So here I am, typing three chapters on the same day, almost consecutively.

I don't always write fanfiction; but when I do, I write the whole story in one day.

*Just imagine that the past sentence was on a "I don't always…but when I do" meme*

Again, thanks for reading and reviewing. Let's get a move on!

God bless and have a great day (or night)!
ThePro-LifeCatholic

33 Vi: Oh, yeah. Clara dying is always sad. And thank you for the praise! I do really like how this story turned out myself.

Jesuslovesmarina: You could hear Clara's voice? Awesome! That must mean that I'm keeping things (relatively) in-character. Yay, me! Yep, forgetting Martha left and right. Poor Martha. She needs/deserves more love from fans, I think.

WHY DID YOU HAVE TO REMIND ME OF END OF TIME?! That episode…I just… "I don't wanna go." And I lose it. Every. Single. Time.

The main control room was located on the first floor of the hotel, aka the lobby. What made it super obvious was that the words "Control Room" were written in huge, all caps letters smack on the doors. This was pretty helpful for Clara, who was trying to find the main control room in a darkened lobby with a killer shape-shifting alien coming after her. When she found the doors, she shoved hard, praying that the doors weren't deadlocked. Very fortunately for her, they swung open soundlessly as she put pressure on them. Once safely inside, she ran over to one of the walls. They were lined, filled with panels and buttons and switches and crisscrossing wires, all of which looked very complex and somewhat intimidating. Clara Oswin wasn't daunted, however. She had been in this room many times, and she knew exactly which section of wall she was looking for.

As she opened panel boxes, peering inside and flipping several switches and turning a couple dials, the intercom buzzed to life.

"Ozzy?" a voice crackled from the com.

"Doctor?" Clara pushed some more buttons. "Did you find Martha yet?"

"Working on it. I was wondering if you had the registration list with you. That would speed up my search greatly."

"Umm…yeah; not gonna happen." Clara glanced over her shoulder at the doors. "I'm not leaving this room anytime soon. He's gonna find me any moment now."

"Where are you, exactly?"

"I'm in the main control room, on the lobby."

"What're you doing down there? Isn't that where the Taskmaster is?"

"Yeah…" Clara trailed off. "That was sort of the plan."

"What plan? Oswald, what are you doing?"

Clara smiled softly. "I'm going to save the world."

"Ozzy, whatever you're doing, it can wait. Just get out of there, get to safety. I can meet up with you, and we can figure something out together. Just wait for me."

"Sorry, Foxy," she turned to see the Taskmaster standing in the doorway. "I just got found."

The Doctor stood on his side of the intercom, listening to the static. After a tense moment of silence, he turned on his heel, rushing down the nearest flight of stairs, back to the lobby.

"You're not going to give in, are you?" the Taskmaster asked.

"And you're not going to convince me," Clara retorted stoutly. "Go ahead and kill me; the Doctor will end this. I know he will. Your slave-selling days are over."

"He's next," the Taskmaster hissed vehemently. "Him and his friend. I'll make him forget everything he ever was and send him to chip ice out of the coal mines on Bivnar. Workers there only last a couple months."

"You know, something tells me that that plan of yours might not work out."

The Taskmaster twisted his head around. The Doctor was standing directly behind him.

"And you wanna know why? 'Cause I don't think you have a high-enough concentration of Slipweed to make someone forget whole centuries." He took a step forward, letting the doors swing shut behind him. The two aliens stood, tense and silent. With a cry, the Taskmaster lunged forward, grabbing the Doctor by the waist. The two were rolling on the floor, one on top of the other. The Taskmaster made it out on top, and he brought his fist down on the Doctor's face. Over and over, he ground his spiked hand down, leaving bloody scrapes.

"Hey, Taskmaster!" Clara piped. The Taskmaster turned towards her, hand suspended in mid-strike.

"You told me that you couldn't handle the weed," she explained, flipping a switch and closing the panel. "And you've got the weed into one of the most important systems in this building, somehow. So I'm assuming that you couldn't take ten minutes of the drug filling this room from the sprinkler system, huh?"

The Taskmaster's eyes went wide, and he flung himself off of the Doctor. But it was too late. Before he had a chance to come near her or the panels, the sprinkler system activated. No water fell, but the air was growing thicker by the second. The Doctor scrambled to his hands and knees. The drug was beginning to affect him too. A wave of drowsiness washed over him.

"Oswald," he called weakly. Somewhere in the room, he could hear coughing.

Clara slid down the wall, curling into a ball. She could see the Taskmaster writhing on the floor, moaning as his body responded to the Slipweed. Over his groans, she heard the Doctor calling to her.

"Yeah?" she asked, before hacking again. Her throat was squeezing; she could barely breathe.

"I'm not…I'm not going to remember any of this."

"Don't worry; I won't remember this either. And that's one less death for you to bemoan." She gulped, trying to get air into her lungs. "No one should have to live with that."

The Doctor's flesh crawled as what Clara said sunk in. She hadn't told him…but her coughing in his room…oh, how blind and stupid he was.

"But I'm not going to remember any of this adventure…I'm not going to remember meeting you."

"That's OK," she tried to smile; hot tears stained her cheeks. "We had fun, though. Thanks for that. And sorry about the soufflé."

He grinned. "I always knew it was you."

"Yeah; I figured." She coughed again. How much longer could she last?

"I liked your poem."

She blinked quickly, trying to keep from bawling. Such a small, meaningless sentence, but now she was on the brink of breaking down entirely.

"Just run. That's just like you, isn't it? Run, you clever boy. Run…and remember me."

The Doctor attempted to crawl across the floor, but the exhaustion was too much. He slipped to the ground, wounds stinging from exposure to the drug-filled air. Everything around him began to fade, blurring and finally turning to darkness.

Clara looked around the room. The air was hazy with Slipweed. She didn't have the strength to cough, and she was too tired to keep fighting the choking any longer.

"Aren't you proud of me, Mom?" she gasped. "I'm coming to meet you now. See you soon."

Her brown eyes fluttered shut, and her breath slowed as the tears stopped flowing. Eventually, her breathing stopped altogether.

So, yeah. That's why he doesn't remember meeting her, you guys. 'Cause he forgets. And by the way, all of the planets and systems that have been mentioned throughout this story are all completely made up by me. None of them appear in Doctor Who (if they do, it's a coincidence and I had no idea beforehand that they were in any of the episodes).

I guess I'll leave you guys to your Clara feels. See you for the next chapter!