Guess who doesn't have school today because of the big snow day? Me! Also - guess who's going to be travelling tomorrow? Also me! *sighs* It's going to be one hell of a ride, but I'll see what writing I can do. XD

Enjoy!


Chapter Four. Unable to Understand

Clara was in her bedroom, with her laptop pulled over her legs and eyes scratchy and dry-feeling from staring at a bright screen for so long.

(Clara was unsure how to wake John when she walked into his office. She considered slamming the books she was carrying on the desk – or maybe shaking him – or setting off the alarm on her phone. But then, as she watched John continue to sleep on his desk, Clara felt her heart soften. He must have been busy last night. And so, gently placing her books on a chair, Clara lightly poked John's elbow. "Psst," she whispered, "John. Wake up. I need you to look at – whoa!"

She startled backwards as John's arms splayed out as he woke. "What – where – why –" His eyes frantically searched around the office until they landed on Clara. He let out an obvious breath of relief, saying, "What was that for?!" Clara took a few steps away from Joh and replied, "You were sleeping. And I couldn't find any other way to wake you up. Well, at least – not in any other gentler way."

John let out a long sigh. "Ah," he said, running his hands through his hair. "What time –"

"Nine AM." Clara replied. "How long have you been here?"

John grimaced. "Do you really want to know?" he asked. Clara shrugged her shoulders. "I might as know what kind of stuff my new partner does behind my back," she replied.)

Clara didn't look away from her laptop until her phone dinged. Sighing and pushing one hand up to her hairline, Clara reached over and grabbed her phone. She lifted it to her ear and murmured, "Hello?"

"Miss Oswald, I thought you'd still be asleep," the Doctor said through the phone. Clara swallowed back a groan and rubbing her eyes, she replied, "Fortunately, Doctor, I'm still very much awake. I've been re-watching the security clips." She couldn't help but to shudder at her words as an afterthought. She certainly wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. "No rest for the wicked," the Doctor responded. Clara tightened her grip on her phone. With another sigh, she asked, "What do you want, Doctor? I really wouldn't like to be disturbed when I'm trying to think."

"I would like you to meet me tomorrow morning at my office with whatever notes you might have gathered," the Doctor said simply. "We need more time to collaborate rather than work as individuals, don't you think?" Clara rubbed a hand over her eyes. "Miss Oswald?" the Doctor asked. Clara puffed out a breath. "Yes, Doctor," she responded. "And for the hell of it, please just call me Clara. Miss Oswald makes you sound patronizing."

Clara hated how she could hear the way the Doctor's lip curl when he replied, "Maybe that's my intention."

"Well, change it," Clara snapped and hung up. She attached her phone to her character and ran through the security clips again. Then, she pulled out the other files saved on her laptop, hoping to re-find the file of the runaway mole's description. Sucking in a breath, she clicked resume on the clips.

xXx

"I don't think the murderer was the mole," Clara said the second she was in the Doctor's office. He looked up from his papers, eyebrows lifted in questioning. "And you say that because…?" he asked, his voice drifting. Clara pointed at a photo of the mole – a man with a pleasant face and gleeful eyes and pale skin – and then pointed at the screenshot she had taken of the murderer.

"Christopher Nelson – our mole – is five foot ten. The murderer is also five foot ten. However, Christopher didn't have a limp – and he never has. Our reports say that we couldn't get a shot on him or anything else of the sort. Our murderer here, funnily enough, does have one. Now, unless Christopher could have somehow developed a faint limp within the last ten hours after he had escaped, I don't believe the murderer could have been the one we were looking for," Clara said simply. "It was a detail that we missed. Kind of embarrassing that we did overlook it, but it's amazing how much you can accomplish in a few hours without sleep." She crossed her arms, feeling somewhat triumphant. "So. That's what I've got to share."

The Doctor's eyes slowly travelled up and down Clara, his lips lifting at the tips. "Very good, Miss Oswald –"

"Clara," the brunette automatically corrected. "I just proved something to you. I think I deserve a bit more respect than just looking down on me like that."

"Clara," the Doctor nodded his head. "Fine. I'll give you this – your idea was well-thought out, but…" He pressed his lips together. "Not enough." He shoved a few photos and papers towards Clara. "This," he said, tapping the photo, "is the kind of knife that the murderer used." Clara looked down at the image – observed the long, sharp curve of the blade and the leather grip. It didn't seem like much, but Clara knew that she had seen that knife before – though not in the action.

