Head Notes: Sorry it took so long. I got back yesterday after spending a lot of time with family. But here it is. Enjoy!

Chapter five

Clara sighed out of boredom for what had to be the thousandth time. Her captors hadn't given her access to any kind of human interaction after Claire had left. She knew in her mind that it was a method to isolate her; make her suggestible to interrogation. But she couldn't deny its effectiveness. Not able to take it anymore, she stood up out of her bed and walked around the room. The room was too small to allow much room for pacing, but it was still better than sitting on the bed and staring at the walls. And at least it gave her the opportunity to stretch her legs.

Okay, the Doctor, what would he do now? There were so many different answers to that question. One thing he always said was that getting captured was the quickest way to figure out anyone's plans. What plans did this Samaritan A.I. have? She couldn't ask the computer directly, but she had enough experience with interrogation to turn the tables and get information from the captors without giving her information away.

Her attention turned to the door as the lock began beeping. The door opened revealing the old man and three others.

"Wow, about time I had some visitors," Clara commented.

The old man smiled at her remark as the three people took positions around the room.

"I suppose after 8 hours of solitude any company is better than no company at all," he returned. "Have a seat, Ms. Oswald."

Clara scanned the room, taking in each eye as they watched her sit down on the bed. None of them looked particularly friendly.

"Ms. Oswald, how do you contact your friend?" he asked.

"What, you think I'd tell you?" Clara remarked. "Don't be daft. And you're an idiot if you think you can find him."

"This will be a lot easier for you if you cooperate," he warned.

"It'll be a lot easier for you if you let me go," she returned. "Because if you don't, you won't have to find him. He will find you. And he will burn this place to the ground if it means he can save me."

"Very well," he sighed. Turning to the others, he said, "Proceed."

Two men approached her on the bed and pushed her back on the bed.

"What are you doing," she asked, beginning to panic as she tried to fight them off. But the more she fought, the tighter the men gripped her arms and the harder they pinned her against the bed. The third person, a woman, approached the bed taking out a syringe. "No, no, let me go," she demanded.

The woman ignored her protests and jammed the syringe into her neck. The effect of the drug was immediate. The room around her began reeling, the faces and objects becoming distorted as the drug forced her body to relax. As the drugs took control of her body, she became aware that the woman was singing some kind of lullaby. Even as she knew how bad this was, her brain did not have the independence to experience the panic she knew she should be feeling. She was only vaguely aware as the men let go of her arms. The old man held her gaze as she helplessly lost consciousness.

XxXxXxX

Harold Finch walked back into the front room closely followed by Ms. Groves. The Doctor had settled himself down on the couch and was enjoying a cup of tea.

"Now that Ms. Groves has informed me of your situation," Harold began. "I believe there are some things you should be aware of."

"Would that include explaining what is in the briefcase?" the Doctor asked.

"It's not important," Harold dismissed.

"Really," the Doctor challenged, turning to look Harold in the eye. "Because I was rather under the impression that it was an essential part of the plan."
Harold froze mid-step, once again that trapped look gleaming in his eye.

"Now I have two pressing questions," the Doctor stated, ignoring Harold's reaction. "Question one: what is in the briefcase? And Question two: Where did you get the briefcase?"

Harold glanced at Ms. Groves before returning the Doctor's gaze. It was impossible. How did he know that?

"You left your briefcase next to the TARDIS," the Doctor explained. "You didn't expect me to just sit here, following orders while you lot discuss what information I can be trusted with."

"It's not a question of trust, Doctor," Harold explained. "Anything we don't tell you is for your own protection."

"I don't need your protection!" the Doctor sighed, rising to his feet. "I need a way to save Clara. I can't do that if I don't have information. Information you have."

Harold hesitated. The Doctor was a desperate man. He knew from experience what that place could force people to do. Knowing about the Machine would neither help nor hinder him. But at the same time, the Doctor was just desperate enough to seek answers on his own, or give up and find a way to save his friend without their help.

