Into A Bar Fic
Moving from one weird-ass little town to another, here's my Into a Bar fic!
Title: The Last Stop on the Tour
Fandoms: Once Upon a Time/Doctor Who
Summary: Emma Swan goes into a bar time-traveling diner and meets Clara Oswald.
Rating/Warnings: G-rated. Contains spoilers through Doctor Who's "Hell-Bent," and some vague, general OUaT spoilers through maybe the first half of S5. Otherwise, nothing.
Length: ~1,200 words
The Last Stop on the Tour
"Okay," said Emma. "That's..." She'd been about to say "weird," but the last few years had so re-calibrated her definition of "weird" that she was no longer certain something like this even qualified. "...new," she finished, instead.
The newness, at least, she was certain of. Unless she'd lost her memories somehow, and more time had passed than she thought - which, admittedly, was always a possibility around here - that diner hadn't been there half an hour ago, when she'd last been down this street. Which meant there had to be magic involved. But who'd want to magic up a diner? Mr. Gold and Granny might not exactly get along, but she couldn't quite imagine him conjuring up a whole new diner just so he could eat somewhere else.
Emma flexed her hands a little, assuring herself that her magic was ready to go should she need it, and opened the diner door.
The inside was... kitschy. Like the 1950s had exploded in here. Although that didn't explain the human-sized Statue of Liberty standing next to the restrooms. If there was an explanation for that, Emma wasn't sure she wanted to hear it.
A woman looked up from behind the counter. A young woman, on the small side. Not very threatening-looking, although it was never a good idea to judge by appearances. "Sorry," she said. "We're closed." Her accent sounded English, but in Emma's experience accents didn't actually tell you very much about where someone was from.
"I'm the sheriff," she said. Which was maybe not entirely true, as Emma's father was doing most of the sheriffing these days, but technically she'd never resigned the job. "Emma Swan." The stranger showed no signs of recognizing the name, which was interesting. "Nice diner you have here."
The woman stepped around the counter and extended her hand. Emma shook it. Nothing disturbing or magical happened. "Clara Oswald," the woman said. "Nice to meet you!" She released Emma's hand and leaned back against a table. "If you're here because we don't have permits to open up a diner, you should know it's not actually a diner."
Emma looked around. Elvis looked back at her from the restroom door, which was a little disconcerting, but aside from the décor, nothing looked especially strange. "So, what is it then?"
Clara hesitated for a moment, as if considering what to say next. Her lips quirked into a slight, mischievous smile. "It's a ship that travels through time and space. It doesn't really look like this." She swept her hand around to indicate the counter, the booths, Elvis. "It can look like anything at all, really, but it seems to like being a diner."
"Oooooh-kay," said Emma, and in the course of those two syllables, felt herself shifting from weirded out to accepting. "Sure. Why not."
Clara tilted her head slightly, looking both amused and impressed. "Most people react a little more strongly to that."
"Most people haven't had my life." Emma shrugged. "I traveled to Camelot in a diner once. One that travels in time doesn't seem like that much more of a stretch."
Clara flashed her a big, sunny smile. Emma tried not to trust it, but it was surprisingly hard. "I knew this would be an interesting place to visit."
"Oh, yeah?" Ah, there was Emma's natural mistrust. She'd known it was still here somewhere. Strangers in town, after all, were usually bad news. Especially strangers who could do things like make diners appear out of thin air, however they did it. "Why, exactly, are you here?" Another thought suddenly occurred. "And who's with you?"
Clara's smile grew impish. "Just Me," she said.
"No." Emma didn't attempt to keep the irritation from her voice. "A minute ago, you said 'we.'"
"That's right. It's just me and Me." At Emma's confused look, she laughed. "Sorry. Stupid joke. You'd think I would have got tired of it by now, but she gets so adorably annoyed by it. 'Me' is my girlfriend. That's what she calls herself. She's off getting changed. She likes to dress appropriately for the time and place." Clara herself was wearing some skirt, tights, and blouse combination Emma found unremarkable, if it little too much on the "cute" side for her own tastes. "She's an immortal Viking." She gave Emma a sly look, as if curious to see her reaction to that.
"My boyfriend's a three hundred-year-old pirate," Emma said. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"
Clara laughed again. "You see? We'll fit right in here."
"Which brings us back to my previous question. Why are you here?"
