L E G E N D S (A superwholock fanfiction)

Chapter 1-"I'm not homeless. I live in a car"

Disclaimer- I do not own Doctor Who. Only my o/c Clarke and any other plots created by me are mine.

I pressed myself against the rough concrete wall, trying to fit as much as myself possible underneath the shadow of the fire escape, in an attempt to avoid the rain. I felt a wind pick up, sending drops of rain my way. A streetlight flickered a few feet away from me. My mouth twisted into a frown as I felt the rain cut into my skin. Underneath my jacket, I felt the lump of the paper bag that I had been keeping dry for almost half an hour, my frustration had already grown to the maximum.

"Clarke," I snapped my head up at the voice and saw a dark figure standing away from the streetlight, his coat making him look bigger this time, and a black scarf covered his face. "You're late," I bring the paper bag out from underneath my jacket and start towards him. "Catch," once I'm a few feet away from him, I toss him the package and back away. "What's the matter, Clarke? Scared to get too close?" His mouth twists into a smirk. I feel a snarky comment rise up on my tongue, but keep my mouth shut. "Where's my money?"
He reaches up and pulls the scarf away from his mouth, revealing his entire face. His lizard-like features looked ghostly tonight, the light above him making his eyes look sunken in and hollow. "Do you really think I forgot?" He smirks and reaches into his coat pocket, bringing out an envelope. "Catch," he tosses the envelope my way and I catch it in my right hand. The envelope is surprisingly heavy, not as heavy as a briefcase full of money, but heavy enough to throw. I quickly tear open the envelope, taking quick glances at him to make sure he didn't run off before I counted all the money. I try my best to keep the money away from the rain as I start to count. Fifty...seventy...one hundred... I count the remaining bills until I reach two hundred and close the envelope back up and tuck it into my pocket. "It was nice doing business with you Clarke, if that's even your real name," he sets his dark eyes in my direction, making an uncomfortable twinge form in my stomach. "You never told me your name, so why should I tell you mine?" I shoot a cold stare towards him and begin walking out of the small alleyway. "You should be careful Clarke, the streets are no place for a little girl." I hold up my hand and raise my middle finger without looking back, not giving him the luxury of my attention. I hear him chuckle before his footsteps fade into the night, leaving me walking alone with my thoughts.

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I feel the thin layer of ice break under my boots as I stiffly walk towards my van, which was still a couple yards away. Usually, I didn't like how much space I had under the concrete bridge, I always preferred someplace hidden and tucked away, but space was good for building ambitious traps around my van. Though, that would only happen if I knew how to build said traps. I could plant bombs everywhere. Yeah, great idea. Then I would forget where they were and blow myself up. I pursed my lips and continued on.

My van wasn't your typical kidnapping getaway vehicle. It looked like something a soccer mom would own. I had taped cardboard against the windows to keep out any unwanted eyes a while ago, trying to make it look less inviting. Instead, it turned out looking even more ugly than it was when I first found it.

I pulled open the side door of my green van and climbed inside, immediately regretting not putting more effort into pushing it out into the sun. I placed my tongue in between my teeth to prevent them from knocking into each other. I'd like winter a lot more if I had a damn heater. I made myself comfortable in the backseat, leaning down to feel for the lever on the side. I take a hold of lever and recline the seat as far as it could go.

It was the closest thing I had to a bed. Yes, the seats were an ugly brown color, and the stuffing was coming out through a hole in the bottom, but it was better than sleeping outside. Either way, I was going to be cold, might as well be comfortable while doing it. I thought about getting up to retrieve my only blanket from the trunk but couldn't find the energy to bring myself to move. How did I get here? What made me stoop so low? In the end, it was always my own fault. Choosing to leave something good is what brought me here.