I didn't want to start writing this before the season finale but last night I have been attacked by plot bunnies and now they whole story is already finished in my head so I decided not to postpone it any longer. I hope you enjoy reading this one as much as you've enjoyed my other fics.

Love Me Like You Mean It

1959. Dr John Smith moves to Texas with one goal in mind: to start over and forget about his past. When he meets Clara Oswin Oswald, a waitress and an outcast with a whole lot of buried dreams he thinks that she might be just what he needs to give his life some meaning. Diner AU.

Chapter 1

When John Smith left the bus in Parsons, Texas, one hand clutching the bag containing all the clothing he had brought with him, the other holding his guitar case, he knew that he would stay right here in this small town. He had left Scotland in a hurry, only taking what he really needed, so eager to get away from everything that he had once known because the pain and the defeat were too much for him to bear.

A fresh start was what he needed. Not in Scotland, not in the United Kingdom, not on the European continent. Why exactly he had chosen America, or even this town, John Smith couldn't say. Something about it just felt exactly right and when he had passed the town sign he had gotten this tingling at the tips of his fingers, grabbed his bags and left the bus only to find himself in the middle of nowhere.

As he walked along the dusty street he spotted a small diner and for the first time he realized that he felt thirsty so John decided to go inside. They could probably also tell him where to find a place to sleep or maybe even where to find a job, even though he hadn't even made up his mind about how he was going to make a living from now on. The little bell on top of the diner door rang as he entered and the young waitress turned around and greeted him with a smile. Apparently he was the only customer.

"Have a seat," she told him in a friendly manner, "I'll be with you in a second."

John walked up to the counter and placed his bag and his guitar case next to one of the bar stools before he sat down. He watched as the waitress noticed the case before she pointed at it.

"You're a guitar player?" she asked excitedly, that friendly smile still on her face. She was very pretty, beautiful even with brown hair and dark brown eyes.

"Just a hobby," he replied, suddenly noticing how thick his Scottish accent must seem compared to the way she spoke.

"Can I get you anything?"

"Erm," John considered it for a moment, "A cup of coffee."

"Anything to eat?" she looked at him hopefully, "Please, no one's come in here in over an hour and I'm really bored."

John chuckled. "Alright. Chicken sandwich and a plate of chips."

"Chips?" the waitress raised her eyebrows, "You mean fries or actual American chips?"

"I meant fries, sorry," he apologized with a smile. Of course he had known that Americans call chips fries and that what he knew as crisps was called chips over here but old habits indeed died hard.

"No problem," the young woman smiled and reached for a mug to pour him the coffee he had wanted.

While he waited for his food an elderly couple entered the dinner and upon spotting the young waitress left again immediately although she had greeted them with the same friendly hello and a smile. He heard her groan in frustration.

"I don't mean to pry," John said matter-of-factly, "But that seemed kind of rude of them. Sworn enemies of yours?"

"No," the young woman huffed, "But you will find that people in this town are very narrow-minded and above all racist. And they never forget."

She vanished in the back of the diner to emerge a few moments later with his food and John started eating, only now noticing how hungry he really was.

"You're not from here," the waitress said after a moment.

"No," John replied, swallowing a bite, "I'm from Glasgow. Needed a change of scenery. You don't happen to know a place where I could stay for a while? Until I've found something more permanently."

"I could give you some advice and tell you to leave. I would if I could. This place doesn't seem to have changed in the last couple of decades," she said angrily and he could tell that there was a reason for her resentment but he felt like asking about it would be overstepping some boundaries.

Instead John shrugged. "I quite like it. It's got charm. American small town charm."

"Well, if you insist," she said, "My landlord has a vacancy. The man who used to live on the floor above me moved out a few weeks ago. It's a small apartment but he rents weekly so in case you decide to grab your bags and leave you won't lose a whole month's rent."

John gave her a smile. "That sounds good. Can you tell me where to find it?"

"I can take you there if you've got half an hour to spare. My shift ends then and I can't wait to get home."

"That is very nice of you, -"

"Clara," she told him, "Clara Oswin Oswald."

"I'm Dr John Smith."

Clara's eyes widened. "A doctor? I wouldn't have guessed that."

John felt his heart sink and took a long, deep breath.

"I'm not a doctor anymore. I've lost the right to call myself by that title," he admitted, the tone of his voice grave.

"Why? What happened?" she asked curiously, a tiny frown showing on her forehead.

He smiled sadly. "A doctor is a someone who saves people and there was one person that I couldn't save and it was all my fault. She died and I'm to blame for that."

Clara laughed a little, nervous laugh that was probably meant to cheer him up. "Mistakes happen. To everyone. That's no reason to quit your entire career."

"For me it is," he said and turned back to his place where the sandwich still remained untouched.

Clara obviously realized that he didn't want to talk about it any further and she left him to eat while she cleaned a couple of tables until the bell rang again and another, slightly older woman wearing the same, blue waitress uniform stepped inside.

"Wow, the place looks busy today," the woman said, her voice heavy with sarcasm, "If you want to you can call it a day."

Clara turned back to John who had just finished his sandwich. "Ready to go?"

John reached inside the pocket of his jacket and retrieved some money which he left on the counter before he bent down to pick up his luggage.

"Thanks, Carlene," Clara said to the other waitress as she untied her apron and left it behind the counter.

Together John and Clara left the diner and she led him through the town, past a car dealership with a garage, a small grocery store, the town square and an apothecary. John genuinely liked what he saw. Compared to Glasgow Parsons seemed so alien and yet so familiar and he decided that if he found a job he would most definitely stay. After all, he had only been here for an hour and he had already made a friend.