Chapter 10: Cornered

"We do have a plan, right?" Clara asked, slightly worried. She clutched her cup of hot tea tightly in her hands as if bracing herself for the Doctor's answer. It had been two weeks since Missy's initial attack, and every new day brought a fresh level of anxiety to their minds.

Missy was highly unpredictable. Many nights had been spent arguing over various plans, and eventually all ideas were shot down. Now that Christmas break was almost over, the pressure to come up with a solid plan weighed on their spirits like elephants.

The Doctor sighed and ran a hand through his unruly curls in frustration. "No. Not really. I have bits and pieces that might work, but without the Tardis and with my condition, we're practically sitting ducks."

The Doctor groaned and slumped down tiredly into a chair. He didn't have the energy he used to, one of the disadvantages of being technically dead.

"Wonderful," Clara muttered.

Missy could arrive today, or in ten years, there was no way to tell. She was undoubtedly preparing an army, which could consist of literally anything. If she wanted to, no Cyberman, Human, or Weeping Angel could withstand her charismatic rule. She was cunning, a genius, really. No enemy of the Doctor's would hesitate to seek her out for help.

Missy thought like the Doctor, knew his techniques, and understood him better than nearly every being in the universe. The Master was the ultimate ally for all against the Doctor. Who knows who will join her side this time?

"You can't go to school." the Doctor decided in a firm voice. "I can't have you walking to school every day alone. You'll just have to find a substitute again."

"Doctor!" Clara argued, "I can't just quit my job like that. It's the only way I'm supporting myself, and we don't know when Missy will come back, if it all. It could be ten years, it could be never."

"Or it could be tomorrow." he shot back.

"True, but I can't hide forever. Where can I hide, anyway? She's been here, she knows where I live. With a little effort, she could easily find me wherever I am, and she seems to be able to sense you." Clara reasoned.

"The point is," Clara released a breath she didn't know she was holding, feeling her hope deflating and rushing away with it, "I am just as vulnerable here as anywhere else. Without the Tardis, there is nowhere I can hide."

The Doctor didn't make a retort. He knew she was right. A tense silence filled the air.

"Looks like we'll just have to wing it." The Doctor said with forced cheerfulness, and Clara could hear him fluttering his wings briefly to highlight the lame pun.

Clara rolled her eyes beneath her blindfold. Unfortunately, no pun ever escaped her. However, she did have to admit that it did lighten the terse atmosphere a bit.

Clara took a long look at his wings, lifting the blindfold to see. He froze with an annoyed expression on his face. One advantage to the Doctor being a Weeping Angel was that Clara could shut him up whenever she wanted just by looking at him. She smiled sadly, replaced the blindfold, and sat down.

"Can you fly?" Clara asked, changing the subject to, hopefully, a lighter topic.

The Doctor's eyes widened slightly. "Oh. I've tried. I can't say I've quite managed it yet."

He sighed and explained, "Imagine if I attempted to fly- first of all, I would need a lot of room, so I would have to be outside...in the open. People would stare at the bulky humanoid flying in the air with bright massive wings." he gesticulated wildly with his hands, "If only one person saw me, I would freeze into stone and crash into the ground. I don't know if that would injure me, but surely it would cause some damage to whatever's below."

"Yeah, I guess." Clara replied absentmindedly. She couldn't stop thinking about how her life had gotten exponentially more complicated since the Doctor's return. Somehow, she liked it better that way. The drama he dragged her into was usually enough to distract her from over-analyzing everything and to just accept things at face value.

She had to go to school. Life must go on. A thought suddenly struck her, and she realized that she didn't want to leave the Doctor alone at her apartment all day. He'd only get up to shenanigans.

Last week, he had tried to improve nearly every appliance in the flat with his new screwdriver, and it drove her nuts. Most of the "improvements" did not end well, such as when he tried to fix the flue of the chimney. He only made everything rattle open, and great plumes of soot and ash coated the room.

When she came home from shopping that day, the coffee pot was tipped on its side, leaking coffee everywhere, the fridge was modified to be so cold that when she opened it everything glistened with ice and was freezer-burnt, and when she walked into the living room, she was not very surprised to see a very black room with a very black Angel. After a good scolding and a vigorous spray-down with the garden hose, he had not tried modifying anything again.

"Right. Tomorrow is the first day of the new semester. It's kind of a milestone day where it's crucial to give the kids key material to set them up for the second term. I can't miss it. I'm sorry, Doctor, and don't follow me. Don't do anything to the flat while I'm gone. Anything, got it?!" she warned.

The Doctor sighed in defeat and grumbled something incoherent under his breath. He crossed his arms defiantly and slumped in his chair.

"Don't even think about it." Clara said sternly. Even with the blindfold on, he could almost feel her pointed gaze.

"Fine." he growled, sulking. He knew when he was beaten.

The next morning, Clara emerged early from her bedroom. After two weeks of late night movies and reading, she realized that she should have gotten her body used to her school schedule again by going to bed and waking up early for a few days.

Now she was suffering the usual Monday morning drowsiness because of it. Clara groaned irritably and stepped out into the hall. She had a headache, and everything swam around her.

