Hi Tucker Fans. I'm sorry for not updating quickly. I actually have a few chapters already written. I'm posting a Christmas one-shot of Tucker x Clara titled A Christmas to Remember (I know it's late, but better than never, right?) so check that out when it's up. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.
We're bumping along a dirt road in Bluebell and I'm trying control myself. Clara and I have a Bible's worth of space between us, but it feels like the air between us is crackling with electricity. Not now, Tucker. You want to go fishing, don't you? I can't take it. Sometimes I feel like it's hard to breathe without her there. I put my hand on her knee and I feel her quiver.
"Ruffian," she says and grabs my hand to trap in hers. What a strange word. I haven't heard it since British Literature class last year. I guess it has it's perks after all.
"Sometimes you say the weirdest things, I swear," I say as my thumb strokes over the top of her knuckles.
"It's from having a mom who's over a hundred years old," she reminds me. I still can't wrap my mind around it. Clara's mom doesn't look over a hundred, actually she looks no older than 40. "And the language thing. I understand every word I hear. Gives me an awesome vocabulary."
"Awesome," I tease.
"Exemplary, as a matter of fact," she says. "Hey, have you talk to your sister lately?" The question slightly throws me off.
"Yeah, a couple nights ago," I respond.
"Did you tell her about us?" she asks. Maybe... I hope she's not upset about it.
I frown and glance over at her. "Am I not supposed to?" I see her smile and relax a little at that.
"You can tell her," she says. "But I think she already knows. I talked to her yesterday and she was acting all funny." Way to be subtle, Wends.
"So you didn't tell her?" I ask. I guess it would be weird for her to tell Wendy but I want to know if she's alright with us two being together.
"No," she says. "I thought it might be weird like, guess what, I'm dating your brother. I thought I'd be better coming from you." She's self-conscious of it but maybe it's that way because Wendy is her best friend. I shiver at the thought of me being in Clara's place.
"I told her," I admit. When I look at Clara, she doesn't seem surprised. "I can't keep secrets from Wendy. I've tried. Doesn't work." It's a twin thing.
"But-" she hesitates. "You didn't tell her about - y'know." She gives me a look full of worry. Of course I wouldn't tell Wendy about Clara's secret. That's something only Clara should tell when she's up for it. I try to liven things up by giving her a fake clueless look.
"What?" I ask. "Is there something about you I should know?"
"Just call me angel of the morning," she sings. I laugh and then I squeeze her hand.
"Of course I didn't tell her," I say. "I wouldn't know how to tell her something like that." Then I add quietly, "But it will be hard, when she gets back." And it will. Wendy always had a knack of figuring out what I was hiding whether is was stealing a cookie or when she discovered how much I liked Clara. Don't get me wrong, it was the same for her too, but this is a huge thing to hide.
Clara looks out the window at that and our conversation ends. Bluebell whizzes past lodge pole pines on both of the road and aspens here and there. It's an especially hot day and the air smells dry and dusty. Suddenly I feel Clara tighten her hand around my hand. God, she has a really strong grip.
"Stop the truck," she gasps. I'm not sure if I heard her correctly.
"What?"
"Just stop!" she says, nearly yelling. I hit the brakes but before the truck stops moving, she's scrambled out.
"Clara!" I shout. I can barely see her through the cloud of dust surrounding Bluebell.
When I get out the car, I see Clara walk in a daze toward the side of the road. What is she doing?
"Clara, wait!" I shout but she doesn't stop or slow down. I see her stumble up ahead but she just trudges on deeper into the forest. I decide to follow her as quietly as possible, but I'm not sure why I should be quiet.
She finally stops. We're in a little clearing that I had never come across before but Clara looks around in her glazed eyes with recognition. It's as if she doesn't see me. I shake a little. What is happening here? Clara closes her eyes and just stands there for a while.
Then she starts falling. Instincts kick and I rush over to her. Oh, God. Oh, God. Clara! I catch in my arms before she falls to the ground.
"Clara?" I ask, my voice so close to a whispers. She does respond. "Clara!" I give her a little shake. I check to see if she's breathing and sigh in relief. I try to keep my panic at bay. Now is not the time to panic, Tucker! I scoop her in my arms, taking no time to register how light she is, and walk as fast I can to Bluebell. My legs seem to carry me through the forest. Wake up, Clara. Please wake up, I pray. I feel her move slightly and then I hear her cough. I immediately stop where I am and bring her closer to me.
"Oh thank God," I say. "You're okay." She's still coughing as if she inhaled smoke from a fire.
"I'm fine," she tells me. She looks into my worried eyes and tries to smile but ends up coughing some more.
"Hold on," I say. "We're almost there." I start walking again and in a couple of minutes we're back at the truck. With one hand, I open the back and grab the big familiar blanket and spread it and lay Clara down gently on the bed of my truck before I climb in beside her.
"Thanks," she rasps, her coughs finally stopping. "You're my hero." She stares at the clouds above us and I notice a tiny shiver pass through her.
"You can tell me," I say in a gentle voice.
"I know." She looks at me and I try to tell her that I love her and she can trust me through eyes. She swallows.
"Are you alright?" I ask. "Do you need a doctor?"
"No, I just passed out," she says. I wait for her to continue. She takes a deep breath.
"I had a vision," she tells me and the story tumbles out. I listen to her intently. I can feel the burden being lifted off her shoulders and in a way, something in me eases too. This explains a lot of things.
"What are we?" she asks when she finishes. We've somehow ended up sitting. I lean back against the cab and think about that. I make sure to seem indifferent. So this was why she was so obsessed with Prescott. He's somehow part of her purpose.
"What are you thinking? she asks after a long silence. I look at her to see worry etched in her expression.
"I think it's amazing," I tell her honestly. It truly is. Humans have longed to know what their purpose is in life if they have any at all and Clara knows she does. The Almighty gives her visions about it! I see her confusion and start to explain.
"It's like a sacred duty you have to do," I tell her.
"Right," she says and looks relieved.
"So, where are we?" she asks again.
"We're good, I think. Don't you?"
"No, I mean where are we? Literally?" she clarifies.
"Oh," I say. "We're out on Fox Creek Road." She looks around her thinking about something. She whispers something that I could just barely hear. Why.