"It's a knife from our own supply," Clara and the Doctor said in unison. Clara's eyes broadened and she looked back down at the image. "But that's impossible," she said quietly. "You're not able to get that knife unless you put in your thumbprint – and then your breath – and then your face and –"

"Unless the murderer really was the mole," the Doctor finished. "So you're first guess – that the murders were made by him – was correct, Miss – Clara." Clara slowly sat down in her chair, rubbing her temples. "So." She muttered. "The only thing we've actually, properly found out would be…"

"That the murderer is, without a doubt, the mole who escaped." The Doctor finished. Clara bit down her frustration. Another night wasted – on frightening security clips and her eyes. Clara only rubbed at them and let out a sigh. "Fine," she said at last. "Right. We'll have to start from square one."

"Square one is better than an invisible square two," the Doctor replied pointedly.

("No, that's okay. That's okay. Clara, it's fine," John said, patting Clara's shoulder gently. "Let's just try again. It's fine if you screwed up the first time. This is still just practice." Clara let herself fall back into her desk seat, saying, "I thought I had it, though! Just a few more seconds, and I could have brought that computer-programmed-hacker to justice!" John smiled. "I'm sure you would have, Clara." He re-started the program, adding, "But again, this is just practice."

"But one day, it won't just be practice," Clara pointed out.

John nodded. "That's true," he said quietly. "That's very true." He pulled away from Clara and leaning against the wall, he said, "So you better make sure you practice hard enough so that when the real time comes around, you'll be ready to beat the pants off of that computer hacker and anything or anyone else.")

"Don't pretend that you're more at ease about this than me," Clara said. She started to pull together her papers when the Doctor said, "Don't think you're going anywhere that soon. We have yet to watch those interrogation clips." Clara let her hands drop. She gripped the edge of the desk and swallowing, she replied, "Fine. Get the video. I'll be waiting here."

xXx

"Do you know anything about where Christopher Nelson went?" Clara watched one of the interrogators – a man named Strax – ask. The technician in questioning tugged at his hands, obviously taking his time to answer. Clara supposed that was only natural, especially since he had just been caught in helping someone run away from the service. "No," the technician replied. "He just told me he wanted me to help him delete his tracks and…"

"And?" Strax asked. "You're wasting precious time, boy."

The technician swallowed. "Well, he wanted me to work with the voice modulators. Tamper with them – he said he was waiting for a message from his office." Clara turned her head to look at the Doctor, eyebrows already lifted. "We'll be looking into that later," the Doctor replied instantly. Clara nodded and turned back to the video, in which Strax was asking, "Was there anyone else involved?"

"A few other technicians, I think," the man replied, wiping the sweat from his brow. "But it was mostly pretty quiet. I don't think Nelson did that on purpose." Strax's voice was flat as he replied, "Very well, you're doing good with that." He consulted his notes and continued, "Have you any idea what – or who – the voice modulator was for?"

"No clue; Nelson wouldn't say," the technician replied. His eyes flicked around the room – and slowly, it made its way to the camera. "Can I – can I leave now?"

"But of course," Strax replied almost cheerfully, "but first, you'll most definitely have your occupation and certain memories stripped away of this place before leaving for ever assisting a mole in escape. You probably won't remember a single thing about what happened to you in the last five years you've been working with us, and you will be dropped off to your original home, where you will live out your days completely ignorant. That is all!" As the technician started to stammer a plea, the Doctor reached over and stopped the video. Clara slowly turned to him. "Voice modulators?" she only asked.

"Instruments that adjust the tone and sound of your voice – they make you sound lower or higher and leave certain sounds in to make it hard to find the actual voice –" the Doctor started to explain, but was cut off by a swift shake of Clara's head. "I know what a voice modulator is," she said, forcing herself to sound patient. "But we have to find out what it was exactly for." She pushed herself away from her desk, adding, "Come off it – why would Christopher Nelson want voice modulators? The technician said he was waiting for a message, but I would think that the person with the actual message would need the modulator, not the other way around." She paced around the room, her mind racing. She looked over at the Doctor and snapping her fingers, said, "But what if the two already knew each other? Maybe Nelson had to cover up for the person who was sending the message to him – they might be associates!" Growing excited, she continued, "And that should narrow down suspects, yeah? We can look at the people who he might have been in contact with…" Her voice drifted as the Doctor sat back, a long sigh escaping from his lips.

