Enjoy!

"I just want to do something good."

Chapter Twenty-One.

"John, it's the red one! The red one!"

"Right, sorry! Let me just – oops."

Clara couldn't help but to giggle at John's sheepish expression. He had completely knocked over the small, red bowl of egg whites – and it was now slowly dripping to the floor. And though Clara supposed she should have been upset that the soufflé preparation was now nothing but a mess, John's face made up for it. "I'm sorry," John said, instantly grabbing paper towels. "I know you wanted me to give the –"

"Oh, silly," Clara replied lightly, putting her cooking utensils away. She helped John with the paper towels and leaning down, started to wipe away the wet, gloppy puddle of egg whites. "It's fine. We can always try for another soufflé." John looked up, relief already spreading to his eyes. "Okay," he responded. He threw the paper towels into the bin, adding halfheartedly, "I don't think I can do much now, anyways. Not at the moment."

"And why is that?" Clara asked, starting to dump her things into the sink. John pushed a hand up to his forehead, replying, "One – I'm standing next to my girlfriend." Clara grinned, and tapping John on the nose, replied, "Flattery. That's certainly one way to get my attention off of you." Her smile faded and turning on the faucet, added, "But in all honesty. Is there anything on your mind?"

"Are you okay?"

Clara turned to John, her eyebrow creeping up to her hairline. "You're asking a question in response to my question." She said. "I'm trying to figure out what the heck that's supposed to mean." John pressed his lips together. "I mean it," he replied earnestly, and it really, honestly looked that way. "Are you okay? I know the last few weeks haven't been –"

"I'm okay." Clara interrupted. She shut off the faucet and rubbed her hands over a dish towel. "I'm really okay. You don't need to worry about me all the time." She turned to John, whose eyes had softened considerably. "Clara," he started to say, but the brunette shook her head quickly.

"Listen, John," she said slowly. "I'm not fragile. I don't need you looking out for my every move – constantly checking on me to see if I'm doing okay – always wondering if something bad is going to happen to me because of whatever stresses or worries revolve around my life right now." She took a step towards John, saying, "I…thank you for caring about me. For thinking about me and being considerate. But…" She roped her fingers into John's, murmuring, "But I think I can bear to handle some of it on my own."

John's eyes were glistening. Like in the movies, Clara couldn't help but to think. She held her breath, waiting for his response – and then, unexpectedly, John pressed his lips lightly over her forehead. "Clara Oswald," he whispered, his warm breath making contact with Clara's skin. "My Impossible Girl. Always so full of good surprises."

Clara slowly exhaled. She lifted her forehead up to John, though she didn't say anything. She didn't have to – because in the next moment, John had lowered his head to move his kiss to Clara's lips. And smiling, Clara allowed it. She looped her arms around his neck and leaning back against the counter. Clara could feel John's racing pulse – feel his hands moving up and down her arms and shoulders.

Breathless, John whispered against Clara's lips, "Clara. Hey. You know what I'm thinking right now?"

Clara opened her eyes for a quick moment, asking softly, "What?" John pulled away briefly.

He lifted a hand against Clara's cheek and in the quietest voice; he said tenderly:

"I love you."

xXx

Clara didn't think that one proclamation of love would trigger something more, but it did.

xXx

The next hour was entirely composed of tangled limbs and sheets and already-known secrets being mumbled in between labored breaths. Clara had thought that the entire arrangement would be uncomfortable, but it wasn't.

It felt perfectly right.

xXx

Clara awoke and slid out of bed carefully, so that she wouldn't wake John. To her relief, he didn't stir – though Clara couldn't help but to smile at the peaceful look on his face. John breathed in deeply and sank deeper into his blankets. Resisting the urge to join him back in the bed, Clara walked out of the bedroom. She pulled her laptop onto the couch and flipped it open.