"Do you know what this town looks like to a TARDIS's senses?" Clara touched the table behind her in a firm, meaningful-seeming way. Emma figured maybe "TARDIS" was a shorthand way of saying "space-and-time-traveling diner," though she had no idea how you might get from one of those phrases to the other.
"Um, no?"
"This town," Clara said, gesturing towards the windows, and towards Storybrooke outside them, "sits right in the middle of a section of spacetime so twisted up and distorted it looks like a pretzel. An absolutely impossible pretzel - and, believe me, I know impossible. And inside the town boundary, well. Some of the laws of physics in this place look like they belong to a different reality entirely."
"Makes sense," said Emma. Even as they spoke, she took a moment to marvel at the insane variety of things that seemed to make sense to her these days. "Magic works here, and it doesn't outside. And the town boundary is... strange. There was a curse, and..." Emma sighed. "It's kind of a long story. So, what, you came here because you were curious about Storybrooke's weirdness?"
"Sort of." Clara looked out the windows again, and her eyes went soft and distant. For a moment, she was silent. Then, "Did you ever have something you knew you had to do?" she said. "Something you had to face, and you knew you couldn't get out of it, that it was your.... Well, your destiny? Only you didn't want to. Didn't feel ready, no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself you were?"
Emma blinked. "Uh... Yeah, actually."
"Well." Clara looked back at her, and this time her smile had a hint of sadness to it. "That's where I am now. I've been putting something off, but I'm going to have to face it soon. And I thought..." She took a deep breath. "I thought, before I go, I should have one last adventure, somewhere amazing. Somewhere unlike anywhere else I've ever been before. Somewhere I can see things I've never seen. Somewhere that needs my help." Her smile brightened, widened. "You know any place like that?"
Emma looked at her for a moment. Looked into her face, into her eyes. Her lie-detecting superpower, she'd come to realize, could be a fickle and uncertain thing. But there were moments, still, when she knew, just knew that someone was being truthful with her. And truth was shining out of Clara like a light. In which case...
Somewhere, far down the street, there came a crashing noise, and the sound of someone yelling. It sounded like Leroy.
"Storybrooke always needs help," Emma said, turning to go. "Better come on, if you're coming."
But Clara had already beaten her to the door.
Title: The Last Stop on the Tour
Fandoms: Once Upon a Time/Doctor Who
Summary: Emma Swan goes into a bar time-traveling diner and meets Clara Oswald.
Rating/Warnings: G-rated. Contains spoilers through Doctor Who's "Hell-Bent," and some vague, general OUaT spoilers through maybe the first half of S5. Otherwise, nothing.
Length: ~1,200 words
The Last Stop on the Tour
"Okay," said Emma. "That's..." She'd been about to say "weird," but the last few years had so re-calibrated her definition of "weird" that she was no longer certain something like this even qualified. "...new," she finished, instead.
The newness, at least, she was certain of. Unless she'd lost her memories somehow, and more time had passed than she thought - which, admittedly, was always a possibility around here - that diner hadn't been there half an hour ago, when she'd last been down this street. Which meant there had to be magic involved. But who'd want to magic up a diner? Mr. Gold and Granny might not exactly get along, but she couldn't quite imagine him conjuring up a whole new diner just so he could eat somewhere else.
Emma flexed her hands a little, assuring herself that her magic was ready to go should she need it, and opened the diner door.
The inside was... kitschy. Like the 1950s had exploded in here. Although that didn't explain the human-sized Statue of Liberty standing next to the restrooms. If there was an explanation for that, Emma wasn't sure she wanted to hear it.
A woman looked up from behind the counter. A young woman, on the small side. Not very threatening-looking, although it was never a good idea to judge by appearances. "Sorry," she said. "We're closed." Her accent sounded English, but in Emma's experience accents didn't actually tell you very much about where someone was from.
"I'm the sheriff," she said. Which was maybe not entirely true, as Emma's father was doing most of the sheriffing these days, but technically she'd never resigned the job. "Emma Swan." The stranger showed no signs of recognizing the name, which was interesting. "Nice diner you have here."
The woman stepped around the counter and extended her hand. Emma shook it. Nothing disturbing or magical happened. "Clara Oswald," the woman said. "Nice to meet you!" She released Emma's hand and leaned back against a table. "If you're here because we don't have permits to open up a diner, you should know it's not actually a diner."
