend here doesn't have pockets," John told them without an ounce of fear in his voice, gesturing to Clara's yoga pants and conveniently pocket-less pink cardigan. "So I'm afraid we can't participate. Unfortunately," he added, feigning disappointment as Clara's eyes snapped immediately to his, as if to ask, Are you trying to get us killed?
"Then I'm afraid it's just gonna have to be you," the first man replied smoothly, toying with the gun in his hands like one might a pair of children's scissors. He looked towards his accomplice, cocking his head in their direction. "Hold her arms."
"No, no, you will do no such thing," John said, pulling Clara behind him in an instant as he tried to inch themselves gradually towards the TARDIS. "You will not lay a hand on her, nor will you steal anything from either of us, you understand?" There was something darker pooling into his voice, a fierce sort of protectiveness that Clara didn't anticipate coming as he tried to size up the two men.
"Or what?" the second man said, meeting his eye level, clearly unfazed by the threat.
"Or else we'll be severely inconvenienced!" John retorted, trying to steady himself as they drew nearer, their expressions growing more and more agitated with each step. Clara's lips were glued together in fear of saying the wrong thing, in fear of contributing to the fire that John had so unthinkingly began by opening his big, audacious mouth. "Besides, you can't rob us! Because...because—"
Unsure of where the courage came from, she blurted out, "You don't take card!"
"No, you don't!" John snapped his fingers. "And you don't want cards, you want hard cash, which is precisely what we don't have. We don't have anything, actually." He motioned to his pockets frenetically. "Actually, no, I lied, we have graham crackers. Do you like graham crackers? We have loads of those."
"Quit stalling," the man in the flight jacket growled, constantly ejecting and re-inserting the magazine like it was a nervous tick. "Search them."
"Do we look like people who have a lot of money?" John demanded, slapping his hands onto either side of his face. "Look at me! Look at these eye bags, these are several years' worth of student loans right here! Trust me, we are the last people you want to be robbing right now—"
His voice ascended into a yelp as the gun was aimed directly at them, Clara's hand finding John's as they both stilled, blood screeching in her ears. His fingers interlaced through hers and held on tightly, as if they were both holding onto dear life as they stared into death's hollow eye. Clara had always considered her passing to be one in an epilogue that followed several adventurous, tell-tale stories, not an abrupt twist that had nothing to do with anything she had ever planned. And what frightened her the most was that no one would know. Not her dad, or Nina, hell, she didn't even know where she was.
The scowling man's lips perked up into a self-satisfied grin as he asked, "And do you take out students loans so you can drive around in that?"
John turned towards the TARDIS, as if just now noticing it was there. Clara would have rolled her eyes if they weren't permanently glued to the barrel of the gun, which wavered tediously between the two like a pill choosing a slot on a roulette wheel. She knew the car was a bad idea from the beginning; she just didn't expect it to inflict this grave of a consequence.
"Oh, no, no, no," John insisted, hand retreating to his forehead, as if this entire thing had been a huge misunderstanding. "It's a rental car, I was feeling ambitious—"
BANG!
The sound of the gun shattered her eardrums as John guarded her from the oncoming bullet, his body enveloping hers as her back hit the TARDIS in one, deafening blow. She was shaking and couldn't bring herself to stop as she buried her face into the protection of his coat, waves of shock stilling every system in her body, failing to deliver even tears as she mouthed a silent prayer to a God she never really acknowledged until now. Please end this. Please let this be over. Please let this all just be over...
Except the bullet never came. And the sound of John's heartbeat called out to her through all the ringing, beating at a hundred miles per hour as his chest rose and fell with each passing, silent second. Alive.
Because the man in the flight jacket didn't shoot his gun.
The one who had suddenly appeared at the perimeter of the darkness, however, did.
"HEY!" the stranger in the distance shouted at them, his pistol aimed towards the sky. "What the hell is going on?"
The two men before them scrambled from their positions to escape into the crowded street, the man concealed in shadow firing two more warning shots into the night air. Clara's heart leaped from her chest as John remained firmly before her, his tall, lanky frame blocking her from any forward attack as the sound of running footsteps reverberated off of the brick walls of the dilapidated building. The man now raced towards them, drawing himself from the darkness and into the light, revealing a long navy blue coat, mousy brown hair, and a surprisingly strong build.
