Series 9: What We Deserve
Warnings: dark themes, violence, torture, m/f, f/f & m/f/f relationships, explicit scenes.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did…damn you, Moffat!
Summary: Missy and the Doctor reminisce about their childhood while working in Erudite. Clara is finding Dauntless training even harder than she expected. Missy suffers a terrifying revelation.
"Sooo…" Osgood began awkwardly, clearing her throat. "D'you guys have any questions?"
Silence.
"Ok, I'll take that as a no," she sighed. "Look, why are you staring at me like that? It's creepy as hell."
The Doctor was the first to shake himself out his stupor, reaching out a hand. "Right, sorry. Hello. My name's John Smith, though most just call me the Doctor. This is Missy," he introduced them, as the young human took his hand enthusiastically. She was absolutely identical to the eager young woman he'd known for only a brief time back in their home Universe. Right down to the slightest freckle, and the slight wheeze in her breathing from asthma.
"Pleased to meet you," Osgood smiled. "So, Doctor eh? Thinking of going for medicine then? Have you got training?"
"Of sorts," the Doctor replied, his smile strained. Missy was still silent beside him. "So, what's next?"
"Well, I'll show you to your assigned quarters so you can settle in and get a good week's rest. I'm sure, after your ordeal, you'll need it. For the next few weeks, you'll be assisting me in the lab and working on your own projects after you've picked a field to specialise in," she explained brightly. "Then it's the IQ test, but I wouldn't sweat it. If you've already got a natural aptitude for Erudite, you'll do fine. So, let me finish up and I'll escort you to your quarters. Ok?"
The Doctor smiled and nodded easily but inwardly he was stunned. Of all the people to meet in a parallel universe, it had to be her. Yet another reminder of his failure to protect those who placed their trust in him. Like Osgood, like Kate.
Like Clara.
His mind flinched away from Clara determinedly, as Osgood wrapped up her experiments, placing a cover over a complicated-looking contraption, before switching off the lights and leading the way out. Initially, they walked in silence before Missy, of all people, broke it.
"Tell me, Osgood. What field do you specialise in?" she asked, her tone open and curious. The Doctor wasn't fooled. She was as shaken as he was.
"Engineering," Osgood replied promptly, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. "Although I mostly work with the Dauntless to improve their weapons and security equipment."
For some reason, her enthusiasm dampened slightly at that, and she shrugged at the Doctor's questioning look. They'd passed through the main building, and out into the central plaza of the compound, surrounded by green trees, geometric sculptures and artificial rivers flowing under the bridges beneath their feet. Curious, excited glances followed them as they walked, standing like sore thumbs in the sea of regimented, uniform blue, almost as blue as the Tardis.
"Don't worry, they'll stop staring. Eventually," Osgood whispered to the Doctor, with a smile. "There was quite a hubbub when you arrived. Everyone's dying to talk to you."
"Yes. I can imagine," the Doctor sighed. Osgood misinterpreted his sigh, and Missy's renewed silence after her single question, as reluctance and hastened to reassure him.
"It'll die down, soon enough. A necessary side-effect of being Erudite," she explained. "Once we get you into more Erudite-looking gear, you'll fit right in and people will forget you're even outsiders before long. Right now, you could almost pass for Dauntless if you weren't so…" she trailed off, a slight blush of colour in her cheeks. The Doctor eyed her, and she looked away embarrassedly.
"I'm guessing Dauntless don't generally accept…older people such as myself and Missy?" he asked, as delicately as he was able. Missy snorted.
"Speak for yourself!" she muttered, as he sent her a quelling look.
"One of the traits Dauntless uphold above any other, except bravery of course, is self-reliance," Osgood nodded. "Once Dauntless members get too old, or rather aren't able to take part in Dauntless life in a physical sense, then they're encouraged to leave the faction."
"Leave?" Missy repeated questioningly.
"Join the Factionless, or sometimes…" Osgood trailed off, a haunted look in her eye. "I saw one once, while trialling out new weapons for the Dauntless. A man who'd been told to leave, he jumped into the Chasm, it's this long river that runs through the compound. I saw his body hauled up, out of the water. It was horrible," she shuddered, and fell silent once again.