Alright, River Song, Clara thought to herself, tapping her fingers frantically over the keyboard. What have you got planned for me? And why do you need my story? She self-consciously lifted her thumbnail to her lips in concentration as she scanned through her documents again. Chillingly familiar characters, Clara thought to herself, feeling a shiver run up her spine. It was every writer's fear of getting found out – and though Clara wasn't even sure if she qualified as a real writer, it was certainly something she was never comfortable with.

Her eyes drifted over to each description of the characters she had conjured up – a boy with a noticeably large chin. Beautiful eyes. A beautiful soul, Clara couldn't help but to add to herself. For a second, she allowed herself a smile – and instantly, it melted away from her face. John, she thought frantically to herself.

Was that it? Was that what River wanted?

What had Amy said to her in the beginning, when all of this chaos had started? "You see, Rory and I both thought that if Idris knew that John had a…girlfriend or a lady friend, Idris would change her mind." Clara remembered the cool, calculating looks that Idris and River had given her on their first meeting – at the time; Clara had thought it was only because they didn't like her. (And they still don't like her.) But now that Clara was looking through her thoughts, she found something else – what if they were looking at her to find out if she was real? If her position in the matter was real? Because if she was a fake – if she was some random neighbor who was only playing a fake part – then Idris and River would have absolutely no reason to keep John in the states. (Not that they were going to let him stay in the first place, but…)

John wouldn't have a reason. I'm the only thing keeping him here, according to River and Idris, Clara thought, biting down on her lower lip in worry.

But why? Why would she need the actual book? I've done nothing except make John good, Clara fumed. Why would she need to go into such lengths to make a point? To prove someone wrong?

It didn't make any sense.

xXx

Clara was still trying to un-knot the impossible question when John opened the bedroom door. She was still trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind River's actions. She was still trying to figure out why River had showed up on her doorstep with her story. She was still trying to make some sense out of the confusing and bewildering situation when John pressed a soft kiss on the curve of her neck. "Good morning," he whispered, his voice low and gravelly with sleep. "Work?"

Clara pushed her laptop away from herself and tilting her head to look up at John, responded, "Something along those lines. Did you sleep well?" John gave her a coy wink (though it was more like a long, extended blink) and said, "You know I did." Clara couldn't help but to feel a warmth in her cheeks at those words. She stood up and asked over her shoulder, "Do you mind getting oatmeal or something for breakfast today? I think I'm running low on everything else – I'll have to make a run to the grocery store later today."

"Of course," John responded kindly. Clara smiled to herself as she heard the man plop himself into the couch. Brushing a strand of hair over her ear, Clara sorted through the pantry until she found the oats box. She carefully sorted out the proper measurement of the stuff before setting it over the stove.

While she was waiting for the oatmeal to prepare itself, Clara set to busying around the kitchen, hoping to distract herself from whatever troubles she was facing back with her laptop. Letting her hands fall onto the counter, Clara leaned forward and took in a deep breath. Easy does it, Clara thought to herself. You're not fragile. Prove it.

xXx

And I was having such a pleasant day, Clara thought as she swung open the door to look at River Song and Idris. She caught sight of Amy and Rory and Ten standing behind the two other women, all looking apologetic and nervous. Clearing her throat, Clara snapped her eyes back to Idris and River and said as casually as she could, "Good morning." (She tried to ignore the thick folder in River's hands.)

"John is here, isn't he." Idris said shortly. Clara noted how she said those words as if it wasn't a question. It probably wasn't. Clara didn't even have to move; within a heartbeat, John was at Clara's shoulder, obviously having heard the older woman's call. Clara felt the weight of John's hand settle on her shoulder as he replied, "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

"We've been trying to find out where you were," Idris said stiffly. "It didn't take us too long to connect two points together." With a sigh, she added, "But it's no matter now. River, if you please."

