If you're reading this story and concerned about COVID/Coronavirus Pandemic triggers, this is the chapter to skip.
PANDEMIC TRIGGER WARNING. Please read with caution.
A lot of people out there are grieving and afraid right now. None of us has ever faced a disaster of these proportions but I do believe we can find the other side of this together. And even in the worst moments, sometimes we get to see the best of humanity.
Be brave, be strong, be kind, support each other. Remember any good you do makes the world a better place. [heart] [heart]
Chapter 20: Reckless
Clara watched, uncomfortable but resolute, as the Master hypnotized Helen Clay.
He told her that she was going to leave, that she didn't have a choice, that there was nothing she could do to stop this... That she should remember that afterwards.
Clara knew she was using him, had made him the bad guy, scapegoated him just like so many others had before.
The High Council, Rassilon... Even the Doctor once or twice.
She didn't like it.
She knew that the ends didn't justify the means.
But she couldn't bear to let Helen die.
And she knew, if their places were reversed and Clara became the only person warned to leave a doomed planet… She could never, ever recover from that choice.
Not being granted a choice at all somehow seemed less appalling.
The cognitive dissonance was at a peak, shrieking like fingernails on the chalkboard of her brain.
Instructions relayed successfully, the Master stood back from Helen's desk with a weary sigh. Clara watched in sudden alarm as he teetered. For just a moment, she thought he would fall but then he steadied himself.
Belatedly, she rushed forward, held his arms. He was shaking.
"Can I help?" she asked. "What can I do?"
They weren't questions he liked. He preferred to pretend he was entirely self-sufficient. The Doctor often did the same thing and Clara had learned to spare both their egos by playing along with the fiction when possible.
But this time the words escaped before she could stop them.
Predictably, he just shook his head. "I'm fine," he lied. "Let's go."
He snapped his fingers and Helen promptly rose from her chair and followed as they walked down the hall to the Master's office.
Clara stayed close by his side, ready to catch him in case he fell.
She'd trusted him all these months, had tried to get him to eat, had believed him when he said he could do without sleep for a little longer.
Now she wished she hadn't...
She should have known better.
The Doctor did the same thing sometimes.
Clara still found herself occasionally forgetting how similar they were.
And every time she did, it quickly came back around to bite her.
They arrived in the Master's office. Despite the many good times spent here, Clara didn't take a last look around. It seemed too horrible, to miss a room when billions of people were about to die.
Helen stood patient and uncurious in the Master's TARDIS as he piloted it quickly to a nearby spaceport.
The Master had had a private flight chartered on standby for the past few months, just to take Helen offworld to safety.
Clara had wondered about the pilot. He or she would be safe... Whom had the Master chosen? Had he even picked?
Or was it just random?
Clara couldn't decide which was worse.
Then she had wondered if that person had a family on New Earth.
She'd been too afraid to ask.
Everything about this situation made her want to scream. To fight and cry. She wanted it all to be over and she wanted to avoid it indefinitely.
The waiting had been nightmarish.
The impossible workload had helped.
But now that the moment had arrived, Clara found herself completely unprepared.
She understood Fixed Points. She should: her own death on Earth was one. So she knew nothing could be done to prevent this.
But the core of her being simply refused to accept it.
Helen left the TARDIS, on her way to somewhere else. They stayed long enough to make sure her flight departed while the Master scanned for the virus.
He didn't say anything but Clara could see from his body language that it hadn't been released into the atmosphere yet.
He wasn't nearly as unreadable as he seemed to think he was. He just never let anyone in on enough of his story to understand the reasons behind his reactions.
His stress was palpable.
"We can leave now, right?" Clara asked. He was projecting his emotions again and she could feel his desperation to run.
He shook his head, resetting the coordinates. "I need to erase the Testimony databanks. I can do it from the TARDIS but we'll need to be in close proximity."
Clara nodded. He'd backed up all the information from the decades of work. All the Doctor's wonderful friends, all those precious memories would be traveling with them. But that much detailed information on the Doctor and his friends was certainly not something which should be left carelessly floating around the Universe.