Alarm filled the Doctor at her story, at such cruelty and cold calculation. Clara was there. He hoped she was alright.
His eyes met Missy's, and despite her best attempts to hide it, he knew she was just as worried for their Impossible Girl as he was.
Finally, Osgood led them into a block of buildings that resembled student dorms. He supposed, once upon a time, they had been.
The rooms had been knocked through to build large apartments, each equipped with a kitchen, living and study area, bathroom and bedroom, as Osgood explained. He noted the assumption that he and Missy were a couple, as they'd been assigned to one apartment, not two. He supposed it was for the best; less chance of Missy accidentally killing someone out of sheer boredom and trying to cover it up if he was around to keep an eye on her at all times.
The apartment was spartan, but clean and airy, all light woods and cream furnishings. The kitchen was stocked, but there was also communal dining in the main compound Osgood informed them, before wishing them goodnight with a cheery smile. She didn't possess the slight insecurity and desire to please of her doppelganger, and the Doctor felt unease swell within him.
Who else where they going to meet on this journey?
He still noted Missy was silent as the grave. Reminded of their little telepathic spat over Clara, his mood only soured further as he crossed his arms and glared at her. "What's got into you? Usually, I can't ever make you shut up," he muttered snidely, as she walked slowly around their new accommodations with a disdainful look.
"Oh, you can, honey," she retorted sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes at him. He knew the ploy for what it was, a distraction to embarrass him into dropping the subject. "That mouth of yours has far better uses than talking…"
"Nice try," he snorted, as she stopped and eyed him warily. "Could it be our little blast from the past just now?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Missy scoffed, scorn in her eyes. "As if I ever regretted killing that little mouse-!?"
"Yes, why did you kill her? I never understood why," the Doctor cut across her, as he saw her hands clench and her blood-red nails dig into her pale skin.
"She was a threat. I eliminated her," Missy replied softly.
The Doctor smirked mirthlessly, and laughed. "Oh, she was a threat all right," he continued. "A threat to your delusional plans for our little reunion. She was innocent, and didn't deserve what you did to her!"
"So I'm the jealous type!" Missy snapped back, flinging her arms out wide. "And she was a threat. She worked out that the clouds weren't finished before even you did, Doctor."
"Oh please, as if that was the only reason or even the main reason," he scoffed in turn. "The truth is, you never expected to be faced with the consequences of your actions, you always run away. And now it's catching up to you, for once."
Missy only smiled cruelly. "And you'd know all about running away, wouldn't you Doctor? You've been doing it since the day you were Loomed," she replied silkily, stepping closer to him as his every muscle tensed at that unwelcome, but not unfamiliar, accusation.
"You'll never change, will you?" he shook his head, disgustedly. "Always deflecting your poison onto everyone else just so you don't have to face it yourself."
"And yet, you still love me. You'll always love me," Missy replied firmly, and he turned away from her. Because he didn't want to admit to that painful truth, to see the knowledge of it crystallised in Missy's icy blue eyes, safe and secure as if she were contained in a suit of armour. Her parting shot only sent him riled him more as he walked away into their now shared bedroom. "Pity you couldn't extend the same to your precious Clara. Maybe she wouldn't have run away then."
The Doctor avoided Missy until sundown, sulking in the bedroom while she flounced around the living area, experimenting with the computer there. Finally, he emerged after a shower and change of clothes, deciding to commence their charade as soon as possible. The uniform blue suit, waistcoat and shirt irked him but he put aside his contempt and forced himself to change into it.
"Well, don't you look…blue," was Missy's only comment when he emerged into the living room. Their argument seemingly forgotten on her part, at least.
"How very eloquent of you," he growled, meaning to sound cold and contemptuous, but it just came out sounding playful and teasing. "We have a role to play. May as well avoid suspicion and seem to settle in as soon as possible."
Missy chuckled as she rose gracefully from the sofa she reclined on, a computer tablet in one hand. "Here," she tossed it to him. "I've been trying to isolate this device from the main network so it can't be hacked. See what you can do with it. I'm going to wash and 'assume my new role'."
She sauntered past him, pausing only to eye him critically. "I prefer you in black. You haven't worn blue well since your grunge phase," she told him, and he couldn't resist a roll of the eyes.
