A/n: I'll be out of the country and therefore internetless starting the 25th, but I'm adding 1 to 2 (unsure yet) chapters of this fic to my queue on tumblr to post while I'm away. I'll post them all to FF once I'm back, but if you want to stay up to date in the meantime, it's all going to the "fic: banged up" tag on tumblr (and obviously my blog- there's a link to it on my profile). Thank you to all who read and reviewed- I really appreciate it and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

It'd been an alarming four days since she'd last showered, so when their cells were opened that night around eight, Clara was breathless with relief.

"Thank God," she exhaled. She rose to her feet and grabbed the toiletries she'd had waiting out for the past two hours. "One more night and I might scratch my scalp off."

She'd made it to the mouth of the cell when she realized Vastra hadn't moved. She turned and looked at her uncertainly.

"Shower?" She prompted. When Vastra pursed her lips, Clara felt her heart plummet. She lowered the items in her arms, horrified. "No. No, no. What?"

"They give each corridor twenty minutes to shower," she began. Clara waited for more, her eyebrows practically kissing her hairline. Vastra nodded towards the hordes of people walking past. "There's only twelve showers."

Clara's eyes bulged almost comically. She didn't spare a second; she snatched the towel they'd issued her and took off, all but shoving her way through the crowds. All she knew was that she couldn't stand to go another day without bathing, and if she had to incapacitate people to make sure that didn't happen, well…she'd fought for lesser things.

When she approached the showering room, she found herself at the tail-end of a forty-person queue, most already in towels. Clara looked down at her clothed body and then to the towel in her hand, realizing she probably should've asked Vastra for more details.

"Oz!"

Clara spun around in relief, but it wasn't Vastra calling to her. It was her counterpart. Jenny hurried over, ignoring the crossed mutterings of those she pushed past. She too was in her towel only, clothes nowhere in sight. She beamed as she stopped in front of Clara.

"You've survived!" She celebrated sweetly. "I knew you would. They always put the very bravest with Vastra."

Clara smiled tightly. She leaned in closer to Jenny and lowered her voice.

"I was supposed to undress before, wasn't I?"

Jenny smiled sympathetically. She reached up and patted her shoulder. "Yes, but it's okay. Almost everyone does this their first day. Don't be too upset if you don't get to shower—you usually don't until you can find a mate."

Clara licked her lips and angled her head to the side, her face pursing in confusion.

"A…mate. Like a normal mate mate, or like a…mate mate?"

Jenny blinked.

"A shower mate." She clarified. But Clara was still a bit confused.

"So…the latter, then?" She summarized slowly.

Jenny parted her lips, befuddled, but then a green hand settled lightly on her bare shoulder. Clara looked up at Vastra, partially relieved.

"The type of mate depends entirely on the two." She answered coyly. She turned her gaze to the long, overwhelming queue and then glanced down at her plastic black watch. She looked down at Jenny. "We'll get in, but only just."

Clara let out a relieved sigh. She beamed after a moment.

"That's a relief, because I was worried I'd—"

The look Vastra was giving her made her words halt.

"What?" She demanded. She was getting sick of surprises.

"Jenny and I get to go ahead of Lucy. She owes us." Vastra explained. She pointed towards the front of the line, at a woman already waiting to the side, her eyes on the two women. Clara drew in a short breath and tried her hardest to keep from rolling her eyes.

"Right," she muttered underneath her breath. "It has been that sort of day."

She dropped her items to the floor and extended her towel for Jenny.

"Will you hold this while I change?" She asked tiredly.

Jenny smiled.

"Of course I will."

Clara could feel her stunned indifference—the odd numbness that'd fallen over her a month ago—starting to lift. She didn't know if it was just because of the situation, of the fact that she wasn't even in control of her own body the way she needed to be, but she was feeling reckless and testy. She could very easily see herself storming to the front of the line and causing a scene, but she couldn't do that. Her barrister had made it painfully clear to her that any instances of her old self would cause her misery in prison. She'd tried to listen to him, and it hadn't been difficult at first, but every hour she spent here she became more and more angry. And it was suddenly possible to feel that anger. She didn't know if she was frightened of herself or simply thrilled to feel anything at all.

She yanked her shirt over her head and then quickly stepped out of her trousers, reaching immediately for the towel in Jenny's arms. She wrapped it around herself and then reached underneath to pull her underwear off—but at that moment whistles and shouts erupted. Clara turned, startled, to see a group of men passing by the entrance to their hall. This time, she really did roll her eyes.