"That's right, you get outta here before I put a bullet up your ass!" the gunman hollered towards the convicts' retreating figures, a gloved hand spinning the weapon with unnerving ease as his expression broke out into a self-satisfied grin. Clara could tell by the way the lines on his face deepened that he frequented that smile. "God, I love it when I do that."
Perhaps his sense of judgement had been muddled, but John was not about to take any more chances as he pulled a small blade from his pocket and pointed it at the man, whose striking pair of blue eyes twinkled as he beheld the two travelers.
"Stay back!" John warned, keeping Clara behind him, his fingers still intertwined with hers. In a way, it felt instinctive to hold onto her; after all, she was the only thing he felt familiar with in this strange, nameless havoc of a city. "I'm not afraid to use this!"
"I wouldn't doubt it for a second," the gunman replied smoothly, tugging on each finger of his leather glove before pulling it off, doing the same to the other hand and pocketing both. Meanwhile, Clara had emerged from behind John, her heartbeat still hammering in her ears as she stood by his side, unafraid. Something in this new stranger's smile told her that she was safe now, though the young man next to her clearly had a long ways to go before hitting that realization.
Eyeing the contraption in John's hand, Clara's eyebrows furrowed as she asked, "Are you threatening him with a pocket knife?"
"Oi," John's take on a predatory stance slackened significantly as he turned to frown at her. "It's more than just a pocket knife; it's a sonic. Developed it in year eight; it's a screwdriver, lock pick, bottle opener, and flashlight all in one! Excellent for power point presentations," the man beamed, aiming the emerald green laser pointer in the direction of their supposed assailant. Clara rolled her eyes.
"So what, you're going to blind him?"
"Fellas!" the gunman interjected cheerily, raising his hands in surrender as he approached. "If I may plead my case, I mean you two no harm, and would like to keep my retinas in check. They're very dear to me, you see." He flashed them that same, quick-witted smile as he extended a hand out to John. "Jack Harkness, pleased to meet you."
Slightly overwhelmed by the man's oozing charisma, the young doctor lowered the sonic and accepted the shake without a word. Jack then laid his eyes on the woman beside him, taking her hand immediately and grazing his lips atop of her knuckles in a swift kiss. "And may I say that looking at you has made the mere idea of losing my vision even more terrifying. Miss...?"
A small, bashful smile played on the young traveler's lips, her cheeks darkening into a shade of pink as she said, "Clara, Clara Oswald."
"And I'm John Smith. Doctor John Smith, to be clear," the man next to her interjected, unsure of whether to feel nauseated or excluded from this man's attention.
Sensing the tone in the young doctor's voice, Jack pulled his hand politely from Clara's grasp and beamed at them both. "Well, Doctor and Clara, you couldn't have picked at better night to be mugged. I was just heading home from my night shift at the Torchwood Institute and overheard all the commotion. You two alright?"
She was immediately pleased by his charm and the way it sought to reassure her. "Think so, my heart rate has seen better days, though."
"Torchwood," John repeated, crossing his arms in intrigue. He recognized the name from somewhere in the distant part of his brain, but couldn't quite lay a finger on it as he asked, "Isn't that a secret branch of the military?"
"Well, if you know about it, then it isn't very secret then, is it?"
"You work for the military, then?" Clara's eyes widened, a smile appearing on her face as she silently thanked the heavens for their perfect choice of a savior for tonight's near-fiasco. "Well that explains the thing you did back there, with the..." She gestured vaguely at his pockets, where she could discern the faint outline of the gun pressed against the navy blue fabric of his coat. Jack grinned.
"If I'd known I'd make such a heroic first impression, I'd have introduced myself as Captain Jack Harkness, group leader of the 133 Squadron of the Torchwood Institute." The words didn't even come off as arrogant with the amount of fluidity in which he said them, as if conversation were a game and he was constantly on the ball.
"What does that mean?" John asked, trying his best to sound unimpressed.
Jack was glowing. "I get to fire guns without permission and tell people what to do, though being called Captain is the best part of the job."
The young man nodded alongside him, as if he understood exactly what he meant. "Yeah, people call me Doctor sometimes, too."
"And you?" the captain turned to Clara, enjoying this. "What do people call you?"
She only shrugged half-heatedly. "Saint Oswald, apparently."
