A/N: Finals have been dealt with, performances have been performed, and alas, I am back from my million-year hiatus. As so it seems. Thank you for everyone being so patient with this story, it means the world to me! This is the final part of part one, part two, Though my Veins, will be coming out soon! HORAH!
Part One: An Empire's Criminal
"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up." - Neil Gaiman (The Sandman, Volume No. 9: The Kindly Ones)
Chapter Ten: Snapped
Love felt like this.
It felt like jumping into an ocean, cool and refreshing, yet your head's still stuck under the water, making everything blurry. And you can rise to the surface, you can wake up to an entire reality before you. Either that or you can drown, forever under the surface and forever oblivious as to what you're falling into. That's what Clara thought she felt like, as if she were drowning, yet fighting tirelessly for something to keep her afloat. Was love supposed to do that, keep her alive? Keep her breathing? Is this what it feels like? she would ask to herself repeatedly, and yet no one could answer but herself.
Love felt like this.
It felt like a thousand bones crashing into each other at once, like tidal waves unsure of their way to go, left or right, to and fro. Skin against each other like the surface of the water itself, the only thing between one another and their own hearts. And then there were his lips. Passionate and demanding, as if what he had simply wasn't enough. And Clara was willing enough to give him that. That enough. They trailed paths down her neck and her hips and everything in between. Minutes felt like centuries in her eyes, and she wished that she could spend forever right where she was.
Love felt like this.
It felt like John's fingers, twirling a strand of her hair as his chest heaved up and down rhythmic to he beat of his heart. Clara could hear it, her ear pressed against him, her lips parted in a small smile that was truer that anything anyone had ever seen her express. I love you. So damn much. That's what she wanted to say, but it felt resented, because, how was she to know what love felt like? Was that what life was supposed to be? A journey in finding what she could eventually describe as love? It felt fitting, yet entirely improbable.
"What time is it?" she asked, breaking the silence by a mere murmur. John moaned as if to further display how tired he was. "I dunno. Two, three perhaps?" he replied. Clara echoed him in his sounds of discomfort as she shifted from their position, craning her next so she could face the clock above the head of the bed. "Two thirty-six." Clara sighed. "I better get going."
John moaned even more, this time in complaint. "Two more minutes, please?"
"Oh, come on now." Clara scoffed, lifting herself off of the bed, blindly trying to find her shirt in the darkness of the chilly room. "I've been here for literally hours; you've had enough of me."
"Ah, that's where you're mistaken, Miss Oswald." John replied sleepily yet matter-of-factly. "I could never get enough of you." And even though he could only see her silhouette, he seemed to know that she was smiling. John smiled back just for the fun of it, and leaning back on his bed, he asked, "So was all that another one of your simulations, or what?"
Clara laughed, loud enough for the room next door to hear. She grinned coyly. "Shut up," she responded, slipping into her jeans. "You know what it was." A warm silence rested upon them like fog on a calm morning. John watched Clara dress, and in doing so, his mind was suddenly filled with thousands of words to describe her, right then and there. His tongue could go on for hours, and it would seem abrupt to just go on and display the list before her, so he kept it to himself.
Meanwhile, Clara was wondering how she would get past the security cameras. It was possible, but certainly never easy, and she herself never had experience because, she'd never have a reason to sneak around these days. Well, now she did. Never before had she imagined it to go this far with John, and she was afraid to shine some light on the possibility of anyone finding out.
Once she had all of her belongings, which wasn't much to begin with, Clara went to bid farewell to her illegal partner. "Just get some rest, okay?" she said, pushing back his head of hair with her fingers. John only hummed in reply, grabbing her hand and pulling her into his lap, finding her lips in a matter of seconds. Clara smiled against his soothing kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It was as if, if anything, they could disregard all of their past burdens, only focusing on the things that brought out the best in them, and that's what they both needed the most. A break. A jump in the ocean.