Clara watched as the blonde whipped out the folder. Carefully, she brought out a thick packet – and this one, Clara knew what it was. She felt John's grip tighten over her shoulder – whether in reassurance or fear, Clara couldn't tell. Either way, she let her own hand crawl up to John's. She squeezed it once and waited with pounding heart as River started to flip through the packet.

"It's quite funny, you know," River said with an unpleasant smile. "We were under the impression that you and John really were an obstacle that we'd have to take up, but it seems not." She held up the packet. "Ms. Whinford, I believe – was kind enough to donate what thoughts you might have had in your story here."

"'Why do you keep bothering me?' she asked from her window. 'I told you, I don't want any business with you!' The man let out a laugh, sticking his hands in his pockets. 'You said that,' he replied with shining eyes, 'but I didn't listen. Obviously.' Without another word, he started to walk towards the tower, causing Oswin to scuttle back. 'Leave me alone,' she managed to say. 'I don't want you here," River read aloud, her upper lip curling into a sly smile. "Now, you might want to protest that your story is a work of fiction – but I understand that there are certain elements in the story that make it somewhat…real."

Clara felt as though her chest was going to burst open. She stared, humiliated and frustrated as River went on, "This character – this boy in the story – is most obviously John, isn't he?" When Clara didn't respond, Idris made a huffy tsk sound. "Oh, don't keep that attitude up, Miss Oswald. It is most embarrassing."

"What I would like to know is why you would vent such annoyed feelings towards John when what was it – Amy and Rory – and John and you – all swore that everything was going well?" River asked. "Of course, I suppose I can't blame you – being forced to keep up a perfect, pretty face must be exhausting. It would seem that anyone, really, would want to speak of his or her own feelings through whatever way she or he can find." She gestured to the packet and eyes flashing dangerously, River said, "It appears, Miss Oswald, that your way is with words. With fiction. With figments of reality being woven into a world of fantasy and make-believe that you thought would only be understandable to your eyes and ears. How wrong you were…"

"We were right all along," Idris said icily, her eyes snapping to John. "This was all a lie. You, sir – what do you have to defend yourself?"

Clara sucked in a breath. John, she thought, turning to look up at the man. What are you thinking? What do you think about this interpretation?

Then, John did the unexpected. He laughed. He let out a long, hearty laugh followed by a string of chuckles and giggles. He leaned over Clara, wiping tears from his eyes and trembling as each laugh overtook his body. Clara stared at him uncertainly, wondering whether or not to take this as a good or bad sign. She looked over at Amy and Rory and David – only to find that they looked as confused as she felt.

"Phew – you think this is something bad?" John asked at last, shaking his head. "Oh, my God – what are you talking about? It's perfect! Clara, tell them – tell them how I used to bother the pants off of you by knocking at your door all day. Tell them that one time I followed you around because I wanted to get to know you. Tell them how you almost slammed the door on my toe to avoid me – tell them – oh, my God. This is too much. Too much, I'm telling you." He giggled into his fist. "Oh, that brings me back."

Clara blinked once, twice, three times before turning back to River and Idris. They, too, were staring at John with furrowed eyebrows and narrowed eyes. After a few moments, Clara responded, "It's true. There was this one time…I was walking and I took a second to look at a store window, yeah? And then I saw John's reflection and he was right there. From following me. He wouldn't leave me alone." She hesitated. "That might sound a bit stalker-ish, but he was trying to be a friend, I think." She looked back up at John, wondering if she had said the right thing. The beam he responded with was the only confirmation she needed.

"Sorry, fellas," John said, swinging an arm around Clara's shoulders. He pressed a quick kiss at the top of her head and with a wink, he added, "I'm afraid you're going to have to dig a little deeper than that to make it seem like everything here is fake."

xXx

"You're ridiculous," Clara said, shaking her head. "Did anyone ever tell you that? Absolutely ridiculous. Bonkers. I was stressing about that only this morning and you – crazy, I'm telling you." John smiled hopefully. "But you wouldn't have it any other way, yeah?" he asked, sticking out his tongue.