Emma looked around. Elvis looked back at her from the restroom door, which was a little disconcerting, but aside from the décor, nothing looked especially strange. "So, what is it then?"
Clara hesitated for a moment, as if considering what to say next. Her lips quirked into a slight, mischievous smile. "It's a ship that travels through time and space. It doesn't really look like this." She swept her hand around to indicate the counter, the booths, Elvis. "It can look like anything at all, really, but it seems to like being a diner."
"Oooooh-kay," said Emma, and in the course of those two syllables, felt herself shifting from weirded out to accepting. "Sure. Why not."
Clara tilted her head slightly, looking both amused and impressed. "Most people react a little more strongly to that."
"Most people haven't had my life." Emma shrugged. "I traveled to Camelot in a diner once. One that travels in time doesn't seem like that much more of a stretch."
Clara flashed her a big, sunny smile. Emma tried not to trust it, but it was surprisingly hard. "I knew this would be an interesting place to visit."
"Oh, yeah?" Ah, there was Emma's natural mistrust. She'd known it was still here somewhere. Strangers in town, after all, were usually bad news. Especially strangers who could do things like make diners appear out of thin air, however they did it. "Why, exactly, are you here?" Another thought suddenly occurred. "And who's with you?"
Clara's smile grew impish. "Just Me," she said.
"No." Emma didn't attempt to keep the irritation from her voice. "A minute ago, you said 'we.'"
"That's right. It's just me and Me." At Emma's confused look, she laughed. "Sorry. Stupid joke. You'd think I would have got tired of it by now, but she gets so adorably annoyed by it. 'Me' is my girlfriend. That's what she calls herself. She's off getting changed. She likes to dress appropriately for the time and place." Clara herself was wearing some skirt, tights, and blouse combination Emma found unremarkable, if it little too much on the "cute" side for her own tastes. "She's an immortal Viking." She gave Emma a sly look, as if curious to see her reaction to that.
"My boyfriend's a three hundred-year-old pirate," Emma said. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"
Clara laughed again. "You see? We'll fit right in here."
"Which brings us back to my previous question. Why are you here?"
"Do you know what this town looks like to a TARDIS's senses?" Clara touched the table behind her in a firm, meaningful-seeming way. Emma figured maybe "TARDIS" was a shorthand way of saying "space-and-time-traveling diner," though she had no idea how you might get from one of those phrases to the other.
"Um, no?"
"This town," Clara said, gesturing towards the windows, and towards Storybrooke outside them, "sits right in the middle of a section of spacetime so twisted up and distorted it looks like a pretzel. An absolutely impossible pretzel - and, believe me, I know impossible. And inside the town boundary, well. Some of the laws of physics in this place look like they belong to a different reality entirely."
"Makes sense," said Emma. Even as they spoke, she took a moment to marvel at the insane variety of things that seemed to make sense to her these days. "Magic works here, and it doesn't outside. And the town boundary is... strange. There was a curse, and..." Emma sighed. "It's kind of a long story. So, what, you came here because you were curious about Storybrooke's weirdness?"
"Sort of." Clara looked out the windows again, and her eyes went soft and distant. For a moment, she was silent. Then, "Did you ever have something you knew you had to do?" she said. "Something you had to face, and you knew you couldn't get out of it, that it was your.... Well, your destiny? Only you didn't want to. Didn't feel ready, no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself you were?"
Emma blinked. "Uh... Yeah, actually."
"Well." Clara looked back at her, and this time her smile had a hint of sadness to it. "That's where I am now. I've been putting something off, but I'm going to have to face it soon. And I thought..." She took a deep breath. "I thought, before I go, I should have one last adventure, somewhere amazing. Somewhere unlike anywhere else I've ever been before. Somewhere I can see things I've never seen. Somewhere that needs my help." Her smile brightened, widened. "You know any place like that?"
Emma looked at her for a moment. Looked into her face, into her eyes. Her lie-detecting superpower, she'd come to realize, could be a fickle and uncertain thing. But there were moments, still, when she knew, just knew that someone was being truthful with her. And truth was shining out of Clara like a light. In which case...
Somewhere, far down the street, there came a crashing noise, and the sound of someone yelling. It sounded like Leroy.
"Storybrooke always needs help," Emma said, turning to go. "Better come on, if you're coming."
But Clara had already beaten her to the door.