A hearty laugh escaped from the captain's mouth, as if he knew there was a story behind that and was only waiting to hear it as he said, "Say, I like you two. Have you got a place to stay, or were you just gonna sit the night out in your luxury rental?"
"Well, we were going to, but it doesn't seem all that appealing now," Clara replied, folding her arms across her chest. "Do you know of a cheap place nearby where we could stay for a few hours? A motel, perhaps?"
Confusion passed over Jack's blue eyes as he exclaimed, "Nonsense! You two can crash at my place; I've got the room."
"No, no—" John shook his head, already prepared to head back into the TARDIS and bolt the doors shut from potential felons. "We couldn't possibly—"
"Oh, come on!" Jack interjected, clapping the doctor on the shoulder and nearly taking him out from under his feet. "I just saved your lives! The least you can do is give me company. My husband Ianto's out of town, so the place has been desolate. I'll even let you jump on the bed—he hates that."
Mirrored looks of hesitance passed over the two young traveler's faces, for the thought of sleeping in an actual bed was rather alluring. (And needless to say, Clara had been holding in her pee for the past forty minutes, and was not, under any circumstances, about to pull her panties down in the alleyway they were almost mugged in.)
"We'd love to!" Clara exclaimed just as John began, "I think we're just going to—"
"Great!" Jack replied, clearly preferring the writer's response over John's. "My car's just parked 'round the corner. You two can follow me."
And with a wink, he turned from them and began jogging back towards the lighted street, coattails flapping behind him as John silently mouthed 'WHY?' in Clara's face. She frowned.
"I am not sleeping in your snog-box," she replied flatly.
"He could be another criminal for all we know!" John argued, the sonic still in his hands, his fingers tinkering with the settings. "This is how people get killed in horror movies, Clara, we are living a cinematic cliché and it's about time someone noticed."
"You're being absurd," she said, stilling his fidgeting with her two steady hands. "He saved our lives just now, John."
He rolled his eyes, wanting to outlet his exasperation with an elaborate gesture had his wrists not been held in place by the young woman's astonishingly vigorous grip. "Sure, go with the Captain's word but not the Doctor's."
"You threatened him with a laser pointer!"
"It's a sonic!" he corrected her helplessly, unfurling his bound hands to reveal the contraption in his open palms. Clara stared at it for a long while, as if considering whether or not to take it from him and chuck it over the fence. Shaking the prospect from her mind, she closed her eyes tightly, and tried to be transparent with him.
"Look," she breathed, opening her eyes and meeting his gaze as best she could through the darkness of the street. "I agreed to go on this trip with you not because I was desperate, or inspired, or particularly spontaneous, but because...I trusted you." Her hands squeezed his wrists in an affirming grasp. "I trust you. And I get the feeling that I can trust Jack, too. So please..." She shook her head, determination heavy in her stare as she uttered, "Don't make my first piss in Nevada be in that corner over there."
Amusement flitted past those green eyes, a silent understanding. And for the first in a long time, Clara's face broke out into a genuinely relieved smile, one John never realized was so relieving to see as she released him from her grip and raced back into the TARDIS without a moment's hesitation. He stood there in the shadows for a while longer, the warmth of her hands still on his wrists. He enjoyed it when she smiled like that, when there was nothing but sheer happiness that made her dimples deepen on either side of her face. No stress, no planned emotion. Just pure, transparent joy.
"Hey Doc!" Jack called from the end of the street, where his darkened silhouette stood, waving over at him. "You coming or what?"
Eyebrows furrowing at the Captain's words, John stuffed his hands into his pockets, extinguishing the feeling he had for a split-second before heading back towards the TARDIS, where a woman who could very well amaze him was sitting in the passenger seat.
"So what are two Brits doing here in Reno, Nevada?" Jack asked as they emerged from the TARDIS some twenty minutes later, their mouths agape at the elegantly-dressed house that stood before them. They had driven just outside the city perimeters, the two travelers growing more perplexed by the second as their generous host continued down the main road before turning sharply into a winding driveway, patches of watered grass stitching together to from a lush green lawn that carpeted the garden of a two-story contemporary home. When the Captain had offered his place to them for the night, Clara was expecting a flat, an apartment building with ruddy walls and loud neighbors, but never this.
"Reno?" Clara managed once her tongue began to work again, bounding to keep up with the man as he began making his way up the pebble-stone walkway towards the front entrance. "Is that the name of the city?"
