Hello friends! The wait for Chapter 7 is finally over. Here you go! Now, I will be going on vacation tomorrow, so I will not be writing anything for a few weeks. I will try my hardest to update one last time and finish this whole Hindenburg plot before I go, but I don't know if I'll be able to. So... we'll see.
Also, when I get back, I'll be beginning to write all sorts of one-shots. That means I'll be taking prompts. So just leave me a prompt if you feel like it. It'll be a welcome surprise to come back to after my vacation.
Hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know if you find any mistakes.
"Diplomacy?" Clara hissed. "That's your grand plan? You're going to ask them to leave? Do you honestly think that will work?"
"No," the Doctor answered shortly, "but I've got to try."
Clara threw up her hands in despair. "Well, I hope you've got a back up plan."
The Doctor said nothing, but his heartbeats increased. He did indeed have a back up plan, but it wasn't one that Clara would like.
"I can't imagine they're going to listen to you," Clara continued sourly, irritably brushing her wayward bangs out of her eyes. "Why would they believe you? They know you're the Doctor. They know you're a big fat liar."
"It sounds so ugly when you put it that way," he snapped. "I prefer to think of it as twisting the truth."
"Twisting your brain, more like," Clara muttered. "And I still don't think they're going to believe you."
"What, and you think they're going to believe you? You, the woman who lied to your boyfriend for months before finally telling him you traveled with an alien? The woman who, when she was five years old, managed to convince her teacher that she had a heart condition and couldn't participate in gym?"
Clara flushed red. "Shut up."
"Well, if the Conscious aren't going to listen to me, they certainly won't listen to you," the Doctor told her firmly, his tone indicating that the conversation was over. "It's worth a try. End of story."
Clara decided that continuing to argue would be futile, so she changed the topic. "Why haven't we seen any Conscious around? Isn't it sort of suspicious?" The supply closet they had landed in was in the passenger section of the ship, so they had had to walk through several corridors and passages to reach the dining room where the Conscious were gathered. In that time, they hadn't encountered a single Conscious.
"It's not suspicious at all. They probably know I'm going to come and try to reason with them. They're just waiting for me."
The two of them arrived at a door that led to the dining room. It was a simple wooden affair, complete with a porthole-shaped window.
Clara attempted to peer through the window, but found that she was too short to reach it even if she stood on her tiptoes. Disgruntled, she stepped backwards and allowed the Doctor to examine the door.
He pushed it with his hand, discovering when it stood immobile that it was locked. "Not a very nice thing for them to do, if they were expecting us to come," Clara noted.
"They must've thought we'd come by the main entrance. This is just a side door." The Doctor plunged his hand into his pocket and immediately withdrew his sonic screwdriver. "Ah! So that's where it was!" he exclaimed.
Clara rolled her eyes. "Typical. Now it shows up, after we needed it to save us from being shot."
The Doctor wisely opted to not answer her comment. Instead, he began to experimentally scan the door with his screwdriver.
Nothing happened. "It still doesn't do wood," the Doctor grumbled, slipping the device back into his voluminous pocket.
"You know, your sonic screwdriver is bloody useless." Clara placed a hand on his chest and nimbly shoved him out of the way. "Leave this to me." Without warning, she charged at the door, drove her leg outwards, and kicked it open with a harsh clanging sound.
Astounded, the Doctor gaped at his companion. How on earth had she managed that without hurting herself? Clara's arms were crossed proudly, and her face worse a smug smile. "What - how did you know that would work?"
"I didn't. I just sort of hoped." She paused, savoring his disbelief, and then added,"You're welcome."
The Doctor grunted. "Don't get a big head. It's wide enough as it is."
The smile melted off her face.
Sensing that his face would probably soon bear the imprint of Clara's hand, the Doctor cleared his throat and strode into the dining room. Clara stuck her tongue out at his back and trailed after him.
By now, of course, the Conscious had all been alerted to their presence. The possessed passengers stood facing the door, swaying dreamily, their arms dangling uselessly at their sides. Agatha and Fritz lurked at the front of the horde.
"So nice of you to come back, dearies," Agatha chirped as the Doctor and Clara entered.
The Doctor waved his hand disdainfully. "Pleasantries. Only a way of delaying the inevitable. Cut to the chase, Conscious."
Agatha's eyes, which were glowing with white light, darkened. Cold points of light glittered inside them. "Very well," she sneered, her voice a sibilant hiss. "It is time for us to feast on your memories."
"You can't do that." The Doctor's voice was as harsh as Agatha's eyes.
Why? Fritz demanded. The other voices that seemed to be speaking on top of his echoed the question: why? Why? Why?
"Because I'm the Doctor. I'm a Time Lord. And this girl is under my protection. You can't touch her." He indicated Clara.
Agatha together disdainfully. "Friendship? Love? What reasons are those to stop us from taking -"
"Shut up!" the Doctor roared, his eyebrows contracting thunderously. "I'm not finished! We are both under the protection of the Time Lord Council of Gallifrey! If you take our souls, they will come after you and kill you. All of you. Would you risk your lives for the promise of two extra souls?"
