She was spent.
Clara Oswald sat at the desk, the lamp light illuminating the flurries of essays and quizzes—even the past month's old exams. She marked the last multiple choice answer correct on Rodney Affleby's paper, and moved on to her next stack. It was nearly 8 o'clock, but she did not allow herself the luxury of glancing at the time. It was only a Thursday. Taking a deep breath, she shuffled the completed quizzes into a neat pile and stole a look to the back windows of her classroom.
A monster of a blizzard raged outside, making the normally pleasant courtyard view a simple gray sheen. No doubt the kids would be hoping for a snow-day, stealing spoons from the kitchen and hiding them under pillows.
Rubbing a hand against her weary brow, she stopped over the pile with her correction pen. She sighed internally. Essays. Why can't they understand to use indents to begin a paragraph…? Her mind preoccupied itself with the soft moan of the winter wind as she wrote her suggestion. The pen ran out of ink on the last word, so she chucked it in the bin and reached for another of her endless supply, jingling a key inside her personal marker tin. It was a little gold key from the newest caretaker. He'd given her certain privileges, as she had known the previous owner of the title and was a caring, sweet lady. She often wondered if she abused her privileges, staying in so late. Anyhow, he'd given her an extra key. No one would ever know she stayed so late.
Her brow furrowed in despair as she read the introduction to the "Faccinating Life of Sherbert Hoover." Sometimes, she felt she just couldn't deal with these kids. It's like some of them wrote awful papers just to get a kick out of her smiling pleasantly through the storm erupting inside. Her strained eyes began to focus past the writing until she had "read" through the entire first page without a single thought of her own. Eyes blurring, she blinked and tried again. She read through the monstrosity once more while tapping a rhythm subconsciously on the desktop. A message beeped on her phone, causing her to jump. Emerging from her weary stupor, she set down the pen and rubbed her eyes. Heart thumping, the message informed her that Coal Hill would be closed tomorrow on account of subzero temperatures carrying over to the morning.
Exhausted but pleased, she began to pack her things in silence. Shutting off the lamp, she slung her marking bag over her shoulder and proceeded to lock the classroom. The wind hadn't stopped howling. She realized that she'd have to ride her moped in the storm and felt a chill trickle down her spine at the mere prospect of such extreme cold.
She shivered as she walked the through the shadowed halls, grateful for the shelter but not for the chill. The heating had cycled off a long while ago, leaving the glistening black hallways and checkered tiles cold to the touch.
She knew it wasn't safe to drive in this weather, let alone when she was so tired. But, she had to get home somehow, didn't she?
After some mindless wandering and various lockings of various doors, she found herself shrugging on her coat and tugging on leather gloves. A moment later she had stepped outside and fastened her bag to the side of the moped. It wasn't as cold as she thought it would be, not yet. Then again, she was always cold these days; she was never able to get warm enough even under the many covers of her bed.
Revving the engine to life she turned with a small wave of snow and disappeared into the dark, white night.
The Doctor sat motionless in his high-blacked armchair, brushing up on past diary entries. Perhaps some nifty information could pop up so he could impress Clara on their next adventure. As he recalled a memory of porcupine water-crested buffalo aardvarks, the now-familiar BBrrrinbrrrrinnn of the TARDIS phone echoed loudly through the console room.
Pocketing the 2000 year journal swiftly, he clomped his boots down the metal staircase and towards the monitor. It was the Mistress. Bracing himself, he picked up the receiver.
"Hello Doctor," the icy, familiar voice spoke, "I'm sorry to say I've lost something rather important of yours."
"Missy, you can't expect me to pick up for you if you lose the odd cyber planner—NO don't tell me! Is it the sentient coffee lids again? I told you no more Starbucks experiments—"
"Doctor!" she chided him on the other end. "I believe this item of importance is Clara. Clara Oswald."
The Doctor furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "I swear if you lay a single claw of yours on her head you will—"
"Ap bup bup bup!" She silenced him.
Blinking hard and slowly, he asked with precision. "How can you lose Clara Oswald?"
There was silence on each end, and an unspoken notion poisoned the air.
"I'll be there in a second," said the Doctor, as he grimly flipped a lever and sent the TARDIS materializing back on Earth. His Hope phase was beginning to reboot itself, and, with a sigh, he stepped forward into hell.
Eyes locked on a scuff on the toe of his boot, the Doctor turned closed the TARDIS doors.
Cold.
It was cold. A blizzard. Finally, proper snow, but it was past Christmas so he didn't think this counted. The TARDIS had materialized on a narrow, icy walkway-bridge. It was a close fit, and he could just squeeze himself between the bridge ledge and the TARDIS entryway.
