Heey guys it's me again :D WOW first off, I wanna say a HUGE thank you to everyone who reviewed, I really didn't expect that much positive response :D Ily all and you have inspired me to keep writing this fanfic :) It's so fun to write, and the ideas are just flying around in my head and I have to get them out!
So THANK YOU SO MUCH for the reveiws, they mean so much to me :)
Like seriously, I literally squealed when I read some of the amazing comments and my family looked at me weird. Anyway, enjoy this chapter! :D
Clara returned to consciousness with a start, jolting upright into a sitting position as her eyes flashed open wide, suddenly devoid of all previous traces of tiredness. Her hair fell around her face haphazardly as she struggled to take deep, calming breaths, the vivid image of the man from the day prior drifting slowly from her mind like smoke in the safe, comforting light of day.
"Just a dream," She murmured to herself as she kneaded the heels of her palms into her suddenly fatigued eyes, the tremble in her voice preventing her words from having the reassuring effect that she desired. She didn't know why she was reacting like this, it hadn't even been a nightmare. The man had just stood there as before, not doing anything remotely threatening. But something about him put her on edge. Perhaps it was that eerie sense that he knew more about her than she knew about him.
She groaned at her internal battle that she was so obviously losing and dragged herself out of bed. She was not a morning person by any means, never had been, and she was adamant that she never would be. Even on the Tardis where it could be argued that there was no such thing as mornings she had a tendency to be particularly grouchy when she woke up, much to the irritation of the Time Lord who never seemed to need any sleep. It was a wonder how he managed to maintain his upbeat, convivial disposition without his full eight hours. She glanced at the clock out of habit as she passed it and did a double take.
"Damn," The word inadvertently fell from her lips as she hastily rushed to prepare her things for work and took the quickest shower imaginable. She was running late- Scratch that, she was literally running. This was the last thing she needed. She slipped on her bracelet with the delicate Gallifreyan symbols engraved into the cool, hard metal. The Doctor had given it to her shortly before she left, and she had vowed to wear it everywhere while he was away. In a way, she was beginning to regret telling him to leave her here for a few months. Things were far from normal, but in a way, she liked that. She had never really been one for the ordinary.
She avoided the park on her way to the school, pushing past hordes of people in the bustling London streets. This way might have involved more pushing and shoving to get her way, but least she wouldn't meet that man again.
A polite cough indicated to her that she was drastically wrong.
Seated languidly on a peeling wooden bench to her left, just off the pathway she was currently striding down as briskly as she could manage in her heeled boots (A little bit of extra height never hurt anyone), was the curious man from yesterday. He sat slightly hunched over, his elbows resting on his parted knees as he gazed at her intently, almost analysing her. His hands were steepled under his chin as if deep in thought, and Clara felt it almost impertinent to break him from his reverie, though she could help redirecting her path to approach him cautiously. She paused hesitantly, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. Her instinct was telling her to run far, far away, and her instinct was something that she heartily relied on in most situations, but something about the man's deep, brown eyes boring into hers kept her rooted to the spot. She could tell those eyes were full of secrets, full of stories.
She saw something in those intensely intimidating brown orbs, something which she suspected to be just a little hint of madness, perhaps mingled with just a dash of chaos. The tantalizing combination was enough to draw her in.
"Run, run, run as fast as you can," The guile stranger drawled in a sing song voice, tilting his head to the side alertly as if reading her very thoughts. He flexed his nimble fingers absentmindedly. "You can't catch me I'm the gingerbread man."
Clara blinked, wondering if this man really was insane.
"You left in quite a hurry yesterday, didn't you? Quite flustered, I dare say. Was it something I said?" The man chuckled impishly, patting the seat next to him in invitation.
Clara bit her lip warily. She felt safer now that there were more people around, and wasn't fully opposed to sitting down next to the man. She was curious about him, that was for sure, but she was already running late for work and she had made a promise to herself to put her profession first now that she had her feet planted firmly back on Earth again.