They landed back in the Master's office at the University and he started the data wipe. "Ninety seconds," he said, seemingly mostly to himself.
Clara, despite all her better instincts, stepped quietly closer to the Console and turned on the scanner.
She flipped through the channels, tuning into different cameras around the planet.
Everyone was just going about their business, living their lives...
It was unbearable but she couldn't look away.
That was when an alarm sounded and a warning light started flashing on the Console.
The Master's eyes widened and he stepped over to check the reading.
"The virus?" Clara asked, her gaze still glued to the scanner.
In her peripheral vision, she saw him nod. "It's over," he said in a hushed tone. He sounded relieved.
A view of the New New York Undercity appeared. Clara stopped the channel search. There was an eternity of a moment as an idea sparked in her brain.
It was completely insane…
And it might work.
It was exactly what the Doctor would do.
Furtively, she glanced at the Master. His eyes were shut and he was supporting himself on the Console.
He wouldn't be happy...
But he couldn't have everything he wanted.
She'd deal with that later.
Clara stopped breathing and opened the doors.
The Master didn't notice.
The TARDIS would keep the virus out automatically. Inside, they would be safe, doors open or closed.
But outside… That was another matter.
Clara backed away a couple of steps, watching the Master, wondering what the personal consequences of her plan might be.
Then she turned and raced out of the TARDIS, headed for the nearest teleport pad.
She knew he saw her then because she felt a wave of fear and anger unlike anything she'd never known.
It was so overwhelming she almost didn't hear him shouting after her.
Clara ignored him. She held her breath and ran.
She reached the teleport access point and typed in the coordinates to the control center of New New York. It required security clearance. But Clara was very good with computers and she'd been on New Earth for years. She bypassed it in seconds and vanished in a flash of light.
She found herself in a massive hall. An alarm was blaring, deafeningly. She rounded a corner and a message flashed on the screens: QUARANTINE PROTOCOL INITIATED.
There were people here, seated or lying prone on the floor. Already dead.
The virus was quick.
Clara would have to be quicker.
Swiftly, she shut down teleport access throughout the city.
The Undercity teleports closed down at night, the Overcity dwellers uncomfortable with the thought of the literal lower classes moving back and forth freely.
That social discrimination may have saved their lives. The virus would cover the world in minutes through the teleports but the Undercity was a self-contained ecosystem.
There was a good chance she could keep the virus from ever spreading there.
She closed off all physical access between the Over- and Undercities. The people below would be trapped, with no way of knowing what had happened to everyone else.
How long before they realized something had gone terribly wrong?
Would they try to get out, back to the world above?
Clara wanted to leave a message, an explanation. But the Fixed Point dictated that the planet had died and a one hundred year quarantine had been put in place.
It said nothing about survivors and nothing about communication.
Clara knew she was already pushing the limits, drastically. She didn't dare send a message to the potential survivors in the Undercity.
Lastly, Clara closed off the motorway, locking down any access to the world above.
She thought about the cars which would be unable to exit, stuck and driving in endless circles.
But they'd be alive… Hopefully.
And where there was life, there was hope.
The life support systems were automated. Clara had no idea how long the power supply would last…
But this was what she could do.
It was better than nothing.
Clara couldn't do nothing.
She backed away from the controls, feeling a measure of peace for the first time in the last five months.
Her eyes lingered on the figure of a man slumped against the Emergency Systems. He had been the one to send the quarantine signal.
He'd probably saved the Universe.
Clara wondered who he had been.
Who had he left behind when he went to work today?
What was his name? Who had he loved?
Clara's eyes traveled over the rest of the room, the silent dead of New Earth.
Even if she learned all their names, memorized every detail of their stories, it would never be enough.
It wouldn't bring them back.
Clara had worked tirelessly on Testimony, the Master's project designed to preserve the Doctor's friends.
She'd done this despite knowing that it wasn't quite what it was meant to be.
