A/N: I don't have any beta readers, so please forgive me of any unnoticed grammar slips. This holds trigger warnings to minor violence and blood, so please don't read this if you feel any discomforted.

Disclaimer: None of the characters belongs to me.

Enjoy.

When the Doctor opened his eyes, he concluded things couldn't have gone any worse.

But he was wrong. So wrong.

Instinctively, the first thought in his mind was Clara. He couldn't see properly in the dark room he had been disposed in, but his eyes would never miss her. She just wasn't there. And that made his stomach turn into knots.

He had no idea how long he had been knocked out. He didn't care about time; time was no more than a relative constant in his life. He only cared about Clara and that she wasn't by his side. And he would never forgive himself if anything should happen to her.

He got up, after realizing he wasn't restrained. He needed to get to her before it was too late, only to be hit with a sudden wave of reality when he noticed he was locked in a cell with a wooden door, meaning he couldn't sonic his way out. He made a mental note to never come back to such a primitive planet.

The Doctor walked around in circles, thinking. He was clearly trapped with no way out – he did attempt to open the door manually that time around, to no success. He tried to remember how or who had aborted them as they made their way through the heavy woods of wherever they had landed, but his mind was blank. Memories wiped away. He hated staying in oblivion almost as much as he hated being separated from Clara.

He was startled by the sudden opening of the entryway, but made no effort to try and break free. The dim light coming from a hole in the upper wall allowed him to see a small human frame being thrown inside, but not who had thrown them in. Perhaps his brain didn't even bother itself to search for their captors.

For he would recognize that body frame anytime, anywhere.

"Clara!"

He squealed in happiness when he first saw her, apparently unharmed, alive. He wanted to run to her, pull her into a hug and thank her endlessly for not dying on him. But he couldn't, not after her reaction to seeing him. He was sure his hearts stopped beating inside of his chest. "Clara?"

She was moving to a seating position when she heard a voice calling for her. She scanned through the shadows of the dark, her eyes widening at the encounter with a strange masculine figure, tall and scary. She saw her life passing before her eyes as she tapped the floor, looking for anything that could be used in her defense. Her fingers wrapped themselves around a sharp piece of metal, and she aimed it towards him.

"Stay far away from me," she ordered, hands clearly shaking in the air, her words just as hesitant. But she wouldn't back down, not just yet.

"Clara?" the Doctor called out for her the third time in a roll. He wanted to approach, but given her state, he assumed it would be wiser to keep distant.

"Get away from me!" she demanded, this time more fiercely, her eyes burning with fire. She was starting to get used to the penumbra as she finally began to make shape of him. His image didn't ease her down.

Being at complete loss, he lowered down to the floor, so they would be at the same height. "Clara, calm down. It's me, the Doctor. I'm your friend."

Clara shook her head, dragging herself further away from him until she reached the back wall. "H-how do you know my name? I n-never told you my name."

The Doctor sighed, understanding her mind wipe to be even worse than his. But it wasn't just that, there were something else happening, something he was missing. "You told me your name, Clara, so many moons again, when we were just getting acquainted."

"I would never befriend someone like you," she was direct and merciless, "The Doctor. That can't be your real name, it just makes you sound like a drug dealer," she mocked him, seriously, "That's it, you're a dealer who wants me dead for stumbling into your business."

The Doctor made a face, "Do I really look like a murderer to you?"

"Yes," she accused.

"You're lying."

Clara forced a chuckle, "I can't help what you look like."

Impatiently, he got back up, and so did Clara – probably to improve her attack angle. He walked towards her. "Alright, if I really am a murderous drug dealer, then who threw you here?"

She could feel her heard thudding against her throat as he approached, "Your pals."

He winkled his nose, countering her, giving her the perfect opportunity to stab him right in the chest. He knew she wouldn't. "I don't have pals. I just have you."

Not to his surprise, she placed the sharp object against his torso, never once applying enough pressure to draw blood. "I am not your friend."

