Thank you lovely readers for the amazing reviews! But now that John knows the truth at last, what is he going to say?

Chapter 57

Clara waited patiently once she had finished her story, she waited for John to say something, but he only glared at her in response. He had listened intently as she had told John about everything that had really happened and now that she was finished, Clara realised to her dismay that the weight hadn't lifted from her shoulders. All this time, Clara had hoped that as soon as she told the truth she would feel better, she would feel less guilty, but the opposite seemed to be the case. The guilt had merely shifted. She still felt dreadful about having lied to John for such a long time and she could feel her heart sink when the expression on his face failed to soften.

Clara swallowed hard before she spoke again. "John?" she asked carefully. "Please say something."

He hesitated for a long moment and Clara assumed he would never say another word to her ever again, and she knew that she deserved just that.

"Why?" he wanted to know, his voice rough and cold. The usual affection was no longer there. "Why didn't you tell me from the beginning?"

She had wanted to tell him. Now, she wanted to tell him that she had trusted him with the box and that a part of her had wanted him to look inside.. and yet she also hadn't wanted him to look. John needed to know how torn she had felt ever since the morning he had kicked her door in. Her promise to Bonnie, her own motives and her love for John. All of that had been fighting for dominance inside of her.

"I want O'Neill to pay for everything he has done," Clara explained, raising her voice just a little. "I wanted you to blame O'Neill for Bonnie's death as well as Danny's. He didn't lay a hand on her, but he drove her to her death and I want to punish him for that. In my eyes, he is the one to blame and I wanted you to come to the same conclusion."

To her surprise, John nodded slowly as if he understood – even if he couldn't forgive her. Then he jumped up unexpectedly and darted across the room. For a while, Clara thought he had gone mad because he began stomping on the tiles and she rose to her feet and followed him.

"What's going on?" she wanted to know. "What are you doing?"

John didn't reply even when Clara tried to reach out and touch his shoulder. Instead, he shrugged off her hand and kept tapping on the floor with his foot until one of the tiles sounded a little more hollow than the others. That was where John bent down and removed a part of the floor to reveal the muzzle of an old hunting rifle that was buried vertically beneath the parquet. John lifted it out, excavating the rifle from its hiding place and held it up in front of him. The sight was a strange one and Clara realised that she had never actually seen him handle a firearm before, even though all of his colleagues carried weapons. The way he held it, his face a mixture of rage and disgust, told her that he hated the sight as much as she did.

"What are you going to do?" Clara asked, only now realising how scared she sounded. She wasn't scared of John, but of what he was going to do with the rifle.

"I'm going to end this once and for all," he growled and Clara didn't even have time to open her mouth and respond as he rushed past her and out of the house.

He didn't leave her a choice, so Clara followed after him and as soon as she left the protection of his house, she felt a sense of déjà vu coming on. It was dark and the storm blew the rain into her face. Why was it always raining whenever something sinister happened? And something sinister was about to happen, Clara could feel it in her bones; she had seen it in John's eyes and the knowledge of that made her blood run cold.

Yet to her surprise, he didn't dart off into the night but opened the door of his car and there was no way she would let him go anywhere on his own, so Clara didn't hesitate to climb into the passenger seat, where he handed her the rifle. Clara held it at arm's length while he turned the key in the ignition.

"Where are we going?" she asked, but she knew the answer even before John spoke.

"We'll find Ciaran O'Neill. Tonight," John replied, his voice brimming with determination and he turned to look at her. His eyes were fierce and for a brief second, Clara wondered if he hated her. "We'll put an end to this madness."

John pulled off into the night and there was nothing Clara could do to stop him now, so she remained quiet in the passenger seat for as long as she could bear it. Her thoughts, however, were anything but quiet. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? Ciaran O'Neill arrested by the police, brought to justice. Wasn't that what she had dreamed of every single night ever since Danny's death?

Clara tried to tell herself that, but she knew in her heart that it had ceased to be true a while ago because recently, she had started dreaming about John instead and a part of her was afraid that as soon as Ciaran O'Neill was out of the way, John would leave her forever. Somehow, it felt as if she could only have one or the other but never both.

"What are you going to do with the rifle?" she asked, surprised when her voice was barely a whisper.

John still heard her. "I'm going to do what needs to be done," he hissed. "You don't think a man like O'Neill will come quietly, do you?"

His answer was anything but reassuring and once Clara read between the lines, she realised that John would kill him if he needed to. The thought of it made her sick and right now, she would choose John over her own revenge if she still had a choice. She didn't. That ship had sailed now. "How are you even going to find him?" she asked desperately as he kept on driving down a small path between the fields. "I'm sure he's long gone."

"We're on an island. He can't just leave." John kept his eyes firmly on the path ahead and Clara could hear the stray branches and stones whipping against the car as they kept going. "He's not staying at a hotel or B&B, we've combed through every single one. He walked to my house, so we know he can't be far. And this road leads to the old Campbell estate. Either he's camping out there or he's got a tent hidden away somewhere."

