Hello! This marks my return to fan fiction after school unsurprisingly got in the way. I do hope you enjoy, though I can't make any guarantees that this will be updated regularly (but knowing that people are reading will help). After the 50th, I had waves of inspiration and this is just one of the outlets. Alright, thanks for hearing me out and I do hope you enjoy.

"More beautiful than I could have imagined." Oswin said to herself as she stared up at the silver beauty that was to be her home for who knows how long. The ship almost seemed to glow under the sun's rays, almost a heavenly glow around it. And that was how Oswin saw it, as a heaven. It was her ticket to see the universe, to explore and have the adventure of a lifetime.

The excitement rushed through her veins. She could see her whole life ahead of her, traveling to strange places, seeing the most unique creatures and, above all else, just living. Really living. She had her whole life ahead of her.

And then they crashed… straight into the Dalek asylum.

Suddenly, her life was gone. Her humanity was gone. She was being poked, prodded and finally opened up by slimy Dalek tendrils, by far too sharp scalpels, by terrible twisting wires. And then it was done and she couldn't tell the difference between what was an arm and what was an eyestalk. And what was worse, was that word. It kept creeping into the thoughts, even when it had no place being there. Exterminate. There it was again. Always there, always in her head, egging her on. Telling her to give up and let it take over. Let the Dalek hive-mind take over. Exterminate. Exterminate. And how could she resist? Who was she anymore? What was she?

And in a fit of blood curdling screams, Clara Oswin Oswald woke up.

It wasn't real, Clara reminded herself. It was just a dream and nothing more. She wasn't a Dalek. She was human. She wasn't Oswin. She was Clara. With a deep breath she repeated, "I am Clara Oswald. I am Clara Oswald." Over and over again, to herself.

The darkness of the night surrounded her, paralyzed her. She couldn't move. And all her breath seemed capable of was to repeat her mantra. "I am Clara Oswald." Still, even as she lay awake, paralyzed by her own mind, the quietude of the night had its usual effect and Clara Oswald found herself drifting off to sleep once more.

"Clara!" A familiar energetic voice called, jarring Clara from her fitful sleep. She sat up slowly, half expecting to find herself in the Dalek asylum again. No. She was in her room. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the clock on her nightstand. 10:54 AM Wednesday November 27. Wednesday!

She jumped out of bed, getting twisted in the covers and crashing onto the floor in a tangle of limbs and linen. "Doctor!" She cried as she wiggled her way out from under the covers. "Doctor! Up here!"

"I'm coming!" His exuberant voice sang. The click and clack of shoes on the stairs
followed and she could picture him climbing, no running, taking two steps at a time, up the stairs.

Meanwhile, Clara stood up and dusted herself off. "Well, I seem to have gotten away injury free… this time." She said and turned towards the door, expecting the Doctor to fly through it at any moment. But on her way, she caught a look at herself in the mirror.

In a sudden flash, she was taken back to her dream. There they were, the Daleks, staring at her, watching her, calculating the best ways to chop her into little pieces while preserving the brain. They eyed her greedily, as if she was nothing more than a piggy bank, waiting to be cracked open for the wealth inside.

"Stop!" Clara cried, and this time it was her screaming. It wasn't Oswin or anyone else, it was her. She could feel them cutting into her. Taking her apart. "Stop! Stop!" She cried again, knowing it was no use. "Please." She sobbed, shutting her eyes tight as the cool, salty tears started to roll down her face.

"Clara!" Who was that? His voice was so distant, yet so familiar. "Clara!"

"Stop!" She yelled again, even though her lungs were screaming for air, it was all she could think to do. "Please stop!"

"Clara, listen to me." The voice said and suddenly someone had taken her hands. "Listen to me." No matter how much she thrashed, the voice held her hands tight and said to her, his voice calm and soothing. "Clara. Stop. It's me. Listen to me, Clara. Listen to the sound of my voice."

The voice was so familiar. And then it hit her. "Doctor!" She cried, opening her eyes to find him holding her hands tightly and staring into her face. She looked around; she was on the ground, in a corner, crouched down as though something had backed her into the wall.

"Clara," He asked, his eyes sparkling with worry. ", what is going on?"