The Doctor sits cross-legged, his long fingers wrapped neatly onto the cell bars that entrap him.
"Stormcage, really? Is this the best I can think of?"
The Dreamlord leans his back onto the other side of the bars and buffs his nails on his tweed jacket. "Be gracious that I'm actually quite a nice prison guard. I've brought some entertainment."
He snaps his fingers and a projection of Clara wandering around is transmitted against the walls.
The Dreamlord turns to his prisoner. "I think she's in for a big sleep. I don't imagine this companion of yours has the guts to kill herself back to reality. Not when she thinks she's in your mind."
The Doctor scratches his head, his hair caked with blood. "What is the point of you doing this? You're derived from big ol' outerspace pollen, you couldn't actually take over, physically."
"No, but that lightning means I'm in for some long-term fun. I planted fear in her head. She's going to fight to survive."
The Doctor nodded. "The TARDIS telepathic circuits connected us together. What's stopping me from waltzing out of here to get her?"
The Doctor's counterpart taps absentmindedly on the bars. "I'd assume in your current state that you'd have a bit of a headache."
The Doctor nods and pulls his arms into a stretch, noting the scrapes and bruises on his hands. "So you work well with pain and fear. It helps you control the dream and keeps us separate. Why here? Why stormcage?"
The Dreamlord stays silent and the Doctor jumps up. "Oh, I'm daft. Stupid, stupid me." He smiles and leans closer to the Dreamlord. "You're weak! We are in my brain, not strictly speaking, but you've only got my greatest hits to pull from."
The Dreamlord remains unimpressed. "All that anger and darkness in your new regeneration, it's like you've been planning for my birthday. I'd hardly call myself weak."
"But you are!" The Doctor replies, half shouting and half laughing. "You're stuck in the tweed and the ever obnoxious face, because you're just a residual speck of annoyance in the damaged time rotor. I may not be able to control this dream, but what's stopping me from blocking you out?"
The bricks in which the façade of Stormcage is built on start to flicker in and out of existence.
The Dreamlord smiles. "Impressive as always, Doctor. Oh, but you really don't want to do that."
The Dreamlord curls his fingers as if signaling someone to approach. A group of Silents appear in front of the Doctor, who is closing his eyes in concentration. Trying to think of nothing at all.
"Can't really block me out of something you'll forget in two seconds. Found them in the back of your mind. Like you said, greatest hits."
The Doctor opens his eyes, staring at them. His memory floods back. He remembers those strange creatures ripping him out of the TARDIS as he fought to keep Clara safe after his makeshift explosion bounced them into yet another dream. Somehow their existence flooding back into his mind opens the gated memories he tries to repress. The bricks become solid again.
The Silents start collectively hissing. Electricity pulsate from their fingers and the Doctor takes an instinctive step back in his cell.
"I know this is a dream and all," The Dreamlord strides towards the creatures. "But please, don't kill him." His grin grows wider as the Doctor glares in anger. "But do leave a mark."
Clara waves her hand over the red waterfall and pushes it on impulse. The metal doors slide open quickly, but there is no lift. Only another room flickering on the other side. A dirty, dimly lit facility, a chamber of concrete. She cautiously steps through.
She yelps as chains fall from the ceiling and dangle in front of her. Surveying the room, she sees nothing of real importance. She sighs and wanders around, almost relieved that the Doctor has the ability to dream the relatively mundane.
Does it look real to you?
Whispers echo around the room as Clara spins around on her heels, looking for the source.
Does it seem real?
She pauses, dropping her hands to her sides as an act of surrender. She's stuck in the room with no light and no way around the whispers that surround her. Clara feels a sharp pain searing through her head, if only for a moment.
"This isn't real," she whispers back. "Doctor, wake up!"
It's a dream, Oswin. You dreamed it for yourself because the truth was too terrible.
"No, I didn't. I'm not the one dreaming this u-" Her voice is caught in her throat. Oswin? Her eyes widen at the name.
Asylum. Where she's standing, it's the asylum. It's a piece of herself, yet she doesn't remember being this version of Clara. She only remembers the look of horror the Doctor would give her when he thought she wasn't looking. When she was still his mystery, his impossible girl who died and died again.
"Doctor, I don't want to see this. Please wake up. Think of something else!" Clara ducks into the shadows, pushing herself against a cold wall. Daleks stalk into the room.
Because you are a dalek.
As if on cue, the Daleks snap their attention to Clara.
Clara places a hand over her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes. She fights back the tears as they stride closer.
The Doctor, crumpled on the floor, picks his head up slowly. It's almost as if Clara's muffled cries ring in his ears like the TARDIS alarms had.
"Leave her alone." He drops his head in exhaustion, if only momentarily, before Clara screams and it echoes into Stormcage.
"I am not a Dalek!" She yells. The Doctor pulls himself up. Daleks. Asylum. He gets the memo.
"Clara," he yells back, his voice hoarse. He tries standing now, using the bars for support. The Dreamlord watches, amused.
"Funny how even in a dream you can still taste the blood in your mouth, isn't it Doctor?" The Dreamlord snaps his fingers and the Silence emit electricity from their palms once more.
The Doctor grabs onto the wall for dear life, never taking his eyes off the projection of Clara still flashing on the brick.
"Doctor, why don't you just wake up?" Clara still echoes into the room.
"I'm trying!" he replies to the projection, knowing full well she can't hear him. As one of the Silence strikes him in the chest with a bolt of electrical energy, he cries out in pain almost in unison with his companion. Through blurry vision, he sees Clara hunched over, her fingers cradling her head.
"Be -" Another shot of electricity strikes him. " Be Brave." Another strike and his eyes roll back into his head.
Clara slinks back into a corner as the Daleks still approach. She yelps as another twitch of pain hits her mind and she pushes her fingers to her temples.
"Ex-term-inate," the daleks begin to chant, slowly.
"You're dead," she cried, "The Doctor destroyed you in that asylum and I'm still standing."
The Daleks pause, if only for a beat. They swivel as if gathering for a secret meeting amongst themselves. "She survived the crash in the starliner. She is intelligent. Prepare her for full conversion."
Because you are a Dalek. The whispers are louder now, repeating themselves and suffocating the air around Clara. With them comes the searing pain.
"I am not a dalek,"she rasps. She's on her knees now, her vision blurring and focusing on the Daleks lined in front of her. The whispers are more pronounced with each syllable. She recognizes the whispers now, the Doctor's sharp voice emanating in her ears. It's dripping with hatred. It's a tone she isn't used to hearing from the soft, kind voice that came before the Scottish inflection.
She hears a painful shout break through the whispers as her vision cuts out completely. "Be Brave."