Clara stopped short. "What's that look for?"

The Doctor looked up. "What look?" he asked.

Clara frowned. Slowly crossing her arms over her chest, she replied, "You've got this look – your eyebrows go all funny, and you watch me as if you're…" She scowled. "Are you mocking me?"

"Not mocking – criticizing," the Doctor responded, standing up. "Listen, Miss Osw – Clara. You might have a good lead – a good idea – but we've got to look at the other concepts." Voice dry, he said, "Maybe the two haven't met each other at all. Maybe Nelson was putting his faith in someone without any knowledge of his partner. Maybe that was why he needed the voice modulator – so he could disguise himself." He smiled humorlessly. "Both are so untrustworthy that they need to disguise their own voices as insurance for themselves."

Clara stared. Unwilling for her idea to be deemed unworthy, she said slowly, "Fine. If that's what you think. But your idea might be just as invalid as you say mine is. We still have some more looking around to do."

"So be it." The Doctor said shortly. He stood up and gathering his papers, he said, "There'll be another interrogation in half an hour – room fourteen. We'll meet there and see if we can…gather whatever info we can to prove a different theory." Clara pressed her lips together. Sitting back down at her desk, she repeated tightly, "Fine. Half an hour, it is."

xXx

("You're late," Clara hissed as John sprinted into the room. He grimaced in response, whispering, "Sorry. I got held up. What did I miss?" Looking back at the glass, Clara replied shortly, "Nothing. Nothing at all." John's face split into a wide grin, obviously pleased with himself by the arrangement. Then, a heartbeat later, his smile faded and he asked, "Then why so huffy?"

"Twenty minutes. You said we were supposed to get down to the interrogation room in twenty minutes. I came down here in fifteen, and you came down here in thirty." Clara muttered. John stared. The brunette took one second – two seconds – three seconds for the stare to settle in and then, not taking it any longer, she said, "Stop looking at me like that. We're supposed to be punctual!"

John only let out a soft laugh. "Oh, Clara," he said, shaking his head. "I think you're going to be good for me." That was all he said for the rest of the interrogation-watch.)

Even though the Doctor had said that the interrogation was to start in thirty minutes, Clara was down in twenty-five. However, when she swung open the door, she found that the Doctor was already seated on the other side of the glass, his hands folded neatly over his lap and his eyes staring straight into the empty interrogation room. The Doctor flicked a glance at Clara when she walked in. Clearing her throat, the brunette closed the door behind herself and asked, "When did you get here?"

"What time is it?" the Doctor only asked.

Clara looked up at the clock. "It's eleven thirty," she replied. The Doctor rolled his shoulders and re-adjusting himself at his seat, he said, "I've been here since eleven eighteen," he said. Clara let her hands fall to her hips. "So you decided to come early," she said, walking over to her own seat.

"What, do you need to control that as well?" her partner asked.

Clara whipped her head around to look at the Doctor. "No," she replied furiously. "And don't say that sort of stuff about me." The Doctor slowly turned to Clara. "I'll only say what's true," he said. Clara resisted the urge to punch him – to give him a swift, nice smack on the arm to get him to stop talking. Instead, she retorted, "Fine. Then I'll speak the truth, too. Would you like me to tell you about yourself, since you seem so eager on telling me about myself?" Without waiting for an answer, she stuck out a hand and fumed off each finger, hissing, "Egomaniac. Annoying. Bossy. Arrogant. Supercilious."

"Now, that's a big word," the Doctor remarked. "Did you look it up on the way here just to show off your vocabulary?" Clara bit down on her bottom lip and leaning close, said, "You are acting like a complete –"

She was interrupted by a sudden swing of the door. Both Clara and the Doctor turned around to look at Strax, who had taken up to unusual silence. The short man's eyes wandered from Clara to the Doctor – then back to Clara, and then slid over to the Doctor again. "Ah," he only said. But then, snapping into attention, Strax added, "Miss Clara, Doctor. The interrogation is about to start. Judging by the loud voices as I was passing by this door, I figured you would need a reminder that we are interrogating one of the technicians, not each other." He flicked a glance at the two again and added, "Unless you would like for me to make a formal arrangement, in which I would personally –"

"No, Strax." Clara and the Doctor said in unison. Feeling another flare of indignance, Clara shot a look at the Doctor and added through gritted teeth, "But you're right, Strax. We really should quiet down. Start the interrogation. There won't be any trouble."