The Doctor, who generally wandered around the house at night doing God knows what while Clara was asleep, noticed her state immediately, and raced over the second she blinked.

Her hair was tousled in every direction, her nightie was bunched up on one of her legs, and she staggered around as if she were drunk. Clara closed her eyes, and leaned against the Doctor for support.

"Clara! Clara, are you alright? What happened? Are you sick? Are you dying?" The Doctor sputtered out worriedly, scanning her everywhere for any obvious signs of injury. He held her shoulders tightly to keep her stable on her feet.

"Mm...fine." Clara mumbled out, wiggling out of his hold. "I'm fine, Doctor. I'm not dying, I just am not a morning person."

The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief which instantly turned to confusion. "Pudding brain bodies are so illogical. Why are you more tired now after sleeping for eight hours than when you went to bed last night? That doesn't make any sense. You should get that looked into. Maybe you're malfunctioning."

"Shut up." Clara giggled drowsily. "Point me in the direction of the bathroom. I need a shower." she ordered without her usual degree of firmness.

"Sure thing, boss." he turned Clara in the general direction of the bathroom and watched her walk away. "Are you sure you don't want me to hold you in there? By the way you're wobbling along, you can barely stand on your own. You might slip in the shower and crack your head open." he said with innocent concern, again oblivious to human privacy norms.

"No." Clara pushed past him, entering the bathroom. "I can manage on my own, thank you very much. Go away," she shooed him off.

Clara shut the door in his face. The Doctor grumbled broodingly. He told himself that she would be fine. How old was she now? 54? She could easily take care of herself, and he knew she was right. What made him think that she couldn't handle a little morning sleepiness and a perfectly harmless shower? Had he really always been this overprotective?

Maybe it was just with Clara. But having a soulmate die in front of you several times could do things to people. Now the Doctor never wanted her out of his sight. It was his fault that she had been killed on Aluereygo XI, and he vowed to himself that it would never happen again.

"Fine, Clara." he called through the door over the sound of running water. "I'll stand guard here. Just call me if you need anything. Or scream, one of the two. Both will work."

"Go away!" she shouted back, annoyance lacing her voice.

"Fine." the Doctor grumbled to himself. He stood by the other side of the door and crossed his arms. Looks like he wasn't the only grumpy one around here.

Almost an hour later, Clara finally opened the door of the bathroom. She was completely transformed. Her makeup was perfect, though she didn't really need any, he thought, and her school outfit for today was a stunning red blouse, which fit her perfectly, complimented by a tasteful black skirt. Her face was bright, and she beamed up at him cheekily.

"How do I look?" she asked, fidgeting with the beautiful braid she had put in her hair today.

"You..." the Doctor stumbled over his words. She was absolutely stunning, but of course he would never say that out loud.

"You're alive." he managed, "You were in there for so long that I thought you had cracked your little pudding head."

Clara tried to roll her eyes even though they were shut, "Of course I'm alive!" she said exasperatedly, "I can take care of myself, Doctor! Seriously, you need to stop worrying all the time, and you still haven't answered my question," she pressed, "How do I look?"

"Colorful. I like the colors." he said, not knowing what else to say. "Why haven't you made yourself taller today?"

"That's a lot coming from a stone parrot-man." she scoffed with a giggle. "And I'm not wearing heels today. They're uncomfortable."

"Then why ever wear them?" he asked, constantly baffled by nonsensical human fashion. "I prefer my humans shoulder-height, anyway."

"Bye." she called over her shoulder with a short wave. "I'm leaving now."

"What?" he ran after her, "You can't leave! What if something happens to you?"

"Stop being so overprotective, Doctor. We discussed this last night." she stated firmly, slinging her purse over her shoulder. "Of course I'm going, why do you think I got dressed up? I don't get up at five in the morning without a good reason. Where did you think I was going?"

"I...don't know." he called after her. She had exited the flat and was now making her way to the stairs. He couldn't chase after her without risking being seen, so he put his loud Scottish baritone to good use.

"What if Missy returns? We still don't have a plan!" he called after her.

"I can't stay cooped up in there any longer, Doctor!" she yelled back, making her way down the stairs. "If it makes you feel better, I'll call you when I get to the school and whenever I leave."

The Doctor was far from happy with this solution, but accepted it. "I don't have a phone! No Tardis, remember?"

"I'll call the house phone. Now shoo! You're going to make a scene with all your shouting. Don't do anything to the flat while I'm gone. Anything! No improvements, no science experiments, nothing. I'm off, now. Wish me luck." Clara yelled from her position halfway down the stairs.

"Good luck, Clara." he replied.

She smiled and finished her descent down the stairs. He watched her closely, constantly scanning the environment for any signs of danger. The crisp January air caught her, and she shivered, pulling her thick coat tighter around herself. Even with her lowered sensitivity to temperature, it was still freezing today. She flipped the hood over her head and disappeared from his view behind a building.

"Be safe." he whispered after her. He felt so utterly helpless. If he went out to follow her, someone could see him and freeze him to the spot. Then she would be even more defenseless.