"You're coming out of your shell," Vastra commented. Clara could feel her eyes on her as she worked her bra off. She bundled up her clothes in her arms and then tightened the towel around her body. Vastra looked impressed. "And you're a prettylittle thing! You were hiding all that underneath your uniform?"

Jenny backhanded Vastra's shoulder crossly, but she smiled a moment later. Clara crossed her arms.

"I'm dirty, cross, and starving. And I think I'd kill a man for a shower."

"And that means a lot coming from a prisoner." Jenny supplied, giggling afterwards at her own joke.

"I think the shock's wearing off." Vastra said. She seemed vaguely humored. "You know, Oz, you're welcome to join us. Just this once."

Clara shifted her items to her left arm and then reached up, gathering her dirty hair in her right.

"Join you? As in—all three of us in one shower?"

"Precisely. Though we'll only have five minutes…unfortunately."

"Oi!" Jenny protested. She turned to Clara. "Ignore her. She's just poking fun."

Clara hesitated.

"It's very sweet of you to—"

Her words were trampled over by Lucy. She approached them nervously.

"Madame Vastra, you'd better come now—they're going to shut the showers off early tonight. Something about a schedule issue with Hall 6."

Clara looked to Jenny in surprise. Madame Vastra? But Jenny wasn't looking towards her. Vastra nodded firmly.

"Of course. Jenny, come along. Oz—are you in or out?"

Clara froze when put on the spot. She felt like the gears in her mind weren't turning the way they normally did in tense situations. But she did know she was angry.

"They're cutting the showers off early?" Clara asked. She didn't think to monitor her volume. She only vaguely noticed that people were looking her way. "Can they do that? Just cut off showers? Can they do any of this? Don't we have the basic human right be clean? When I was in induction they let me shower once the whole week I was there. It's inhumane and cruel. We—"

"All right, we get it," Vastra hissed, her palm warm over Clara's lips. She leaned closer and breathed her next words so only they could hear it. Her eyes were serious. "Shut. Up."

Clara struggled with her pride. She nodded after a painful moment. Jenny reached forward and took her hand.

"You need the shower, Oz." She looked up at a screw as they passed. "Don't mind this one. Still scattered. Bless."

Vastra warned her with her eyes the entire walk to the only empty shower. Clara wasn't really sure how she felt about being naked that close with two relative strangers, but she realized quickly that it was either two relative strangers or two complete strangers. There were at least two people in every curtain-less stall, most furiously scrubbing, a few laughing. Clara wasn't a stranger to other women's naked bodies, but that many in such an enclosed space was a bit shocking.

She was suddenly shy when it came time to peel her towel off, but then Vastra turned the water on, and she forgot how to do everything but surge forward. She wedged herself between the back wall and the stream, slipping around in the rubber shower shoes. The spray was weak and pathetic, but she managed to completely soak her hair through and scrub it clean with shampoo. She kept her eyes averted politely as Vastra washed Jenny's back for her, entirely at ease with the situation in a way Clara wasn't yet. After Clara pulled her soap-less hair out of the spray and set about scrubbing her body, Vastra turned to her and struck up a conversation, like their hands hadn't just accidentally grazed basically every part of each other's body.

"You'll regret what you said out there." Vastra called. She spoke just loudly enough to be heard over the roar of the water without anyone beyond their little group hearing it. Clara risked stepping closer, her arm moving slower over her leg as she washed.

"What? Why?"

"Only thing they fear more than inspections? Mutiny."

The bar of soap in her palm slipped and went flying out, hitting Jenny in the knee and then landing on the dirty shower floor. Clara was too distracted to even notice for a moment.

"Oh." She said. She thought back to Vastra's words earlier, about the type of people they put with Vastra. Then she thought about her barrister's passionate insisting that she keep her crimes a secret. She felt nauseated and the heat from the shower wasn't helping. She took a step from the stream and looked down at her pink bar of soap, drowning in the dirty water. She'd only just moved towards it when all the showers shut off, leaving most every woman in the room crying out in protest.

"Don't touch it," Vastra warned Clara, her eyes also on her bar of soap. "You'll have to buy another on canteen."

Clara was shivering the entire walk back to the cell, even after she warmed up.

Her wet hair dripped water onto her letter to Danny, so she had to toss it.

She didn't want him to worry it was tears.