Pulling away, Clara leaned her forehead on his, staring into the green of his eyes as if she were a child staring through a telescope into the stars. She quickly stole a glance from the clock to her left. "Two forty-one." she said sternly, as if he were the one to blame. John gave her his best grin. "You better run."
Helping herself up, Clara started towards the door, punching in the pass code that John could've easily determined by now, but chose to keep it a mystery. He didn't have to know everything. "You're beautiful, Clara Oswald." he murmured as she stepped out of the room, carefully closing it behind her. She probably couldn't hear him anyway.
Word number one. He thought to himself. Beautiful.
Clara didn't sleep. The past few hours were left to her and her own devices, because after three o'clock this morning, she was wide awake. She was kind enough to offer an apology to her future self, who now instantly regretted not trying at the least to get some shut eye before the entire office came to life.
She could now feel the weights closing her eyes shut, her mentality refusing to let that happen, as she still had some character to uphold. "You seem to be drifting off," said Vastra amusingly, Clara snapping back into her senses as she picked her head up from the table. "Coffee?" she offered, already reaching for the pot. It was an unnecessary question. Clara nodded, wiping drool off of her chin as Vastra quickly worked at the counter. "I suppose you've had an eventful night," she started, looking over her shoulder at the drowsy girl.
Clara refused to smile, although her words were entirely accurate. "You could say that." she replied, stretching back in her little blue plastic chair, its legs creaking as she pushed back. As her coworker sat down beside her with two steaming cups of coffee, she eyed her uneasily before letting out a light chuckle. "Dear, hate to break it to you, but your shirt's inside out." Vastra noted, hooking her long bony finger into the collar of her shirt and tugging gently. A deep blush coated Clara's cheeks as she uneasily tore apart from her gaze, now fiddling with the sewn hem of her maroon blouse. "So, what's his name?" Vastra asked, suddenly intrigued and completely ignorant of the fact that the girl before her was in dire need of a nap.
Clara's eyebrows furrowed as she took a long swig of her coffee, its warmth filling her up instantly. "I know no man relevant to the conversation." she responded flatly, still not meeting her gaze. Vastra only scoffed in return. "Oswin, I know when a girl's slept with a man. And you're sending out signals here and there." she said, snapping to and fro for added emphasis. Clara was getting rather annoyed with the woman, much more than usual.
"You don't know him." she said in reply. Nobody does.
"I couldn't know a man to save my life. My wife says I should change that; help a girl out." Vastra nodded. Clara felt extremely uncomfortable. Not only was this woman asking her about her private life, as if she had won the title of being her best friend in a matter of petty conversation, but her private life revolved around someone everyone especially her would typically despise.
Clara innocently shrugged her shoulders. "I don't really know him either to be honest; it was a one time thing." she lied. Vastra's expression merely faltered, yet that slight coy grin on her face remained as she placed a hand on Clara's shoulder. "Take it easy, Oswald. You don't know what could hit you." she said, and with that, she stood, taking her coffee with her out the door, her arrogance trailing behind like her retched stench of perfume. Clara wrinkled her nose, lifting her own mug to her lips just to take in its calming, creamy scent. Her words were enough to send a shiver down her spine, as if John had taken her every source of coverage between her and the rest of human kind, which was plentiful to begin with. And despite the fact that it felt so relieving to have that kind of weight off of her shoulders, it made her feel bare, vulnerable, open to whomever wished to look. Another shiver.
Clara cursed underneath her breath, as if shutting down this train of thought running on her gnawed out brain, and pushing herself out of the pathetic plastic chair, Clara dumped out the rest of her coffee in the sink, for it sickened her to know that the woman who gave it to her had that kind of curiosity in her. Perhaps it was the absence of real friends in her life that made her feel this way, but for now, Clara was willing to built a second wall to put right in between her and the rest of civilization; so despite the criminal to which Clara now felt obliged to keep on her side, everyone else could stay across her borders.
