Is there anyone else still reading this story? *shouts into the void* Hello?

I'm sorry for the lack of updating again - but lo and behold, I finally got my laptop. Only then, school got in the way and then things returned to being busy and my words not being able to cooperate with me. But finally, after intensely listening to the Badlands album by Halsey (highly, highly, highly recommend it - not to mention that there are many songs that fit the Whouffaldi-esque dynamic), I started to write this chapter.

With that said, enjoy!

Chapter Eleven. Deliberate Messages in Subtext

There was only one person in the elevator.

"Going up?" the Doctor asked, a finger hovering over the buttons.

Clara pushed her hands into her pockets. And then she took them out.

"My office is on the same floor as you," was her only response as she walked into the elevator. The Doctor moved aside just a bit, though Clara still felt his jacket sleeve brush against her bare arm. She quickly walked to the very back of the large elevator, adjusting her coat over the crook of her elbow. The Doctor pulled away from the buttons – and Clara focused instead on the bright orange 12 that lit up on the button panels.

She saw her reflection in the closed elevator doors now – she had taken the liberty of wearing stockings today, seeing that it was growing steadily chillier. Her feet were tucked into a pair of heels, and her white blouse was interrupted by her dark coat. And the Doctor – the Doctor was standing on the other side of the elevator, and in his reflection, he didn't seem to tower over Clara for once.

Clara re-adjusted her coat over her elbow again. The silence in the elevator was deafening.

She was almost relieved when the Doctor was the one who spoke first.

"Did you have a nice weekend?"

Clara turned her head just in time to see the Doctor's face twist into a brief grimace. She looked on with some confusion before it dawned to her. The graveyard; of course, she thought to herself. She had thought that the Doctor would have forgotten about it.

"Yes," Clara chose to reply. The muscles in the Doctor's face seemed to soften in some relief. She cleared her throat. "And…you?" He was there, too.

"Mine was fine," the Doctor replied, sounding almost just as careful as Clara felt.

"That's…good." Clara said with a brief nod. "Good…weekend."

The Doctor nodded back.

And then the elevator doors opened.

"We don't…have a new case right now, do we?" Clara asked at last.

"I believe not. Might just be paperwork."

"Ah. Well." Clara stepped out of the elevator first. "Have a nice rest of the day."

"You too."

"Good morning, Doctor – Clara!" Rose called brightly from her desk.

"Morning," Clara and the Doctor said in unison.

Rose's lips twitched into a smile. Standing up from her desk and carrying a pile of folders, she asked, "So you two are talking together today?" The young woman's voice was light – teasing – and though Clara knew she meant it that way, she still felt her defenses rising. "I've got…paperwork," she heard the Doctor murmur. His eyes flitted over to Clara again. "Morning," he repeated before heading down the hallway.

Clara turned to Rose, whose grin had now faded. "Oh, no," the blonde distressed, her eyes wide with alarm. "Did I –"

"No," Clara said promptly, lifting her coat over her shoulders. "He's just – well, I think we could all use with a bit more of the weekend."

Rose didn't look entirely convinced, but she nodded all the same. "Well," she said, handing a pair of folders to Clara. "He was right about paperwork – but Madame Vastra wants to see you both tomorrow morning. Tell that to your partner, hm?" Clara clasped her hands over the thick folders, careful not to drop it or spill out its contents. "Can't you email the Doctor?" she asked, bringing the folders up to her chest.

"I've got other agents waiting for reports," Rose replied, sitting back down in her seat. "I'm sorry, Clara, but it can't be that hard – his office is just a little ways from yours, yeah?"

Clara pursed her lips. "Yeah, alright," she murmured, slightly disgruntled by Rose's quick response. Rose flashed her a small thumbs-up before turning back around to the computer sitting on her desk. Clara shuffled the folder underneath her arm – though before she could leave for the Doctor's office, she took a quick glance at Rose's computer screen.

Rose had been lying – there were no other emails that she needed to prepare.

