An irritating glow forces its way through Clara's eyelids, stirring her to consciousness.
"Hello, again," she groans as she pushes herself up. She's numb, disoriented, and inexplicably in front of the metal doors advertising green anchors and red waterfalls once more.
"Doctor?" She shouts as she stares at the ceiling. No answer. She feels silly, almost as if she's calling up to God. A God that lets friends get turned into Daleks and then chastises them for it. She shakes off her annoyance and tries her luck again. "Doctor? Where are you?"
She flexes her finger onto the Green Anchor this time, and with a ding the doors calls her to a field.
"A graveyard, really? I'm not into this whole Ghost of Christmas Past schtick, Dreamlord!"
The Dreamlord, sitting intently on a tombstone, gives Clara a little wave. "It's not me. It's your Gallifreyan friend controlling the shots, really."
"Where is he?" Her voice drips with annoyance as she strides up toward the bowtied man. "I'm not buying your tricks."
"Preoccupied."
Clara leans against the statue behind her. "With what?"
The Dreamlord hops off of the memorial. "Bleeding."
Inhaling sharply, she curls her fingers into fists. It dawns on her that searching for the Doctor is an act of futility. It takes everything in her power not to leap at the man before her.
"Let me see him," she manages with a strong resolve to stay calm.
"Oh I wouldn't worry about him, you have your own problems."
Pressure falls onto her wrist, a hand of stone now crushing her own. Her wide, horrified eyes quickly fixate on the culprit.
The Dreamlord smirks and pushes his face close to Clara's. "Anyone ever tell you it's rude to lean up against a weeping angel?"
"Word of advice," he walks away as the angel takes further hold of Clara's arm, "you might want to stop blinking."
The Dreamlord delivers a swift kick to the Doctor's ribs.
"It's so simple," he chimes in as he pulls the timelord up by his lapels and slumps him against the wall. "your memories are so much more fun than having to come up with scenarios myself. You've lived a life!"
The Doctor's breathing is shallow, his eyes screwed shut. But with a damning amount of effort, a small smile forms on his lips.
"What?" The Dreamlord crouches face-to-face and examines the Doctor.
"Your plan," the Doctor replies. He groans and sits himself up with tremendous effort. "Holes in it, everywhere."
"How so?"
He shakes his head, keeping mum.
"How so?" The Dreamlord repeats himself, now pulling the Doctor to his feet.
"Clueless," The Doctor taunts in between painful breaths.
The Dreamlord pulls something from his jacket, the Master's laser screwdriver. If his pain permitted him, The Doctor would laugh. The Dreamlord was starting to look desperate, like a magician shuffling through a poor bag of tricks.
"Making you nervous?" The Doctor questions, putting all his weight into the Dreamlord's grip. The Dreamlord pushes the screwdriver underneath the Doctor's chin and presses the mechanism. Nothing happens.
"Isomorphic controls, useless to us." The Doctor smiles wider. "G-get my memories straight."
The Dreamlord glowers in anger and throws the Doctor against the cell. He begins pacing back and forth as the Doctor supports himself against the cell bars.
The Dreamlord pauses, his smug stature now replaced with red anger. The room begins to change rapidly around them. Spaceships, hangars, planets swish around them like a vortex until settling in on a snowy tundra. The Doctor had pushed all the right buttons.
"This one will do, thanks" The Doctor says. With a gust of energy, he scrambles to his feet and starts dragging himself through the snow.
'Oodsphere. Doctordonna. Ood sigma. Keep it in your head,' he chants to himself as he turns toward a cliff face.
"That's quite a big drop." The Dreamlord quips. He's right next to the Doctor now, looking over the edge. "Go for it. But excuse me if I don't join you."
The Doctor moves a foot closer to the end. "I'll finally get rid of you."
"Keep Clara in my care, alone. Sounds like a grand idea. I'll wipe every memory she has of you."
The Timelord says nothing, inching closer to the edge.
The Dreamlord lifts a finger in the air, as if he's had a bright idea. "Better yet! I'm feeling a bit stronger now."
He morphs into a perfect analog of the weary Doctor before him. "I'll make every memory of you a painful mistake."
The Dreamlord looks menancing now with the commanding gait as approaches the Timelord. The Doctor decidedly takes a couple steps back and puts his hands up. "Okay," he surrenders.
"Oh, I don't know Doctor." The Dreamlord remarks. "You said it yourself, my plan has holes."
"Kick you out of the telepathic link, and no more lucky resets for Clara Oswald."
"Please," The Timelord insists, still placing distance between himself and the man before him
"Your pet got a free pass out of a Dalek conversion because you blacked out, the TARDIS telepathic link connecting you together in more ways than one. Do you think that's a flaw in my plan? I think it's rather run. I wonder if she'll feel the pain when you fall off that cliff."
"What if it takes her with me? Snaps her out of the dream?"
The Dreamlord shrugged. "It's a lottery. It's much more fun this way, living like there's nothing to lose. Quite a fun philosophy you've been keeping with lately."
"Knock me out of the link, and you'll have nothing to feed on. You're a psychic manifestation of me, remember?"
The Dreamlord takes this into consideration, tapping his fingers on his thin lips. "It's a risk I'm willing to take. Do you feel it yet, Doctor? Clara's pain?"
The Doctor turns and runs the other way. "Clara!" he howls. "Please, hear me!"
The Dreamlord grabs the Doctor by the back of his coat and swings him around, back toward the edge of the cliff.
"It's been fun," The Dreamlord offers, before pushing the Doctor with all of his strength.
Author's Note: Here's a quick, tiny chapter to tide everyone over. Life's been hectic but I'll try to update soon! Everything will come together and I promise I won't leave you on a cliffhanger (no pun intended) for too long. Thanks for reading!