"It wasn't my grunge phase," he pronounced disgustedly, as Missy smirked teasingly.
"Of course not, dear," she replied mockingly, before flouncing off to the bathroom and leaving the Doctor to fume and fiddle with the computer tablet.
By the time Missy emerged, dressed in a simple but elegantly cut blue dress, bare feet sinking into the soft carpet, her hair down in long, damp curls around her shoulders, the Doctor had succeeded in isolating the tablet from the main network, and linking it to their nanotech earpieces. So when she finally activated hers, they would be able to contact Clara in Dauntless.
"I've connected it to the earpieces," he told her as she came to sit on the sofa arm beside him, thigh pressing softly against his arm. He struggled and failed to ignore the warmth of her, so close and seductive, while her hand toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. "We'll know as soon as Clara's activated the earpiece."
"Good," Missy murmured quietly. "Foolish child."
"No more than the rest of us," the Doctor conceded grumpily, eying Missy as she glared at him, then softened. Just a little.
"Perhaps," she conceded.
Clara was led along darkened corridors, only half-lit by faded halogen strips, by Andrew, and her escort from the Hub who introduced herself as Ginny, to what they'd called the Pit. Clara didn't know if she was supposed to be intrigued or scared by a name like that.
Dauntless was, so far, turning out to be a labyrinth of pitch-black passages. She idly wondered if the Dauntless were all secretly vampires or something.
The adrenaline from her mad jump off the roof still flowed through her veins, and she kept feeling the oddest urge to laugh. She repressed it, as Ginny explained about what was going to happen over the new few weeks.
"Usually, Dauntless training takes ten weeks," she was saying. "Andrew and I are both instructors during the initiation season, but outside of that, I'm usually on patrol duties in the city while Andrew works in the control room."
"There are other jobs too," Andrew continued. "Guarding the fence, technical support, the infirmary, liaising with the other factions and the leadership. It'll all depend on how well you rank in the training. Your case is a new one, but we'll rank you against the previous intake of initiates to determine which jobs you can apply for. I know there's another leadership role going free in a few months, and some of the patrol guards are leaving us. We'll see."
At that, they finally emerged from the tunnels onto a ledge, where Clara stopped and gasped. Pit was definitely the right word to describe the vista opening up before her.
Beneath her feet, the white and grey stone walls fell away sharply, falling several stories to the ground where crowds of black-clad Dauntless lounged, drank and talked excitedly. Pathways were cut into the rock, without barriers or any kind of safety line for users, and both children and adults rushed along them without fear. Above her head, the Pit rose in rough, uneven layers of stone to a glass pire stretching high above, letting in the sunlight.
Strong bass music played, matching the pumping rhythm of her blood in her veins as Clara took in her new home. Ginny nudged her with a grin.
"Pretty cool huh, Oswin?" she remarked, using Clara's new name. "Come on, dinner will be up soon. I'm starving."
"You're always starving," Andrew laughed, shoving her perilously close to the edge as she shoved him back playfully. Turning away, Clara followed them along a pathway until they reach a darker area of the Pit, and she could hear the crash of water against rocks beneath her. "The Chasm," Andrew explained. "It's deeper than it looks. Don't try jumping it, it always ends in tears."
"Yeah? I thought Dauntless were supposed to be brave," Clara countered.
"Sure, but there's a difference between bravery and stupidity," Ginny shrugged. "The Chasm's supposed to remind us of that. But someone always tries it, anyway."
After that, they led her along the pathways, past tattoo parlours, shops and training rooms, to a small apartment up near the top of the Pit. It was basic, functional, with a bathroom and bedroom large enough to have a small sofa and desk too. On the bed was a pile of black clothing.
"We did think about putting you in the initiates' dormitory, but you'd be the only one there," Ginny explained. "Better to get you settled in to Dauntless ASAP. Anyway, hurry up and get changed. You'll need to burn your old clothes."
"What?" Clara snapped, alarmed. The two Dauntless exchanged glances.
"It's tradition for transfers to burn their old clothes," Andrew explained further. "Symbol of starting a new life. I suppose you could keep the jacket and the boots, but that pansycake dress needs to go."