Still, Clara didn't say anything. She turned on her heel and headed down the hallway, narrowly evading any other agents who were heading out of their own offices. She paused by her own office, sorely tempted to at least get her own things prepped – or at least drop off her coat and her copy of the folder under her arm – but pushed past, silently reminding herself that the Doctor's office was just a little further.

("I know you're standing out there," John called.

Clara grinned and slid open the door. She was carrying her laptop in one hand, a pencil stuck behind her ear and cardigan wrapped tightly around her waist. John's eyebrows flew up in surprise. "Well, I knew you were there," he corrected himself. "I just didn't know you'd go travelling back in time to look like a college student."

"College was just a few years ago for me," Clara reminded him, walking over and placing her laptop on John's desk. She stood back up and tightened her cardigan around her waist. "Besides, this wasn't even what I looked like in college, especially senior year. It was the year of sweatpants and permanent raccoon eyes. Oh, and beanies because I couldn't wash my hair as frequently as I would have liked. I hated that." Clara grimaced and sat down in front of her laptop. "But if you'd like to think of me as one of those college students who looked prim and proper all the time, then go ahead."

"I actually said you looked like a college student because of the level of casualness in your outfit today," John replied lightly, standing up from his chair and making his way to Clara. "I mean, don't get me wrong – I love your official business-women outfits, but this is a whole new level for work clothes. Besides…" He grinned. "You only dress casually when we're home."

Clara rolled her eyes, but her lips still perked up into a smile. "This," she gestured to her clothes – which were casual indeed (a pair of dark jeans, a flannel shirt and the cardigan) – "does it for you?"

"A bit," John confessed.

Clara rolled her eyes again and turned back around to the laptop screen. "How'd you figure out I was out your door, anyways?" she asked over her shoulder. "Don't you think that was a bit risky? Imagine how odd it'd be if it turned out to be…I dunno, Vastra who was actually standing outside instead of me."

"Vastra would wave it off, and Jenny would be rightfully annoyed at me for the rest of the month," John replied. He gave Clara's shoulder a squeeze. "But I knew it was you because it sounded like you. You walk differently than everyone else. And Vastra always wears boots."

"I sometimes wear boots," Clara pointed out.

John's eyes were shining when Clara looked up at him. "But you step lightly," he said softly.)

Clara rapped her knuckles against the Doctor's door. "It's me, Doctor; Clara," she called, slipping the folders out to her hands. She stepped back a little when the door swung open. The Doctor stood in the doorframe, his flyaway eyebrows drawn together in bewilderment. "What is it?" he asked.

Clara lifted up one of the folders. "Rose wanted me to give this to you," she replied. "And apparently, Vastra wants to see us tomorrow morning. You'd be here tomorrow, yeah?"

"I would," the Doctor answered, looking down at the folder. "And you've got one, too."

"So it seems."

"New operation?"

"Maybe," Clara replied, trying to ignore the sudden leap in her chest at the prospect. She personally would take a mission over any paperwork left for her in her office. "But that's all I know," she finished, pressing her folder underneath her jacket. "I should get back to work now – I'll see you in a bit, Doctor," she said over her shoulder, and headed back down the hallway.

xXx

The only sounds in her office were her fingers typing over the keyboard. The slightly sticky sounding, consistent rhythm of the keys was a comfort to Clara a few hours ago – but now that she was thirsty, hungry, and aching in the eyes because of the bright computer screen (despite having turned down the brightness to the lower notch), she wasn't sure how much more of the paperwork she could take. (If it could even be called paperwork anymore. It was just sending message after message to citizen after citizen. Clara wasn't quite sure how Rose could do this all day, on top of accepting phone calls or randomizing phone calls or…)

Clara leaned back in her seat and rubbed her irritated eyes. She spent a few seconds to herself to pace around her office. After drinking from a water bottle, Clara had settled some – but even then, she dreaded going back to her computer.

She was sorely tempted to open the folder, too, but knowing that it was Vastra who had sent it to her, it'd be better to open it with her during the meeting.

Still.

Clara shoved the folder into her desk so that it wouldn't tempt her any more than it already had.

The drawer had just closed when Clara's door opened.

