Helloooo again my amazing readers :D Wow thank you so so much for the reviews, you guys are amazing! I've made some of you ship it, I've finally done something positive with my life :') My work here on Earth is done [beams up the the mothership] [flies away]
Sooo here's the next chapter, while I was writing it it started off pretty okay but I think it might be a bit... Er un-okay towards the end. Like not as good. Because I have had literally had no sleep for the past 24 hours and just got back from a spontaneous day trip to Wales (Nope, I'm not from Wales) but I really wanted to post this chapter sooo here it is, I hope it's not too bad :) I think it's probably the best I could do :P
Idk, maybe I'm just being paranoid that it's bad :P But nevertheless, don't worry, next chapter will be much better ;;) Enjoy!
"You're late."
Clara spun around instinctively, forgetting to be wary in her abrupt haste. Her eyes needed only to roam for one suspenseful second before she caught sight of her nameless friend leaning casually against the side of the grey building, at the edge of a shadow-enveloped alleyway tucked just out of her sight. His mirthful face bore a small smirk at Clara's pleasantly surprised expression.
"Fashionably," She couldn't contain the sudden grin that strove to break free at having been correct in her guess that this was in fact the place that he would be. It was a small victory, but it was a win all the same.
"Library's closed now," The man drawled in a light tone, craning his neck to observe the tall, dark walls and sauntering past her, hands delved deep into his pockets. He paused, tapped his foot for a moment as if considering something and then moved to sit on one of the stone steps outside the desolate building. "Shame you can't return the book."
"Why should I be the one to return it?" Clara challenged with a teasing smile, approaching him with a small skip in her step that she couldn't seem to help. "You're the one who took it out after all."
"You got that, did you?" His face brightened considerably as he grinned, looking up at her in satisfaction. "I'm impressed."
"See?" Clara winked, handing the book back to him and gesturing to her face with a flourish. "Not just this."
"Well played, Clara Oswald," He replied, taking the book from her and pressing another into her hands, much to her surprise. "An eye for an eye, a book for a book."
"What's this?" Clara questioned in curiosity, turning the book over in her hands so she could see the cover. She sucked in a sharp breath, realising with an uneasy lurch of her stomach that it was 101 Places To See. And it was her exact copy, she'd know it anywhere. She'd owned this book since she was a little girl and it had accumulated various scratch marks and soufflé related smears since. This wasn't just any old copy of 101 Places To See, this was her book.
"My move," The man smirked smugly at her shocked expression, her reaction effectively indulging his mirth. Clara shook her head slowly in disbelief, a prickling feeling of fear creeping up on her. How had he gotten a hold of this? How did he know?
"My favourite book," She whispered, feeling a chill run through her that she couldn't blame on the icy weather. "My most prized possession. How did you... How?"
"How did I know it was your favourite book or how did I get a hold of it?" The man raised his eyebrows and winked. "It's a bit of a conundrum, isn't it, Clara?"
"Right, explain."
Clara daringly sat down beside the man, clutching her book with an iron grasp. He blinked at her in innocent confusion.
"Explain what?"
"Explain- Just everything! Give me answers!" Clara burst out in frustration, glaring down at the book again, not wanting to look into his eyes for fear that she would lose herself in them again. She was wading through troubled waters, that much she knew for certain, but everything else was obscured by fog.
The man hummed chidingly.
"Game's not over."
The words were dangerous, cold, with a hint of a threat about them that chilled Clara to the bone. She took a deep breath. If it was a game he wanted, it was a game he'd get.
"You haven't finished your move," She spoke quietly, finally daring to look at his face. The coldness had left his gaze and his expression was slightly more convivial, that trademark air of nonchalance she had begun to associate with him transforming his sharp features once more. Something she had said or done had encouraged him to open up to her, but she wasn't sure what it was. She decided to make it her duty to find out.
"I know a lot of things, Clara Oswald," Her unnamed friend murmured quietly, staring ahead at the quiet street in front of them. "I know a lot of people who know a lot of things. And I know how people think," He paused to look at her, his gaze so intense that Clara almost forgot to breathe. His tone took on a deadly edge once more, like the blade of a sharpened knife. "I know how people think I think."
