G E R O N I M O

                    I like to think about the first law of thermodynamics,

                                    that no energy in the universe is CREATED –

            and none is destroyed.

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                                    independent | private | selective

                         leopold james fitz and jemma anne simmons

When the doctor came in, Benny leaned back in his chair, but kept his hand holding on to Clara’s. “Not, ah… Not so much indication of pain, but uncomfortable, definitely. I-I cleaned her up a bit, just to try and make her a little bit more at ease, but…”

Benny’s fingers brushed her temple and she nodded in response to his question. Yes, she was in pain. Her shoulder felt like someone had stuck a red hot fire poker into it. Although she was conscious of the wound on her stomach, she didn’t know how much of the pain was from the bullet wound and how much was from the literal surgery that had taken place there only hours earlier.

“Her head is pounding, she said, and her shoulder and her stomach are both hurting as well,” Benny told him, relaying all of the information that Clara had whispered to him. 

He got up from his seat carefully, being cautious to not move too quickly and frighten her. Across from her hospital bed, a nurse had come in while she was unconscious, setting aside a washcloth and a basin of water, saying that she would wait until Clara was awake to clean her up.

She watched as he rolled up his sleeves and dipped the washcloth in the water, nodding to show she’d heard him. Her big brown eyes were trained on his face, looking to see if she could tell what he was thinking.

Benny returned to her side just as quickly as he’d left, taking her hand in his. “I’m... I love you, Clara. And... I’m here now, no matter what. We’ll get through all of this, I promise you. Together.”

“I’m right here,” he told her, squeezing her hand gently. “I’m here, it’s going to be okay, Clara. Just-just… breathe, I’m here.”

He reached out a trembling hand, his palm resting against her cheek, his thumb gently brushing her tears away. “You’re okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe, I promise, Clara… I’m here, right here with you.”

Benny’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away tears. She could hear what he was saying, she could comprehend the words, but it didn’t feel that way. It didn’t feel like she was okay or safe. It felt like she was broken and she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that crept through her veins, as if the boogeyman was hiding behind every corner.

Danny returned with the nurse in tow, who promptly moved to Clara’s bedside and began checking vitals and talking to her. None of it really made sense. “Stop,” she mumbled, voice weak. When the nurse didn’t hear her she tried again, voice louder.

“Stop!”

It surprised Benny just as much when Clara told the nurse to stop, and he gave her hand another gentle squeeze. He knew she was scared, terrified. He just wished he had been there to help her. He wished it had been him that was shot, not her.

Her head was beginning to feel less fuzzy, but as the anesthesia wore off she could feel it pounding in pain. Her chest throbbed and ached. The lights seemed all at once too bright and she closed her eyes against them, forehead creasing into a tiny frown. She remembered reading once that when military pilots completed a crash landing or emergency air evacuation they would go through a checklist. She wiggled her toes and shifted her legs, both responding immediately. She knew her arms worked, even if her right one felt like someone had stuck a hot poker underneath her shoulder blade and twisted it. She could breathe and see and hear and speak.

“I’m so sorry, Clara,” he said weakly, tears stinging in his eyes. “I should have been there for you... I’m so sorry, Clara, my... my brave, beautiful, Clara...” He reached out gently, brushing her hair from her eyes. He could see it on her face that she was still TERRIFIED and that she was uncomfortable.

“I’m right here,” he told her, squeezing her hand gently. “I’m here, it’s going to be okay, Clara. Just-just… breathe, I’m here.”

He reached out a trembling hand, his palm resting against her cheek, his thumb gently brushing her tears away. “You’re okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe, I promise, Clara… I’m here, right here with you.”

Benny’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away tears. She could hear what he was saying, she could comprehend the words, but it didn’t feel that way. It didn’t feel like she was okay or safe. It felt like she was broken and she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that crept through her veins, as if the boogeyman was hiding behind every corner.

Danny returned with the nurse in tow, who promptly moved to Clara’s bedside and began checking vitals and talking to her. None of it really made sense. “Stop,” she mumbled, voice weak. When the nurse didn’t hear her she tried again, voice louder.

“Stop!”

It surprised Benny just as much when Clara told the nurse to stop, and he gave her hand another gentle squeeze. He knew she was scared, terrified. He just wished he had been there to help her. He wished it had been him that was shot, not her.

He hardly listened to the nurse as she spoke, burying his head in his shaking hands. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her, not his Clara…

“She’ll be… she’ll be okay, right?” he asked, finally looking up, but not at the nurse, at Clara, at her face while she slept, unconscious, sedated and… so pale…

“She’ll-she’ll live, yeah? She’s not… not going to… to…”

Danny hadn’t expected that. He sat quietly beside Benny, hands in his lap. The two had been together for quite some time, but neither of them had ever mentioned marriage. It seemed inevitable for them, though.

“I’m not going to say ‘I’m sorry’ because that feels too… Final,” Danny said. “It feels like I’m admitting something bad has already happened, and that’s not what I want. If there’s one thing we know about Clara, it’s that she’s strong. Your girl is strong, Benny. If anyone can come back from this, it’s her. Especially with your help.”