Call it arrogance or solidarity, call it what you will; Clara couldn't care less.
Darkness was nice sometimes.
She missed her office shift, the period of forty-five minutes which was designated to reviewing clienteles' security footage, also known as the dullest part of every psychologist's day. Clara didn't seem to mind her absence, for she knew what that security footage contained, she was there for most of it. She was unsure of whether she would find it desirable or cringe-worthy.
Lifting her head off of the wall, Clara breathed in her surroundings. Janitor's closet. She let out a puff of air in amusement, her tired self was sure spectacular at choosing sleeping facilities. Then again, she didn't take the entire thought sarcastically, closets were the only place with the assurance of solidarity. The custodians only come around their supplies every month or so to collect the occasional layer of dust. Groaning as she stretched herself out, Clara didn't know what to feel, either well rested or in need of a shower. Her skin felt sticky, as if she immediately wanted to shed it off if she could. Shuddering at herself, she stood up from her little yellow pale in which she slept upon, and reaching for the doorknob, she exited herself from the dim closet.
The hallway was mainly empty, but not entirely, for the sounds of chatter and distant footsteps filled the spaces between the walls. Clara blinked a few times to adjust to the brightness, and once she was, her tired feet dragged behind one another in an unsteady pace that Clara didn't know she could maintain. She felt like a wreck, yet home felt miles away.
Once she had reached the more populated areas of headquarters, Clara started to notice things. It wasn't just staring, it was more like scowling. Narrowed eyes locked on her, shaking of the heads, light scoffs as if to emphasize on the pathetic sight; everything hit her like stones. Clara looked down for more reassurance, and sure enough, she had remembered to fix her blouse. Gazing back up, her brow knit together as she contemplated on the nasty looks of others directed her way. What do they know? she asked herself, desperately searching for an answer. Had it finally hit them that Clara cared nothing for them? If so, why did it matter? She wasn't anything special, she hadn't been the slightest bit significant, so why were they looking at her as if she suddenly was?
She needed to get to John. He was most likely the only pair of eyes that didn't want to bore a glare into her skull. Quickening her pace, Clara tried not to respond to the numbers of people sending hate her way, yet she couldn't help but count. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen...
She reached twenty-two by the time she had reached criminal dormitories, and by that time, the chaos had already hit her. The boulder in the pile of things that had already struck her.
Uniformed men, guards, towering over a slim figure, trying to pull the man up to his feet as he relentlessly tried to fight against them, which only led to his beating. A few of her coworkers, faces she could easily recognize but never place a name on, yelling out commands and insults towards him. Stones. Clara instinctively felt the fire inside her burst. These people were exact reflections of criminals, yet by doing their crimes underground and with authority, they somehow got away with it. She was outraged.
"Hey!" she yelled out, making her way closer to them. "What the hell are you doing-?" she stopped instantly once she saw his face, once she saw the reaction of pain and torment upon his face. "John..." she trailed off gently, looking at him, then at the guards. What are you doing here? She wanted to ask. It was as if the tension had caused time to freeze, the gazes of confusion, regret, and apology shared had enough angst to make the seconds stop.
And then, like the sound of the gun, a stop watch started, faster then ever before.
Seizing him by the arms, the guards dragged him up to his feet, shoving Clara aside as they made their way past. John bellowed, but it sounded nothing like him. Perhaps it was Clara's ears, ringing and stung with shock so much that her question came out as a mere mutter. "W-Why...what's happening here...?"
One of the coworkers glowered at her in disgust, which didn't entirely fulfill her question. "Kate wanted him in surgery this instant." she finally said. "Said that he was ready." she said with a mere unapologetic shrug. Clara gaped. "B-But that's impossible-!" she cried, pointing at his limp figure now becoming smaller and smaller down the hallway. She wanted to chase after him, but she also wanted answers. Her feet remained chained to the floor. "That man has a week left of simulations, he's not finished yet-!"