"I'm in a bit of a rush, actually. Places to go, people to see," She quipped back with an easy smile. "Sorry, you'll have to make an appointment."
"How awfully disappointing," The man feigned hurt and raised an eyebrow. He clicked his tongue impatiently, his eyes glinting with a hint of malice. "Go on, don't be tedious. Live a little. I know you're curious."
Clara paused, pursing her lips together in a thin line and waging an inward battle deep inside the confines of her mind. She couldn't deny that she was itching for another adventure, and well, he was offering. Her curious nature caused her to naturally gravitate towards the clever man. It was tempting, but was it the right decision? She glanced in the direction of the school, torn.
"Or are you just boring and ordinary like the rest of them?" The man's voice was harsh and laced with resentful bitterness. Clara's eyes widened at his sudden change of tone and she arched an eyebrow. His scathing comment made the final decision for her.
"Alright," She plopped down onto the bench beside him. "Tell me your name then."
"Not important," The man flippantly waved off her demand with an impatient flap of his hand. His face had brightened considerably, quickly bouncing back from his previous moment of acute anger. "I want to know if you're ready yet."
"Ready for what?" Clara huffed in barely concealed disdain at the dismissal of her question, wholehearted confusion occupying her thoughts once more.
"The story."
The reply was sharp and simple, and shed no light on the mass of whirling questions spinning around Clara's head at a dizzying rate.
"You keep saying that but I have no idea what you're talking about!" Clara snapped abruptly, raising her voice as she stood again.
"Maybe if you listened, you'd understand," The stranger remained seated, looking slightly amused at her outburst. "Honestly, of all the people I've given my precious time to, you're certainly the most stubborn."
He issued her with a sly smirk, the words sounding like a fairy tale themselves due to his lilting Irish accent.
"I suppose you'll have to get used to it," Clara raised a challenging eyebrow before spinning around swiftly and beginning to walk in the opposite direction. "If you're sticking around."
"Oh I will be, Clara Oswald."
The use of her name evoked a sharp gasp from Clara and she whipped around rapidly, only to find that the man was no longer there. She blinked then squinted, hastily searching for him but he had already been swallowed by the crowd of people, submerged in their depths. Clara's heart was hammering painfully hard in her chest. How had he known her name? Who was this man?
"Dammit, stupid mysterious bloke," She muttered, aware that she was now going to be exceptionally late for work.
As predicted, she arrived at the school almost an hour late, inwardly cursing the cunning man for getting her in trouble. It was almost as if that was his intent, to waste her time so she'd be late, just for his own childish amusement. She ignored the disapproving glare from the head of the school, apologising swiftly and beginning her lesson. Despite her prevailing efforts, she simply couldn't concentrate as she attempted to inform the kids of the importance of Jane Austen, a topic which would usually induce great enthusiasm from her. Every time she thought she had managed to omit him from her racing thoughts, the man would somehow meander his way back into her sub-consciousness and settle there.
She was adamant to get to know him, to understand just what exactly it was that he wanted from her. With that in mind, she quickly rose from her desk the moment the bell rang for lunch and left without a word. She knew she didn't have long, forty minutes tops before she would have to go back. She wrapped her jacket more securely around her as the cold wind bit at her face, aching to go back inside where it was warm and she was surrounded by things she was certain of, but also determined to find this man and get answers. Her stubbornness and determination won out of course. She checked the park where they had first met, even peered out onto the street but there was no sign of the man. She was irritable by this time and decided to return to the school. She huffed, disgruntled at the man's lack of cooperation. She came to the solid conclusion that if he wanted her, he could come and find her.
Having been out for most of the lunch break, she didn't particularly want to join the staffroom and eat with the other teachers, so she took to her classroom instead. She fumbled for her keys, knowing that the doors to every classroom were always locked at lunch time. She sighed in annoyance, unable to find her keys anywhere. As a last resort, she tried the handle and found to her surprise that the door was open.
"That's odd," She murmured with a puzzled frown, letting herself in. She looked up and shrieked.
"Now, now, that's not very welcoming is it?"