Strax nodded. He turned to the Doctor for confirmation, who only waved his hand. "Yes, yes," he said in a low voice, his own eyes transfixed on Clara's. "Listen to her." Then, in a softer tone, he added, "After all, that's what she only wants." Clara bristled, though simply said, "Right. Strax, take it away, yeah?"

xXx

"Well, that was an absolute waste of time," Clara muttered as the technician was forced out of the interrogation room. The Doctor rubbed a hand over his forehead, replying, "As we can all quite obviously observe." Clara stood up and packing her bag, she said, "That comment wasn't needed or necessary."

"Thank you for your input," the Doctor responded. The sarcasm in his voice, needless to say, was palpable and it crawled down Clara's dress and wound itself around her legs. She had been starting to open the door – although at that comment, she slammed it and whirled around to look at the Doctor, who was still packing his things. Dropping her bag on the floor, Clara stormed over to the Doctor and planting her hands on the small table that they had for taking notes, Clara said, "Right. Listen. To. Me. Now."

The Doctor looked up, eyebrows lifted. "Oh, good," he said. "Am I going to get another Clara talk again?"

"That was exactly what I was going to talk about," Clara shot back. She sucked in a deep breath and said, "We've been working with each other for only a short amount of days, right?" The Doctor nodded his head, his expression unchanging. Clara nodded back. "And yet, we haven't gotten anywhere. No communication. No speaking. No actual work getting done because you always go back to your own office and I go back to mine. No partnership here." She waved her hand in the space between the Doctor and herself. "And while I really would like to do all the work by myself, we still need to do something together."

"I sense an offer coming up," the Doctor said. Clara pushed her hands up to her forehead. "I don't deny it," she replied. "So that's why I'm telling you that we need to actually work together. And God help us, if that means not making any stupid comments about my…my…"

"Control-freak instinct?" the Doctor supplied. Clara glared but through pressed lips, she bit out, "Yeah. That, or whatever you want to call it. My control-freak instinct and you're mania of patronization." She jabbed a finger in the Doctor's direction. "So if that means not making stupid comments or arguments to each other about personal preferences, then so be it. We have to try to float together, rather than try to get each other to drown." Clara pushed herself away from the table.

"Is that it?" the Doctor asked, looking up at Clara. The brunette sighed heavily through her nose and with a sense of finality, she nodded. "That's it," she replied. She leaned down and grabbed her bag. "I'll give you your lunch break to think that over –"

"I disagree."

Clara stopped short. "What?" she asked, annoyance already flickering underneath her voice.

The corner of the Doctor's lips twitched into a smile. "You said that we'll have to work together from now on," he said. "And that means some more…time, don't you think?" He stood up and slinging his bag over one of his shoulders, he added, "Lunch. Either your office or mine or at a different place, I don't care. Let's see if your plan for cooperation works, Clara." With that, he headed out of the room.

Clara stared. She adjusted her grip on her bag and looked back at the seat where the Doctor had just been. Slowly, everything dawned to her – the Doctor had just left. They were going to do…something. Work. Actual work.

"Oi! Wait up!" Clara hollered, sprinting out of the room.


A/N - Clara and the Doctor's relationship are still developing, obviously, because I think it'd be weird if they instantly hit off. (Plus, I'm a sucker for really bumpy/rocky relationship starts. Don't look at me.)

Did anyone else see the Season 9 filming pics? Is anyone else totally psyched out about what Moffat said about taking Twelve in "a different direction"? (According to Moff, Peter Capaldi has been latching onto the idea of hugging everyone. Hee hee. I kind of want a pocket Twelve right now. Please. That'd be nice.)

Reviews are always great; if you can take two seconds to favorite/follow the story, you can take two more seconds to type down a few words. Constructive criticism is tolerable, but flames are not!