He grunted in annoyance, "Then why can't you kill me?"

"I can kill you," she guaranteed, and he didn't doubt her for a second, "I just don't want to."

"Why not?" he questioned, "You have a knife to my hearts.

Her knuckles were turning white due to how tight she was holding it, but she didn't let go. "Because murdering reduced me to you, and I'm not you. I'm better than that."

The Doctor nodded. That wasn't their captors talking, that was Clara. Somewhere in her mind, she was still fighting whatever they had done to her. "Tell me, Clara, what's the last thing you remember? At all?"

She frowned her brows, lowering her arm slightly as she traveled the deep connections inside her brain. "I… I was in a room, darker than this. I couldn't see anything, but… I wasn't alone. They were there with me."

The Doctor's hearts pounded fast inside of him. His request was genuine, "Did they hurt you, Clara?"

"I… I don't think so," she concluded, staring right into his eyes. They didn't scare her, anymore. "They kept repeating something, something I couldn't understand, but somehow… Somehow their words are now part of who I am."

Their faces were so close they could feel each other's warm breaths. "Yeah? Who are you now, Clara?"

Clara seemed hesitant to let out her destiny, but when she did, it became her religion, "I'm the person who's going to kill you and bring back the peace to the universe."

The Doctor stepped back the moment she started to understand the purpose of the knife she held in hands. "How does an act of violence cause peace? You're a clever woman; you tell me."

She was trading looks between him and the weapon, "A means to an end, Doctor."

The Doctor glared at her big eyes. He wasn't scared for him, he was terrified for her. "Clara, just stop and listen to yourself. They've hacked you, they're in control of your mind. No one can fight them off except you."

She shuddered her skull, spinning the dagger in her hand. "You're lying. They've told me you'd lie to guarantee your survival, and I'm not supposed to fall for it. I won't."

He placed his hands on his hips, challengingly, "Well, come one then. What are you waiting for? Kill me, Clara, kill me."

Clara locked eyes with him, "You want to die? Is that what this is about?"

"Of course I don't want to die," he spat out, "But threats don't work unless you deliver. You either kill me or let go of the knife."

She chuckled an ironical laugh, "You think I'm not capable of killing you."

The Doctor struggled, indifferently. "I think as much as you'd like to do so, the Clara I know won't allow you to."

Clara wandered towards him, the sharp point directed right at him. "I'm not the Clara you know."

He tapped his foot incessantly against the floor. "Never said you were. Calling you my Clara would be a disrespect to her name."

Her arm was ferocious in the air, "You're doubting me, Doctor. I'd be careful if I were you before things get worse for you."

He took one step closer to her. "You're promising me my death. How worse could it possibly get?"

She was getting closer by the second, "I could give you a good death, rather than a slow and painful one."

He offered her a wicked smile, "Who wants to go down the easier way?"

His chill was starting to get in her nerves. "I can hurt you, Doctor."

"I know you can."

"I will hurt you."

"I don't think you will, Clara."

With no further notice, she placed the knife on his upper left arm. His daring eyes were her only motivation to put all her strength onto her hand and tear his muscle apart. Not deep enough to cause any major damage, but sufficient to get a stain of blood in his coat.

The Doctor was surprised – he didn't think she would through with it – and winced slightly. He was sure he was hurting more emotionally than physically. He just knew he had to relieve her from the mind control before it was too late, for both of them.

She appeared to be just as shocked as he was, especially when she saw the blood at the tip of the knife. She didn't lose her composure, however. "See? I hold the power."

He stared right into her soul, searching for her. He could hear the clock ticking just behind his ear. "Power isn't triggered by violence. You might have a tactical advantage, yes, but that doesn't mean you're going to win."

She grinned, deviously, "You trying to take control of the situation, Doctor, I can see right past you. But it isn't happening."

She said as she stabbed his opposite shoulder, lacking her beginner's fright.