He closed the door against the wind. A few flurries of snow trailed in after him. He took out his sonic screwdriver and studied it. He had had nothing to do but tinker with it for the past two weeks. All this sitting still and domesticity was driving him insane. The Doctor was not a "settling" man. He felt like he was trapped, and he was aching to see the stars again.

A sudden idea struck him. He smiled to himself brightly and immediately scrabbled for all the tools he'd been using, now scattered all around the flat. "Yes! Oh, stupid, stupid, Doctor! I should have thought of this ages ago!" he smacked his forehead, "It's so obvious!"

He dove to the table and began tearing his screwdriver apart.

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Clara arrived at the school without any incidents, called the Doctor, argued a bit with said Doctor, and went on with her day.

It only took two class periods for Clara to regret coming to school that day. The class was hell. Nobody did their homework over the holidays, and everybody, including the teachers, was overly grumpy. Courtney continued to mess with her, as usual, and Danny's newly-occupied classroom across the hall still continued to haunt her.

By the end of the day, Clara was exhausted. She ran her fingers through her hair and let out a long, frustrated sigh. She gathered up all the papers that had been turned in and looked to her phone on her desk.

Clara picked up the phone and dialed.

Before the first ring had even finished, the Doctor had already snatched the phone off the hook. "Clara? School ended sixteen minutes ago. I was beginning to worry."

"I'm fine, Doctor. I'm taking the usual route home. I'll be there in twenty. Whatever you did while I was gone, you have that long to clean it up, ok?" she said knowingly.

"What makes you think I did anything?"

"Doctor." she warned.

"Yes, boss." he sighed in defeat, looking over at all the various screwdriver parts scattered around the kitchen. "It'll be clean before you get home."

Clara smirked despite her mood and pocketed her phone. She took the papers and locked the door behind her. She exited the school and shuddered against the biting wind. A thin layer of snow crunched beneath her boots, and Clara immediately wished that she had worn more than a skirt and leggings today. She faced into the icy breeze and started on her way home.

About halfway back to her flat, she noticed something bright and red standing out against the dreary grey and white of London's back alleys. Narrowing her eyes, she cocked her head slightly in confusion.

"That wasn't there before, was it?"

It was a classic bright red London telephone booth parked cozily in the junction between two buildings. It stood out starkly against the rest of the street, and Clara wondered why she hadn't noticed it earlier.

"They must have just had it put in, but that's a weird spot to have a booth." she eyed it suspiciously. It looked just like any other phone booth, but something ominous seemed to loom around it like fog.

Clara eventually shrugged it off, making mental note of it. She continued down the quiet alley, rounding the corner behind a large abandoned department store.

"EXTERMINATE!" a horribly familiar robotic voice threatened.

Clara dropped her bag. Her blood ran colder than the snow beneath her feet. She shrieked and wanted to run, but found she was rooted to the spot.

A legion of at least thirty Daleks immediately surrounded her, staring deep into Clara's soul with their single mechanical eyes. They appeared to be sizing her up, devising the best possible strategy against her in seconds.

Clara drew in sharp shuddering breaths. She fumbled in her pocket for her phone. She found the buttons and dialed as quickly as she could, her fingers bumbling and nearly dropping the phone. The Doctor picked up instantly. Worry laced his voice.

"Clara?" he asked, afraid of her reply.

"Oh, hello there, Clara, dear. Please put that on speaker, will you? I'd like to chat too." a sicky-sweet voice crooned.

Missy emerged sauntering from behind a Dalek. She twirled the hook of her umbrella around her arm and swaggered through the Dalek line.

Clara gasped, attempting to form words, but all died in her throat. She backed away slowly with nowhere to go, cornered on all sides by Daleks.

"Clara? Are you ok? Who else is there?" the Doctor's voice crackled through the receiver.

Missy stood mere inches from Clara and smirked. She plucked the phone from her prone hands.

"Hello, dearie. Sorry if I'm a bit late, traffic was hell." Missy smirked evilly at Clara, baring all of her sharp teeth, "I brought a few friends along with me, if that's ok." Missy said sweetly into the phone, grinning madly.

The Doctor's face paled immediately. This was all too soon. All of his worst nightmares were coming true all at once. He swallowed thickly and felt himself tense defensively. Why hadn't Clara replied yet? He clutched the phone so hard it nearly cracked in his fist.

"We're waiting for you, dear. Aren't we, my friends?" Missy held out the phone to the Daleks.

"EXTERMINATE!"

"EXTERMINATE!"

The warning boomed out of the speaker clearly. The Doctor dropped the phone. It clattered to the floor in several pieces, but he didn't care. He pounced on his screwdriver and pointed it at himself. He wasn't finished installing the new settings yet, so he prayed that it wouldn't tear him apart.

The screwdriver whirred and the Doctor screamed. The phone, several feet away, crackled with jagged words.

"We'll see you there, honey." Missy cooed, lifting Clara's chin with a finger. Clara immediately tried to shake her off defiantly. Missy released her and grinned almost proudly at her. "You wouldn't want to miss all the fun."

The house phone sputtered and died. Its last words fell on deaf ears.

The Doctor was gone.