Clara swallowed nervously and cleared her throat so her voice wouldn't falter. "That still doesn't fully answer my question."
The man gave a small chuckle and murmured something that sounded suspiciously like "stubborn" under his breath. "Honestly, Clara, a man you've never met before approaches you in the street knowing exactly who you are, steals your keys, speaks in riddles... Do you really think it was that difficult for me to break into your flat and borrow what is so obviously your favourite book and- Dare I assume- Your most prized possession?"
"There's nothing obvious about it from where I'm sitting!" Clara spluttered, feeling uncomfortably flustered. The man ducked his head, laughing quietly.
"Ah," He gritted his teeth together and squinted in a theatrical grimace, as if her incompetence somehow pained him. "And you were doing so well. My dear Clara, could you at least try to keep up?"
"Could you at least try to shed some light on the subject for me?" Clara snapped back, resisting the urge to punch him.
"Travelling, you like it, love it, I know that. Hardly a coincidence that it's the main theme of that book," He rapped a knuckle against the hard binding of the volume, causing Clara to jump. "The book is at least twenty plus years old, kept in good condition but dog-eared and well read, damp from when you were reading it in the bath- I see you like baking soufflés-"
"Alright, alright, show off," Clara laughed breathlessly at the man's detailed explanation. "And you just decided to break into my flat to find it?"
"Nothing new. You have quite the selection of books, by the way."
"Ever heard of common courtesy?" Clara stared at him wide eyed, her voice an octave higher than she would have preferred as she struggled to process this new information that was coming to light.
"I'm familiar with the term, yes."
"Name," She demanded hoarsely, nudging the man with her elbow playfully but fixing him with a serious stare.
"Have you forgotten our game?" The man raised an eyebrow challengingly. "It's your move."
"The piece of information about you," Clara murmured thoughtfully, clutching her book a fraction more tightly. She still hadn't come up with anything and the man knew it.
"Tick tock, goes the clock..." He sang in his lilting Irish voice, threateningly yet silky soft at the same time, a toxic yet tantalizing combination.
"I don't suppose I can just say that you like stories?" Clara tried hopefully, fully aware that her attempt was futile.
"Nice try. I already told you that."
"You..." Clara trailed off, her eyebrows drawing together as she thought. She was sure she was going to have some serious frown lines after this. She thought back over their past conversations, his mysterious, slightly threatening manner, his love of stories and playing games...
"Are you... Wanted or something?" Clara chanced questioningly. "Like, you're hiding from someone? Someone important like the police or the government?"
"That's if you consider the police and the government important," The man snorted, then shook his head with a smile. "Wrong," He sang. "But not a bad try. I'll give you one more guess."
"I thought it was always three guesses," Clara tried cheekily. The man gave a low chuckle.
"Oh rules, rules, tedious little inventions," He murmured softly, staring at the sky. "One more guess."
"Okay," Clara muttered to herself, thinking harder. What kind of information was he looking for? She thought about all she knew about him, him stealing her keys, the snide remark that he'd done worse, effortlessly breaking into her flat...
"I think," She chose her next words carefully, sneaking a shy peek at the man's face and clutching her book harder. "I think you could be dangerous. If you wanted to be. But..."
"But?" The man pressed, giving her his full attention now, a small smile playing around his lips.
"I know you won't hurt me," She finished proudly, sounding more confident than she felt at her bold remark. It was a small piece of information, but she was almost certain that it was true, and that was the main rule of the game.
"And why's that?" He asked coldly, fixing her with a hard stare and narrowing his eyes. Clara remained composed, sure in her words. She had already thought this bit through.
"Because you can't tell a story to someone who's dead."
"But you can tell a story to someone's who's burning," The man replied harshly and Clara stiffened, gripping her book so hard her knuckles turned white. But the intimidating glare was gone as soon as it had appeared and the man flashed her a mischievous grin, reminding her again of his mercurial temperament. "But you're right. On both accounts. I am dangerous, but I won't hurt you. At least, it's not top of my 'to-do' list. For now, you're useful to me, you're an asset. It would do you well not to change those terms."