Clara held a hand to her head and took a deep breath to calm herself down, willing her pulse to stop racing. There was the man again, this time sitting on her desk nonchalantly and smiling widely at her as he took a bite out of a ruby red apple. He was enjoying this.
"You'd want to be a tad quieter," The man chided her lightly, the same smug smirk fixed on his face. "The little kiddies might think something's wrong."
"Well something's not right, that's for sure," Clara closed the door behind her and stood in front of him, folding her arms and heaving a sigh. "Go on, then, spit it out- Not the apple, your reason for being here in my classroom, acting like you own the place. What are you doing here?"
"Sitting on your desk, eating an apple- But you already knew that, silly girl," The man raised his eyebrows in fake ignorance as he took another bite and lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug. "An apple a day keeps the doctor away... You should try it. I think you might have a problem."
Clara stiffened at the implication. He couldn't possibly mean the Doctor, her Doctor, could he? She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off before she could begin as the man spoke again.
"Oh look, keys!" The man gave her a lazy, lopsided grin and tossed her a small metal object. Clara caught the small bundle with a gasp, thankful that her reflexes had not chosen that particular moment to fail her. She inhaled sharply as she studied the jumble of rattling silver, realising that it was in fact, her keys. She shook her head slowly in disbelief.
"How did you-"
"Steal your keys? Trust me, I've done much worse. So," He tossed the remains of the apple into the bin in the corner of the room where it landed with a small clang which rang in Clara's ears. "Are you ready for the story?"
"That depends," Clara allowed a small smile to curve her lips upwards, though still remained cautious. She opted to sit down on a desk opposite him, a safe enough distance away and swung her legs as they buzzed with nervous energy. "Are you ready to tell me who you are?"
"But that's no fun," The man whined in an almost childlike demeanour. His face contorted in disdain. "Come on, Clara, don't be ordinary! Why should I tell you who I am, give me a reason?"
"Playing games now, are we?" Clara found herself unable to contain a grin, realising with a sense of sudden foreboding that she was probably enjoying talking to this man a bit more than she should. She should be running, running and hoping he didn't catch her. But Clara had never been one for rules.
"I'm always playing a game," The man leaned forward with a gentle hiss, resting his chin on his steepled fingertips and staring at Clara intently. "And I always win. But time's ticking, Clara, I'm getting bored now."
Clara sighed, noting that she probably looked as confused as she felt. The man spoke in a frivolous, sing song voice, giving rise to the assumption that he wasn't taking anything seriously, as if this all really was just a game to him.
"I don't like riddles," She mumbled in acute annoyance, propping her chin up on her loosely closed fist.
"Learn to," The man's tone of voice turned almost threatening and it caused an unpleasant chill to run down Clara's spine. She paused, choosing her next words carefully.
"What can I do to make you tell me who you are?" She murmured, gazing into his deep brown eyes, trying to understand what secrets lay there though she knew it was a futile attempt.
"Now you're asking the right questions," The man who she knew nothing about but could no longer call a stranger pushed himself off the desk and began to pace. He circled Clara slowly, hands swinging casually at his sides as he pondered. He stopped in front of her with a smug smirk and Clara's breath caught in her throat. His eyes really were enthralling, she realised with a start as he observed her, his gaze scrutinizing.
"Tell me something about myself."
"You what?" Clara frowned, squirming uncomfortably at the unexpected question. "But I don't know anything about you, do I?"
"Come on, Clara, show me that you're different, show me that you're not like all the others," The man's tone was almost pleading as he looked at her and Clara wondered what the reason for all this really was. What did he want from her? She paused, deep in thought.
"How about you give me some time to think about that little request, eh?" She smiled, hopping off the desk to stand in front of him. "I need to work, and you look like a man who has places to be."
The man strode over to the bookshelf lining the wall behind her desk as she spoke, not looking at her but clearly paying attention. He ran a hand over the thick volumes lightly, his hand coming to a rest and hovering over a large book. He hummed lightly and tapped the binding of the book absentmindedly. He turned back around to face Clara who was watching him with unconcealed fascination. She had never met anyone like him before, and wasn't sure if she should be frightened or intrigued. Maybe a bit of both wouldn't hurt.