She felt an odd sort of camaraderie form between her and Vastra as they dried off and dressed together, a type of unity she thought she'd never feel again. That sense of togetherness was the first thing she fell in love with in the army. She'd despised everything about it at the start—until she met John and Danny. And then she'd worked her way up. Once she was the one in control, she loved it. She flourished. She had people under her command, two best friends she would've given her life for in a second, and everything was aligned in her universe. She knew upon her arrest that the thing she would miss most of all wouldn't be the control. It'd be the sense of family. She'd never felt her mum's presence inside her more than she did in moments she was rousing up her squadrons. Leading men into battlefields was nothing more than telling a child a goodnight story, when it really came down to it. And she felt that same sense of togetherness then, as she watched Vastra rub her towel over her short, wet hair.

"What?" Vastra asked.

Clara sat down on the edge of her bed after tugging her shirt all the way on. She reached behind her and pulled her wet hair over her shoulder.

"I just wanted to thank you. For the shower."

Vastra stared at her for a beat. Then she dropped the towel to the floor and turned, so she was staring fully at Clara. She sat down on her own bed with an air of finality.

"Thank me by being honest."

Clara winced. She shifted uncomfortably and then busied herself with putting her watch back on.

"I'm not supposed to."

"Says who?"

"My barrister."

"Yes, well, he's done a great job of keeping you safe so far." Vastra said sarcastically. Clara said nothing, though she recognized Vastra was right. "We'll keep it simple. No fuss, no mess. I'll ask you a question and you answer it in only one word. As long as you're honest, it's enough."

Clara pulled her fingers through her wet hair nervously. She considered Vastra.

"Okay." She finally said.

After all, what did she have to lose? Vastra was the only person in this prison who was even somewhat looking out for her, although Clara still wasn't convinced she wouldn't throw her to the dogs if it ever came down to it. Very soon now she wouldn't need anyone but herself, but until she learned all there was to learn, she needed a teacher. She was amazingly self-reliant, but in order to get to that point, she had to first understand who she was in the context of this place. She had to know the rules before she could rewrite them.

"What got you landed here?" Vastra asked. Clara hadn't expected her to beat around the bush.

She hesitated. She wracked her brains for a way to express it all in just one word.

"Both?" She finally asked hesitantly.

Vastra arched an eyebrow.

"I wasn't aware there was more than one thing. Start with the worst offense first." She prompted.

Clara lifted her left hand to push back her hair, but she was startled for a moment to hear a soft tick, tick, tick. She realized it was the watch, and when she brought her wrist to her ear, it was almost like there was another pulse there. Another heart ticking away beside hers. And there had been. Once.

She closed her eyes.

"Murder."

She counted ten ticks before Vastra replied.

"I assumed. How many counts?"

She let the ticks tell it. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…she waited.

"Eleven."

Vastra whistled.

"All by your hand? And at once? I'm a singles girl, myself. I like to savor it one at a time, don't like to feel rushed." Vastra shared. Clara still couldn't open her eyes. "Weapon?"

She felt a rush of comfort when her own heartbeat synced with the watch's ticking. She thought quickly to Sundays in green fields, her head resting on John's chest, his heart ticking away with hers, Danny chatting underneath the sun about something or another…

Clara opened her eyes. When the room came back into focus, the illusion shattered. She let her wrist fall back into her lap.

"People."

Vastra grinned hugely. She leaned forward, her forearms on her thighs.

"And I'm guessing this is where it gets interesting." She commented. "Feel free to explain with more than one word. Do you need to?"

Clara stared down at the dingy tile. She shook her head.

"No." She admitted. She looked back to Vastra. "Mutiny."

Vastra clasped her hands together in her lap.

"Mutiny." She repeated.

Clara took a deep breath. She let it fill her lungs and then she held it in them for a moment, like she might gain more from it that way. She slowly exhaled.

"Yes. Mutiny." She affirmed. She felt dazed. "And do you know what I regret?"

"I'm guessing it's not the mutiny, judging by the expression on your face."

"No." Clara agreed. She thought back to the bloodshed, the race in the sky, the horrifying realization. And she knew, had she the chance to do it over again, there was only one thing she'd want to go differently.

"What I regret more than anything—what keeps me awake in my dreams—is that we never achieved what we set out to do."

But that had been a bit too much. She felt her throat ache and burn. She pulled her legs up onto her bed and slowly curled up on her side, so her back was to Vastra. She pressed the watch face to her cheek and breathed in time.

"There's something in you, Oz," Vastra spoke up a little while later. Her voice was uncharacteristically gentle. "I saw it in you the moment we met. Something in you inspires people. I just haven't decided what exactly it inspires yet."

