Head Notes: Happy New Years, everyone! Thus, my first posting in 2016. Back with more fun. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter eight

Harold froze as the Doctor suddenly turned his intense gaze onto him. When he'd first turned on the Machine that day, he had not been expecting it to turn out like this. To have so much of himself revealed to someone who was essentially a stranger was slightly intimidating. Harold disguised his discomfort by returning the Doctor's intense gaze.

"You built this?" he breathed. Harold couldn't tell if he was impressed or furious.

"I am well aware of the dangers of an Artificial Super-intelligence, Doctor," he acknowledged.

"No. No, shut up," the Doctor burst out, his jaw hanging open. "You...You..you built this. You actually built this?"

"What is your question?" the software engineer asked.

"This is, without question, the most brilliant layout I've seen this early in the Human race," the Doctor whispered with awe. "How did you work it out?"

"Same way as anyone," Harold answered. "A lot of practice."

"So this thing is in charge of you lot," he surmised. "The amazing boss that couldn't meet me for coffee."

"Well, no. No one's in charge. We all work together," Harold explained.

"My next question: What does your Machine have to do with what happened to Clara?"

"There is a second Artificial intelligence," Harold explained. "One that hasn't been programmed to care about people. Super-Intelligences aren't born with certain ideals like compassion or mercy; that is something unique to people. They are only born with objectives and methods to achieve those objectives. "

"Two A.I.'s," The doctor repeated. "That can't be good. So let me guess. These two intelligences fought each other forcing yours into hiding."

"That's correct," Harold confirmed.

"How has she been conducting this rendezvous while she's been dead? And how can you lot go about anywhere without this other A.I. blasting you on the streets?"

"Most of it has to do with the Machine," Harold said. "We don't have enough time to go into detail but when she sensed Samaritan coming online, she provided us with cover identities to hide in plain sight."

"And Samaritan is the name of this other Artificial Intelligence?" the Doctor clarified.

"That is correct. And it has just as many resources that the Machine has." Harold confirmed. "And an unlimited army in the form of almost every nation-state."

"You stupid pudding-brains!" the Doctor seethed. "Why didn't you tell me all of this earlier? I needed to know this!"

"Harold prefers to place people's safety above all," Mr. Reese said. "Even their own desires. He cares about people. But now that we're all on the same page and we can do something to stop Samaritan."

"You can't defeat an Artificial Intelligence by shooting at it," the Doctor glared.

"Maybe not," Mr. Reese returned. "But it can sure even the odds."

The Doctor turned away and rolled his eyes.

The computer beeped again drawing everyone's eye.

SAMARITAN HAS SENT ME A MESSAGE. I THINK IT IS MEANT FOR YOU, DOCTOR.

"What is it?"

IT PROBABLY IS NOT SOMETHING YOU WANT TO SEE.

"All the more reason for me to see it," the Doctor insisted impatiently.

The courser blinked hypnotically. Then the screen began producing little bits of code until a video feed emerged. The video began to play immediately. The old gentleman prominently stood in the frame looking into the camera as if he could see his intended audience.

"Hello, Doctor," he began genially. "I don't know how you will find this message, but I trust you will find it before it is too late. You already know of course, that we have your friend Ms. Clara Oswald in our custody."

The camera shifted and The Doctor's mouth fell open.

"Clara," he breathed.

His friend looked tiredly up at the camera. The fear in her eyes just under the breaking point. Suddenly her body seized and she let out a terrible scream. A scream filled with pain.

"Clara! No!" he cried helplessly.

Clara writhed and seized in pain, every scream and jolt of pain ripping at his hearts. The worst part was hearing her scream while knowing there was no nothing he could do to save her if she were to die now.

Harold watched as the Doctor desperately called to his friend, the pain on his face palpable. Everyone here knew that painful desperation. That moment of complete and utter despair where you would do anything to save someone you loved. They wouldn't be here otherwise. Least of all him.

John felt his blood pulsing hotter in his veins as he took in the sight Greer was forcing the Doctor to see. Greer had always been willing to sink to unforgivable levels in order to get what he wanted. But this was always going to be unforgivable. And if the Doctor was anything like him, and he suspected he was, the anguish he was feeling now would quickly turn into an unquenchable fire of determination. In other words, Greer should be very afraid.

