This is the final chapter. The epilogue will be posted soon. I hope you've had a wonderful time reading the story :)
One Week Later
John Smith couldn't sleep. He hadn't been able to sleep since returning from Blackpool. His thoughts kept circling back to Clara, no matter how many times he told himself to forget about her. She would eventually forget about him once she becomes somebody else's wife.
Whenever he slept, his dreams would be of Clara Oswald, of her beautiful face, her funny nose, those big brown eyes of hers. He would wake up the middle of the night when he dreamt, half asleep, thinking she was next to him, but there was only a cold empty bed to greet him.
It was torture. He misses her. It had been less than two weeks, and yet it felt as if months had passed.
To make things even worse, his mind kept playing different scenarios in his head. If Mr Oswald had approved of him, John imagined he wouldn't feel so miserable right now. He was free to be in public together with Clara. He could take her to dinner, see a show together – he would be able to treat her the way she deserves to be treated. They would hide no longer.
If they had eloped, they would be in Scotland right now – probably hiding in the cottage as a newly wedded couple. He could picture her, waking up next to him, her hair everywhere on the pillow. He could almost feel her sweet lips against his.
John immediately erased the image from his mind. It was torture. Why is he doing this to himself? Forget about her. Forger about Clara Oswald.
But he knew the truth. He couldn't forget about her. Not her name, not her face, not her smile, not even the smell of her hair.
Eventually, the Doctor closed his eyes and drifted to slumber. He dreamt of Clara Oswald again that night. It was a beautiful scene. They were in the countryside, Clara was holding something… or someone in her arms. A small bundle. It became clearer that she was holding their child, no older than a year old. A wide smile on her lips as she cooed at their baby. He could hear her calling him, telling him to stop standing there like a fool. If it meant he could cherish the moment and pause it, then he would be the biggest fool in the universe.
Clara stared out the window, looking up at the bright stars. She felt restless. Whenever she tried to sleep, her mind and body refused to obey.
Reading didn't help. Her mind would wander someplace else, most of the time, John Smith. She wondered what he was doing. If he was coping well or not. She was concerned about him. Is he recovering and resting as he should? Was he eating well? Is he having trouble sleeping as she is right now? Clara wished she knew.
Silently, she walked towards the drawer and pulled out the old letters John had written to her. She might as well read them again since she won't be going to bed anytime soon.
Meanwhile, a man who had managed to sneak into the estate via the back garden trudged as quietly as he could, careful to avoid being detected as he used the shadows as cover. He glanced back and saw his horse quietly standing where she was, underneath a tree.
John Foreman bent down and collected several small pebbles before stopping in front of the mansion, trying to figure out which window is the one to Clara's bedroom. He guessed it was the one in the corner, judging by his memory of the last time he was there and raised his arm before throwing the stone against the glass window.
He waited for a moment before he tried again. By the third time, he saw a shadow approaching and fixed his bowtie. His smile disappeared when he realised the woman sticking her head out the window isn't Clara Oswald.
"Let me guess, you're John Foreman," she stated, half-annoyed at being woken up.
He gave her a nervous smile. "I'm sorry – I thought I chose the right window, it seems not, Miss..."
"Mrs Williams-Pond."
It could have been worse, he thought. It could have been Donna and she surely would have screamed at him for waking her up from her beauty sleep.
"My apologies, Mrs Williams-Pond."
Amy was too tired to wonder why he was here in the middle of the night, so she decided to put him out of his misery. "Clara's room is two windows to your right."
"Thank you," John muttered embarrassedly before picking up the pebbles he had dropped and stood in front of the correct window this time.
He threw a pebble and waited for a few seconds.
John silently prayed he had hit the right window this time and let out a sigh of relief when he saw Clara's confused face. She immediately pushed it opened when she saw him.
"What are you doing here in the middle of the night?" she whispered, surprised by his presence.
He cleared his throat. "Please, Clara, I only wish to talk to you and apologise if I have upset you."
Clara became silent. If anybody needed to give an apology, it was her. "John, I'm sorry-"
"Clara, please, listen to what I have to say first," he pleaded.
Reluctantly, she nodded, and John continued. "The reason I came here is that I wish to know why you are avoiding me, Clara – have I done something to upset you?"
"No, John, you've done nothing of the sort – if anyone should apologise, it should be me – I'm sorry for avoiding you and for everything," Clara murmured, leaning against the pane of the window.
He smiled at her. "I'll only accept yours if you accept mine."
She beamed at him, as she remembered him being such a sweet boy back when they first met, and it would seem he hasn't lost his innocence. "Fair enough."
Their conversation wasn't over yet as John had more to say and ask. "If you don't mind me asking, why… did you run away to Blackpool?"
Harold had told him one side of the story and it was time heard it from the other side.
Clara immediately avoided his gaze. "I… I was being silly and stupid – forget about it."
He knew there was more to it and tried coaxing it out of her.
"Please, Clara, I only want the truth, however difficult it may be to me," he murmured, slipping his hand into the pocket of his trousers and twirling the wedding ring. "If you cannot confine to me, then perhaps to your childhood friend?"