"I know." the woman snapped. Clara was taken aback by these words. "How do you...?" she started.
"Everyone knows." she continued. "Apparently Kate didn't take that into matter when she ordered him into surgery, she was angry about it too." she said blankly, shrugging yet again, looking at Clara with a menacing look, her icy blue eyes complementing the expression as she said, "Guess that's what you get when you sleep with your psychologist."
Clara didn't know what made her do it, because pinning a coworker to the wall wasn't exactly in her nature. "Where the hell did you hear that from?!" she demanded, tightening her grip on both her wrists. The woman stuttered, eyes wide and afraid, as she was willing to give her answers. "F-From Kate's assistant! The...security footage was seen..." she spat out, breathing uneasily as her eyes pleaded for mercy at Clara's spontaneous wrath. She instantly regretted ever sleeping in that damned janitor's closet.
Tears started to form in the corners of her eyes, yet Clara still tried biting them away. Releasing her from the wall, Clara took a few steps back to let her know that she was no longer angry, but scarred, afraid of what these next few minutes could mean to her if she didn't run. So she did. She sprinted down the hallway, not knowing what she was going to do if she caught up to John. Or what she would say. Her heart seemed to beat out of her chest, for she couldn't envision life down here in UNIT without him. He was on my side. She thought to herself, a statement that only made her legs push themselves further than she had ever expected them to.
That's when they started coming into view. His silhouette of a body, now in rage, fighting powerlessly against these men who were intent in getting him on that operating table. It made Clara realize how much he needed her right now, to comfort him, calm him down. Without her, he was in a world that kept turning. "Wait-!" she breathed out. "Please-!"
John looked over his shoulder, and for once she couldn't recognize the face. He'd always been so sure of himself, so sure of everything, as if he had the whole world figured out, but this, this wasn't the man she knew. He looked lost, out of place, as if everything he had known had turned cold. "Let him go!" Clara screamed, running towards him, trying to free him from security's grip. They merely flinched as she tried to fight, but she knew she was picking a fight for something entirely out of her reach. Five foot one and crying, she never stood a chance.
That's when she turned to her next best weapon. Words. "Is this how you prepare a man for this kind of procedure?" she cried out at them, trying not to sound as desperate as she shoved her way past them so she could lecture them face-to-face. "Pushing him around as if he were nothing, whilst he himself knows that...that this could potentially end his life if not for the doctor's hands?" she was furiously wiping away tears, for she couldn't stand to look at the man before her. "He's about to forget everything, please..." she shook her head. "Just let him go. You already have him at your feet. You don't need to continue to hurt him, to scare him, because...because..." she could barely choke out her words. "Because behind those doors," she pointed at the end of the hallway, to where the OR stood, a room which held in the many forgotten memories of criminals. "...is something that is much more terrifying than anything you could ever do to him." She licked her lips, pushing the hair out of her face. "Two minutes." she said. "Is all I want."
The two guards were in awe of her prowess, looking at each other; an entire conversation played out among silence. Their uniforms meant nothing to Clara, she didn't care about damned authorities, yet she was sure as hell higher than the both of them when it came to decisions. She didn't know why she needed their permission in the first place. After a long pause and much unnecessary contemplation among the two men, they released the criminal at their feet, who immediately got up and ran into the arms of a woman who he wouldn't know anything of the next day. "Clara..." he cried as he practically suffocated her in his grip. "D-Don't let me go in there. Please. Don't make me."
Two minutes. One hundred eighty seconds. She tried to clear her mind, shove everything away just to focus on him, what she would say. But somehow she couldn't think of anything, as if the sight of him erased everything she had, held, and knew. He was shaking. "J-John, you have to listen to me, okay?" Clara demanded him, trying to hold him best she could.