"Yes ma'am, welcome to The Biggest Little City in the World!" Jack beamed proudly, fingering for his keys in his pants pocket. John had reached Clara's side by the time the door was unlocked, the three walking into the house only to be greeted by an ornately decorated living room, fixed with a leather couch that snaked around a coffee table and an impressive flat-screen television.
"You mean Reno or your house?" Clara joked, eyes wanting to soak in every detail at once. The back wall of the wide-open space was not a wall but a large glass panel, a window that allowed her to view the stars of the early morning sky, and the glowing pool that rippled gently between verdure of finely-trimmed hedges. No wonder he had invited them. This place was massive.
Jack chuckled, clearly having been through this before. "Kitchen's to your left, can I make you anything while we're at it? Coffee or tea?"
"Coffee would be nice," she replied. "Or you know what? Let me make it myself."
"Oh no, I couldn't. You're my guest—"
"You saved our lives Jack," she reassured him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "The least I can do is make you a coffee, if you're up to it. Just show me where everything is!"
She was already halfway to the kitchen before John had perched himself on the arm of the leather couch, the Captain slinging an arm around his shoulders, his voice low and sultry as he spoke. "Funny, gorgeous, and willing to utilize the kitchen," he mused, looking over to the young doctor in awe. "How did you manage to nab her, Doc?"
John frowned, confused for a moment before the feeling quickly dissipated into apprehension. Shaking his head, he flustered beneath Jack's muscular grip. "Oh no, we're not...I'm not her—"
"Blimey, this kitchen is massive!" Clara cried in complete elation, her giggles making the young doctor smile in admiration of her. Jack caught onto the look, saw the way her happiness diffused into his, and decided that John's words were in no way accurate of the things he truly felt. John met Jack's accusatory stare and immediately reddened, as if caught doing something entirely inappropriate.
"You were saying?"
"You have a Samsung self-cleaning oven!" Clara proclaimed as she slid back into the living room, a child-like grin on her face. "You have to show me how that works."
"In a sec," Jack promised her, jutting his head towards a brightly-lit staircase to their left. "Let me show you two to your rooms first."
The Captain released his arm from John's shoulders, sauntering towards the staircase as John neared Clara with a confounded expression. And once their host was out of earshot, he hissed to her, "You're impressed by his giant microwave but not a TARDIS automobile?"
Clara shrugged, unsure of what to tell him. "What can I say? Kitchenware turns me on."
The two stubbornly squeezed themselves into the tiny staircase, where Jack was already several steps ahead, having heard the entire exchange before adopting a smug smile at his accomplishment of dazzling at least one of his guests that morning. And given the circumstances, he was willing to poke fun with them, as he did with anyone that came to visit. It was his trademark form of hospitality.
"So since you two aren't honeymooning or anything, I'm providing you with separate guestrooms," he announced cordially as he led the two weary travelers into a bright hallway, where several monochromatic portraits of dogs stared back at them with blithe, droopy smiles. "John, your room is to the left of the greyhound, and Clara, yours is at the end of the hallway." He then turned towards the young writer with a mischievous grin on his face. "That is, unless you'd like to share a bed with me."
Before Clara could even think of a response to his offer, the young doctor beside her seemed to suffer from an aneurysm.
"No!" John interjected, looking absolutely mortified. Clara's eyes snapped to his in complete surprise as his ears turned bright red, eyes flicking to hers as he tried to explain himself. "I-I mean, you can do whatever you like, it's not like we're...I'm not your—" Mashing his lips together, his cheeks developed a similar shade, hands loosening his bow-tie as if the hallway had suddenly grown very warm. "Would you excuse me for a moment?"
Jack and Clara watched the man stalk back down the hallway, a fierce sort of determination in his stride that made her wonder if he were going to bolt out of the house entirely. Her eyes focused on the place he had been standing in, as if she could detect a faint outline of him still.
"He's just gone to collect our bags," she told their host, who merely clapped a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," he offered helpfully, guiding her to her room.
A/N: Hello everyone! I've decided to splice this chapter in half in order to keep everything at a steady pace; I've been working hard this spring semester in my studies, but can assure you that every chapter in this story is planned out and ready to be written when given the sufficient time. Thank you so much for your understanding!
Next time: Clara and John discuss the events of the recent hours, in which she tries to understand the man she's agreed to travel across the country with...
Have a lovely weekend!