Clara pondered on what she should do or say. Should she tell him the truth and hold on to that tiny glimmer of hope that he will let her go if he knew her heart beats for someone else or does she play it safe and throw away her chance at happiness?
"I ran away because I wanted to visit my mother's grave – I thought about run-"
She was interrupted when they heard dogs howling in the distance, spooking Idris. The horse neighed and ran towards her master.
John grabbed her face and rubbed her mane. "It's alright, calm down Idris," he whispered soothingly. "It's alright."
"I swear if those stupid, rabid stray dogs attack the garden or horses again, I'm going to take them to the pound myself!" Donna yelled.
Both Clara and John jumped when they heard her.
"Can I see you tomorrow?" he asked, mounting Idris. "Please, Clara."
She nodded and said, "Meet me tomorrow morning at Hyde Park at half nine."
Her father usually leaves for work at around eight, so she could easily leave the mansion without anybody questioning her, well, aside from her grandmother.
Harold Saxon set the empty glass aside before he hid his face with one hand. For the past few days. he had immediately gone to the gentleman's club after work and drank like there was no tomorrow. He couldn't believe he lost so much money in a single day.
To add insult to injury, the merchant ship was robbed in broad daylight, just 70 miles away from London. It was so close. 200,000 British pounds worth of goods gone like the wind.
Harold grabbed the bottle of alcohol and threw it against the wall in anger. Ridiculous. Even Scotland Yard was incompetent. They had told him they would update him once they've made some sort of progress. Two days later and what did they say? No leads.
Clumsily, he grabbed his coat and left the club, deciding it was best he went home. He kept reassuring himself that he would get the money back, one way or another – once his weak cousin marries the girl, he'd be able to control the shipment of goods to not only northern England but also the west. Yes, he would get his money back in due time.
As he stepped out into the cold night, he saw a woman standing under the gaslight from across the street. Harold was too intoxicated to care and so, he began walking, hoping a cab would pass by.
He made eye contact with the mysterious woman and she smiled at him. He wasn't sure if it was sarcastic or not. It looked sarcastic. "What are you looking at?" he slurred.
She approached him. "Hello to you too, handsome," she purred.
Once Harold got a good look at her face, he realised how pretty she was. "Scottish women aren't usually my type," he said, grinning.
Missy lead him into an alleyway. "Then why are you still looking?"
"Why are you still playing the game?" he replied, following her.
She shrugged before roughly pushing him against the wall, causing Harold to laugh.
Missy took a quick glance at his wedding band. "How naughty of you to flirt with someone when you're already married," she whispered, running her hand down his chest and stopped when she reached his belt.
Harold wasn't for one to sleep with women he didn't know, but if anything, he was getting turned on by her. "And what about you?"
"What about me?" Missy replied, playing with his belt. Suddenly, her smile dropped. "Alright, I'm getting bored already, goodnight."
Harold grunted when he was knocked unconscious with an umbrella to the head. He crashed to the floor a moment later.
"That's for John," Missy muttered.
She rummaged through his coat and found his wallet. "Guess you won't be needing this."
She got up, tossed the coat into a puddle and gave him one final kick before walking away, wallet in one hand. Ten minutes later, as she was walking past River Thames, she tossed the wallet into the river.
Missy smiled. Once he wakes up, he would have a hard time trying to prove his identity to the police and that will likely send him to the station.
"You could have told me where we are going, you know," Amy said sleepily. Clara had woken her up early in the morning and told her to get ready. The next thing she knew, she was in a carriage, on her way to God knows where.
"Sorry, I just want us to be there on time," Clara replied, looking out the window. "We're going to Hyde Park – I told John to meet me there."
Amy arched a brow, still confused. "So why are you bringing me along?"
"Moral support?" her best friend suggested. The truth was, she needed someone to distract her and to indeed support her. Who better than her best friend.
"He wanted me to tell him the truth," she explained. "I'm… I'm still debating whether I should come clean and just play along – I don't know what to do, Amy."
Amy reached out and placed a comforting hand on hers. "He seems like a nice man – I think you should follow your heart... I think he will understand."
Clara could feel that glimmer of hope of happiness. "Yes, yes, I'll tell him everything."
The carriage came to a halt and she knew they were at their destination. The two women stepped out of the carriage and walked toward the nearest bench.
Twenty minutes passed and there was still no sign of John Foreman.
"This is unusual – I doubt John is the type of man who's tardy," Clara commented.
"Do you think he'll show up?"
"I honestly don't know."
They decided to wait for another ten minutes. By the time it was ten past ten, Clara thought it was best they leave. However, just as she and Amy rose from the bench, a familiar figure came running into the park.
"Clara!" John called out before Idris came to a halt. He dismounted from the horse and fixed his bowtie. "I'm terribly sorry for being late – I had to go to Scotland Yard to clear things up with the police – oh, hello, Mrs Williams-Pond."
"What happened – you're not in trouble, are you?" Clara inquired.
He shook his head. "Heavens no – it's my cousin – he was found in an alleyway, half-asleep and intoxicated – the police officer decided to take him to the station since he thought Harold was a homeless man... and he also put up a fight."
"I hope he's alright."