The blatant bluntness and clear simplicity of his words unnerved Clara. The way he had spoken was so matter of fact, but it outline the evident implication well enough; The moment she became dispensable, he would dispose of her.
"So go on then," Clara continued slightly more shakily than she would have liked, regaining her composure as best she could and steering the conversation back to her own advantage. She summoned up every last ounce of her courage and inched closer to her dangerous ally. "Just who exactly are you?"
"Jim Moriarty," He replied without hesitation, just as promised in the rules of the game.
"Jim..." Clara repeated slowly, allowing the name to roll off her tongue gracefully, surprised at how easily he had complied with her wishes.
"Hi," He smiled softly and held out his hand for her to shake. Clara laughed and took it gladly, enjoying the warmth of his strong hand around hers in the cold autumn weather.
Clara looked down at her book, remaining silent for a moment. She hadn't expected his name to be something as normal and non-threatening as Jim. When she looked up again Jim was looking at her carefully as if analysing her, as if wondering if he could trust her.
"I'm ready for the story," She whispered softly, trying not to get lost in his deep brown eyes.
"Excellent," He smiled widely, standing briskly and beginning to walk away at a leisurely pace. Clara frowned and jumped up from her perch on the stone step, clasping her book in her hands and rushing to catch up with him.
"Where are you running off to, Clever Boy?" She grinned, nudging his side as they walked down the quiet street towards the empty city park. It was getting late, Clara noticed, and with the later hour came the colder weather.
"You know a lot about running, don't you?" He murmured, avoiding her question. "You've travelled, seen a lot of... Interesting things."
"What do you mean?" Clara questioned anxiously, unsure what he was referring to. He couldn't possibly know about the Tardis, could he?
"I think you know exactly what I mean," He responded, glancing down at her with a smirk. "There were others before you, you know."
"What are you talking about?" Clara slowed her pace, forcing Jim Moriarty to stop. He spun around in a lazily circle to face her, as if he was playing another of his games.
"I'm talking about a story, the one big story that contains hundreds of smaller stories. But of course they're all important, aren't they? That's what he says, doesn't he? That everyone's important."
"I told you I don't like riddles," Clara and Moriarty were now standing facing each other, the cold wind whipping Clara's hair around her face and making her feel painfully vulnerable.
"I told you to learn to," He replied coldly, his intimidating manner restored in all its glory. The twinkle in his eye shifted into a malicious glint. "Don't you want to hear the story?"
"I'm not so sure anymore," Clara mumbled, wrapping her arms around her torso to shield herself from the cold. She gritted her teeth indignantly. "I don't like feeling as if I'm being threatened."
"You think this is threatening?" Moriarty let out a bark of a laugh, his eyes widening incredulously. "My, my, Clara, you have a lot to learn."
"Look, are you going to tell me what you want with me or not?" Clara demanded, trying not to let her fear show. "Because I'm the one getting bored now. If you want me to keep playing along, you're going to have to start making some bit of sense. I don't even know who you are, not really."
"I knew you were adorably stubborn and my, you don't disappoint," Jim shook his head with a slow smile.
"Well it'd be in your best interests to get used to it, Mr Moriarty," Clara arched her brows with just the barest hint of a smile. "If you're hanging around, that is."
"And do you want me to hang around?"
Clara paused, considering her answer. The next words that came out of her mouth could very well land her in a lot of trouble. Serious trouble. She was playing with the dark arts here, intrepidly messing with something that shouldn't be poked and prodded. The truth was she had never met anyone quite like this man before and, though he harboured a vexing tendency to frustrate her and quite frankly scare the hell out of her, she did want him around. She wasn't sure why, wasn't sure what it was about him that drew her in but she wanted to find out. She didn't trust him, not one iota, but he was a mystery to her. And she liked puzzles.