Clara rolled her eyes and throwing a pillow at John's face, replied, "Of course. Crazy."

xXx

After Idris and River had skulked off to their apartment in embarrassment and annoyance, Clara supposed the nice thing to do would be to pretend as though nothing had ever happened and to forgive them for whatever wrongs they had committed in trying to get her private property.

So that's what Clara did. She bumped into them in passing and instead of shooting any nasty comment to them; she gave them a polite smile and asked if she could help them put away their suitcases into the cab to the drive to the airplane home. They declined the offer, of course, but Clara still enjoyed the feeling of knowing that she was standing on somewhat higher ground.

It was very awkward to see them leave, however – John gave David and Idris and River a cheerful wave as they left, though David was the only one who responded the gesture. (He also promised that he would visit again soon.) Meanwhile, Amy and Rory figured that they could spare to stay a bit longer. "And besides," Amy had said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "a little adventure is nice once in a while."

And John, of course, stayed with Clara throughout the entire thing.

xXx

"And then, Clara? What happened next?" Martha asked, leaning into the screen. Clara smiled, spinning her coffee mug around and around in her hands. "What happens next in all good stories, Martha?" she replied. "We lived happily ever after. Or at least, we're in the middle of that." Martha grinned and shaking her head, said, "You're crazy. Absolutely ridiculous."

Clara looked over her shoulder to see John flipping through the pages of her book – the one that Clara had eventually published after days and days of arguing with John and herself. He was smiling, his lips silently mouthing every single word.

With a content sigh, Clara looked back at Martha and responded, "I know. But I think I like it that way."

xXx

Clara didn't mind hearing John knock on her door at five o'clock in the morning. She didn't even mind that he wasn't there when she actually opened the door – only a small post-it note that told her he was waiting outside. With almost dream-like motions, Clara got dressed – prepared for whatever surprise John might have in store when she reached him.

When Clara did get outside, John was holding the book. He was flipping to the very last page, reading aloud, "'Oswin slipped her hand into his. With a smile, she said quietly, 'We'll go everywhere. Anywhere and everywhere and any place in between.'"

He looked up at Clara and with a wide smile, said, "Glad you could make it here."

Clara rolled her eyes. "What are we doing?" she asked, lightly flicking John's shoulder. John tucked the book under his arm and started to sort through his pockets. "You know, I've been thinking lately," he said slowly. His hand went around to his jacket pocket – and sticking his tongue out between his teeth, he said, "About what you wrote in your story. You know, how Oswin and the Who go off to travel?"

Clara nodded her head, a fond smile on her face. "Yeah?" she asked softly. With one, fluid movement, John presented two tickets – airplane tickets – to Clara. Her eyes lit up as he said simply, "I think we should give it a shot. Don't you?" His eyes widened as Clara didn't reply. "Or I mean, we can always save these for later," he said hastily. "Or give them to Amy and Rory. Or –"

"Absolutely ridiculous," Clara hummed, shaking her head. She threw her arms around John's neck, giggling into his skin and smiling as he kissed her forehead. "Is that a yes?" he whispered. Clara took only a second to look up at John. At his beautiful eyes and his goofy smile and his large, prominent chin.

"Yes," she replied happily. "We'll go everywhere. Anywhere and everywhere and any place in between."

-The End-

A/N - I just want to thank all of you guys who took the time to review and follow and favorite this story...and tell you guys how happy I am to have shared this work with you. It's been quite a ride - filled with a ton of late nights and screaming and pillow-tossing and re-watches of Doctor Who so I could find some motivation to come to an end with this story.

I'm a bit sad, to be honest, to end. I think I'm always going to be attached to this thing because it was the first ever multi-chapter story for the fandom that I've written.

But thank you for bearing this journey with me. Thank you for keeping up with my rants and my writing and not questioning my sanity through it all. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!

Luv ya bunches,

katierosefun xx