Finally, Clara relaxed and she looked back up at the camera.

"Don't you dare, Doctor," she said, fear mixed in the pain in her eyes. "Don't you dare give yourself up."

The camera turned back onto Mr. Greer.

"You have 36 hours, Doctor," he said, the warm smile gone from his face. "36 hours, and Ms. Oswald dies."

The video feed cut but the Doctor continued glaring at the computer screen. The others turned to look at him as the rage in his face grew colder and darker. The fury in his chest etching itself into every line and crease in his face.

XxXxXxX

"Thank you for filming this," Greer thanked Ms. Mahoney.

"No problem," she said, her voice catching, indicating that it was indeed a problem.

He didn't understand it. Samaritan could detect any change in behavior. Any change in thinking or speech. Surely it saw that she was losing faith in the cause. And Samaritan never displayed any kind of favoritism. Why did Samaritan stay its hand? Why wasn't it ordering her execution? If it were up to him, he would have had her killed a long time ago. But for some reason, Samaritan saw the need to keep her around. But even now, it was ordering him to let her talk to Ms. Oswald without his supervision.

He didn't understand any of it. But he knew better than to question Samaritan.

"I'll be sure the Doctor gets this message," he said, nodding at her before leaving her alone.

XxXxXxX

Claire handed the camera to Mr. Greer and forced a smile on her face as he left. As soon as the door closed behind him, the fake smile fell from her face as she turned back to Clara. She realized there was something missing. Something that had been constant. It took her a moment to realize that it was hope. The hope that had lived in her eyes these last two days was gone, replaced by an empty, shallow despair. Through each of her interrogations, she had stayed calm and had maintained an eye of hope despite all that was happening. But that hope could not be found in her eyes now. And with a sudden realization, she realized that she had been part of that. But now it was getting too big. Greer assumed that the Doctor would magically get the message before the deadline. If he got it too late, or missed the deadline, Greer would kill her.

No, Samaritan would kill her. How could she have been so blind? She had sat there, watching Clara suffer because she couldn't believe that Samaritan was behind all of it. Even knowing she couldn't stand by this anymore, she knew that she couldn't save Clara by herself. But she would do anything she could to get her out of here. But she had to be careful. One mistake, one slip and Samaritan would notice and kill her. Interesting how something that had impressed her a while ago now seemed terrifying.

Clara stirred on her bed drawing her attention. She looked up at Claire hopelessly.

"Please," she pleaded, her voice small and desperate. "Help me."

Making a decision, she reached into her backpack and retrieved her notebook.

"I'm sorry," she said, hoping to fool Samaritan. "But I don't know if I can help you."

As she spoke she slipped a handwritten note into Clara's hand.

Puzzled, Clara read the contents of the note.

I'm sorry. I was wrong. I will do everything I can to get you out of here.

As the words forged their way into Clara's mind a small spark of hope stirred in her heart. She looked up at Claire. The young woman displayed fear in her eyes but also an undeterred commitment.

"Please," she whispered. "Isn't there someone you can trust? Anyone you can talk to."

Claire shook her head. "Not without getting in trouble."

Clara looked Claire in the eyes, searching for any hint of misdirection. She had hoped to be able to turn her this whole time but now that it was happening all of a sudden it made her pause. This could be a trap. To trick her into revealing the Doctor. But it was becoming very clear that, risky or not, trusting her was Clara's only hope right now. Making a decision, Clara reached for the notebook in Claire's hand and scribbled a note of her own.

Closing the notebook, she whispered into Claire's ear as the latter leaned forward to take it back. "Don't read it until you are sure you can be alone."

Nodding, Claire gathered up her things.

"One more thing," Clara insisted, motioning for her to draw nearer. When Claire was close enough to hear, Clara whispered something in her ear.

"What?" she asked in confusion.

"He'll understand," Clara promised.

Slinging her backpack on her back, she moved toward the door, pausing to look back at Clara.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do anything," she said, hoping to fool Samaritan.

"Maybe one day you can," Clara returned, smiling.

Turning back to the door, Claire put in the key code and left the room.

XxXxXxXxX

End Notes: Yes, I realize that Samaritan isn't stupid. And that Claire's attempt to fool it is not very well disguised. But I know what I'm doing.