The Doctor gasped, but he was careful not to emit any sound. He took a few steps back, only to get her to go forward. "Clara! Clara, you have to listen to me!"

The third time around, she traced a line across his torso, ripping his tee apart. She seemed to be delight with the red liquid that followed his recently acquired wounds. "Clara, Clara, Clara," she ridiculed him, "This precious Clara of your is dead. Your words, your pleads mean nothing to me."

He shook his head desperately, hitting his back against the concrete wall, but speaking up before she had the chance to hurt him again, "Clara, I know you're still in there, so I just going to say a couple of things, because I know you can still hear."

She danced with the tip of the bayonet against bust, tormenting him with the possibility that the pain could come at any second.

His breaths were sharp, and he didn't dare to blink. "I'm your friend, your best friend. We save the universe together, we free civilizations of everlasting pain, we bring justice to the lost lives, we don't end them. We're the makers of peace, Clara, you and I."

She only laughed at him, ending the torment by pressing the knife into his skin, but still not entering it too deep.

"I was there by your side in your worst days. I've seen you cry, I've seen you mourn. I've seen you want everything but settle for nothing. I've seen your fears and your regrets, I've seen your desires and your aspirations. I've seen you hate with every fiber of your being and love with every piece of your heart. I've seen your true self, Clara, what else is there more to see? Not this. This isn't you."

Clara's hands were shaking almost unnoticeably, but she remained in control.

"Clara, you're my best friend. You're my better half; you save me every day, not from the monsters that chase after us, but from the monsters inside of me. Everything that I am today, I am because of you. I just hope you remember that, after you kill me, remember all that we used to be," he offered her the truest of smiles, "And don't blame yourself. I don't."

Her face turned blank as a loud noise echoed through the room when the metal object crashed into the floor.

The Doctor tried to properly look at her, but her hand was covering her mouth and most of her traits. He searched for her eyes – he knew he would be able to tell his Clara apart through them – but she was hiding them away, slowly and despaired descending to the floor until her knees hit the floor. She looked lost.

"Clara," he sang her name, not doubting for a second she hadn't come back him, she hadn't won the fight inside of her. He kneeled in front of her, careful not to startle her any more, careful not to make her feel any guiltier than she was already feeling.

Still with both hands strongly pressed against her lips – so she wouldn't let any cries escape them – she glanced at him for the first time. Her chest was choking with oxygen as it rose and lowered rapidly, increasing even further when she saw the blood in his body, when she felt the metallic taste in her tongue.

"Clara," he repeated her name for the zillionth time in that short period of time, pulling her closer to his embrace. He felt her shaking inside of his arms.

"Look what I've done," she whispered, more to herself than to him. She sensed his blood coming onto her face, her hair, her clothes as she tugged closer to him, making sure he was still alive and breathing.

"No, you didn't do this," he was quick to interfere, rocking her petit frame like he rocked a baby. "You had no control over yourself, over your mind. You were just as defenseless as was I. But you didn't let them win, and that's what matters. You came," he assured, running his hands up and down her back. His pain was already gone.

"I hurt you," she cried, his words clearly going in through one ear and out the other, "You're scarred because of me."

The Doctor smiled sadly against her scalp, "Haven't you learned it already? I'm a Time Lord; in a matter of hours, all these will be healed."

He wouldn't have noticed the nod of her head if she didn't have it pressed against his torso. "I'm sorry, Doctor, I'm so sorry," she pleaded, "Please forgive me."

He backed away a little, just so he could stare at her eyes. "How could I forgive you if I didn't blame you in the first place?"

Clara stood still, once in her life not having an answer.

The Doctor sighed, wiping the salty trace of droplets away from her reddened face with his thumbs. "I need my best friend back, because she's the only person who's clever enough to help me find a way out of this hole. Can you give me my best friend back?"

Granting him the strongest grin she had to offer, she cupped her hand onto his. "I'm here, Doctor," she stated, guaranteeing both of them that she wasn't possessed by mind control anymore, "I'm right here."

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