Chapter 2
The Doctor was aware that Clara was frantically telling him to stop the car but all he did was accelerate the Mercedes a little more, pushing the pedal down until it wouldn't go further. They needed to get out of here as quickly as possible, away from here before the police arrived, away before anyone saw them. Heading west was probably the wisest option, the Doctor thought. London was north of them, the channel south. Maybe the channel was an option, too? Board a ferry and go to France?
"We need to go back!" Clara's voice that he had so far blocked out successful got through to him again, "There were people inside! We need to call ambulances and the police!"
The Doctor threw her a grim look in the darkness as he turned onto a different country road, away from the main traffic, and drove towards the edge of a forest.
"Doctor, what the hell is happening? Where is my father?"
Her voice was desperate and for a moment the Doctor had forgotten about the news he still had to deliver to her somehow. His heart sank when he thought about it. Suddenly Clara unbuckled her belt and at the last minute the Doctor was able to lock the doors before she could open the passenger door and, what had she even planned to do? Jump out of the moving car?
"Tell me where you're taking me!" Clara yelled at him just as they reached the forest and the Doctor pulled onto a small track, killing the lights of the car so they would remain undetected.
When he turned off the engine their breathing was the only thing that could be heard and, looking at Clara in the dim moonlight, he could see how terrified she truly was despite her anger.
"I'm sorry," he whispered and howled in pain when Clara slapped him right across the face. His hand wandered to his cheek that was stinging after the impact.
"What's going on? Tell. Me. Now," she demanded angrily.
The Doctor inhaled deeply, ignoring the pain she had inflicted on him. "Let's get out of the car. I'll tell you everything, I promise. I think we're safe here for the time being."
After Clara had nodded wordlessly he unlocked the car doors again and he had half expected her to make a run for it. He wouldn't have blamed her. He would have caught her again, but he wouldn't have blamed her. Clara slipped into her jacket and walked around the car, settling against the hood for warmth while the Doctor was racking his brain for the right words. How could he tell her? How could he possibly tell her that her father was dead, murdered, and that everything she had believed about him had been nothing but a lie? Even her mother's death wasn't what she had always thought.
"I'm waiting," Clara said coldly and the Doctor noticed her shivering in the cold. He had to do it now.
"I'm so sorry, Clara," he half whispered, swallowing hard, "Your father is dead."
The words were out. The Doctor took a deep breath once he had spoken them but it didn't make him feel any better, especially when he looked at Clara and into her big, sad eyes that were so full of disbelief.
"It happened just a few hours ago. He made me promise that if something should happen to him, that I would do everything in my power to keep you safe and that's what I will do. Clara, you have my word on that. I've been loyal to your father for over thirty years and now that loyalty is yours. You can trust me."
Clara did nothing but stare at him for a long moment, her body still shaking. "How?"
He cleared his throat. "He was killed in his office. I found him when it was already too late and I'm sorry. I should-"
"Killed?" she asked in confusion, "Who would want to kill my father? He had no enemies, he didn't work any dangerous cases. Why? Who would do this?"
He had to tell her. There was no other way. Even if it shattered her world.
"Your father wasn't just a lawyer, that's just what he told you to protect you. He was the head of an organisation and he was good at it, really good. They chose him even before you were born, before he met your mother and he used his influence to make the city a safer place. He hated violence, you know that, but his enemies didn't. They thought he was too soft, that blackmail and intimidation alone wasn't enough to pursue their course and yet he was one of the most powerful men in London, maybe even the country."
"Who killed him?" Clara asked, her voice ice cold, "Who did this?"
The Doctor gave a shrug. "I don't know. There is a handful of people who it could have been but we can't stick around until they catch the person. We need to move."
Her teeth were clattering and the Doctor stripped out of his coat to throw it around Clara's shoulders. She instantly wrapped it more tightly around her body for warmth.
"What does this have to do with me? I'm no one. I didn't even know about this until you told me," she argued, her voice losing some of its vigour.
"You have the key he sent you. It's all a very long story and I'd prefer it if we were far, far away from here when the police arrives at your house. Whoever killed your father will have spies with the authorities. Your house blowing up wasn't a coincidence and right now let's just hope they assume you're dead and the longer they think that the further we can get away."
Clara nodded even though the Doctor knew she didn't even understand half of what was happening. She was in shock and she trusted him, he wouldn't let her down. Couldn't let her down.
"There were over 100 people in the house," Clara said weakly once the Doctor had started the engine again and was heading back to the main road.
"I know," he said gravely, "I'm sorry they got dragged into this. I'm sorry you got dragged into this. It should never have happened and I feel like it's my fault."
"Why would it be your fault?"
The Doctor smiled sadly, staring straight onto the road ahead. "I was your father's bodyguard and right hand man. I should have protected him."
"Then why didn't you?" the anger in her voice was back, it was faint but still there.
"Your father sent me away. I think now that he knew what was going to happen and that he wanted me to look after you. Maybe I could have protected him, maybe not. We'll never know now."