"I know you're afraid, and...and I'm sorry...but, I-I can't do anything." She was crying, too, hot tears seething into her skin. "You need to stand up from this, because John, John," she said, lifting his chin with her hand, his hair in his face. She pushed it back gently. "You're incredible. And I know you'll be doing all these incredible things one day, you just...you just need to know that...the world isn't against you." Every second stung as they passed by. "It's going to help you up and push you forwards and I know it doesn't seem like that now. F-For this, I mean." she said, placing her hand in his. "But that's entirely okay," she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, as if the words sliced her throat as she spoke. "You're going to be okay."
"Time's up." one of them spoke, harshly, but Clara ignored it. Two minuets couldn't possibly go by that fast. Her eyes were locked on John's, who's seemed a shade of green darker than before. Dimmer. As if his light was finally starting to burn out. Shoving her criminal away from her arms, Clara winced as the guards grabbed him and pulled him along into the OR. "John..." she started, but before she could get the words out, he was already gone, through the doors, into a future that didn't include her.
And for once how she wanted to be a part of it.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Kate snapped, hands shaking in frustration at the girl sitting silently in the chair before her. "Sleeping with your client and refusing to show up to your duties, this Oswin is a behavior I will not tolerate!" she seethed, teeth bare and everything. Clara didn't feel like listening, as if everything Kate said flew past her. Her boss sat down in her leather chair, sighing as she rested a hand atop of her forehead. "I saw potential in you," she noted harshly. Clara raised her shoulders precariously. "What happened to that?" she asked.
Clara looked at her with eyes that couldn't define her, as if an animal inside was feasting, bleeding its way though. "I saw a man with a potential to love," she answered, placing a drop of anger on each syllable. Kate sighed. "He was a criminal, Oswin-"
"He did nothing to hurt me!" she cried, hands shaking as they tried to get a grip on the arm rests. She took a few unsteady breaths. "Criminal or not, he was changing. Into someone no procedure could ever make." she spat before standing up in a fit. "Sending a man into surgery one week prior to actual date, what kind of professional-!"
"It was a decision that had to be made." Kate interjected. "I don't think you realize how much you're taken into account for here at UNIT," she explained, Clara staring at her blankly, hints of confusion and rage twitching at her face. "Criminals? We don't care for them as much as we do our employees. We do whatever we can to assure them their safety-"
"I was perfectly safe with him." Clara snapped, arms crossed. Kate continued. "Their safety, their stature, and the maturity of their decisions." Clara wanted to believe that she made the entire thing up. "So when I get a call from my assistant in regards of the technicians finding unopened security footage in their system, what do you think they'll do?" she asked. Clara didn't respond."They'll pull it from the system, review it regardless of its origin, and they're going to report it to me." Kate cleared her throat. "In regards to this particular situation, I've made the decision to discard of the problem."
"The 'problem' being John?" Clara shook her head, closing her eyes so that Kate wouldn't have to see her cry. "I can take this one Kate, it was me. It was my fault, the entire thing." She was willing to take the blame if it meant that John wouldn't have to go through that procedure.
"I can understand." Kate replied. "It might be your fault Oswin, but that doesn't make you the problem."
"Yes it does." Clara pushed, emphasizing on her every word. "His simulation charts aren't complete, this could fail the entire operation." she remarked. Kate nodded. "I am aware of that, I've talked with the doctors, they said they'd do the best they can."
Clara scoffed. "The best they can? What if that's nothing short of failure?"
"Regardless, it's one less harmful source in Gallifrey, and that's all that matters." Kate said sternly, closing up the conversation. That sentence alone made Clara realize that UNIT didn't care about the better of criminals. They couldn't care less about what happened to them. The entire Regeneration branch was for the sake of the public's eye. Kill them, or get recognition for trying to piece together an entirely new human being. No care, no sympathy, no yearning to understand their situation, just plain recognition. Clara felt the air drain from her lungs, her breath shortened.
