A/N: Hi guys, another chapter is up. :)

I just want to thank everyone for reading and reviewing this fic. I have no idea how you all even found this story in amongst the wealth of DW fics, but I very much appreciate it. We're at a serious part of the story, so I hope that doesn't get boring for folks. In the next chapter I'm going to be introducing a new element which I'll be interested in seeing what you all make of it.

In the mean time though, here is this chapter. Once again, I hope this is all making sense as I build on my original premise.

Thanks again for reading, guys, you're all rock stars! :D

Chapter EIGHT

"Everything you can imagine is real."
Pablo Picasso

Clara looked into the full length mirror and saw the bride looking back at her. She drew in an unsteady breath as she nervously ran a hand over her satin skirt which sat below a bodice with a sweetheart neckline adorned with some elegant beading. Her hair was swept back in a loose up do with a tiara nestled within it, to which a veil was attached. Clara barely recognised the young woman looking back at her.

Suddenly her mother's reflection joined her in the mirror. "You look beautiful, Clara," she said, face lit up with pride.

Clara turned around and fought back emotional tears. "I'm so glad you're here, Mum."

"It's your wedding day," her mother tutted, "where else would I be?"

Sometimes, when Clara would first wake up in the morning, she would have forgotten her mother was still alive. Those moments were filled with so much sadness and loss until she remembered it had all been a dream. Knowing her mum as going to be there, watching her walk down the aisle made Clara so unbelievably happy. She smiled the biggest smile. "Do I really look alright?"

"Alex is going to be beside himself when he sees you," said her mum confidently. "There won't be a dry eye in the house. Yours really is a fairytale love story."

"I know," said Clara unevenly. She and Alex had barely been dating six months when he'd asked her to marry him. The next three months had all been a blur of wedding preparations and now, suddenly, the day had arrived.

"He's a good one, that Alex of yours," she said, face softening. "Take it from me, you've got to hold onto those ones and never let go, no matter what."

"I will, Mum," Clara promised softly.

Mother and daughter hugged and then Ellie Oswald was shaking her head and dabbing at her watering eyes. "Oh, I knew I should have worn waterproof mascara. I'll look like a panda in the wedding photos."

Clara gave a little laugh. "You'll look gorgeous, like you always do."

There was a quiet knock on the door. "Everyone decent?"

Clara smiled. "Come on in, Dad."

The door opened and her father walked in. His eyes became suspiciously bright. "Oh, Clara, luv," he breathed, "you look like a princess."

Clara bit her bottom lip and looked down at her dress. "Do you think I'll do?"

Her father was suddenly choked up and he was forced to only nod in response.

"Don't you start," her mum threatened him. "You'll have me going again."

"I'm sorry, my love," said her dad, smiling through his tears, "but how clever are we to make something so beautiful."

Clara watched her parents exchange loving looks and then steal a quick kiss.

"Very," whispered her mother as they shared a little moment.

Clara remembered those moments all throughout her childhood, the way her parents would look at each other like they were the only two people in the world. It made her feel so safe and happy to see that.

Her mother drew in an unsteady breath and attempted to collect herself. "I'd better go and find my seat before Aunty Pat steals it."

"That woman," said her dad affectionately, "she always thinks she's the star of every show."

Her mum walked up to Clara and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you soon, honey. Enjoy this day, it's the first day of the rest of your life. Remember everything about it."

"I will," Clara promised her and then she left, leaving her with just her dad.

Her father checked his watch. "I promised Alex we wouldn't keep him waiting. The poor lad is one big bundle of nerves. He's already thrown up twice."

"Oh," laughed Clara, "that's not what a bride wants to hear about her husband to be."

"I threw up for two days before marryin' your mum," he said philosophically. "I was dead sure she was going to come to her senses and not turn up at the church."

"But she did turn up," Clara reminded him gently.

"That she did," he said proudly, "and made me the happiest man on this and any other planet." Her dad stuck crooked his arm, holding it out to her. "Just like you're going to make Alex the happiest man in the universe. You ready, luv?"

Clara took her father's arm and nodded. "I'm ready." He led her out of the little ante-room the church had set aside for brides to get ready and then they were walking down the hallway which lead to the door where Clara would make her grand entrance. "Wait a minute, Dad." Clara opened the door ever so slightly and peered out at the crowd filling the pews. "I didn't know I knew so many people," she said nervously. Her gaze lingered over the Maitland family, sitting towards the front of the church. "The Maitland's are here." Clara frowned. "In my coma, I dreamt Mrs. Maitland was-was-" She couldn't finish her sentence, still remembering the grief of Angie and Artie as though it was a tangible thing.

"But that's all it was," her father reassured her. "Just a dream. You're awake now and about to start the rest of your life. You're marrying a good man and you're going to be very happy together." He smiled warmly at her. "That's all I ever wanted for you, Clara, to be loved and know the happiness your Mum and me share."

"I know," she said softly, "I know it is, Dad."

"Then are we doing this or not?" he teased her.