Clara stared at the wall beside her bed and didn't respond, but she already knew. It was foolishness.

"They'll punish you for it, you know. Your barrister was right."

Clara inhaled slowly and deeply. She felt her stomach expand. She counted how long she could hold her breath, as if having control over something like that might make things easier. All it did was leave her lightheaded.

"Yeah," she finally said. "I know."

Vastra didn't slap her that night. She called her name from across the room, not even bothering to rise from her bed. Clara came into consciousness slowly enough to hear the words she'd been sobbing in her sleep.

I didn't bring him home—I didn't bring him home.

She cried the entire night, her face resting atop her wrist. Vastra ignored it and drifted in and out of sleep for hours, but around five AM, Clara heard her huff. Her mattress squeaked. It only took her three steps to reach Clara's bed. She sat on the edge like a haggard mother.

"You can't do this every night. If anyone sees you, they'll give you hell."

"I've already got it."

"No you don't. Trust me." Vastra snapped. "Just do what I do. Wait until lunch and then talk to Jenny. It'll help."

Somehow, the thought of Jenny was comforting. Perhaps just because she'd been the warmest person she'd met so far. But that still didn't change the past.

"I can't fix it." She whispered. Her words shivered. "He's dead, and I can't change him back." She choked on the words that spilled from her next. "It was my job to protect him."

"And you failed. You let him die and you can't change it. But guess what? He's dead. Whoever he is, he's dead, and he doesn't care that you're lying awake crying for him. Self-pity will get you nowhere."

It was her sleep deprivation. She knew it had to be. It caused every bit of anger she'd been storing away since her arrest to flare terribly in one quick moment. She sat up and turned, pinning Vastra with wet, accusing eyes.

"Don't talk to me like that. How dare you talk to me like that! You don't know—you have no idea!" Her anger cumulated with her hand rising to smack at Vastra, but she didn't let her get that far. She reached up and grabbed onto Clara's hand tightly. She squeezed to the point of pain.

"Feel that?" She asked. Clara tugged furiously. "That's anger. And you're going to need every bit of it to survive."

She let go of her hand and rose up from the bed. Clara's cheeks were hot underneath the wetness from her tears.

"You're welcome." Vastra told her coldly.

Clara shook underneath the thin blanket until breakfast arrived.

She was torn apart come morning. She ran to the only thing she had left: her books.

She spent her morning quietly rereading Meditations. She wasn't sure how Vastra felt about the disaster the night prior, so she decided she wouldn't speak to her until she spoke first. She didn't have to wait long.

"You look a lot better."

Clara glanced up. She was sitting cross-legged on top of her bed, the book resting on her calves. She touched the words she'd been reading over and over, committing to memory, considering.

"Marcus Aurelius said: You have power over your mind - not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength." She smiled genuinely. "I like that."

"Somehow, Oz, it doesn't surprise me that you like that."

It wasn't a compliment. Clara didn't care.

"Thanks."

She was single-minded during lunch.

Luckily, Vastra wasn't too cross with her.

"I need to phone someone." Clara said.

"And I need to locate these pedophiles and drink their blood, but we all don't get what we want." Vastra murmured distractedly. She and Jenny had spent the entire meal scanning the crowds. As far as Clara could tell, it was extremely ridiculous that they placed the volatile vigilantes with Vastra, as she was proving to be the queen of all vigilantes.

She voiced that thought to Jenny and Vastra—she felt braver about speaking her mind after her relationship with Vastra survived the strained night they had. Vastra waved her hand.

"I'm reformed." She claimed airily. She perked up. "Quick. On the left, below the clock. I think that's Dean Traiger. Mark down his associates."

Clara looked at her doubtfully as her and Jenny took quick notes on the man.

"Right." She said.

Vastra proved to be no help at all, beyond murmuring something about a private cash account, so Clara decided to take matters into her own hands. She was starting to learn her way around the prison slowly, but she still had no idea who she needed to talk to about her finances, and she didn't really want to wait until recreation, either. So she decided to approach a screw during outdoors time.

"Excuse me," she said. The woman turned her focus away from the casually bickering friend group she'd been observing. "I was wondering where I'd direct inquiries about my private cash account?"

The screw snorted.

"I'm sure you have been, love."

Clara watched her turn and walk away without another word. She threw her head back and sighed.

"Problem?"

"Quite a few, actually." She snapped, before she could stop herself. She winced before she turned slowly around to face whoever was talking to her. She automatically regarded him suspiciously, as it was a rather malicious looking man. He was significantly older than her, but he lacked the appeal that Clara usually saw in older men. He just looked sleazy.

