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Chapter 3

Clara was dreaming. She was still in her house, walking along the endless corridors, looking for her father but he was nowhere to be seen. In the back of her mind she knew that something had happened but she refused to believe it. Her father had to be somewhere.

"Clara, you need to get up. We have things to do."

Someone was shaking her gently and slowly Clara woke from her dream to stare right into the Doctor's face. Her throat felt dry and her head was throbbing. She was thirsty, so thirsty and slowly she began to realize that last night hadn't been part of her dream. Her father really was dead and she was on the run with a man she hadn't seen in over 10 years.

"I was already downstairs, clearing everything with the nice lady from last night. I brought back breakfast," the Doctor explained kindly and nodded towards a tray filled with mugs and rolls and spreads.

Slowly Clara sat up in bed, realizing that she was still in her party dress. She had to get a change of clothes but most of her dresses had been at the mansion. They had probably burned to cinder.

"We have a lot of things to discuss," the Doctor explained as he sat down next to her, putting the tray between the two of them and reached for one of the croissants while Clara instantly grabbed the glass of orange juice and almost emptied it in one go. She felt so dehydrated after crying herself to sleep the previous night.

"You could start by asking me how I feel," Clara replied grumpily, setting down the empty glass and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

The Doctor instantly looked down at his own two feet. "I'm sorry," he muttered, "How are you feeling?"

"Been better," she grumbled before she came to look at him, "I still don't understand half of what is going on."

He took a deep breath before he spoke, looking at her and obviously judging where he should start. Clara waited impatiently.

"That key your father sent you a few days ago," the Doctor went on to explain, pointing at the little metal thing dangling from her neck, "It's not the key to an apartment, it's the key to a bank deposit box. It's where your father kept everything and there are some people who would kill to get it."

"Why? What's in there?"

"Dirt," he said, "Dirt on every person your father ever blackmailed. Lists of people who are on his payroll, lists of his informants and spies, bank accounts, passports. Information. Whoever has access to it controls the entire organisation."

Clara reached for the key and admired it for a moment, the thoughts running wild inside her head. If she had access, she could probably do whatever the hell she liked. She could take revenge. No, not if. She did have access now.

"Isn't that sort of thing done digitally these days?" Clara asked blatantly, "A deposit box seems a little old fashioned."

The Doctor granted her a smile. "It's also a lot safer. Computers can be hacked. There's always a genius smarter than the one you employ if the one you employ is loyal to you at all and not paid by your enemies."

Clara remained silent for a while, still admiring the key she was holding between her fingers. If she took control over the organisation she could find out who killed her father. But that was a thought for later, not for while they were still on the run.

"What do we do now?" Clara asked, looking straight at the Doctor who suddenly seemed uncomfortable. For a moment she thought he might not even have a plan at all.

"I'm not entirely sure. I don't know who we can still trust," he admitted, "I took some blank passports out of your father's safe and a credit card that's on a name unknown to the organisation. I might know someone who can prepare the passports for us."

"Who?" Clara demanded to know.

He inhaled sharply. "Her name is Donna and she works at a small office in Leeds."

"Leeds?" her eyes widened. Clara only vaguely knew where they were right now but she could tell that it wasn't anywhere close to Leeds.

"We need these fake papers, Clara," the Doctor said urgently, "Even the bed & breakfast host wanted to see my identification and I had to tell her that I had left everything at home. I paid her extra so she would let it pass. No one can know where we are."

Clara frowned at him. "And this Donna, is she trustworthy? Can we tell her?"

Suddenly the Doctor buried his face in his hands and groaned. "Fuck, Clara, I don't know," he breathed and he sounded more than a little desperate. The fact that he didn't seem to have any idea what he was doing was beginning to scare her. "It depends on who killed your father and what they know."

So, the Doctor didn't have a plan and they were stranded in the middle of nowhere. It was then that Clara made a decision. She reached out and gently took him by the wrists, forcing the Doctor to look at her.

"We need a plan. And yes, I can see that we also need the fake papers. So why don't we start with a list? A list of people who might be trustworthy."

The Doctor sighed and stared at her for a long moment before he eventually nodded. "Donna is a good person. I think she can be trusted but she has a weakness. Her family doesn't have a lot of money, they barely get by. If they paid her I'm not sure she wouldn't sell us out."

"That sounds like a risk we'll just have to take. Who else?" Clara asked determinedly.

"Well, not Missy. She's insane."

"Who is Missy?"

The Doctor gave Clara a sad smile. "Missy was your father's last resort. She has rather. . . unorthodox methods. Methods your father didn't approve of unless he really needed her services."

Something about the way he said it made Clara chuckle. "She's an assassin, isn't she?"

The Doctor simply nodded. "And then there's Kate Lethbridge-Stewart. She's someone we can absolutely trust. She works at the MI5 and-"

"The MI5?" Clara gasped, "My father was working with the intelligence service?"

He threw Clara a dark glance. "They were working with each other. The MI5 let them be in exchange for information. Kate got into trouble more than just once for that and I wouldn't ask for her help unless we absolutely need it."

"Okay, so who else have we got?"

The Doctor shrugged. "People I don't really want to put in danger."

Clara took a deep breath, considering their options. The Doctor seemed just as clueless as she was, something that didn't really help her feel so very safe but somehow she still trusted him. Maybe it was because of their past, maybe because she had no other option than to trust him and maybe it was because he was with her right now although he could have gotten away on his own and still had come to her house to save her.

"Thank you, by the way," she said once she realized that she hadn't even thanked him for saving her life, "Without you I'd be dead by now."

The Doctor frowned. "How so?"

"The exploding house?" Clara asked as if it should have been obvious.

"Oh, that."

Clara leaned forward and placed her hand on his thigh, giving him a light smile. "We need to go shopping though. I can't walk around in this dress."

The Doctor flinched under her touch and quickly pulled away his leg. "After breakfast," he said, clearing his throat.

"Yes," she confirmed, "After breakfast. We'll find a shopping centre on our way to Leeds. And I think you should teach me how to shoot that gun."

She nodded towards the weapon that was still lying on the bedside table and suddenly the Doctor seemed aghast.

"Why would you want to know that?" he asked, obviously horrified.

"To protect myself, of course. You said they're after the key, so I better make sure they don't get it."

While she finally reached for one of the croissants she noticed the Doctor nod out of the corner of her eye. He didn't have a plan yet, but Clara trusted him to come up with something very soon. And if not she would make a suggestion of her own, even though he might not like it so very much.