—

It was hours before Clara stirred, groggy and still feeling fuzzy from the anesthesia. Everything felt blunt, like the rounded edges of a square, and she could just barely place herself in some sort of room. When she finally gained the strength to move her eyes off the ceiling above her she was pleased to see a familiar mop of hair.

Maybe he’d get a chance to propose, properly.

He had started to drift off as he sat beside her, holding her tiny hand in both of his own. As soon as he heard her voice, Benny’s head snapped up, eyes wide in shock.

There were few things Clara remembered about the incident.

She remembered that she’d been watching tv in her pajamas, a bowl of popcorn balanced precariously on the arm of the sofa. She remembered that she’d texted Benny to say she hoped he was having a good time, adding two heart emojis to the end of the text. She remembered that she saw the same commercial five times in the span of one show. Those things were inconsequential.

More importantly, she remembered hearing the door to her flat creak open. She remembered hearing footsteps and the sound of her panicked breaths as she hid in her closet, shaking fingers texting Benny for help. She remembered the beam of light streaming through the opening door.

She remembered pleading for her life. She remembered the gunshot. She remembered feeling warm, sticky blood beneath her fingertips.

——

Danny Pink laughed at a joke his best friend had said as they turned onto Clara’s street. They’d gone out of London the night before to a stag night, and Danny had promised to drive Benny home himself. He pulled into the parking lot of the flats, and put the car into park, peering out the window.

“Wow, the place is busy,” he commented, but something didn’t feel right. He realized what it was quickly: behind the throng of people was police tape. Camera flashes went off from crime scene workers documenting a scene. At the center of it all was Clara’s front door, lock jimmied open.

“CLARA!” he shouted, trying to pull away from a police officer that stopped him, telling him he needed to calm down, that this was a crime scene and he couldn’t cross the tape.

“I don’t give a damn about the tape!” he screamed, red in the face from running, from the FEAR he could feel pouring through his veins. “I-I live here, with Clara -- Clara Oswald, where... where is she? What’s happened? Where’s Clara?”

He could feel his heart sinking in his chest when the officer turned to get another, pulling Benny and Danny both aside to explain to them what had happened. He felt like he was going to be ill, listening to what had happened. Clara had been alone... she must’ve been so terrified, and he hadn’t been there for her...

“You’re here about Clara Oswald,” he said, by way of introduction. “I’m officer McCord, I accompanied the paramedics here. From what I understand, they’ve just finished surgery. There should be a doctor coming to speak with you soon.”

Danny was stood at attention, an old habit from the war that he didn’t seem to be able to break. “Can you give us any information about what happened?”

The officer gave him a strained half-smile. “I can tell you some things,” he conceded. “But because this is still an open investigation, there are some things I won’t be allowed to share until after detectives have spoken with Miss Oswald.”

He took a breath, meeting Benny’s eyes. “We know that someone broke in. Miss Oswald hid in her closet and phone the 911 operator, who managed to get a partial address from her before the phone went dead. They were able to use that partial address and pings from the cell towers to locate the flats. From there they were able to determine which flat she was in. When they found her, they determined that whoever had broken in had shot her, twice. She’d lost a lot of blood. They brought her here, and immediately into surgery. At the moment, that’s all we know, but -“

She had been S H O T twice. Someone had shot Clara, one of the kindest human beings Benny had ever met in his whole life, had been shot, and all because what? Because someone decided to rob their flat? And if Benny had been home earlier, she wouldn’t have been ALONE...

His heartbeat quickened when the officer addressed the nurse. He said something about letting her rest, about the police keeping an eye on her, but he shook his head.

There were few things Clara remembered about the incident.

She remembered that she’d been watching tv in her pajamas, a bowl of popcorn balanced precariously on the arm of the sofa. She remembered that she’d texted Benny to say she hoped he was having a good time, adding two heart emojis to the end of the text. She remembered that she saw the same commercial five times in the span of one show. Those things were inconsequential.

More importantly, she remembered hearing the door to her flat creak open. She remembered hearing footsteps and the sound of her panicked breaths as she hid in her closet, shaking fingers texting Benny for help. She remembered the beam of light streaming through the opening door.

She remembered pleading for her life. She remembered the gunshot. She remembered feeling warm, sticky blood beneath her fingertips.

——

Danny Pink laughed at a joke his best friend had said as they turned onto Clara’s street. They’d gone out of London the night before to a stag night, and Danny had promised to drive Benny home himself. He pulled into the parking lot of the flats, and put the car into park, peering out the window.

“Wow, the place is busy,” he commented, but something didn’t feel right. He realized what it was quickly: behind the throng of people was police tape. Camera flashes went off from crime scene workers documenting a scene. At the center of it all was Clara’s front door, lock jimmied open.

“CLARA!” he shouted, trying to pull away from a police officer that stopped him, telling him he needed to calm down, that this was a crime scene and he couldn’t cross the tape.

“I don’t give a damn about the tape!” he screamed, red in the face from running, from the FEAR he could feel pouring through his veins. “I-I live here, with Clara -- Clara Oswald, where... where is she? What’s happened? Where’s Clara?”

He could feel his heart sinking in his chest when the officer turned to get another, pulling Benny and Danny both aside to explain to them what had happened. He felt like he was going to be ill, listening to what had happened. Clara had been alone... she must’ve been so terrified, and he hadn’t been there for her...