Whispers shot through the crowd of Conscious as they heard his lie. Even Agatha seemed nervous - she had no way of knowing that the Time Lords were actually gone. Knowing only what their hosts knew put the Conscious at a huge disadvantage.
Taking your soul may be a crime, Fritz admitted. But taking the girl is not. Our pact lets us eat once every ten thousand years. Earth is one of our chosen plants. This girl is from Earth. So you cannot protect her.
"Actually, I can. Earth is under my protection, and I am under the Time Lords' protection. Therefore..." his eyebrows quirked. "You can't touch this planet."
The whispers grew in intensity. Agatha's brow creased. "Lies!" she bellowed.
Twelve shrugged. "Do you really want to risk it?"
There was a long pause, during which Agatha and the Doctor stared daggers at each other. Finally, Agatha spat out a word. It was a short, simple word.
And a deadly word.
"Yes."
The Doctor's eyes widened. "Unexpected."
Fritz smoothly slid a gun out of his pocket and fired twice, directly at the Doctor. Struck dumb by the turn of events, he could only stand still and watch as the bullets sped towards both of his hearts. The sound of his slow heartbeats in his ears drowned out Clara's horrified scream.
And then...
Out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor espied a blur of motion. Someone jumped in front of him, and as whoever it was fell to the floor, the Doctor realized that the bullets were no longer in the air.
Time slowed to a halt. Fritz opened his mouth, presumable to roar angrily, but the Doctor heard nothing. He knelt and clasped the person's head. Evidently the person was female, judging by the chocolatey hair that flowed down her back in waves.
Blood pooled around the girl's torso from the bullet wounds, and her breaths came in rasping rattles as her hands scrabbled at the floor. The Doctor awkwardly pulled her into a sitting position. "Who are you?" he breathed.
Slowly, painstakingly, the girl turned her face towards his.
The Doctor drew in a shuddering breath.
Her face was Clara's. Her eyes, brimming with tears, were Clara's. her pert nose, her thin eyebrows, all Clara's.
She raised a shaking, bloodied hand to his cheek. "Run, you clever boy," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "And remember."
Her small frame heaved one final breath and was still. The Doctor clasped her hand, a single tear trickling down his weathered cheek.
Bang. Fritz fired a bullet that grazed the top of his hair and embedded itself in the wall.
The Doctor shook himself out of his stupor and shot to his feet. Whirling around, he clamped his hand around Clara's arm and propelled her out of the dining room with a burst of manic energy. "Time to go."
"Who was she?" Clara panted as they raced back the way they had come. "That girl?"
The Doctor lied instinctively. "I - I don't know." Later, when he thought about it, he wasn't sure why he had lied. Perhaps it was because he wanted the lie to be true. He wished he hadn't seen her voice; hadn't heard her words. In all of his past lives, Clara had been there, in one form or another, and she had died, always. It broke his heart. Seeing it happen again... it was too much. Maybe seeing Clara's echoes die over and over again was, to him, a reminder of what could happen if he didn't take good care of this beautiful, strong, fragile woman who was his companion and best friend.
"And how did she manage to break the Conscious's control? Why did she sacrifice herself for you?"
Those were more serious questions, but the Doctor thought that he might know the answers, or at least part of them. Evidently, the Conscious learned all about Clara when they began to possess her echo. The echo carried aspects of Clara as well as her other echoes, so when the Conscious possessed the echo, they also received information about the other echoes. That was the reason why the Conscious wanted so badly to take Clara's soul - her soul contained the memories of her echoes as well, since all of her echoes sprung from her. Their combined souls would have fed the Conscious for decades.
However, the fact that Clara's echoes were so closely connected also provided a disadvantage. It meant, to fully possess one echo, the Conscious would also have to possess all the others - a feat that was quite impossible. Since Clara's echo had not been fully under the Conscious's control, she had been able to escape their hold and throw herself in front of the Doctor.
But why, why? The Doctor's mind raced as he struggled to put together an answer. Evidently, the echo had known he was the Doctor. However, she hadn't known that it was her duty to save him, none of the echoes knew that - they just died to save him, without knowing why. What had compelled her to jump in front of him?
The Doctor would never know the answer.
Lost in his musings, he ran right by the door that led to the supply closet. Clara tugged on his arm, rudely forcing his mind to return to the present. "Oi. Doctor. In here."
Together, they ran inside and slammed the door. The Doctor hastily withdrew his sonic screwdriver and sonicked the door, which emitted a slight click as it locked itself.
"That'll hold them for a while," the Doctor muttered. An angry fist pounded on the door, causing it to shudder. "Maybe not so long," he amended.
"Why do you delay the inevitable, Doctor?" Agatha shrieked. "Let us in! We will spare you a slow death!"
Clara cautiously stepped away from the door. "That is one scary old lady."