"Bit cold for that," Clara said with a shrug, a vain attempt at humour that John obviously didn't appreciate at this moment. She knew the old Campbell estate, a ramshackle mansion a little too close to the cliffs, which was why no one had bought it after the death of the last owner. Since Mr Campbell's passing, no one had taken care of the house and it had started to fall into ruin under the constant battering of the storm and the water.

While she still wished that she could take back her last remark, Clara suddenly felt her body fly towards the dashboard as John hit the brakes. She managed to hold on to the rifle at the last moment before it flew through the windscreen, only to have it yanked from her hands mere seconds later.

"What's going on?" she wanted to know, but she answered her own question by looking ahead. In front of them, barely visible in the headlights, was the distant figure of Ciaran O'Neill as he headed down the path and Clara couldn't help but think that she was looking at a ghost. He was as good as dead already in her eyes.

The slamming of the car door tore her out of her thoughts and Clara watched John through the windscreen as he followed after O'Neill. She gasped when he raised his rifle and Clara had already braced herself for the worst when he fired a warning shot into the air. The sound of it took her by surprise and she felt her heart skip a beat. She followed John outside with every intention of stopping this madness before anyone got hurt.

"Ciaran O'Neill, you are under arrest!" John shouted through the night and to her surprise, O'Neill came to a halt. As if in slow motion, he turned around and despite the distance, Clara could see his smile. He was still smug even though he had been caught. "Raise your hands in the air! If you attempt to reach for your gun, I will shoot! Is that clear?"

The man hesitated and the smile didn't fade from his lips. Clara already feared that he wasn't going to comply when he slowly started to lift his hands. He was still carrying the box in one of them. Almost at once, Clara felt lighter. O'Neill was listening to John. He had realised that it was over and he was going to let John arrest him. But that smile. It was the cold, devilish smile that gave her pause, that let her think O'Neill still had an ace up his sleeve.

"John, please be careful," she pleaded, but it was just like the night Bonnie had died. The wind carried her words away and Clara wasn't sure whether they reached John at all.

She decided to keep her distance while John carefully approached the man who seemed to surrender duly. O'Neill didn't move even when John stepped closer and he kept his arms in the air, but the smile on his face gave Clara goosebumps. She just couldn't will herself to believe that this was supposed to be it; that after months of hoping and fearing, the solution was that easy. It just couldn't be, but O'Neill made no move to escape or defend himself as John reached into his pocket and drew out a pair of handcuffs. Clara pricked her ears and stepped a little closer so she could hear them.

"I'm going to put to these cuffs on you," John explained to the other man, his voice cold as stone. Clara could hear the hatred in it and she wasn't sure whether it was directed at O'Neill or her.

Suddenly, Ciaran O'Neill started to chuckle. "Why am I under arrest? I was only taking a walk."

"You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. You are under arrest for the murder of Danny Pink," John spat at him. "For your involvement with the IRA. For the assault on Clara Oswald. For the armed burglary earlier. The list is long, so you can take your pick."

While John placed the cuffs on O'Neill's wrist, Clara held her breath because he still hadn't stopped smiling. He should have stopped as soon as she and John had caught up with him because there was no way this could possibly go well for him – unless he had a plan and that was what really scared Clara.

"If you say so, DI Smith," O'Neill replied, still chuckling as if the prospect of being arrested somehow amused him.

Then everything happened too fast to take and Clara could do nothing to stop it except to scream. Ciaran O'Neill spun around just before John was able to put the cuff on his other wrist and he lunged and landed a punch straight in John's face.

"John!" Clara cried out in horror and darted forward as he hit the ground and crawled into the dark grass that wasn't illuminated by the headlights.

A second later, O'Neill dived into the grass after him and she heard a groan that had to come from John, but by the time she had caught up with them, John was pressing O'Neill to the ground. Clara was desperately looking for a way to intervene, for a way to stop this fight and help John out, but the rifle had fallen into the grass and was nowhere to be seen.

"Stop it!" she yelled in despair, but the men continued fighting and when O'Neill gained the upper hand by flipping them over, Clara wanted to scream. It was all she could do because her feet were frozen to the ground and all she kept thinking was that her revenge no longer mattered. All she wanted was for John to be safe.

Eventually, John struggled back into an upright position and when O'Neill did the same, Clara realised that they were both too close to the edge of the cliff. A few feet behind them was the precipice and below that, the sheer drop and the sea. They weren't far from where Bonnie had fallen.

O'Neill didn't hesitate to land another punch that made John topple backwards and land dangerously close to the edge. Clara gasped, pointing at the cliffs, but either John didn't see or hear her as he fought back. He, too, had come to realise that it was now a matter of life and death. A kick that landed in O'Neill's stomach didn't stop the man. If anything, it made him angrier.

"John! The cliffs!" Clara yelled one last time and in her mind's eye, she saw Bonnie fall and vanish from sight. She had a horrible feeling that history was about to repeat itself, and as O'Neill lunged at John, Clara screamed at the top of her lungs as he fell and disappeared from view forever.