"The briefcase has nothing to do with the people who have your friend," he explained, not technically lying.

"If I'm right," the Doctor began softly. "What is in that briefcase is connected to everything that has happened. If I'm going to help you, I need to know everything you know."

"I told you he wasn't a big fan of secrets, Harold," Root reminded him.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. Truly I am," Harold apologized. "I promise we will share with you what we can. But we will not be able to share everything."

The Doctor huffed and walked away. Throwing himself against the wall, he glared back at the pair of them.

"Fine," he hissed. "What can you tell me about them?"

XxXxXxX

Clara sunk deeper and deeper into whatever was serving as her bed right now. The warm sun shone down on her skin, sliding down her skin like golden streams melting into her pores. Such a warm, comfortable, safe place. She didn't want to leave. Suddenly a fragment of her mind responded to something and her eyes opened.

"Hello, who's there?" she asked. Well, mumbled. She couldn't be sure if she had spoken loud enough for anyone to hear her.

"Relax, Clara. It's me. It's the Doctor," a voice said to her.

Was it really? Clara wondered. She looked up and sure enough it was the Doctor. Smiling gently down at her.

"Where are we?" She asked.

"Going home," he said.

Immediately the scene around her changed and she was suddenly in the TARDIS. The sights and sounds echoing warmly in her eyes and ears. She'd forgotten how much she'd loved this place. How much it had become her home. She tried to sit up, but she was obviously still recovering from whatever they had done to her. Her body didn't respond to her brain's commands.

"What happened?" Clara asked. "How did you find me?"

"Don't worry about that," he said gently.

Even as he spoke, something in the back of her mind raised a red flag. The Doctor was protective of her, but he usually provided some kind of explanation. But as she tried to pursue that thought, it dissipated. She couldn't get her mind to investigate any doubts.

"So where are we off to this time?" she asked.

"Just focus on getting some rest," he said.

"Well, I can rest anywhere we get to. I was rather looking forward to meeting the Cribbons," she said.

"Well, I'm afraid they won't be able to help," the Doctor said.

"You said that they use their telepathic field to anticipate people's needs," she said.

"Well, all you really need is some rest," the Doctor said after a moment's hesitation.

He hadn't taken his eyes off her since she had woken up. Either he was more worried than usual or something was wrong with him. After a moment, he spoke.

"Clara, do you remember when we first met?" he mused.

"Since when are you sentimental?" Clara joked.

"Let's blame it on the circumstance," he smiled with her. "So, my question?"

Clara knew something was wrong. Even as she stared around the TARDIS, it twisted and contorted like she was having a dizzy spell. None of this seemed right. It felt like a dream. A dream she couldn't wake up from.

"Doctor, can I ask you something?" she asked. "Why not?" He agreed.

"What was the first planet we went to?" she asked.

"Planet?" he repeated, confusion clouding his features.

"Our first trip," Clara clarified. "Where was it? What did we do?"

The Doctor's face began to panic a little as she tried to focus on his features.

"I guess that explains a lot," she said. "You are not the Doctor."

"Yes, I am," the Doctor insisted.

But even as he spoke, his features were twisted and his voice became distorted. The TARDIS around them faded and the Doctor's defined features morphed. The sudden transformation startled her and she tried to jerk herself awake, but it was becoming clear that she had little control over her faculties.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "Where am I?" She shook her head, trying to sit up, but nothing obeyed her commands.

As her panic grew, she became aware of a voice singing. A gentle, soothing voice trying to lull her to sleep.

"No, stop!" she ordered.

"Now, now, Clara," a wavering voice scolded. A voice whose face altered from the Doctor's to a stranger's quicker than she could keep up with. "This will go easier if you just talk to me."

XxXxXxXxX

End Notes: So for this first torture scene I took a lot of inspiration from Granite Flats, which means that this is now technically a three-way crossover. It's discussed a little bit in the next chapter. I'm not even sure if the singing is necessary for this to work. The singing just makes it blatant.