Clara's mouth gaped for a moment, before she sighed. "Well, someone missed their calling as a fashion guru," she quipped sarcastically as she snatched up the pile of fabric. Ginny laughed uproariously, while Andrew rolled his eyes.
Clara retreated to the bathroom, where she inspected her new attire. It consisted of simple, clinging black trousers that slid over her legs like water, a black vest top, boots and a black leather jacket with red accents. She left it half-undone, revealing a flash of black and tawny skin above it, as she eyed herself in the mirror.
Already she looked different, the spartan, utilitarian clothing hardened her appearance. Barely any trace of the old Clara, the school teacher, was left. In her place was a dark-eyed, stern-faced warrior. She smirked self-deprecatingly at her own fancy, before looking down at the pile of brightly coloured clothing at her feet. She felt a pang, but pushed it away. Making sure her earpiece was safely tucked away in one of the jacket pockets, Clara took her old dress and tights, and left the bathroom.
After depositing the dress and tights in an incinerator under the watchful eyes of Andrew and Ginny, they led her unerringly through the dark tunnels, and across the Pit, to a large cavern set back into the rock. As they neared, she could hear raucous laughter and music, and the smell of dinner made her stomach rumble.
It briefly stopped when Clara made her entrance, and her skin crawled from the sensation of so many eyes on her. Then they burst into applause, and a grinning Ginny pulled her along to sit beside her at one of the long tables in the cafeteria. Andrew disappeared to his own friends, but even they were sending curious glances her way.
Each table was laid with grey metal trays and cutlery, and in the centre of each were several trays of food. To Clara's relief, she noted beef burgers, jacket potatoes and bread, alongside massive slices of chocolate cake. She glanced to Ginny, who laughed and shouted, "Dig in!"
Feeling twice as hungry as usual, Clara piled her tray with food.
"Well, someone's hungry," the Dauntless directly across from her remarked, as she glanced up. It was a man in his late twenties, one side of his face tattooed with a tribal design, micro-dermals above his left eye. "Ryan," he introduced himself.
"Oswin," Clara replied with a grin.
"Nice. Just don't let Ginny nab all the cake," Ryan laughed. "She ate ten slices once."
"That was one time!" Ginny whined as Clara snorted. Even so, she made sure to grab a slice of cake under Ryan's approving eye.
"Where do you work?" she asked, eying the intricate tattoo on his face.
"Tattoos," he replied. "We've got some cool new designs for when you're feeling up to taking the leap."
"Hell yeah! You've got to get a tattoo, it's practically Dauntless tradition," Ginny agreed enthusiastically. "Or maybe a nose piecing. Your hair would look good with some blue streaks, I think…"
"Whoa, and I thought Andrew was the one who missed his calling as a fashion guru," Clara quipped, purposefully interrupting Ginny's eager plans for her makeover. She didn't know how she felt about tattoos, let alone getting one.
"That's our Ginny," a new voice stated, further down the table. A dark-haired, handsome Dauntless with a pierced tongue. Clara found it oddly hypnotic, like a serpent, as he licked his lips. "So pansycake, what's the outside world like?"
Clara bristled. "I have a name," she said pointedly. "And I don't want to talk about it."
"Oh, come on!" he scoffed. "You got to give us something. And everyone's a pansycake here until they prove otherwise."
"Sod off, Adam," Ginny snarled. "Leave her alone."
"You want to be careful, pansy," Adam called to her as he stood from the table. "Letting others fight your battles for you won't get you very far here."
"And maybe you should be careful about asking too many questions, Adam," Ryan jumped in, eying him with acute dislike. "Wouldn't want to seem disloyal to the faction, would we?"
Adam flushed at that, and stalked away. Clara mentally gulped. "Why do I get the feeling I just made an enemy in here?" she asked rhetorically.
"Don't worry about Adam," Ryan assured her. "He's a nobody, just bitter because he's stuck out on the fence."
Suddenly an alarm blared and the Dauntless began slamming their mugs on the table. Clara looked up to see the five Dauntless leaders she remembered from the council meetings standing at the railing above them, looking down at her.
