What's in a name? That which we call a rose
Would smell as sweet.
Romeo & Juliet
Clara's eyes snapped open. It was pitch black all around, and she'd fallen asleep in the library again. "Doctor?" she called out groggily, stepping into the light of the corridor. She checked the strategically placed clocks on the door, and found Earth Time – it was 2:37 am. He grunted at her from around the corner, and she found him in the console room, removing and replacing a blue joystick. "What is it, Clara?" he asked softly, matching up new joysticks to the slot. He changed his mind, and started unscrewing a nail from the panel he seemed to be replacing in entirety. "Nothing, dear," she replied, her voice clearing, "I couldn't sleep, just wanted to see what you were doing." He smiled at her kindly, and beckoned her over. "This panel has just gotten far too old. There are scratches, even cracks all along this baby. How have I even let her get like this?" he said in all but a squeak of indignation.
The Doctor rolled back in his wheelie chair, his forehead creased with thought. Clara took advantage of his lack of motion and plopped herself comfortably on his lap, taking his hand to turn the gold wedding ring around and around his calloused finger. He pulled gently on a mahogany curl and smiled as it bounced back into shape. Perfect, he thought. Even her hair is perfect. He was about to continue on about how the joysticks and levers may have come loose over time and which colours he should replace them with, but Clara was already fast asleep against his shoulder. He smiled down at her, pressed a kiss into her hair, and carried her back to their bedroom.
A tiny silver worm crawled tiringly through the tiny hole in its mesh prison, breathing clean air for the first time in six months. It had been held prisoner there by the Doctor after it took over his mind and Clara had to direct an attack against a Cyberman army. But it was time for the little worm to escape through the hole it took months to make, and stretch its non-existent proverbial legs. It stretched its non-existent legs all the way across the TARDIS, through Clara's ear, and into her brain, where it settled, and transformed in a bubbling mass into a hologram of her with elaborate silver wiring covering nearly half her face. Lurking. Waiting for the right time. She sighed in her sleep, and turned over.
When Clara woke at mid-morning, she detected the presence immediately and screamed. "Clara!" the Doctor cried in concern, and he dropped his sonic to wrap his arms around her. Her gasping breaths slowed to quiet, more relaxed ones, and she turned to the virtual image of the Cyber Planner in her head. Mrs Clever.
What are you doing in here? You're supposed to be locked up and looking meek.
Good to see I've been received so... delightfully by the host.
You disgust me.
Oh, Impossible Girl, is that what he calls you? How sweet. I HATE sweet.
I hope you know that the Doctor and I are going to stop you, so have a good life, Cyber-thing.
And how are you planning on doing that, oh clever Clara, oh Impossible Girl?
Cyber Clara smirked darkly.
Because my worm is in here too, and I can put you out like a light and take over any second. Have fun stopping me when I have complete control over you.
Just watch me.
"What is it, dear?" the Doctor asked, rubbing the backs of her arms tenderly. Clara shook her head.
"I'm just... It was a bad dream, that's all, Doctor."
He frowned deeply, the creases cutting through his forehead like the ripples on sand plains. "Clara, I want you to know that you can take my sonic any time to get rid of the memory. Just press the green button near the bottom here," he explained, opening a flap to reveal a small green button, "and it'll remove the memory like it never happened. But if it's something you don't want to forget, rather tuck away, press the blue button just above it." He opened another flap right above the green button to reveal a larger blue one.
Clara's POV
Tuck away, huh? My thoughts turned to the self-claimed Mrs Clever.
The Doctor has enough things to worry about all over the universe, never mind his silly human wife. But would the Cyber Planner be classified as a thought? Is it even eligible to be 'tucked' away? Either way, it must never reach the Doctor. This has to work, it's got to. One way to find out, I suppose.
I took the sonic from him, popped the flap and pressed the blue button.
Geronimo.