Clara smiled, taking a deep breath. "We're doing this. We're definitely doing this."

oooOOOOooo

The Doctor's hearts were beating erratically in his chest at hearing the chilling intent of the two women. "What's so special about, Clara?" he asked urgently, wanting to distract them for as long as possible and really needing to know the answer to that question. "You said you knew there was something different about her from the beginning," he continued on unevenly. "What was it? What did you see in her?" The Doctor had been traipsing around the Universe trying to find the answer to that question. Could these wolves in sheep's clothing actually have an answer for him at long last?

Miss Pearl smiled a cruel smile. "It doesn't even know what she is," she noted in amusement. "The fool who buries his treasure without ever truly knowing its worth."

"I know Clara's worth," said the Doctor heatedly. "I know she isn't something to be chewed up and spat out by corrupters of the words and knowledge."

"We are not the monsters in this story," said Miss Pearl indignantly. "We take what we need to survive. 'Tis you, creature, that is the destroyer of worlds. The rivers overflow with the blood you've spilt."

"I did what I had to protect the innocent," said the Doctor fiercely.

"The stories it tells itself to survive," sniffed Miss Agnes, almost looking amused. "The creature doesn't want to believe it is the thing which goes bump in the night, whose name gets whispered to scare the children into behaving. That it's the thing which lurks under the bed and makes the nighttimes unbearable for the innocent."

"That isn't who I am," he bit out.

"And no one is more scared of this misshapen beast than the creature itself," continued on Miss Agnes as though he hadn't spoken.

"So true, sister," agreed Miss Pearl readily. "So scared of its own nature, the creature tempts the innocent into its lair to distract itself from its true nature."

"The witch in the gingerbread house," cackled Miss Agnes, "luring all the children in with promises of sweets and adventure before stealing their innocence from them and then ultimately their lives. So many enter your little gingerbread box, creature, but how many come out?"

"That isn't me," said the Doctor unevenly, "that isn't what I do." Even as he said the words the Doctor feared he might be lying. The picture they painted of him and what he did was frightening to the Doctor. "Everyone who travels with me has a choice to do so."

"Do they?" asked Miss Pearl in disdain. "Do they really? You put a spell on them, creature, weave your magic around them so all they can see is the sweet and non of the sour, at least, not until it's too late for them to save themselves."

oooOOOOooo

"You're late," Clara chastised her friend good-naturedly as Liz took a seat at the restaurant.

"I'm fashionably late," said Liz easily as she settled in across from Clara in the exclusive eatery.

"And who gets to decide what that is?" asked Clara in amusement.

"Me, obviously," said Liz blithely. "I am the fashionable one, after all."

"You do look amazing," conceded Clara, taking in Liz's appearance carefully. "In fact, you look better than amazing."

"Of course, I do," said Liz. "Why wouldn't I considering who I'm married to."

"You're married?" repeated Clara in shock.

Liz rolled her eyes. "Listen to her, married for not even a year and she thinks she's invented the concept."

Clara was stunned. "Who did you marry?"

"You know perfectly well who I married," said Liz, starting to look a little worried now. "You were my bridesmaid. I made you wear teal and you said it made you look carsick, which it didn't by the way. You looked gorgeous, even my Benny commented." She pursed her lips. "Which I wasn't too thrilled about to be honest. It was my wedding day to Benjamin Brightly, scientist extraordinaire, all eyes were meant to be on me."

Clara blinked. "Oh, right, I forgot, yes, Ben, of course." Suddenly all the information was in Clara's head again. How Liz and Ben had met on a cruise and then he'd turned out to be a world-renowned scientist working on a way to ensure permanent rejuvenation in people. They'd fallen in love and been married within two months, quite the whirlwind courtship. Clara gave an uneven smile. "You know, I dreamed you'd said you were going to marry someone clever who'd discover the fountain of youth for you, when I was in my coma."

"Sweetie," said Liz gently, "I'd already met Ben when you had your accident. We were already married, remember? You're just getting muddled again."

Clara wrinkled her nose. "Sorry, sometimes I can't always remember what was from my coma and what actually happened." Now that Liz had said that, Clara's memories fell into order and she remembered all of that happening before the coma. "I keep finding I've taken parts of my real life and put them into my dreams while I was in that coma, or whatever it was."

"It's alright, babe, you know we all understand."

"I wish I did some days," said Clara ruefully. She shook her head, banishing the uneasy feeling which sometimes crept up on her. "Alright, so what's this exciting news? You sounded fit to burst on the phone."

Liz grinned. "Ben has made some new discoveries in his research." Her eyes opened wide. "Big, huge discoveries that are going to change the world."

"Bigger than keeping women all over the world looking like they're twenty, regardless of their age?" Clara teased her. "Because that's pretty big already. It's hard to imagine how Ben could top that."

"Well, he has," said Liz in satisfaction. "But I'm sworn to secrecy, I can't tell a soul."

Clara laughed. "Is that why you invited me to lunch? To tell me you have something you can't tell me?"