"Well, let's start with one, and then we'll work our down the list." He suggested.

Clara crossed her arms over her chest uncomfortably.

"Thanks, but they're all easy to manage alone."

"Oh yeah?" He asked. She didn't reply. "Let me tell you something, birdie. There are very few nice men here. So if one comes up to you and offers his help, it's your duty to yourself to take it."

Clara was caught between her desire to slap him across the face and her desire to stay enemy-free. She thought quickly to Jessica. And even though she knew there was no way yesterday's occurrences were anything but a coincidence—she couldn't help but feel so curious it made her reckless. If this man threatened her, would he show up injured by lights out? There was no reason for anyone to protect her—especially not someone she'd never strictly met—but she was just vain enough to wonder.

Fortunately, she didn't trust her vanity enough to try picking a fight.

"I did not mean to offend you." She drew out tiredly. "I was just curious about the private cash accounts. That's all."

"Now you want my help?" He scoffed. "Well, it's too fucking late now. You can't come crawling back to me now, you bitch."

Clara lifted an eyebrow.

"Uh…"

"What? You don't have anything to say?" He demanded.

Clara pursed her lips, confused.

"Erm, no, actually. Which is surprising if you know me."

He drew closer to her. Too close. Clara immediately took a huge step backwards to counteract his action.

"How long have you been here?" He asked her. There was a mad glint in his eyes that made Clara uncomfortable. "Long enough to long for someone between your thighs?"

The crassness of it made her grimace. She took another step backwards.

"Not nearly long enough for that."

He moved forward.

"I can see it in your eyes. You're desperate for it." He insisted. He nodded maniacally. Clara looked around her nervously. She didn't want to have to hit him. She wasn't sure whether she'd get a mark on her record for it or not. And she couldn't afford to be labeled any higher risk than she already was.

"Erm…I think that might be repulsion you're talking about? In my eyes?" Clara tried. She curled her hands into fists automatically.

"Why are you lying to yourself?" He demanded, loudly and furiously. He advanced forward, indifferent to the fact that she only retreated. She was about to resign herself to the fact that she'd have to hit him when she spotted something she'd missed before. As he drew closer, it was impossible to miss him. He towered behind the leering man—completely out of his line of vision but perfectly visible in Clara's—and cocked his head to the side inquisitively. He met her eyes and stared, his expression almost owlish.

Clara stared back, wide-eyed, unsure what he was trying to communicate. And then the leering man reached forward, as if to grope her, and her face must've said all he was looking for.

He extended his index finger and stabbed the man in the shoulder, hard.

"Excuse me," he called. His Scottish accent was in full display this time; she hadn't really noticed it the day prior. "Are you harassing my bonny girl?"

"Your—" his words died on his lips as soon as he spun around. He wilted under the man's glower. He actually seemed to shrink down.

The man—the Doctor, as Vastra had called him—turned his focus to Clara.

"Is he bothering you, Clara?"

It was the first time anyone had said her first name since she entered jail. She felt her skin tingle and her heart jolt with surprise.

"Not! I'm not bothering her!" The man quickly yelped. "I'm not! I wasn't!"

The Doctor's eyes shifted to cold malice so quickly that it sent a shiver down Clara's spine. He took a step closer and looked down at the man, his eyebrows practically touching his eyes.

"Good." He whispered. "Don't ever let me catch you doing it again."

The man shuffled off without shooting even one look back at them. Clara looked up, wrestling with what to say—only to find the Doctor was already walking away. The words she'd been building turned to dust in her mouth as she gaped after him. She shifted her weight from foot to foot as she tried to decide what to do. In a moment of recklessness, she chose to follow after him.

His legs were so much longer that she had to jog to catch up.

"Wait!" She called, before she could talk herself out of it.

He stopped walking, but he didn't turn around. He seemed to be simply waiting. Clara lost her edge the closer she got, until finally, she was standing beside him. She fiddled with her fingers nervously as she turned to face him.

"Yes?" He asked.

She got the impression bluntness would be received better than social tact.

"Are you guarding me?" She blurted.

Blood rushed to her face so quickly that she could feel her pulse in her cheeks. He regarded her coolly.

"My, my. What a lovely ego you have."

She was frazzled.

"Thanks," she said, before she really processed what he said. His upper lip curled up in amusement. And then he set off again. Clara stared after him for a second, and then she quickly caught up. She struggled to match his pace.