"Initiate, stand!" the Hulk wannabe shouted forcefully. Clara flushed at being singled out, but stood as gracefully as she could. "You have chosen to join the warrior faction, tasked with the protection of this city and its inhabitants. We believe in ordinary acts of bravery, and the courage that drives one man to stand up for another. Respect that, do us proud, and you'll survive here. Fail, and you'll wish you never spilled your blood on the coals. Good luck."
Clara wasn't sure whether she was supposed to be scared or angry, but the need to decide was negated as the Dauntless started cheering around her, everyone shouting her new name. "Oswin! Oswin! Oswin!"
She let out a shout when her legs were suddenly taken out from under her, and she was hoisted onto the shoulders of the other Dauntless, passed from one group of hands to another, while the cheers continued.
In the end, Clara couldn't help laughing and cheering along with them, as Ginny, Andrew and Ryan all laughed up at her.
As Clara was cheered and passed around like a rag doll, the thought crossed her mind. Perhaps Dauntless isn't so bad, after all.
And on the upside, she'd barely thought about the Doctor and Missy at all since leaving them behind.
It was well past midnight before Clara managed to get Ginny to take her back to her apartment. The room was only dimly lit as she staggered inside, Ginny lingering at the door, her eyes glazed from alcohol.
"Get some sleep," she slurred. "First day of training tomorrow. Gotta hit the ground running!"
"Yeah, yeah," Clara yawned, practically collapsing headfirst into her bed, only vaguely aware of the door closing softly behind Ginny as the woman left. Clara lay there in somnolent contentment, her mind pleasantly abuzz from the alcohol the Dauntless had pressed on her, her limbs warm and heavy. She lazily kicked off her boots, and rolled over onto her back.
And felt the slight buzzing sensation against her chest. She frowned, not appreciating the interruption to her wonderfully incoherent state, before it clicked. The earpiece.
With a sigh, Clara unzipped her jacket and flung it aside after fishing the earpiece out of its pocket. She slipped it into her ear as she padded barefoot to the bathroom, to look in the slightly tarnished mirrored cabinet hanging above the sink.
"Hey," she murmured quietly. "I'm here."
"Clara," the Doctor breathed in her ear, his husky Scottish accent sending an unwelcome shiver down her spine. "You ok?"
"Other than mildly drunk, I'm fine," Clare replied. And it was true, she was only mildly drunk. Certainly not drunk enough to start spilling her guts. "How's Erudite?"
"Very… clean," he replied, making her laugh. "What about Dauntless?"
"Very…" Clara hesitated. "Not clean. And huge. I haven't even seen anything remotely resembling a computer room yet. Although my instructors mentioned something about technical jobs, so there must be something somewhere."
She was babbling, and she knew it. Trying to justify her choice to him, after barely two minutes conversation with him. She'd been right to do this, to get away for awhile.
There was only silence on the other end. Clara didn't mention it, just determinedly changed the subject with a quiet confidence she didn't feel. "I'll get it done somehow. Anyway, where's Missy? Any promising leads on your end yet?"
"We're stuck being nannied for the first few weeks, although computer access is a lot easier here," the Doctor replied. "I'll give it a few weeks, then start looking around discreetly. And Missy's asleep."
"Ah. Ok then," Clara sighed.
"Did you want to talk to her?" he continued, hesitantly.
"No! God, no!" Clara replied insistently. Even she knew it came out a tad too quickly. "Anyway, I'd better go. Early start tomorrow, apparently."
"Goodnight then, Clara. And be careful tomorrow. And wear your earpiece, so we can see what's going on," the Doctor told her, sternly. It made Clara mentally bristle, like he thought she needed ordering about as if she were a novice at this!
"I know what I'm doing. Goodnight, Doctor," she murmured softly, but her voice was full of a quiet rebuke. She heard it, and knew he heard it too.
But he only replied, "Goodnight, my Clara."
Softly, almost yearningly, like all the weeks of animosity and uncertainty after Missy had never happened. As if nothing had changed.
But it had.
Clara tore out the earpiece, ignoring the sting as the connection was broken, before he could see the tears in her reflection's eyes, wrenching away from the mirror. She placed the earpiece back in her pocket, before stumbling to the bed and falling into it still clothed. She'd ask Ginny about where she could get some basic supplies tomorrow.