She'd done it for the Master. Supporting his beautiful, misguided gesture not because it was perfect but because of how invested he was.
He was trying to bring back everyone the Doctor had ever lost, trying to preserve every friend he might lose in the future.
Clara wasn't entirely certain how the Doctor would respond to this unexpected gift. The Master hadn't seemed to consider that at all.
He was trying to help the Doctor by troubleshooting death itself, like it was an error he could correct.
Because he knew how it hurt the Doctor to lose people. He'd finally begun to understand that while working on Testimony.
Understanding why might be a bit much to ask of him at this point.
For now, Clara was certain of two things: First, that she wouldn't want to be given a copy of her mother, saved into a giant database. Second, that she was in total support of the Master's Testimony Project.
Oh, and one more thing: he was going to be very upset with her.
Clara turned and walked back towards the teleport pad.
The Master's TARDIS was there, doors open.
Clara stepped inside.
An extra room had been added between the doors and the Console room, bright white. Clearly a decontamination chamber.
Across this room, she could see the Master leaning against the Console, arms crossed, waiting for her.
He looked angry. Angrier than she had ever seen him.
"Don't breathe," he said, his voice hard. "You're still contaminated."
He glared at her, unblinking, as the decontamination cycle progressed. She stared back at him, unapologetic.
"I'd do it again," Clara thought in his direction.
His eyebrows twitched just slightly and she knew he'd heard her.
An automated voice announced that the decontamination was complete and Clara walked forward. A force field blocked her from the Console room.
She gave the Master a look of reprimand. "Let me in," she said.
He hadn't moved. "I should leave you here," he said calmly.
Clara saw the storm in his eyes and knew that calmness was a lie.
She raised her eyebrows. "Go on, then," she said, calling his bluff.
She thought it was a bluff, anyway… She couldn't be absolutely sure. He might not even know himself.
They'd find out together.
After a moment more of consideration, the Master's face twisted in frustration and he punched the button to lower the force field.
He turned away immediately and walked to the other side of the room, arms crossed, shoulders tense.
Clara followed him, knowing whatever was coming had to be settled now.
He spun around to face her. Aggressive, frightened. "Don't you ever do anything like that again, do you hear me?" His voice was intense.
Clara shook her head, steely-eyed. "No, I won't promise you that."
She felt his rage build, white-hot, inhumanly strong. "Clara, that wasn't a request," he said darkly.
She jutted her chin at him defiantly, refusing to be intimidated by his temper. In her heels, they were practically eye to eye. "So make me," she challenged.
She saw something else cross his face. Unidentifiable... But not anger.
"Is that what you want?" she asked fiercely. "An obedient little doll? Cause this is me. You want someone who will do whatever you say, fine, there are plenty of people out in the Universe for you to choose from. But I'm not sorry for trying to save all those people and unless you want to turn me into one of your puppets, you're just going to have to deal with it."
Clara shook away the tears of rage from her eyes to see that the Master was just standing there, expression shocked and strangely sad. He blinked and she saw fear. Then he put a hand to his eyes, anger evaporating.
"This was a mistake…" he muttered. "This was all a mistake."
Clara had no idea what he was talking about. But it really didn't matter. Because he looked like he was about to fall over.
She took his arms firmly and spun him towards the TARDIS corridors.
He looked up, surprised at her touch. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"Taking you to bed," she told him. "No more excuses."
He just sighed and shook his head, deeply unhappy.
She took him to her room and pointed, using her best teacher voice. "You, bed, now," she ordered.
He didn't even argue, lying down with a groan, suit jacket, boots and all. Clara held back an urge to laugh and followed his lead, laying down facing him in her gown and heels.
He stared at her, his normally-sharp eyes bleary with exhaustion, his forehead crinkled like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve.
She just smiled.
And he frowned, troubled.
"Thank you for saving Helen," she said sincerely.
He didn't respond, as if he hadn't even heard her. He shook his head, weary and somehow resigned. "You're impossible," he said quietly.
"Takes one to know one," Clara replied sweetly.
The frown deepened. "I hate you," he pouted.
