Chapter 5

Clara fastened the seatbelt and leaned back, feeling a lot more comfortable in her new jumper and trousers than she had in the party dress. At least these clothes allowed her to breathe properly and her feet had already started to hurt in those heels, too. She was silent as the Doctor started the engine and headed in the direction of the motorway. It was a four hour ride to Leeds, enough time for them to talk. She needed information. She needed to know because the thoughts about taking over her father's position wouldn't leave her. Clara was in possession of the key and the Doctor had said that whoever had access to the deposit box also controlled the organisation.

The Doctor. Her eyes wandered over his figure sitting in the seat beside her, that look of concentration on his face as he drove. Clara hadn't seen him in 10 years and she dearly hoped that her trust wasn't based on her attraction to him alone. She knew that she needed him now. The Doctor was the man with the answers and without him she'd be dead already, but he didn't really seem to have a plan and it worried her. Clara hated depending on someone else more than anything, it always gave her that nagging feeling of not being in control.

"So, my father's business," she began carefully, glancing at his face to see his reaction. Nothing. No emotion.

The Doctor took a deep breath. "Where to start?" he granted her a short smile before his eyes went back to the road, "The organisation has been around for much longer than your father and he was approached by the former boss when he was still studying law. He took over when the old man died, he was chosen."

"Why? Why him?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he saw something in your father, a talent, a certain character. That's how it works, the boss chooses his successor, unless of course something else happens."

Clara frowned at him. "And what do they do exactly?"

"They manipulate," he stated simply, "Everything. Everyone. If there's an election and they don't want a certain candidate to win something will happen. Either the candidate is blackmailed to resign or something comes to light that ruins his reputation. If there's a company to be sold and they don't like the buyer it's never going to happen. The organisation's net runs deep, very deep. Like I said, your father even worked with the MI5."

"But who decides this? Who makes the decision to act? It can hardly be a democracy," Clara asked. She couldn't imagine one person having all that power, but she also couldn't imagine how else it might work.

"Your father did. His contacts came to him with their plea and he decided whether to take the case or not. Of course there were people who thought blackmail and persuasion weren't the way to keep their targets under control. They wanted to eliminate them," he explained gravely.

"Like an assassin would?" Clara cocked an eyebrow, hoping the Doctor would catch her drift, "You said there was one in my father's employ?"

Suddenly he shook his head. "No. I know Missy and she is a shadow player. She doesn't want the responsibilities that come with being the boss. The power, yes, but no one would accept her."

"Unless she blackmails them," Clara suggested casually and for a long moment the Doctor remained quiet. She already considered saying something just to end the silence when finally he turned around to look her her, laughing.

"You're very smart, Clara Oswald," he said sincerely.

"Didn't finish university for nothing."

Instantly his face lit up. "You did?" the Doctor asked, now sounding a lot more intrigued than he had before, "Congratulations. What are you going to do with your degree?"

Clara exhaled sharply and stared straight on the road ahead. "Actually, I was going to ask my father for advice. I was thinking about becoming a teacher."

The Doctor shrugged. "That's a good choice. I think it would suit you."

They talked a lot about her options and unlike her party mates the Doctor actually encouraged her to pursue the idea of becoming a teacher, saying he would pity any rebelling student. He was sweet, like he always had been, something that Clara had almost forgotten about in those ten years. And handsome. No matter how hard she tried her thoughts kept wandering back to that and she caught herself smiling at him more than just once. In the early afternoon they stopped at a small motorway restaurant, filled up the fuel tank and had lunch together before they continued their way. The Doctor refused her offer to drive for a bit if he felt tired and so she settled in the passenger seat again and started reading Persuasion. After a four and a half hour ride the Doctor finally stopped the car in front of a small, quite shabby looking office.

"We're here," he announced grimly and when she looked at him noticed that he was biting his thumb.

"The office? Why? You want that hand written novel of yours typed into the computer?" Clara chucked but he didn't seem up for a laugh.

"This is what Donna does as a daytime job. The forging of papers can hardly be an official business, can it?"

He leaned back in his seat and Clara heard him breathe in deeply. There was a reason he was hesitating, but the Doctor didn't want to share it with her.

"Then what are we waiting for?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

"Right," he said suddenly and opened the door of the car.

If she didn't want to fall behind Clara had no other choice but to follow him to the office and inside. Immediately upon entering they were both greeted by a sharp voice.

"We're closed," the redhead said, her voice heavy with annoyance.

The Doctor snorted next to her. "Even for an old friend?"

His voice made the woman look up from her paperwork right before she glanced at Clara and the realisation of who he was seemed to cross over her face. At least that was what Clara took it for.

"What do you want this time?" Donna asked, placing her pencil neatly next to her keyboard.

The Doctor drew the blank passports out of his pocket and handed them over to Donna. She took them only reluctantly, probably already guessing what she was do to with them.

"Make them out to John Smith and Clara Smith," he ordered her.

Donna took a deep breath before she sighed and rose from her chair. After she had waved at them to follow her through a curtain into the back area she pointed towards a little studio. Of course. They needed pictures. While the Doctor went first, obviously not caring much about his looks Clara took a moment to have a look into the mirror and straighten her hair. She had deep shadows under her eyes and was wearing no make-up whatsoever. A part of her wanted to be vain and ask for a minute to put some on when the Doctor already ushered her towards the chair and a few moments later the flash of the camera went off.

"You can wait here in the back. There's a coffee maker over there and snacks are in the cupboard," Donna said half-heartedly as she made her way back to her office.

When the Doctor just sank down on one of the chairs Clara turned towards the coffee maker because she was in desperate need for some caffeine and maybe a cigarette, too, but she didn't really want to bring it up in front of the Doctor. He hadn't seemed so pleased with the habit she had taken up during her time at university. Eventually she settled down next to him, slowly sipping her drink.

The longer the Doctor brooded over his mug the more impatient he seemed to grow, constantly tapping his fingers on the table or jiggling his legs. Clara had half a mind to tell him to stop when he suddenly shouted.

"How much longer is this going to take?"

"I finished one!" Donna called back but the Doctor didn't seem to believe her as he rose from his chair and went to the front office to check.

Just a minute later however he came back, mumbling: "She finished one."

Clara didn't know much time passed after he had sat back down but after a while the tiny bell on the front door rang. She expected Donna to tell the person that the office was closed but the longer the redhead remained silent in her office the more agitated Clara grew. Something didn't feel quite right when instead of a potential customer being told to come back tomorrow all she heard were hushed voices and then the Doctor grabbed her wrist.

The realisation struck her like lightning and her heart suddenly started pounding in her chest. Clara only needed to look at the Doctor to know something was very, very wrong. As silently as humanly possible they both rose from their seats and slowly and on tiptoes the Doctor led the way towards the door to have a peek. Clara couldn't even hear the whispers anymore, all she heard was the blood rushing through her ears. Carefully she pulled at the Doctor's sleeve to gain his attention when he suddenly spun around.

"I know that man," he whispered, "He works for Missy."