¤Heroes don't exsist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them¤

***

"Okay, seriously..." Clara finally turned in her seat to Tyler. "If you could just..." She trailed off, her entire body jolting in shock and disbelief, staring up at her, actually seeing her. Her face paled, as if she had just seen a ghost, which Tyler supposed, to her she just had. 

"Hey, there," Tyler remarked softly, dropping the French accent. She shifted her gaze over to John who stared up at her with the same look on his face as Clara had, "did you miss me?"

John looked back to Clara, concern washing over his face as he watched her eyes filled with tears and duck her head for a moment. John stood from his chair stumbling clumsily on his own feet. Tyler automatically reached out to grab his arm to try and help right him, but he flinched back from her so violently that he very nearly sent his chair flying backwards across the floor. 

"Right," She winced apologetically, lowering her hand quickly as she eyed John worriedly and then Clara. She should have known this would happen, how could she be so foolish as to convince herself that she could just waltz right back into her old life like she hadn't put them all through Hell the past two years. "Short version..." She began, sitting the champagne bottle down the table, bringing her hands together down her front. She looked back at John and then at Clara who finally looked up at her with tear filled eyes, "Not dead."

Clara stared back at her, her eyes filled with pain and grief, but slowly all of that seemed to start to be replaced by anger while the shock started to fade.

Tyler swallowed, feeling the anger practically rolling off her in waves, "Bit mean, springing it on you like that, I know," she admitted, turning back to John, "Could have given you a heart attack, probably still will. But in my defense, it was trying to be funny," she laughed nervously, avoiding Clara's murderous eyes and John's dark gaze.

"You were..." John licked his lips, trying to swallow his emotions back. "Oh, my God." 

"Not quite."

"You died," John shook his head, shocked, "you jumped off a roof."

"No," Tyler said simply.

"You're dead!" John shouted, gaining everyone's attention. 

"No," Tyler looked back to him, "I'm quite sure. I checked." She grabbed a napkin from the table and dipped one of the corners into Clara's glass of water, looking back to John as she whipped the penned mustache off her upper lip, leaving her skin pink, "Does- does yours rub off too?" She asked him, trying hard to sound casual under John's intense glare, gulping back a laugh as she tried to lighten the mood. 

"Do you..." John squared off his jaw and Tyler was shocked to see how mad he really was. "Do you have any idea what you've done to Clara? To all of us?"

"Yes, of course I do," Tyler looked between them, lowering her head from their intense glares. "And if you could just let me explain myself-"

She was cut off by Clara slamming her hands down on the table top, shooting up from her chair so fast that it fell backwards. The entire table shook, very nearly breaking the glasses as the water sloshed dangerously around inside. She hunched over, trying hard to just keep breathing as she closed her eyes tightly. Tyler had the right mind to look nervous. 

"Clara..." John began, looking over at her carefully.

Clara drew in a shaky breath before looking back up to Tyler, ignoring John, "Two years," she said in a strangled whisper. She shook her head, taking another deep breath and releasing it as she looked back up to Tyler, "Two years... hmm?" She whimpered, her shoulders slumping, struggling to get the word out, "I thought..." she moaned again, gesturing helplessly as John looked at her sympathetically. Tyler winced, ducking her head, "I thought... you were dead," she swallowed thickly, looking back up to the blonde, breathing hard as her eyes filled with anger again, "Hmm?" She raised her eyebrows at Tyler accusingly, "Now, you let me- us grieve, hmm? How could you do that?" She demanded, glaring at her as as Tyler bit her lip guiltily and a pained expression crossed her face, "How?" She repeated in a furious whisper.

"Wait," Tyler began hastily, holding up a hand, "Before you do anything that you might regret..." She shifted slightly on the spot; her hand still raised, "Um, one question," she continued, speaking fast, "Just let me ask one question. Um..." she suddenly broke into a broad smile, looking close to giggling as she gestured up towards her own hair in a last attempt to lighten the mood, "did you change your hair?" She asked the brunette, glancing at John, who laughed in disbelief.

Clara took a long, deep breath and suddenly threw herself at Tyler, grabbing her by her collar and shoving her backwards across the restaurant.

***

It's been two years since Tyler has faked her death. Finally returning after she disesmbled James Moriartys web and Mycroft comes to her needing her to return to London to stop an iminent Terrorist attack. And nothing is the same when she returns.

How will she fit back into the world they created without her? And will they even let her back in?