Clara looked into his eyes and what she saw there was certainly not hatred. She smiled, welcoming as a summer morning. "I love you, too," she said simply.
He almost smiled back.
"Close your eyes," Clara told him gently. "I'll be here when you wake up."
Wordlessly, he obliged. His eyes shut and Clara felt him slip away. She put her arms around him and slept too.
It felt like a few hours before Clara woke up. She got up and dematerialized the TARDIS, setting the ship adrift in deep space. She showered and changed and found books and movies to fill her time.
She checked on the Master periodically.
He slept for a little over a week, as near as Clara could figure.
Clara was in the library when he came to find her. She was curled up in her favorite chair, reading a book in the perpetual shaft of sunlight that always fell just so.
She wasn't sure how there was always afternoon sunlight in the TARDIS library nor how her favorite books kept mysteriously appearing on the shelves. But she knew who to thank for those things.
She sensed him approaching just before he reached her and turned her face towards him, eyelashes shading her against the bright sun.
His kiss was warmer than the sunlight.
"Hi," she said as he moved to stand in front of her. "Feeling better?"
He looked better. Like himself again. All eyeliner and drama and combat boots, eyes sparkling with restless, untamable energy. He'd changed into his black and red suit with the turned-up collar. The one he wore when they weren't on New Earth, when he wasn't trying to blend in.
The one that was just him.
Clara loved that suit.
He reached out a hand to her. "Come on," he smiled. "I want to show you something."
She set her book aside and took his hand. They walked to the Console room and he opened the doors and led her outside.
Her vision adjusted quickly to the bright, open air. Her brain took a few moments longer.
They were on New Earth, in one of the parks near the University.
And it was bustling with life.
Clara did a slow full spin, taking in the crowds, the noise, afraid to hope.
"What year is it?" she asked.
The Master put a hand on her back. She appreciated the support.
"Five billion fifty-four," he told her. "The quarantine won't be lifted for another seventy-five years."
Something caught in her throat. "So all these people…"
"The people you saved," he finished for her.
Nearby, a mother stopped to soothe her squalling baby.
Clara's eyes welled up with tears and she covered her lips as they began to tremble uncontrollably.
"I didn't know if it would work," she whispered.
The Master pulled her close. "It did. None of these people would be here if it wasn't for you. Every single one of them owes you their life."
Clara leaned into the Master and hugged him tight around his middle. The tears escaped from her eyes to plummet down her cheeks and she took in the scene through a shimmering haze of gratitude.
A couple walked past, arguing. A businessman narrowly avoided crashing into Clara, staring at his mail. An old woman sat on a bench, nodding off. A group of children, nearly teens, moved past like a school of fish, a flurry of chaotic motion. They were shouting raucously over each other all at once, far too loud.
Clara had never heard such a beautiful sound.
"Thank you," she said.
She'd been too afraid to find out what had happened to New Earth after her reckless gambit.
The Master had known this and found out for her.
He pointed to a collection of geometric polished stone towers which hadn't been there the last time she'd been to this park.
"They built a memorial to the victims of the virus," the Master told her.
Clara watched as a pedestrian approached one of the stones and touched the text that spidered over it. The words enlarged, a list of names. The young woman selected one and a video image of a smiling face appeared.
Clara could feel the Master's gaze on her. She sniffed and wiped the tears away.
"Everyone who died," he told her. "They're all included. Every name, every face. They haven't been forgotten."
Clara nodded. That was right. They should be remembered.
"They have the whole story," he continued, indicating the tall central pyramid. It shone silver and gold, shifting like oil on water. "Do you want to know what happened?"
Clara caught sight of a father and son at one of the monuments. The man got down on one knee, explaining the significance. The child listened, somber.
Clara smiled and shook her head. "No," she said.
This wasn't her story. She was just visiting.
Clara looked around the park, so full of life...
It told her everything she needed to know.
"Let's go home," Clara said.
Hand in hand, the Master and Clara walked back into their TARDIS and left New Earth behind them.