"Hmm, not bad," The man pulled a face, head cocked to the side. "Not bad at all. Alright, Miss Oswald, I'll give you," He paused to glance at his watch, a smirk playing around the corner of his mouth. "Two hours, how does that sound? And rules are you have to find me this time."
"I have to find you and give you a piece of information about yourself?" Clara stood, taking a few steps forward and stopping in front of the man. She rocked back and forth on her heels lightly as she thought. "No, that's not fair. If this is a game, we both need to be playing."
"But I already found you," The man replied with a smile, but Clara could tell he was willing to listen to her terms. He liked games, she decided. Well, if that was the case, she'd better play wisely.
"Yeah, but we should make this game more interesting," The man smiled widely at her words, excitement flitting across his features. "You know my name, you know I like stories. Find out something about me you don't know yet..." She paused, thinking intently, racking her brains for something he possibly couldn't guess without knowing her personally. "Right, tell me what my favourite thing in the world is, my most prized possession."
The man raised his eyebrows and gave a slow nod. "Seems fair."
"You have to know by the time I find you, or you don't get that piece of information," Clara grinned teasingly, beginning to enjoy their little game already.
"If you don't tell me the information, you don't get to find out my name," The man grinned back at her wickedly.
"Guess I'll just have to get my thinking cap on then," Clara smirked as the man began to walk towards the door. "Wait!" She called abruptly, stopping him in his tracks.
"How am I supposed to find out where you are with no clues?" She realised she didn't have the faintest idea where he could prance off to.
"I did tell you," The man smirked, absentmindedly tapping the wooden door frame beside him as he spoke. His eyes glittered with mirth at Clara's confused expression. "But did you listen?"
He ended the sentence in a sing song voice and turned to leave the room. Clara shook her head with a grin. That man really was something else.
"See you later, Mystery Man," Clara called after him, and she could've sworn she heard a chuckle from amongst the shrill ringing of the school bell and the bustling students as they responded to the familiar sound.
She flopped down at her desk as her students filed in, trying in vain to understand what the man had meant. Where was she supposed to go looking for him? When had he told her where he'd be? What the bloody hell could she come up with as information about him? She sighed, realising she had to start the class. The two hours passed in a blur, Clara only half paying attention to what she was actually saying, the real mind work going unspoken as she pondered about the man.
She jumped when the bell rang signalling the end of the day, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her as she realised it was time for her meeting with Mister Mysterious. She was nervous, yes, she was slightly frightened, yes, but she couldn't keep the smile off her face at the thought of seeing him again. What's wrong with a little danger? She thought to herself with a grin as she packed up to leave.
The cool wind hit her as soon as she stepped outside, whipping her hair around her face and causing her to catch her breath. She made to walk in the direction of the park then stopped. She needed that information about him, but she still hadn't come up with anything. She clenched her fists and decided to look for him first. Anyway, if she couldn't find him how would she give him that information?
"Where are you hiding?" She whispered with a smile, walking slowly, tentatively in no direction in particular and thinking back to their conversation before. He said that he'd told her... But he definitely hadn't said it in words so it must have been in actions. She thought about the apple, the sitting on her desk, the running his hand along the books... The books!
She gasped and doubled back, running towards the school and hoping to get there before it was closed. Books, it made sense with all this talk about stories. She tried the main door of the building, a wave of relief washing over her as she realised that it was open. The hallway was mostly deserted, the majority of the teachers and students had left for home, something Clara knew she wouldn't be doing for a while. She reached her classroom and went straight to the bookshelf where the man had ran his hand casually over the spines of the dusty books. Clara recalled that his hand had rested lightly on one particular volume. At the time she had thought he was merely tapping it absentmindedly, but now she was almost certain he was leaving her a message.
"I did tell you. But did you listen?"