"Maybe," She tried and failed to contain a small grin, enjoying the sight of Jim Moriarty's face lighting up at her words. She turned away from him and took a few steps in the opposite direction.
"Aw, where are you going?" He called in a disappointed tone, but Clara heard no indication of him making any move to follow her.
"Home, it's getting late," She called over her shoulder. Though part of her that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore wanted desperately to stay and talk to him, the fact that she didn't trust him in conjunction with the realisation that he still wasn't making any sense made her feel as if the smart decision right now would be to call it a day and leave. And then he addressed that nagging voice in the back of her mind that suspected there could be a lot more to this than she initially thought.
"Don't you want to know the story of the lonely Time Lord? The Doctor?"
Clara froze at his words. She could almost feel Moriarty's eyes on her back, could almost sense the accomplished smirk on his face at finally getting the reaction he wanted. She turned slowly and cocked her head to the side curiously.
"Who are you, really?" She asked quietly. "And I don't just mean your name."
"My, my, you've been away for a long time, Clara," He shook his head and pouted. "Otherwise you'd know all about me. You'd know all about the fall and the consulting criminal."
Clara stiffened at the word criminal. Though she had already assumed that this man was dangerous, she hadn't exactly been hoping for as serious a term as criminal to pin to his forehead.
"Tell me," She whispered slowly. "Tell me what you know about the Doctor."
"I know you're half afraid he won't come back for you," He smirked, dipping his head a little as he took a few steps closer, hands deep in his pockets. "I can see it in your face when I mention his name. That little nagging sensation of fear and dread and pain, right here," He tapped his chest, right above his heart. "Because you know you're not the first he's left behind."
Clara opened her mouth with the makings of a hysteric smile of disbelief but closed it again, managing to vocalise nothing more than a small huff of breath. A cold sweat broke out across her palms and she clenched her fists tightly.
"What-"
"Has he told you the tale of the Big Bad Wolf and the Blue Box?" He interrupted her, coming to a halt directly in front of her. "The big bad wolf who broke his hearts. She destroyed everything and nearly destroyed herself, and it was all his fault. Saving her destroyed him, and saving the Earth destroyed them both."
He looked at Clara and she found she couldn't look away, trapped under his intense gaze and entwined in the convoluted web of his nonsensical riddles that held so much meaning she couldn't quite grasp.
"Love," He murmured with a small chuckle, shaking his head mockingly. "What a silly disadvantage it is."
Clara's heart began to beat unnaturally fast for some reason she couldn't explain, and she found she couldn't form any words. She thought in silence for a moment at Jim's words, trying to understand the riddle for herself. The Doctor had never mentioned anything about a wolf, it had to be code for something. Clara had once attempted to sneak a brown, floppy eared puppy onto the Tardis and the Doctor had put a firm ban on animals ever entering the ship after having lost his sonic screwdriver to the mongrel. No, it was definitely code. For who? Moriarty had mentioned that she wasn't the first... The first companion? She had known that of course, but her knowledge of previous friends of the Doctor wasn't that extensive. She made a conscious effort not to ask too much about the Doctor's previous companions. It had always been a touchy subject for the old Time Lord, one she didn't feel as if she had the right to breach. The way she saw it, if he wanted to open up to her about something, he would.
Even so, she couldn't help but feel her curiosity as to the Doctor's past life and prior companions peak, and she wanted to know what this man knew about her Time Lord best friend. And after that, she wanted to know more about him. Jim Moriarty himself.
In a brave act that surprised even Clara herself, she took Jim's hand gently and sat on the cold hard ground of the empty pathway beside the desolate park, dragging him down with her. He stiffened immediately at the unexpected form of contact, his eyes widening in shock. His hand automatically formed a fist under her smooth touch and Clara got the impression that he wasn't used to kindness, or gentle human contact. She offered him a soft smile and tugged on his outstretched hand again, until he slowly lowered himself to the ground just in front of her, his hand remaining clenched tightly even after she reluctantly let go.