The window on the passenger site opened and when he turned around he saw that Clara was lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke out through the crack.
"Do you have to do that?" the Doctor asked sharply.
Clara looked at him, a flicker of something in her eyes that he didn't quite recognize. He scoffed.
"You were a girl last time I saw you," the Doctor commented, "You had pigtails and a pink backpack last time I drove you to school. What happened?"
Clara sighed, "I grew up. It's been ten years," she replied and both their eyes fell onto the clock at the dashboard. It was three minutes past midnight, "Eleven."
"I'll get you a nice birthday present once we've found a safe place to stay," he promised, "And I'm sorry."
"Where are you even taking me? Where are we going?" she suddenly asked, the tone of her voice changing again.
The Doctor blew the air out between his teeth. "I, erm," he hesitated, "I don't know."
To his surprise Clara chuckled. "You're a lousy bodyguard."
"I suppose you're right," he replied before they both fell silent again.
As they drove over quiet country roads, only occasionally seeing another car, the Doctor pondered her words. Clara Oswald had indeed grown up and he wasn't quite sure he liked that change about her. He had always been so fond of his boss' daughter, they had joked all the way to her boarding school every time he had driven her there after the summer holidays. Sometimes he had helped her with her physics homework, too. Clara had always been a bright and sweet child but now there was a woman sitting in the seat beside him and the Doctor could tell that her father's neglect in the past eleven years had taken a toll on her. He wouldn't go so far as to say she was a brat, but maybe she was just a little bit spoiled. All those years the Doctor had wondered what she was up to now and what she looked like, yet he hadn't quite expected this. He hadn't quite expected to find an adult.
Clara fell asleep soon while he drove through the night, his weariness soon growing stronger as well and when the black sky was starting to take on a blueish hue he decided that it was time for them to rest. They were far way from London and the mansion. No one would know them here, so the Doctor pulled up at the parking space of a small town bed & breakfast. Gently he reached out to shake Clara awake and for a moment she looked like she had forgotten all about her father and being on the run.
"I found a bed & breakfast," the Doctor whispered, "We should ask for a room to get some rest."
Clara nodded and followed him outside until they stopped by the door. The Doctor was fully aware that it was late, or early, and that they would wake whoever ran this place but a woman answered the intercom about five minutes after he had rung the doorbell. He uttered an apology for disturbing her sleep and asked about the room.
A middle aged woman in a flowery robe answered the door. "You want the room? Now?" she asked sleepily. Her eyes wandered from him to Clara in her skimpy party dress and his coat.
"We've been driving all night. We'll pay extra for the disturbance," the Doctor replied.
The woman nodded and waved them inside. It was pleasantly warm within the house and a few seconds later the Doctor was handed a heavy key.
"It's up the stairs and to your left. We'll talk about the money in the morning," she croaked and already made her way back to where her own rooms probably were.
"I'm sorry, but I was actually thinking about two rooms," the Doctor threw in.
The woman shrugged. "We only have the one. Take it or leave it."
"We'll take it," Clara answered before he could. She sounded as tired as he felt and the Doctor didn't feel like protesting against her decision. The woman gave a nod in their direction before she left them on their own.
The room was small and cosy but unfortunately contained only one bed. A bed into which Clara sank almost instantly after she had kicked off her high heels and his jacket while the Doctor still considered his options. He would have taken he couch, but there was none. Maybe the floor would do for him?
"Come to bed," Clara prompted him wearily, "You look terrible."
"Thanks," he scoffed. It seemed as if he had no choice but to share the bed with her. He unzipped his hoodie and drew out the gun that he had stuck behind his belt at his back. It was then that Clara's eyes widened.
"You carry a gun?"
The Doctor stared at it in disgust. He hated weapons and yet he knew he might need it. For her protection. Tomorrow they would have to make plans. Where to go. What to do. But right now his brain felt like pudding and he needed to get some rest.
Wordlessly he sank down on the bed next to her and lay on his back, still clutching the gun in his right hand above his chest. They wouldn't find them here, would they?
Clara turned off the lights next to him and silence fell over the room, the only sound remaining was their breathing. David Oswald was dead. It all came back to him now in the darkness. His lifeless body kept popping up in front of his inner eye and he had no idea how to stop thinking about it. The Doctor thought he had it bad, losing a friend, but how would Clara be feeling right now?
"Can you put the gun away, please?" her voice was hardly a whisper next to him. She sounded so broken that it tugged at his heart. He placed the weapon on the bedside table and only an instant later Clara wrapped her arm around his chest and he could hear her quiet sobs as her tears started to seep through his shirt.
Even though the Doctor was uncomfortable with touching he gently laid his arm around her when the reality of her father's death had finally hit her and she was crying mercilessly. She needed his comfort now, and if the Doctor was truly honest with himself, he kind of needed the same thing from her.
"I'm going to keep you safe, whatever it takes," he promised her, "I have a duty of care."