The tapping lightly on the frame of the door as he spoke those meaningful words, the tapping on the book. That had to mean something, surely?
She located the right book quickly enough, this one was particularly large and difficult to miss. She plucked it from its place sandwiched snugly between the others and rifled through the pages quickly with a frown.
"What have we got here then?" She pondered aloud, glancing at the cover. She knew all of the books here well but this was one she didn't recognise. It was a book of London's tourist attractions and buildings, she realised, her eyebrows drawing together in frustration. This was nothing special, had she been wrong about the book?
"Or..." She murmured to herself, eyes widening excitedly. "Is he in one of these places?"
She flicked through the book again, straining to see if anything caught her eye which made sense. She groaned audibly, knowing she didn't have much time. Even if she couldn't win this game, she wanted a damn good shot at it.
She huffed and tossed the book onto her desk where it landed with a thud and ran a hand through her hair. What was she going to do? She couldn't make sense of this at all. A small piece of paper fluttered from the desk to her feet, having dropped out of the book. She lunged forward to grasp it, hoping fervently that it was a note or a clue of some kind. She frowned, realising that it was a library stamp which had been attached to the book but had fallen out when she had thrown it. She froze with the piece of paper in her hands, realisation dawning on her. This book was a library book. They never kept library books in the classrooms.
Scanning the paper quickly and finding the name of the library in the top right hand corner, she left the school at a run, carrying the book under her arm.
She was now almost certain that this book had been planted there in the classroom by the man, and it was time to return it. She was aware that it had been more than two hours now, and she didn't want to disappoint. She knew every library in the city well, and this one happened to be one of her favourites. She wondered was that why the mysterious man had picked this location, or was it coincidence? She was beginning to be a disbeliever of mere coincidence at this point.
She couldn't deny that she was enjoying this, this game of theirs. It was giving her a chance to find out something by herself, something she almost never did with the Doctor. Sure, she had saved him multiple times, but that was mostly her echoes. She tried to help him often but he always seemed to know what was going on, was always able to figure out what to do and formulate a plan. Clara often felt slightly inferior, left out of the loop. This time, the mysterious man was treating her as his equal, he was giving her a chance.
She reached the tall, grey building, standing underneath it and staring up at it's many long windows in awe. She began to walk to the door, then paused. Would he be inside? Somehow, she didn't think so. She looked around, but there were no signs of her mysterious friend.
She frowned with a good natured sigh, clutching the book to her chest. She was beginning to feel disappointed, not in the man but in herself. Had she got it all wrong? She reached a hand out to touch the rough stony grey wall lightly, in an action not unlike her friend's when he had ran his hand along the bookshelf, giving her the vital clue as to where he was.
She let out a small "humph" of disappointment, slightly crestfallen that she wouldn't get to see the man again. She needed to know more about him, and he was the most interesting thing to happen to her since she had returned to Earth. She turned away, wondering if she should return when a familiar soft Irish voice sounded from behind her, bringing a smile to her face and causing a feeling of joy to bubble up in her stomach.
"You're late."
Yay, second chapter done :D I'm gunna start the third straight away before the idea leaves me :P
And by the way, thank you for your responses to my question in the last chapter, I totally agree, villains are hot :D
I just finished watching The Empty Hearse and my mom squealed at the Sheriarty "almost kiss". I laughed.
That's bring another question to my miiiind, what's your favourite Sherlock episode ever and why?
I have to say mine is probably the Reichenbach Fall because it's got the most Moriarty in it and it has an amazing plot, but it's also the most painful. DAMMIT GUYS, FAKING SUICIDE AT EACH OTHER? TWO YEARS? NOT COOL.
Sooo anyway, what did you think of that chapter? Yay or nay? :) Should I continue?
I'm glad I inspired some of you to ship Clariarty ;) I reaaally hope some of you decide to write a fanfic for it cause I need to read some and my stupid lil' story is like the only one! That is not on :P
Sooo please review to let me know what you think :D [makes like sherlock and violently plays the violin so you'll review]
Reviews are love. Reviews are life.