He brought his knees up and rested his chin atop them, wrapping his arms around his legs. In that moment he reminded Clara of a small child, vulnerable and innocent and Clara realised with a start that she had brought that out in him, she had knocked down that barrier. But almost as soon as it had dropped, the barrier was back in place and Jim's face went blank, returning to the slightly intimidating yet somewhat friendly way it had been before.
Clara sat cross-legged in front of him, close enough to reach out and take his hand, but she didn't have the courage to do so. Instead she waited patiently for him to speak, giving a small nod of encouragement.
"The big bad wolf," Jim mused again, his tone soft and lyrical. "I hope you're not opposed to sad endings. All the big bad wolf wanted to do was save him, but all he wanted to do was save her. The pink and yellow human who had wormed her way into his hearts and stayed there... Much like a disease," He wrinkled his nose and Clara couldn't help but laugh at his reaction to the idea of love. She glanced over his handsome face, trying to make sense of the complex man in front of her. She wondered why he was adamant not to let anyone in, why he considered love some form of weakness.
"The bold blue police box was fond of the little wolf," Jim Moriarty continued his storytelling in a soft, lilting voice which quickly had Clara enthralled. "She shared the secrets of time with her, the secrets of time that were so big and so powerful they threatened to rip the poor little human girl apart, but together they created something bigger, something stronger. The big bad wolf.
"But it wasn't just by chance, oh no, nothing ever just happens by chance," The storyteller's eyes widened as he carried on. "The big bad wolf was meant to happen, she was scattered throughout space and time everywhere the Doctor and his little companions went. She followed them, followed them like a trail of breadcrumbs until the big bad wolf turned her power on the big bad robots to save the love of her life. But by saving him, he had to save her, creating new life, new love," He paused, bringing his hands together under his chin and drew his eyebrows together in thought. He smiled lightly at Clara.
"But you know the Doctor's no angel, don't you?" He stared into her eyes so intently that she could summon no words, rendering her unable to do much except merely nod in response. "They were... Separated. The Big Bad Wolf and the Lord of Time torn apart by the Time Lord's own doing. Not very nice, is it? Not all fairy tales have a happy ending."
He gave a small accomplished grin at Clara's awed silence. "They should've made that into a movie," He mused with a wicked smirk. "Explosions, lost love... It would be quite the spectacle."
Clara paused, shivering slightly in the cold. She had known the Doctor had lost friends before, known that they had caused him a great deal of hurt, but she hadn't know that he had been in love, and Jim definitely wasn't talking about River. "So that... That was about one of his past companions?" She whispered softly. "He never told me."
"Of course he didn't," Jim scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Because he hardly ever talks about them, does he? That's the problem, he shies away from the pain. He doesn't realise that you don't need to fear it."
Clara remained silent for a moment, pondering his words, then decided to ask some of her unanswered questions she was so aching to know the answers to.
"How do you know all this?" She prodded, cocking her head to the side in curiosity more than fear. "Why..."
"Because the Doctor wronged me," Jim Moriarty responded in a sudden snarl, startling Clara. He stood abruptly and began pacing slowly, although never straying too far from her. "He took away the final element in my greatest game yet, just before the big finish. He ruined it."
Clara slowly stood as Jim spun around to face her, anger burning in his eyes, though she understood that the fury was not directed at her, but at someone else.
"And I like to know about people who've wronged me," He hissed, drawing closer. "I like to know their weaknesses. And thanks to my notorious ability to make people tell me what I want to know, I tend to get that information."
Clara stiffened suddenly and took a small step backwards.
"Is that why you're doing this, telling me these stories?" She questioned, quiet anger mulling over in her low tone of voice. "Just so you can use me to find out more about the Doctor?"
"No!"
Clara jumped, not expecting the sudden defensive outburst and the fact that Jim seemed to be slightly hurt by the fact that she had even considered this.
"Sorry," He groaned, running a hand down his face and pulling an over exaggerated grimace, almost growling in annoyance at his loss of self-control. "I have the information, I don't need anymore. You just happened to prance along at the right time, Clara. Story time."