Missy was waiting for him, just ahead. Her naturally tall and slender figure was slimmed by the lightness of the snow, still visible despite the midnight sky. The snow fell thickly before them. She seemed to blend naturally with the night, her dark hair disappearing. "Where's Clara. What have you done," he growled lowly.
"I've done nothing." she said truthfully, facing the river. Broken sheets of ice bobbed erratically on the blizzard-stirred waves. The Doctor joined her, an odd lack of suspicion catching him off guard. "This is a fixed point." He observed, "This spot right now. And you know what happens…"
Smiling wickedly, Missy's eyes flashed brighter than the frigid waters below. "Of course I do! You two were meant to be on this bridge together, I'm just helping it along!"
"Why catch my attention in such a way if you knew where she was? It's too…direct. Too simple. I expected better."
She giggled fiendishly and hunched forward, leaning her laced sleeves on the low, snow-dusted rail. "My sweet, sweet Doctor." She looked him up and down hungrily. "I do like to watch you dance—"
And suddenly she was upon him, her hands pressed against his chest, forcing his back against the ledge. Her captivating, wildly bright eyes flashed with glee as she licked her lips with relish. With a flutter of her long, snow-brushed eyelashes, she leaned forward…Before she could carry out whatever she'd had in mind, the Doctor half-succeeded in wriggling away. Her heeled boot whipped out at the precise moment to send him sprawling into the road.
The bright lights of a motorcycle blinded him as his shoulder slammed into the slick pavement. There was no time to scramble out of the way. The unfortunate driver slammed on the brakes, only to have the bike begin to skid uncontrollably. It was going to ram into the daft old man in the road, and there seemed to be a bright blue wall just ahead…there was nowhere to go, and the driver certainly couldn't hit an old man.
"DOCTOR!" the driver yelled, recognizing her best friend and giving up all efforts of controlling the vehicle. She drove it away from him sharply, away from his precious box, sliding all the way—
Time seemed to freeze with the drifting snow.
Clara could hear her heart pounding, the Doctor's voice crying out, the ssssscchhhh of the useless treads of her tires, the whistling of the wind past her helmet, and the…cackling…of laughter as she neared the rail. Missy.
As soon as that single word had formed in her head, Clara had already bust past the flimsy metal railing and was now flying to the frigid waters below.
Time now compensated for its tardiness as she sped towards the black waters. One second she had bust the rail, the next she was separated from her bike—free falling into—
And in the next moment Clara smacked hard into the water, winding her completely while instantaneously chilling every figment of her senses. The black ink of the river engulfed her, and she was consumed.
"CLARA!" The Doctor screamed over the twisted metal railing. Missy cackled evilly, leaning against his TARDIS with a wicked grin.
"Fixed point, dearie." She smirked.
"Out."
Missy's grin lost its appeal. Even after she'd stuffed Clara in a dalek case and almost convinced him to kill her…she'd never heard that tone of voice with him before. It excited her. A twisted sensation of hopeful glee gripped her hearts. However, she was a clever girl. She knew her limits. Baby steps, she reminded herself. She smacked her glossed lips and blew a kiss his way before activating her cheap and nasty vortex manipulator.
The Doctor leaned over the rail, squinting into the black river and fluffing up his eyebrows with intensity. "CLARA!" He desperately half-turned around, his pale hands forgetting the rail and then snatching it back with twice the grip. He needed to find her WAIT—He spied a flail, a white froth of disturbed wave—"CLARA!"
Squinting intently, the Doctor could just make out her form scrabbling against a plate of ice. "HANG ON CLARA! I'M COMING!"
And with that, the Doctor flew into his TARDIS, keeping the doors wide open. Flicking levers and twisting odd dials, he piloted the TARDIS roughly over the bridge landing and swooped towards the lapping blackness below. The blue box's base swung clumsily, like an askew pendulum bobbing back and forth with rushed uncertainty. It began hovering over the black waters.
The Doctor was at the TARDIS' edge in an instant, fear thrumming violently in his chest. The light atop his ship was a poor search light, but he could see well enough with the aid of the parallel street lamps decorating the water's edges. That was the problem. He could see just fine, but she wasn't there. As Missy had said, Clara was lost.
Her name broke apart in the wind, his thin lips barely able to articulate. He swallowed thickly.
Clara had lost her grip on the ice sheet moments ago. She could hear the Doctor yelling to her, shouting her name…but her throat didn't seem to be working. She couldn't feel her legs, her hands…and so she flapped helplessly, trying to tread water for that much longer. Any attempt to call out to her best friend failed horrifically, sending her into a heightened state of panic. Her shoulder was bumped by another ice chunk, and the water shimmered up her neck, the base of her skull…uuunnnnghghhh
Blackness.
