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Chapter 41

Knowing that Kate was going to be alright, John felt a great sense of relief wash over him as he left the hospital to pick up Odin. The dog was obviously happy to see him, wagging his tail and jumping up at him with an excitement that couldn't be dampened, so John made the only reasonable decision – to take Odin out for a nice, long walk. As they headed across the fields, however, John soon realised that out here, he had more time to think than was probably good for him. Kate would be okay, so now his mind could focus on other things besides his boss's wellbeing. Naturally, the first thing that popped into his head was Clara and the moment they had shared in the hotel corridor.

Why had he cupped her face in his hands? Why had Clara gone up on tiptoes and kissed him when he had thought of doing just exactly that? Why hadn't she pulled away? When the phone call had interrupted them, John hadn't given it much thought, but now that he was alone with just Odin and his recollections, the idea just wouldn't leave him alone. He had feelings for Clara, but it had never actually occurred to him that Clara might feel something for him too, not when she was obviously still grieving for her dead boyfriend and had only just lost her sister. Surely a romance with the detective who investigated her sister's death was the last thing on her mind?

As he walked across the field, John realised that on his own, he would never get the answers he was looking for. There was only one way to do that and it was to talk to Clara about the kiss and what it meant for them.

Half an hour later, John found himself stood in front of the familiar house and he suddenly felt a lot more nervous than he had last night. The outcome of this conversation could change everything or nothing at all, and he wasn't sure whether he was ready for the answer. Once again, it occurred to him that he had picked exactly the wrong person to fall for. He had picked Clara Oswald, a woman who was somehow involved in this case and John laughed when he realised it couldn't have happened any other way. He had always had a way of picking them, hadn't he? But once someone had found a way into his heart, he would do almost anything for them. Yet none of his problems could be solved by standing in front of Clara's door like a creep, so he rang the doorbell and waited.

It took Clara a minute and when she opened the door, there was a look of surprise on her face, as if she hadn't really expected him to show up – or as if she hadn't wanted him to.

"Oh," she said breathlessly, her eyes wide and large. "John, uh, I didn't expect to see you. I thought you wanted to check on Kate."

Odin tugged at his lead in an attempt to greet Clara and she bent down and petted him absent-mindedly while John went on to explain. "I did. She's going to be alright," he said. Then he slowly raised his eyebrows. "Can I come in?"

That small moment of hesitation on her side was enough to let John know that he wasn't wanted here right now, but for some reason, Clara smiled at him. It didn't seem all too sincere. "I'm actually doing laundry right now. It's not the best time," she explained, but he was a good enough detective to see through her lie.

"It's about last night," John went on. He couldn't wait. He just had to know what was going on in Clara's head and he wouldn't let a silly excuse like laundry get in the way of the answer. "I think we should talk about what happened."

In response, Clara crossed her arms in front of her chest and her gaze darkened a little. "Not right now," she replied. "Like I said, I'm a little busy. I'll be back to work tomorrow and there won't be any time for household chores."

Still, John wasn't so easily deterred. He took a step closer, imploring Clara with his eyes. "Please, just give me ten minutes," he almost begged. "What happened last night-"

"I can't talk about it!" Clara cut him off, her voice sharp and John instinctively stepped back again, momentarily dumbstruck by her harsh tone. The lines on his face deepened as he frowned in her direction, but when she next spoke, her voice had softened a little. "Please, John, I can't talk about it. Not yet."

Not knowing what else to do, he merely nodded.

"I-" Clara began, but broke off, obviously deciding to say something else instead. "Danny. It's the first time since-"

Again, John nodded. Of course. He should have thought about it sooner before coming across like a total idiot. "I understand," he replied softly. "I'm sorry. I should have realised and I shouldn't have pushed you."

"Thanks," Clara uttered weakly and averted her eyes and John realised just how big a deal this was for her. The first time he had kissed someone after River had been confusing, too. But then he remembered something else, something he had promised Kate.

"Can I still ask you a question?" John wanted to know, his voice careful. "It's about the case."

"Um." She hesitated, but eventually nodded even though the prospect alone seemed to annoy her. "Sure."

"Apart from our trip to London, have you left this island before?" he enquired.

Clara frowned at him, obviously unsure why he was asking. "No," she replied simply. "I haven't left. Why?"

"What about your passport? Do you have it?"

At that, Clara released her arms from the crossed position in front of her body and placed her hands on both sides of her hips. "Why are you asking me this?" she demanded, sounding angry.

The way Clara looked at him suddenly made John feel guilty. He knew exactly what sort of internal torment was going through her head after their kiss and he should have left straight after his apology. Instead, he had once again treated her like a criminal, like a suspect in his case.

"I'm sorry," John apologised again. "It's just that... it doesn't matter. I'm sorry. I should go."

John didn't want to risk saying another stupid thing, so he turned around on the spot and started walking away when suddenly, Clara's voice held him back.

"John."

He spun back around and raised a hopeful eyebrow at her. "Mm?"

"Last night, that kiss," she began, "that was nice."

John granted her a smile and even though it was hard to resist the temptation, he decided to leave because he knew that if he said or did anything else, he would only ruin her confession.

When John entered the police station the next morning, he was instantly greeted by the sound of hurried footsteps as the heels of someone's shoes clicked on the floor and resounded through the entire building.

"DI Smith!" Osgood called out to him excitedly, waving a large envelope around as she hurried towards him. "DI Smith!"

John almost groaned and he could tell that this would be the kind of day where he would have to get straight to work before he had even had a chance to have his morning coffee.

"Osgood, watch out!" John tried to warn her as he watched the woman dart across the corridor, but it was too late for her to stop and she only caught her balance at the last moment before stumbling over a toolbox some handyman had so carelessly left there.

The pathologist uttered a sound of surprise or pain or both, but eventually, she came to a halt in front of him, panting frantically from the running. "DI Smith," she said, then gasped for air.

John rolled his eyes. "Inhaler, Osgood," he reminded her.

The young woman, completely out of breath, nodded in reply and drew the little inhaler out of the pocket of her lab coat before she raised it to her mouth and took a deep breath. It seemed to calm her breathing almost instantly. "I have news," she announced immediately after.

"And it's so urgent that it couldn't have waited until I had reached my office?"

Osgood didn't say anything in response, instead, she opened the large envelope and drew out a couple of photographs. "The pictures you gave me when you picked up Odin yesterday," she explained and her voice still sounded a little shaky from the run. "I did as you asked and the lab just sent them back. I think I found something interesting."

John bent a little closer as he regarded the pictures carefully, but at the first glance, he couldn't spot anything he hadn't seen before. Then, Osgood's finger pointed towards a little spot and John's mouth fell open. The photograph was blurry and the black and white nature of it didn't exactly make it easy to discern any details between the artefacts that were the results of enlarging the photo, but the longer he looked, the more convinced John became that the driver of the car was no other than Ciaran O'Neill. Finally, they had made some progress.