Kate, now typing furiously at her computer, motioned for Clara to sit. She did. "I've decided to put you on indefinite leave. Not only does this act as a punishment, but it'll give you some time to straighten up, take a breather. And during this time, I suggest you attend therapy. I've already recommended you to a psychiatrist; It'll help with whatever you've been feeling these past few days."
Clara blinked a few times, the words not exactly reaching her mind for comprehension, but she knew that her words meant nothing to her anymore. "I can't do that." she said, shaking her head simply. Kate furrowed her brow. "And why's that?" she asked. Clara tilted her head to the right, as if she didn't quite know herself. "Because I quit."
She didn't know what made her say it, but afterwards, it was as if she'd been set free. Kate looked at her in surprise. "Excuse me?" Kate retorted with a laugh. Clara didn't find it all that amusing. "I quit." she repeated, reassurance in her tone. "I quit!" she exclaimed.
"Oswin, before you decide these kinds of things, let me explain-"
"I think I've had enough explaining, and my decision is final." Clara shook her head, standing from the chair that felt like a magnet to UNIT. "I-I'm tired of building up these relationships with my clients only to have them broken down into nothing," she snapped. "I'm tired of giving all my love away to people who aren't going to need it!" she gasped, as if everything she'd ever hated about this place rushed into her head at once. The walls of the office seemed to close in on her. She pushed them back into place.
"It's like..." she trailed off, irate tears in her eyes. She let them fall. "...as if this entire time I've been drained from the outside world, working in here, thinking 'I'm changing someone's life here', when in reality, I'm just pushing all these buttons, running these stupid simulations!" she cried. "T-That's why I chose this job in the first place, to hopefully make an impact, but...but it all amounts to nothing because...because all they do is forget. About me, about this entire damn place!" she exhaled, the remains of her sanity going along with it. "It's...it's not the kind of work I wish to be doing." she whispered, looking down at her shoes. "And I don't think I can take that kind of loss anymore."
Kate sat back in her chair, taken aback by the girl's perspective. "I see." she said after a long and lingering silence. "Well, I see to it that you'll be escorted out, respectively. I'll have people sent to your desk to gather your belongings-"
"That's alright. I don't need anything from in there." she replied with a tight shake of her head. She had everything she needed already. Phone. Keys. Wallet. A sliver of pride. Clara didn't want anything to cling onto her as a reminder of what this place already was. She had the memories to fill in that gap.
Kate nodded grimly. "I understand." Clara nodded, turning on her heel to exit herself out. "But, wait. Before you go." Kate interrupted, Clara looking over her shoulder to see that she was now searching though her file cabinet. She pulled out a manila folder, it wasn't full, but it had something worth her curiosity. Clara approached it, offered by Kate's outstretched arm. "What's this?" she asked dubiously.
"John's file." Kate responded. "He has no remaining family for it to go to; I suppose you're the next resort." she explained in slight discomfort. Clara didn't know how to take in her words. She took the file hastily, refusing to open it, for she didn't know what could hit her. Perhaps she'd never open it.
Nodding, Clara tucked it underneath her arm, opening the door of Kate's office and leaving though the same doors she'd always walk through. This time would be her last. She'd been pulled out of the ocean and wrung out to dry, a reality awakening before her. Her whole life was spent underground; above was a world that didn't even know her yet.
Love felt like this.
It felt like someone pulling at your heartstrings, demanding for something to be felt, and deeply. Whether it be pain, regret, or desire, it seethed though and took up your every emotion.
Love felt like this.
It felt like a rubber band, stretched out the distance of separation, either to snap into two, or come together entirely in a mess of everything that felt good.
Love felt like this.
It felt like a hand print on Clara's heart, a sheer reminder of what it felt like to look at someone and see more than just a face, but an entire life. Clara wanted to be a part of it, and she would've, if not for the differences that acted as borderlines between what could've happened and what will. Differences.
Perhaps that was the true criminal in all this.