She opened her eyes, not remembering when she'd closed them. She could vaguely hear the Doctor's voice again. It was clear, but it echoed distantly. Whether it was the waves or the space, she couldn't tell. She couldn't say where she was. It wasn't so cold anymore. Her arms were tired. Thinking slowly, she ceased her futile flapping and allowed her chin to nod forward on her chest.
It was then that she felt a hot hand enclose a scorching, vice-like grip on the material at the scruff of her neck. Something told her to smile inwardly, but she couldn't say why. Her spine was scrapped against something unbelievably rough and solid, too hard. Crying out in pain, she twisted sharply as the Doctor fished her out of the water and plopped her onto the TARDIS floor. "CLARA. Clara can you hear me? Clara, say something" a familiar, distant voice echoed. The lowness of its bravado coaxed a warm feeling into the core of her frozen mind.
Slowly, realization dawned on her chilled brain. A childlike glimmer appeared in her eyes and she smiled widely, "Hello. It's nice to see you again." Her voice didn't feel right.
A coat was draped around her shoulders, and she felt arms suddenly lifting her up with effort. She was held close to something radiating heat. It was lovely and all she wanted to do in that moment was stay…stay and…
"CLARA." The voice was stern and made her eyes fly open at the unexpected volume. Hot breath seared the skin on her neck. "You need to stay awake for a while longer, just until you're out of danger. Then you can sleep."
She felt herself lowered into the armchair in the console room. The leather was hotter than his skin, and she recoiled with a hiss. "No…" she uttered numbly, leaning away from the chair. "Shhh Shhhh it's okay Clara, you're fine. It's just the temperature difference. It'll be less prominent in a few minutes."
He gently guided her back against the chair and adjusted his coat more snugly around her still shoulders. A towel manifested in his hand and he worked at drying her hair. Her mind began to start up again, slowly, so slowly.
"I…" she began croakily, finding her throat and mouth lacked feeling. "I couldn't hit you." His fingers appeared on her face in a gentle stroke. He smiled through his concern. "I know." She began to shiver.
"Or the TARDIS" she finished with difficulty.
At this, the central column pulsed with warm light and the old girl emitted her lovely, groaning grate.
"Why was Muh-muah-" something was wrong with her throat, her mouth, somewhere. She couldn't work her speech properly, and her thoughts seemed to strain against a strait jacket. She tried to gag the words out, as if finishing her question was the most important thing in that moment.
The Doctor was scared now, on the inside. She never had trouble speaking. Hushing her and gently holding her in the chair, he fished the screwdriver from his pocket.
She tried again. "W-why was Muh-muh-huh" her eyes rolled upwards and her light shuddering became violent bucking, as if she'd been placed in an electric chair rather than in his own armchair. "Clara! CLARA you need to calm down!" Her face had gone a ghostly pale, and he cradled the back of her skull to prevent her from smashing it on the wooden frame of the armchair. Tears threatened the Doctor's eyes as his friend convulsed. "Clara, I'm going to lie you down now. We need to get more oxygenated blood to your arteries." He slid her down and off the chair with difficulty, struggling to contain her while trying to be gentle against her fragile, damp, cold skin. Wrestling her feet onto the 2nd stair leading upwards to the bookshelves, he held them for a moment before retreating, panting heavily. The episodes seemed less frequent and less intense. Kneeling beside her, he carefully lifted her head and placed his folded jacket beneath it, turning her head sideways. Her eyes were closed now. A great shudder racked her body before she lie still. A moment later, an oxygen mask descended over her nose and mouth.
Gingerly, he placed a heavy woolen blanket over her and sat, cross-legged, beside her. She would be alright now. A quick scan confirmed his assumption. Running his hands roughly down his face with a sigh, Missy's summons echoed within his head.
I'm sorry to say I've lost something rather important of yours.
How can you lose Clara Oswald?
Reaching out, he clasped his hand around Clara's wrist. Thumpthump…Thumpthump…Thumpthump...
All was in order.
A pleasant, soothing, low tone slipped into the steady silence. "I'm right here Clara. And I know exactly where you are."
Accompanied by the steady thrum of the human pulse, the Doctor slowly slouched forward, his other arm propping up his head…and nodded off into an exhausted slumber.
When Clara awoke, the Doctor was still holding her wrist. She felt lovely and warm, but her bones ached from lying on the solid floor for hours. Slowly, and with special care not to startle him, she gently leaned him back and shifted his arm. He did not respond. Gently, she lowered herself into his lap as if it were a cradle, and she the blanketed child seeking comfort and security. Curling herself into his right shoulder, she leaned her head against his breast and sighed. He began to lean forward, his arms wrapping around her forearm in a natural embrace.
The TARDIS thrummed contentedly, and eased the lighting into a dim, golden dusk. All was well.
The end.