"For either way you choose you cannot win" - Phantom of the Opera, Final Lair, The Phantom of the Opera

John Smith ran as fast as he could into Euston station. Just less than twenty minutes ago, he felt like the most miserable man in the entire universe, staring at his breakfast and barely touching it until Mr Rentford came knocking at his door telling him that Clara was running away.

He didn't think much after that aside from agreeing to travel to the station.

"Doctor, if she is gone, then I hope you will find her at Lethbridge Cemetery – Mrs Oswald told me that is likely where Clara will be once she is in Blackpool," Henry explained as he separated ways, searching the other side of the station.

So many thoughts were running through his mind. Did she plan on returning? If so, when? If not, what will she do? He couldn't really blame her for acting on her impulse, he was just as irrational back when he was younger.

The station was crowded so he had no choice but to start shoving his way in. As his eyes were scanning over the crowd, he heard a whistle being blown and turned around. At that moment, he finally spotted Clara. She was seated next to the window of the train that was slowly going into motion.

"Clara!" he yelled before running after the train.

"Clara!" he yelled once more but his voice was drowned by the loud steam engines. Eventually, the train started moving faster and John was forced to watch helplessly. He placed a hand on his aching ribs, hissing in pain.

"You do realise you looked like a penguin with its arse on fire, running like that, right?" a young woman commented as she stared at him curiously.

John sighed. "I think it's obvious I'm not very athletic."

"So, you must have made your wife very cross to have her ignore you like that."

"She's not my wife."

"Future wife?"

The Doctor gave her a solemn look. "At this point, I'm not sure if that's even a possibility."

"Wow, what could you have said or done to make her that cross?" the young woman joked, but her smile vanished when she saw the sad look on his face. "Sorry, if it helps, there's a train to Manchester that stops at Birmingham - you can switch trains to get to Blackpool from there – I'm taking the same train, so I could probably help you."

John debated whether he should just take the train with the girl or wait for an hour for the next available service to Blackpool. "Thank you, but I think I'll just wait."

"You sure about that – you'll be wasting an hour, a whole hour, waiting."

She had a good point.

"Fine."

Her face lit up. "I'm Bill Potts, by the way," she said, extending her hand.

"John Smith," he replied, shaking her hand.

"Really – you sure you want to go with that – last chance to change it."

John arched a brow. "Yes, I prefer my real name."

"Alright, John Smith, you better get your ticket, quick – train leaves in twelve minutes," Bill explained.

"I don't understand, Idris," John murmured as he spoke to his horse. "I'm sure I didn't say anything rude – she became so upset out of the blue."

Idris neighed, nuzzling her face against his hand.

"Maybe I shouldn't have spooked her like that, talking about our future," he sighed and fed the horse a carrot. "I just wish she'd let me see her or at least answer my letter."

Suddenly, the door to the stables burst opened and Harold Saxon strode in. "Your 'impossible girl' is missing."

"What?"

"You heard what I said," Harold answered, annoyed that his plan was going south. He had concocted a plan for John to propose to Clara this very week. It would seem he would have to come up with a new one.

"Where was she last seen?" John questioned as he saddled up Idris.

"At her mansion, of course," his cousin retorted. "Good, good, go and look for her."

John growled. "I'm not doing this to impress anyone, cousin – I'm doing this because she could be in danger or hurt herself."

"Whatever," Harold said. "Just do what you must."

Once John got on Idris, she started moving and snorted air out of her nostrils when passing by Harold.

"I love you too, Idris," he said sarcastically.

When John arrived at the Oswald mansion, he could see people running out and about, but he had guessed they've made some sort of progress, judging by the absence of the police.

He got off and was immediately greeted by Clara's grandmother.

"Mr Foreman, I'm terribly sorry you came all the way here for nothing," she said gently.

He shook his head. "It's fine, have you found Clara – I came here as soon as I received the news."

"No, but I've called off the search – she's not missing – she's on her way to Blackpool."

"Then I must-"

Clarice placed a hand on his arm. "I've already sent someone, please, do not trouble yourself and come inside – you came here for nothing so the least I could do is make you tea. Come, young man."

John reluctantly followed her.

"And thank you, Mr Foreman, for your concern."

"Clara is my childhood friend – I should at the very least be concerned."