John nodded. "He is – only suffered a few bruises when they locked him up in a cell with other criminals – once again, I apologise."
Clara granted him a sympathetic smile. "That's fine – Amy kept me company."
"So," he said nervously. "Would you like to have a stroll?"
"I'll wait here," Amy whispered to her friend as Clara and John began walking.
"How have you been – did you sleep well?" John asked, hiding his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He began fiddling with the wedding ring he kept hidden in the left pocket.
"I'll be honest, not quite – I haven't been able to stop thinking," Clara confessed. "What about you?"
He shrugged. "I haven't had the luxury of getting a good night's rest either."
When he had returned home, he spent a large amount of his time pondering. Perhaps Clara didn't want to marry him, but if it is true, then why hasn't she said anything? Did she have a choice in this? He wasn't blind or stupid. He saw the looks Clara and Dr Smith shared. Perhaps he had already lost from the beginning. It ached his heart, but he would face it like a man.
Clara stared at him from the corner of her eyes. She never felt so nervous in her entire life.
'Let me be brave'
She kept repeating it over and over in her mind. "John, about last night," she began.
"Yes," he answered, almost with a sad tone. "I believe you wanted to tell me something?"
It was now or never. "I… I ran away because I told my father I was in love with a man."
His heart began beating rapidly. It gave him a bit of hope. It could be him and that what Harold had said is true.
"But, he became upset when I told him the man I love is someone he doesn't approve of."
John's heart sank. Indeed, he had lost from the very beginning. Nevertheless, he kept his composure. "Ah, that explains it, but why run away?" he asked softly.
Clara was close to tears, but she fought it. "I wanted to say goodbye to my mother – I had this stupid plan to elope with John – Dr Smith, but he convinced me otherwise – I was forced to choose between him and my father."
It is clear now why she avoided him, why she cried in that bookshop. John let go of the ring and grabbed both of Clara's hands. He kissed them with watery eyes. "Oh, Clara, you really are the Impossible Girl – I never stood a chance, did I?"
She sniffed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry for breaking your heart, John."
John wiped away the single tear with his thumb. "Why didn't say anything – you could have told me, and I would have let you go."
Clara couldn't hold it any longer. She shed more tears. Tears of joy, that the risk she took was worth it – John understood and tears of sadness. John Foreman doesn't deserve getting his heart broken.
He smiled at her. "Dry your tears," he murmured, pulling out a handkerchief. "And go to him, to the man you love."
John cut her off before she could protest. "Don't worry about your father – I will talk to him."
"Thank you, John, thank you," Clara said, hugging him. "Will you be alright?"
He snickered. "Yes, I will be just fine – I'm always ok, I'm the king of ok… Oh, that's a rubbish title."
They pulled away. "Thank you," Clara whispered, handing him the handkerchief back.
"You're very welcome, Clara Oswald – anything for your happiness," he replied. "Now go and promise me something – promise me that he will love you more than you love him and himself."
Clara chuckled before she nodded.
"Good or I'll knock his lights ou - go!" he shooed her away.
He watched as she strode back to the entrance where Amy and Mr Rentford were waiting but halfway through, she stopped, turned around and ran back to him.
"What is it?" he asked, confused.
Wordlessly, Clara grabbed his face and kissed his cheek, surprising him. She then ran back to the carriage, leaving him with a burning cheek. He placed a hand on the spot where her lips were and he smiled.
John Smith unlocked the door to his home and stepped inside before tossing his bag carelessly on the floor. He had just returned from visiting from several patients and he already felt exhausted. Maybe it was due to the lack of sleep. Maybe it was due to him skipping meals. Maybe it was both. Either way, he couldn't care less.
He felt so empty that it didn't matter. He was going to die alone and old. His only living relative hates him and the woman he loves is no longer his. Fantastic.
John sank down on the sofa before he closed his eyes. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. Maybe he would have been happier if he had eloped with Clara.
His train of thought was interrupted when a desperate knock was heard coming from the front door.
"Yes, I'm coming!" he growled, annoyed that whoever it was, was still hitting the bloody door.
His anger dissipated when he saw the person standing in front of him.
"Clara," he said softly, eyes full of sadness. "What-"
He wasn't given the chance to finish when she grabbed the lapels of his coat and kissed him desperately. John was shocked at first and awkwardly flailed his arms around like a fish. He eventually relaxed when he realised how much he missed the taste and feel of her lips on his own.
To hell with his good intentions. He returned the kiss with equal passion and cupped her face with both hands. For the first time since they separated, John felt rejuvenated. He twirled her around and broke the kiss. "What are you doing here?" he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.
"I love you, John Smith," Clara whispered happily.
He gave her a boyish grin when he saw the happiness in her eyes. "I love you even more, Clara Oswald," he replied, kissing her.
Once they pulled away, John ran a hand through his hair. He cleared his throat. "I… So… does this mean…"
She nodded. "I'm not sure how father will react, but John let me go."
The Doctor grabbed her hand and kissed it before he got down on one knee. "Clara Oswald, will you make me the happiest man in the entire universe and marry me?"
The beautiful smile was all the answer John Smith needed.