She jumped, almost as though she had been caught doing something wrong (which was ridiculous, because she hadn't done anything wrong) – and looked up to see the Doctor standing in her office. He had his coat on, and there were slightly darkened circles underneath his eyes. Clara had no doubt that she looked the same.

"You're tired," they said in unison.

Clara stopped short. "I can't stand staring at the computer for too long." She said, turning away from the screen. She looked up at the Doctor again. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Have you had lunch yet?"

Clara was painfully aware of her stomach complaining again. She looked over at the clock on her computer. Noon. She had gotten here at eight in the morning…and she'd had breakfast around seven…

"No," she admitted, turning back around to the Doctor. "Did…you?"

"No," the Doctor replied. He walked to the other side of the room and took Clara's coat off the hook. He tossed it to her – and Clara caught it with a hand just in time before it could hit the ground. "What's this?" she asked, though she slid her coat on.

"We should get lunch," the Doctor replied, tapping his head. "Can't focus if you're hungry. It'll make the work sloppy – and who knows, we might have to re-do it if we don't focus enough." Clara grimaced. "I don't think Vastra would make us re-do nearly four hours of paperwork," she replied, grabbing her office keys.

"Don't be too sure of that," the Doctor said. "She reminds me of one of my teachers – he made me re-write three of my essays because I had done them while listening to music."

Clara startled, surprised by the sudden bit of information. She looked over at the Doctor, though he didn't seem to recognize what he had said – or more specifically, what he had done. "Good teacher, though – she only wanted a little more than just an answer," he was saying as he closed the door behind Clara. He stepped out of the way – and it took a few seconds for Clara to catch on, but then she walked forward to lock the door.

When she turned back around, the Doctor was already gesturing down the hallway. "Shall we?"

Clara nodded mutely.

xXx

They were back in the deli.

Clara was brushing some of the excess crumbs on the top of her sandwich, while the Doctor toyed with the bottle cap of his soda. There were a few rustles through the deli, but it felt almost just as sleepy as it did the last time they were there. And though Clara knew that this deli was not at all like the restaurant she had been before, she found herself looking at the other customers every few minutes.

"Unnerving, isn't it?" the Doctor suddenly asked.

Clara looked up. "Huh? Oh…" She cast another stare over the others. "It's…somewhat difficult now, with all that's happened." She tried for a smile. "No bother, though. I always liked takeaway better than actually going out to eat." Drumming her fingers lightly against the table, Clara added, "But still. This is nice."

"Are you sure about that?"

Clara looked up. "Of course I'm sure," she said, her brow furrowing together. "Why wouldn't I be?" She spun around, her knuckles whitening in nervousness. "Is there something wrong? Is there –"

"I – no. No," the Doctor said hurriedly. "I was – I was only making sure that you were alright. I wasn't trying to imply anything."

Clara slowly relaxed back into her seat. "Oh," she replied. She scraped at a spot against the table. "I'm fine, and I'm sure about that." She hesitated. Her eyes flitted up to the Doctor – and she met his steel-grey ones before scooting back down to the sandwich. Clearing her throat, she picked it up and asked, "How about you? Are you…okay?"

"I am," the Doctor replied. He turned away. "I think I'm beginning to get used to this place. Might end up showing here more often."

"Yeah?"

"I said might."

Clara bobbed her head to the side. "That's…nice," she chose to say. "Nice…sandwich place." She was losing her words, and the Doctor knew it as well as she did. Clearing her throat again, Clara took a large bite out of her sandwich. She avoided looking back at the Doctor. This felt wrong. And awkward. And unbelievably odd.

Clara almost…well, she didn't exactly miss getting annoyed at the Doctor all the time. She didn't miss feeling infuriated every time she needed to work with him on something, and she certainly didn't miss all the times she would get into trouble with the Doctor for their cooperation problems.

However, at this point in time, Clara wasn't sure where else to go in this direction.

"You're acting strange," Clara said at last, putting her sandwich down.

The Doctor's eyebrows twisted upwards. "And you've come to this conclusion…how?"