Bill Potts couldn't help but stare at the man who was seated opposite of her. He had been fiddling with his hat for the past ten minutes and hadn't spoken a single word since they boarded the train. It would seem he was in a world of his own and so, she decided to start a conversation.

"Have you ever visited Blackpool before?"

John snapped out of his thoughts and blinked. "What?"

"Blackpool – you ever been there?"

He cleared his throat and set his hat on the empty seat next to him. "Um, no, I've never seen Blackpool before."

"So how are you going to find your fiancée?" Bill asked curiously.

The Doctor stared out the window. "Clara's grandmother told me where she will be."

Bill smiled. "You must really love her."

"What makes you say that?"

"The way you mention her name and the look on your face say a lot," Bill explained, chuckling. "And not a whole lot of men would be willing to travel six, seven hours just to look for their fiancée."

His face immediately reddened. He wasn't sure what to say. Of course he loves Clara but was it that obvious?

"What do you do – I work at a hotel and serve chips most of the time if I'm not in the kitchen."

John cleared his throat. "'I'm a doctor – physician."

"That's amazing," she replied, not sure what else to say as their conversation came to a halt.

"Tickets please," a train conductor announced as he entered the carriage.

John pulled out his ticket from the pocket of his jacket and showed it to him. He grunted in approval before waiting for Bill to show him hers.

He took a closer look at her ticket and said, "You need to pay."

"What?" Bill uttered in shock. "I've paid for it!"

The man smirked. "This looks fake to me."

John couldn't believe the words he was hearing. It was absolutely disgusting.

Bill rose from her seat.

"I paid for this ticket at the train station – why else would I be here if it wasn't verified beforehand!" she growled.

The train conductor merely shrugged. "It's either you pay, or we kick you out at the next stop."

It was the last straw. "You're discriminating this woman," John stated calmly.

"This has nothing to do with you," he retorted and focused his attention on Bill. "Which will it be?"

"I'll pay for her ticket," the Doctor declared as he reached for his wallet.

At that moment, another train conductor walked in. "What's with all this commotion?"

The man glanced at his superior before he muttered, "Nothing, sir."

"Well, if that's the case, get back to work," the older man barked, watching as his co-worker scurried away.

"Thank you," Bill murmured to both John and the train conductor.

"If he bothers you again, Miss, please let me know," he said before returning to the previous carriage.

John returned to his seat and glanced at Bill. She seemed upset. "Are you alright?"

She granted him a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine – should be used to it by now – thanks again."

Bill had assumed the Doctor had nothing more to say but she was surprised when she heard him say, "What's the name of the hotel?"

"Pardon?"

He finally looked away from the window. "The hotel you work at – what's the name?"

She beamed.

Clara Oswald stood up and exit the carriage once it came to a full stop at the station. Even though she hadn't been here for less than a year, it still felt as if she had been gone for a long time – the long journey permitted her to think a lot, especially her future.

As she followed the crowd to the exit, she pondered if her family knew where she was. She knew it was reckless of her to leave without informing anyone, or at least leaving a note but she didn't want anyone to follow her. No, this is something she wanted to do alone.

Finally, she was outdoors. People were still walking in and out, despite the gloomy weather. Normally, she would be pleased to see snow but not today. In fact, she felt empty, sad, hopeless.

Without another thought, she hailed a cab and instructed the driver to take her to Lethbridge Cemetery. Once she had reached her destination, she paid the driver and entered the empty, snow-covered graveyard.

After minutes of walking and manoeuvring around, she finally reached the headstone she was seeking. The last time she visited her mother was the day before she left for London and now, here she was again, but for a different purpose.

"Hello, mama," she murmured before she sat next to her mother's grave.

Clara wished her mother was still alive. She would certainly know what to do and say to her. She would understand. Her mother would surely approve of her marriage to John Smith.

Reality, however, can be cruel and harsh. Her mother wasn't here. She had been long gone.

Clara sobbed. "Mama, will you be mad at me for what I did – for what I'm about to do?"

There was no answer.

She placed a hand on the headstone. "I met this wonderful man, John Smith – he's an absolute gentleman and a bit of an idiot at times," she explained quietly. "And I love him, but father doesn't approve."

"He wants me to marry John Foreman, you would have remembered him – he was the boy who ran into the sea to retrieve the leaf you gave me."