"So, why are you telling me these stories then?" She asked quietly, unconsciously taking a step closer.
"Because I know you'll listen," He responded flatly, one side of his mouth in a downwards slant in a matter of fact expression.
"So," Clara paused, wondering if she dared ask her next question. She chanced a small smile. "When do I get to hear your story? That's the one I'm most interested in."
"Ah," Jim waved his finger at her as if scolding a small child. "That's not important. Not yet."
"It is to me."
Jim paused, frowning slightly and looking at Clara intently as if trying to understand her. He approached slowly until he was standing directly in front of her, the close proximity causing Clara's heart to thump at a drastically quick pace for some unexplained reason.
"I don't want you to hear my story just yet," He murmured, remaining standing in front of her. Clara chanced looking up into his deep brown eyes and gave a low involuntary gasp at the beauty of them. She blushed furiously, casting her gaze down and clenching her hands into fists at her side to calm her nerves. Why did this man have such an effect on her?
"Why not?"
"Because," Jim reached out a hand to touch Clara's inner wrist lightly, causing an unexpected shiver to run down her spine, and not one that was from the cold or fear. He trailed his fingertips down her wrist slowly, gently, until they reached her small Gallifreyan bracelet. He gave her a lopsided smirk which Clara realised held a hint of sadness and tapped her little metal bracelet lightly. "When you do, I don't think you'll want to see me again."
Clara felt fear at his words and could tell that Moriarty knew it by the way he began to pull away, but Clara steeled her gaze.
"Try me," She whispered, reaching out and grabbing his wrist before he could fully pull away. Jim looked down at her small hand which started to wriggle its way into his grasp until their fingers were intertwined. He stared at his hand which was now holding hers as if it had been someone else who had performed the action, and he was merely a spectator.
His hand remained still within hers, as if he wasn't sure how to respond. Clara squeezed his hand gently and smiled reassuringly. Whatever this man had done, she was not going to condemn him until she knew the full story.
Jim smirked and removed his hand from her hold gently, almost cautiously. He took a few steps backwards and then turned to walk away in the opposite direction. Before Clara could call out in question as to where he was going, he answered a different unspoken question than the one she had been about to voice.
"221B, Baker Street," He called over his shoulder, never slowly his lazy pace as he strode away from her.
"Another riddle?" Clara guessed, raising her voice a little as Jim moved farther away into the distance.
"Not a riddle. Information," Jim responded in a light hearted tone. "My story."
He paused in his tracks and Clara could see him visibly stiffen, though he did not turn around to face her. His hands clenched into fist at his sides but he continued to speak in a friendly enough manner, though Clara didn't fail to notice the chilling undertone.
"Just don't be too hasty. You might not like what you find."
Clara paused, watching his retreating figure as it began to fade into the darkness. She blinked in surprise. She hadn't realised night was falling so quickly.
"Goodnight, Jim," She whispered, pondering his last words to her. She turned to begin the short walk back to her flat, aware that London was dangerous to be wandering alone around on a dark night such as this, but something told her that Jim Moriarty would prevent any harm coming to her, even if he made his presence unknown.
She walked home with a smile on her face and a little more information about her mysterious friend, for some reason feeling safer than before.
Ayyy that's chapter three up and running ;;) See, I did it, even with my spontaneous trip to Wales (Don't even ask bc idk man, idk)
Sooo I hope you enjoy this one :D I'm enjoying writing it so much! Thanks for the reviews and answers to my random questions, I don't have one today unfortunately :P
GOD I JUST WANNA CUDDLE MORIARTY! He's such a lovable little pyschopath. I said that to my mom today and she looked at me weird, probably because I referred to a pyschopath who killed a load of people because he was bored as being adorable. But I can't help it. It's true.
Anyway, please feel free to leave any constructive criticism you have for me, it'll help me improve :)
Reviews make me smile man, come on, make me smile :D Tell me what you think of the chappie and the story so far and if I'm doing the right thing by continuing :) And thanks again for the reviews so far, I can't explain how much they mean to me!
[Moriarty voice] Thank you, bless you