Liz pulled a face. "A little bit but I'm so excited, Clara, I have to tell someone that I can't tell them something."

Clara shook her head in amusement. "In that case, consider me told."

"I can tell you this though," said Liz, still brimming with obvious excitement. She leant over the table and lowered her voice in a conspiratorial fashion. "When Ben perfects what he's working on, there is a Nobel Prize out there with his name on it. Clara, you can't even begin to imagine how big this is."

"I really can't," said an impressed Clara.

"My Benny is going to change the word more than any man in history," said Liz proudly, "and when he does, we're going to be filthy rich."

"You're already filthy rich," pointed out Clara indulgently. Providing a beauty regime which stopped time in its tracks pretty much guaranteed that.

"Babe, when this breaks, our company is going to be able to print money."

"Isn't that illegal?" asked Clara cheekily.

Liz gave a self-satisfied smile. "Not when you find out what my clever hubby has managed to do."

"Well," said Clara, "colour me suitably intrigued."

"You mark my words, Clara Oswald-Whitley, very soon you're going to be living in a world you won't even recognise."

Clara kept a smile on her face but for some reason Liz's confident prediction sent a little chill down her spine.

oooOOOOooo

How many times had the Doctor watched people he'd cared about count the cost of having him in their lives? He refused to admit it to the gloating old women, but their words cut closer to home than the Doctor wanted them to. Letting them get to him wasn't going to help Clara though, so the Doctor fought past his guilt. "You're very eager to tell stories about me, but I can't help but notice you haven't answered by questions about Clara," he threw back at them. "You said you saw something different in her. If you want me to take anything you two say seriously, then tell me what you know about Clara."

"We know she is not one story, but many," offered up Miss Agnes.

"Everyone has lots of stories," said the Doctor dismissively. "I have thousands. You'll have to do better than that."

"Your stories are from but one life," countered Miss Agnes. "A thin piece of thread drawn out in a straight line. Granted, your line may run longer than most on this planet, but it is still only one thread."

The Doctor frowned. "And Clara?"

The sisters exchanged looks. "She is many threads, thousands and thousands of them," said Miss Pearl, "all entwined, all running out from a central point."

"Like a spider's web," chimed in her sister. "Each strand interwoven and linked to the other, yet standing alone."

"All I had to do was look at her and I could see all those other lives in her eyes, separate yet part of the same whole," said Miss Pearl excitedly. She walked up to where Clara was encased in her glass prison. "I could taste all of those stories she had to tell from those many lives, smell it in the air around her and I knew we had to have her."

The Doctor blinked rapidly, trying to work out what the women were saying. Clara was human. The Doctor had confirmed that with every bit of technology he had available to him. He'd gone to empaths and books and still only come back to one thing. Clara was human. Humans didn't have multiple lives, they lived, they died, just as Time Lords ultimately did. "What does that mean?" he asked unevenly. "How can Clara have lived other lives?" Even though the Doctor had met Clara in two of those other lives, he still couldn't understand how it was possible.

Miss Pearl ignored him, instead she was staring intently at the display on a panel in front of her. "Sister," she said, sounding confused, "come, I am in need of your wisdom in an important matter." Miss Agnes crossed the room, standing by her sister's side and immediately becoming engrossed in reading the information the panel was displaying.

"What is it?" asked the Doctor in concern. "What's wrong? Is something happening with Clara?"

Miss Agnes cocked her head and frowned. "I have not seen the like of this before, sister."

"Indeed, sister, this is most unexpected."

The Doctor swallowed hard. "You have to get Clara out of there. If she is different as you say, then that gas could be killing her."

Miss Pearl cast a disdainful look at the Doctor. "The gas is not killing the vessel, indeed, something miraculous is happening."

"Miraculous?" The Doctor didn't like the sound of that.

"The gas is engineered to harvest the stories these humans have to tell, pull it from their bodies and carry all that energy to us, for my sister and I to consume," explained Miss Pearl.

"But this one, this one is putting the gas to her own use," said Miss Agnes in amazement. "She is using it to help build a whole world inside of her head. "She is creating a reality and becoming absorbed into it, leaving her body behind."

"But how, sister?" asked Miss Pearl in consternation. "How is this vessel doing that?"

"I do not know, sister," said Miss Agnes in confusion. "It should not be possible for the vessel to corrupt the gas in this way."

Listening to them talk, something became crystal clear to the Doctor. "You have no idea what Clara is either, do you?" he demanded. "You were just bluffing. She's as much a mystery to you as she is to me." He made a disdainful noise. "How that must sting, the great collectors of knowledge, confounded by one little human," the Doctor scoffed.

"As are you, creature," snapped Miss Pearl in annoyance over her shoulder, "but you are wrong, my sister and I know exactly what this child is."

The Doctor's chin came up defiantly. "Really?" he challenged them. "What is she then?"

Miss Pearl's look was equally defiant. "Ours," she hissed triumphantly, much to the Doctor's dismay...