But the Doctor wasn't paying attention. He had just checked his watch, and the Hindenburg was due to be set on fire in four minutes and thirty-two seconds. "Clara, listen to me, get inside the TARDIS and don't come out."
She faced him with her arms crossed. Her brown eyes were bewildered. "What? Why?"
"I think you know why," the Doctor told her gruffly.
Clara's eyes widened in horror. "Oh my stars. Doctor, no. You can't!"
"I have to!" he growled, spinning around and slamming his fist into the wall in frustration. "Clara, the Hindenburg's explosion is a fixed point in time; it has to happen! I have to make it happen," he added, his voice raw.
"I won't let you!" Tears shone on her cheeks. "Doctor, these are innocent people! You're - you're going to murder them, just like that! You can't! I know some of them survive, but it's still murder!"
"I can and I'm going to. It doesn't have to be easy." The Doctor could feel his relationship with Clara beginning to splinter.
"I am not going to let you! I'll -"
"Clara, listen to me!" the Doctor roared, his face livid and his fists clenched. "Shut up! Just listen! You know as well as I do that this has to happen! It has to! If this doesn't happen, history will be torn apart! The Conscious will be unleashed on the planet, and Earth will die! I can't let that happen!"
"So if you can't save people, you're going to kill them?" Clara's voice was shaking. "Who are you, to make decisions like that? Who do you think you are?"
The Doctor's anger suddenly seeped away. "I know who I am," he murmured brokenly. "I'm the Doctor. I make hard decisions. I do what I think is right. And I know who you are. You're Clara Oswald. You're human, you're stupid, you're reckless." In an even softer tone, he continued,"And you're brave, and selfless, and a much better person than I am."
Clara's eyes glistened with tears. She raised a trembling hand to touch the Doctor's cheek, but he gently pushed it away. "I'm sorry, I can't let the Hindenburg land. Think of the consequences. You might never be born!"
"I don't care about me. I care about these innocent people you are about to destroy." Her voice was calm, which was somehow scarier than when she was yelling at him.
"I know you don't care about yourself." The Doctor regarded her sadly. "But I do care. And that's why I'm doing this. For you. For Clara Oswald." In a swift motion, he picked her up and swung her small frame over his shoulder.
Ignoring her protests and screams, the Doctor marched over to the TARDIS, unlocked it, and deposited her gently inside. "I'm so sorry, Clara," he murmured, his voice breaking. Tears slid down his cheeks. "I really am."
"Please." Clara held out a shaking hand. "Please, Doctor, you can't do this."
He closed the door. "Old Girl... don't let her go. Please. Keep her safe."
The TARDIS emitted a disapproving grumble, but did as he asked. Clara desperately rattled the doorknob inside, but the doors refused to open. "Doctor, let me out, let me go! Please!" She smashed her fists against the door. "Please! Please..." Realizing that he wasn't going to listen to her, she slowly lowered her hands and slumped to the floor. Sobs racked her slight body as she was overwhelmed by horror and grief.
The Doctor forced himself to shut his ears to Clara's crying. Pain filled his eyes as he turned away.
"Darling, I really don't think you want to do this," Agatha warned him from the other side of the door. There was a slight tremor in her voice.
"I'm nobody's darling. And I don't want to do this, but I have to." Without waiting to hear her arguments, the Doctor spun around and left the room through a door set into the opposite wall.
Soon he came upon the doors that led into and out of the Hindenburg. With a heavy heart, the Doctor used his screwdriver to lock them. He couldn't let any of the Conscious leave the ship.
Sixty-two of the passengers were supposed to escape, according to history.
Now there would be no survivors.
The Doctor knew what he needed to do next. He burst into the dining room, now abandoned, and followed the path he and Clara had taken earlier until he came to the passageway lined with hydrogen canisters. Not allowing himself to hesitate, the Doctor switched the settings on his screwdriver and began to scan the first canister.
The metal of the canister began to sizzle and bubble beneath the intense heat emitted by the screwdriver. Soon a small hole had been seared into the metal. A gentle hissing noise sounded as hydrogen began to leak into the air.
The Hindenburg had been charged with static electricity from the storm. Electricity. Hydrogen.
Hopefully enough to start a fire.
The Doctor didn't wait to see the effects of his handiwork. He turned and raced back to his TARDIS.
It was 7:24. Five seconds to 7:25.
Four.
The Doctor pounded down the stairs.
Three.
The corridors echoed with the beat of his footsteps.
Two.
He was back in the supply closet.
One.
The TARDIS doors closed behind him.
Zero.
The TARDIS shimmered into nothingness as the first flames roared into being on the tail of the Hindenburg.
The Doctor placed his hands on the console and stared blankly at everything and nothing, the faint screams of the passengers ringing in his ears.
He had escaped. But they weren't so lucky.
OOOH CLIFFHANGER! MUAHAHAHA! Now enjoy the next three weeks imagining what happens next! (Unless I can update tomorrow, that is). I'd love to hear your theories about what you think is going to happen.
Merry Christmas!