Clara wiped her tears and pulled the coat tighter around her. It was getting chilly. "Is it wrong of me to follow my heart?" she continued.

"I'm sorry, mama."

She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there, perhaps an hour or two? No wonder it was getting dark. It didn't matter, she would take her time, despite shivering slightly.

Clara heard the sound of crunching snow but didn't bother turning around. She assumed it was just another strange visiting their beloved. A moment later, her shivering body was covered with a thick coat, with blue velvet lining on the inside.

"How did you find me?" she murmured, not moving from her spot nor looking away from the headstone.

John licked his lips before sitting next to Clara. "Your grandmother told me where you would be – well, guessed."

She smiled sadly. Her grandmother knew her all too well.

Clara grabbed John's hand. "I told mama about you."

"I figured you would," he murmured, kissing her hair.

They stayed there in silence for a moment longer before John spoke.

"Time to leave?"

Clara merely nodded as he helped her up. "You're not taking me back to London, are you?"

"No, I barely made it here due to heavy snow – we'll return tomorrow," he replied as he held her hand. "I'm sure there is a hotel nearby, somewhere."

She decided that once they found shelter, she would tell him.

They had been walking for twenty minutes when John suddenly asked, "Are you hungry – did you eat anything on the way here?"

"I'm not hungry."

Minutes later, the Doctor spotted an inn.

"Welcome to Armitage Bed and Breakfast – you are just in luck – we only have one room left," the woman behind the desk said, smiling at the couple.

"Well," John began but Clara cut in.

"We'll take it."

She felt tired and didn't think she could keep walking any longer.

The receptionist eyed the two before she opened the ledger. "If I could just write down your names…"

"John Smith," the Doctor said before he quickly glanced at Clara. "And Clara Smith."

Once he had paid for their room, he was handed the key and told to walk up the stairs to the second floor and search for room 12.

Once they were behind closed doors, safe from prying ears and eyes, Clara immediately apologised. "I'm sorry, but I didn't think I could keep walking any longer – I'm exhausted."

John shook his head. "I understand – you take the bed, I'll sleep on the chair."

"You must be joking," she uttered, staring at the chair. It was wooden and simply just a basic chair. She was sure anyone would wake up with a sore back if they sit there for long hours.

"I don't want to sleep on the floor."

"The bed is big enough," she reasoned. "I trust you – you're nothing but a gentleman."

He stared into her big brown eyes. He couldn't say no, and she was right, the bed is big enough for two people to sleep comfortably. "Very well," he sighed in resignation. If he was honest, he himself was exhausted from the journey and sleeping in a chair wouldn't make things better.

"Clara," he murmured, sitting next to her on the edge of the bed. "Why did you run off?"

"I… I wanted to say goodbye to my mother," she explained. "I would have travelled back to London to look for you if you hadn't come here."

The Doctor furrowed his brows in confusion. "What-"

"Let's elope," she suggested, almost like a demand. "We could go somewhere far away from London, maybe Scotland… or even away from Europe."

He held her hand gently as if she was made of glass and kissed it. "Running away won't solve anything – I did exactly that to my family and it ended up hurting them," he whispered before wiping her tears with his thumb. "We have to do what's right."

She sobbed before she kissed him desperately, savouring the taste of his lips, holding him close to her, never wanting to let go. Eventually, they pulled away.

"Get some rest," John said softly, leaning his forehead against hers. "I'm sure you're exhausted."

"What about you?"

"I'll join you once I take these boots off."

Once they were in bed, Clara turned around to face him. "I… I don't know what to do – I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life with someone I do not love but I can't shun my father."

He placed a hand on her cheek. "I love you, Clara Oswald," he said, voice nearly cracking. "You have no idea how much I love you and what I would be willing to do to show you that."

She placed her hand on top of his, caressing it with her thumb.

"But I cannot make you choose between me and your father-"

"John-"

He silenced her with a kiss. "I can't make you choose so I'm doing it for you – marry Foreman."

"No," she whispered, closing her eyes as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Sometimes we only are only given bad choices and we still have to choose – I won't tear you apart from your father."

"I love you, John Smith."

"And I love you, Clara Oswald, remember that."

He opened his arms and embraced her, comforting her as she sobbed. John held Clara that night as if his life depended on it.