Clara placed her elbows on the table. Leaning in slightly (but not too close), she repeated in a low voice, "You're acting strange. We're acting strange. Like we haven't just gotten through one semi-successful mission or I didn't see you in Trenzalore – or the other way around." She pressed her lips together. "So. So, I'm saying that from now on, we…clear this up. No more dancing around. Or circling around whatever our partnership is."

The Doctor frowned. "Am I to assume you've been thinking on this for a while?"

"I like to have things where I can plan things out – I like to have things in a controlled setting," Clara replied briskly, tilting back in her chair. "And honestly, I haven't been able to get into that setting for some time now." She tilted her head to the side. "So, Doctor – are we good on that, or should we spend a few more days trying to figure the other out? Because I'm telling you right now, that plan's going to take some time to process."

Clara was surprised to see a corner of the Doctor's lips twitch into a smile. "Do you do this often?" he asked.

"I've had practice tossing around people who didn't like to take me seriously," Clara replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "And truth be told, I think you're a bit more intelligent than to not at least acknowledge my proposal." She jutted out her chin. "And besides," Clara added, "you know I'm right. Things have been weird between us. We might as well break that up."

"I don't open up well on new terms," the Doctor pointed out.

"I've noticed," Clara shot back.

"Neither do you."

"That's…another thing I noticed about myself."

"And you still want to try?"

"I told you, didn't I? I like to have things in a controlled setting," Clara said.

xXx

"A bioweapon," the Doctor said with a frown, staring down at the file. He looked up at Vastra with a bewildered expression on his face – and Clara could hardly blame him. She was, if anything, just as confused as him. "What're we doing looking for a bioweapon? This should be for the science branches in our agency – or maybe the technical –"

"They're already working on this operation," Vastra replied, clasping her hands together. "Only they need people – specifically, a pair of people – to get into the facility working on this bioweapon and get back out with it. Most of the agents in the science and tech branches have their minor lessons in self-defense, but that's hardly enough to stay on their toes to retrieve this weapon."

Clara flipped through the papers. "A bioweapon used to trigger fear," she read aloud. She lifted her gaze from the file to Vastra. "So…are we talking massive panic? If this was released, what would actually happen?"

"From our inside man, we've discovered that it creates…hallucinations. Manipulates the mind into thinking they're seeing something that makes them terrified. Imagine the damage it could do if it was released into the public. Criminals would always have the upper hand. Families could be torn apart. Imagine the people who do suffer from hallucinations on a daily basis – this would be too much. It cannot ever be fully developed or given to anyone else," Vastra replied tightly. She flicked her eyes at the space between Clara and the Doctor. "And after what success you've brought with our last case, I trust that this operation will be nothing but. I'm giving you more chances of redemption – this will not be taken lightly. Do you two understand?"

"Quite," Clara replied briskly. She tucked the file away. "And what about this inside man?"

"He'll know who you two are the minute you walk into the facility," Vastra said. "He's been working on this operation for some time – a member of the technical branches, after all. There'll be an extraction team ready when the operation is finished, and he will be coming back along with you two."

"Name?" the Doctor asked.

"Danny Pink," Vastra replied. "He's one of our brightest and talented. He can look out for himself, but this operation has gone on long enough. It's time to bring him home."

Clara nodded, standing up from her chair. "We'll be ready," she said. She gave a slight nod to the Doctor. "Won't we?" she asked, quieter this time.

A ghost of a smile hovered over the Doctor's lips. "I would think so," he replied, more to Clara than Vastra.

"I'm glad you two have come around to believing it," Vastra murmured. "But remember – this bioweapon is incredibly dangerous. If you become exposed to it, there's no telling how realistic the hallucinations may be. Just remember this as you head into the operation."

"We'll be ready," Clara repeated.

A/N - Hopefully, updates will be faster now. (Also, who's totally pumped for the return of Doctor Who? I feel like Moffat has completely run out of reasons to not make Whouffaldi canon. The last few episodes screamed so much Whouffaldi that I forgot that it technically wasn't considered canon. Honestly, why haven't those idiots kissed yet?)

As always, reviews are fantastic! More reviews mean more motivation to work faster, so that's always a big plus. Constructive criticism is allowed, but flames are not.