"How did you know my name?" She asked.

"I know everybody's name." He answered, his eyes still chained forward.

Clara grew confident every second he didn't seem to be attacking her. She was certain Vastra had been mistaken; he didn't seem harmful at all. But then she remembered what he'd done to Jessica. Perhaps he just wasn't harmful towards her.

"Do you beat up bullies for everybody?" She shot back.

He turned and looked down at her. He looked genuinely amused, even if he wasn't smiling. There was a certain glint in his eye that Clara had no trouble reading.

"No. Just for those I find physically endearing."

It was so honest she stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide and lips parted. Amazingly, he stopped as well. He turned and looked down at her.

"What?" Clara asked.

"Did you acquire hearing damage in the RAF?"

She blinked.

"What?" She repeated, startled.

"Honestly, Clara, I don't know how much plainer to make it."

She pointed at him. "You think I'm physically endearing?"

"Your nose delights me. I've been trying to decide what's wrong with it."

She was quiet as she tried to sort through the insults and the compliments. She wasn't sure which was which. The insults were uttered like compliments but the compliments were uttered as insults. She was having a hard time finding a category for a type of person who just openly said things like that. But then she remembered that this was a man who'd been in prison for twenty years, possibly in exile, judging by the way people avoided him. He was probably a category all in his own. And that was dangerous.

"Okay…" she said uneasily. "As far as I know, nothing's wrong with it."

"I'm still researching." He responded without hesitation. He reached forward and gently grabbed her hand so he could lift her wrist up. He examined her watch and then dropped her arm back to her side. "Perhaps I'll see you tomorrow, lovely wrists."

"Lovely wrists? Is that a nickname?" She demanded. "Because I honestly prefer bonny girl."

He looked at her for a long three seconds, like he was examining her for something. And then he turned and walked off. Clara was too startled to follow after him.

She was locked inside her own head for the rest of the outdoors time. She spent a while walking around, searching for the Scottish man, but he was nowhere to be found. She sat down on the grass and rested her forehead on her knees. That was where she stayed until time was over.

"I've got most every one of the pedophiles located." Vastra greeted her.

Clara sat down on her bed, suddenly exhausted enough to take a nap. She moved her copy of Meditations and leaned back. She stared up at the concrete ceiling.

"Congratulations." She muttered distractedly.

"Did you figure out your private cash balance?"

She'd forgotten. In the oddity of the afternoon, she'd actually forgotten. She wasn't sure if that frightened her or excited her. She'd been so desperate to talk to Danny, to tell him about her dreams, because she was certain that'd be the only way to make them go away. But she'd done all right on her own. Better than she thought she would, anyway.

"No." She admitted. "No one would help me."

"Oh." Clara could feel Vastra's eyes on her. "Well, don't look so worried. Jenny'll take care of it during recreation."

"I'm not worried about that." She answered honestly. She lifted herself up on her elbows. She bit her lip as she struggled with whether or not to say anything to Vastra. She was just so used to baring it all to John and Danny. She guessed that was just something else she'd have to get over. "You know the Doctor?"

"Not personally, no."

Clara ignored her. "Does he have any…shower mates?"

Vastra lifted an eyebrow.

"Why?" She asked slowly. She straightened in surprise. "Are you thinking of asking him to be yours? Because if you want to kill yourself, I can suggest at least ten safer ways to go about it."

Clara wanted to continue on with her questioning, but Vastra's statement halted that.

"Safer ways to kill myself? Somehow I doubt that."

Vastra shifted her notebook from her lap. She gained a suspicious air.

"Why are you so curious about him?"

Clara scoffed.

"Shut up. I'm not." She averted her eyes when Vastra looked at her doubtfully. "Okay, maybe I am a bit. Just because he's got a…reputation, right? I mean, does everyone think of him like that? Surely he's got friends, people he's nice to? People he, I dunno, helps? Or talks to?"

Vastra's confused expression turned quickly to pity.

"I know you're scared, and part of the process of adjusting to prison is looking for someone strong to protect you, but he's not interested. Although I admire the guts it takes to pick him as your first choice for prison husband."

Clara shifted impatiently.

"That's not what this is. I don't need someone strong to look after me. I'm strong. I can look after myself. I'm just curious."

Vastra didn't seem convinced, but she dropped the pitying look at least.

"Well, perhaps this will satiate your curiosity: the Doctor doesn't help people. Not anyone, not ever."

Clara shut her eyes as she inhaled slowly.

"That's what I was afraid of."