As she lay there, allowing her tears to fall unchecked now she was alone and free from scrutiny, she searched her mind for the remnants of her bond to Missy. It was stretched almost to breaking point, faint but still there. She could feel the shadow of Missy's emotions like her own, and they made her shudder with longing and self-loathing.
She hadn't lied to the Doctor when she'd said she didn't want to talk to her. She hadn't made the wrong choice when she realised she needed time away, from both of them. But that didn't mean she didn't miss them both, painfully so.
Confused, exhausted, Clara rolled over in her blankets and tried to sleep. She had a not entirely unpleasant feeling she'd need her strength for the coming weeks.
The next morning dawned, far too quickly for the Doctor, Missy and Clara.
The Doctor had barely slept at all after saying goodnight to Clara, just sat by a window and watched the night sky until the dawn reached its weak, tentative fingers over the horizon. His mind whirled through thoughts and memories, all of Clara, as he recalled the sound of her voice through the nanotech earpiece. She'd sounded…sad. So, so sad. Her voice full of a quiet, stern rebuke in his lack of faith in her. Or his perceived lack of faith in her. In truth, the Doctor trusted Clara more than anybody else in the Universe, even after her betrayal and the pain it had cost them. There was no one he trusted more, not even himself.
He knew the damage Danny's death had done to Clara. She'd entered a downward spiral, one that was showing her new depths, new sharp edges to her character that she'd either repressed or never discovered before. He sensed her loss of identity, the shift in her being away from the girl he had known, the girl who had jumped into his time stream to save him, the girl who would kill for him. She didn't know what she was becoming, and he could sense the confusion tearing her apart. The problem was, he didn't know what she was becoming either. The only thing he was certain of, was that it was now irrevocable, he couldn't change it, he couldn't stop it. His choice now was whether he could accept it, accept her.
He heard Missy stir in their bedroom, then sighed and forced himself to move.
They had work to do.
Later that day, they were alone in the labs when Missy suddenly spoke up, breaking the fragile silence between them. "Well, this brings back memories," she mused. "We were always lab partners, remember?" she added, at his questioning look.
Despite himself, the Doctor chuckled. "You were always trying to ruin my time analogue experiments."
"Hah! You started it!" Missy snorted.
The Doctor laughed quietly, his hearts full of memories, when he felt a gently warm hand just cover his own. Instead of pushing it away, he smiled slightly and clasped her hand tightly, while they worked.
In Dauntless, Clara groaned as her door nearly imploded from the forceful knocking. "Alright, I'm up, I'm up!" she shouted mulishly.
"Grab some breakfast, then down to the Pit. Twenty minutes!" Ginny's voice filtered through the heavy metal door, as Clara forced herself up onto her hands and knees. She staggered into the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror. She looked a mess.
Twenty minutes wasn't anywhere near enough time for a shower, so she splashed her face with water and quickly washed her mouth out to get rid of the acidic aftertaste from alcohol.
Praying she'd remember where to go, she grabbed her jacket, screwed in her earpiece, and left the apartment.
The Pit was deserted when she managed to find her way down, except for Ginny and Andrew, munching nonchalantly on a muffin. Clara had wolfed down a banana and coffee, before rushing out the cafeteria door.
"Here she is!" Ginny called excitedly. "Alright, let's get going."
Before she knew it, Clara reversed direction and was suddenly climbing back up the Pit, and across the chasm, Ginny holding onto her arm tightly. Andrew walked beside them with a faintly amused smirk. "Sore head?" he asked, his brow quirked. Clara rolled her eyes.
"You have to ask?" she muttered sardonically, as Andrew chuckled.
"We got a full schedule for today," Ginny began eagerly, as Clara glanced to her. "There's two stages to Dauntless training. The first is physical: basically become a kickass fighter."
"Stage Two is mental. You'll have to conquer your fears, before they get you," Andrew chipped in from the other side. "Sound good?"
"Define 'good'?" Clara replied archly, as both laughed. They eventually led her into a cavernous warehouse, the floor covered in sparring mats, interspersed with punch bags dangling from the ceilings.
"Right, we'll start with showing you some basic moves," Andrew began. "Some mornings we'll work on fitness and take you for a run through the city. Every two days, you'll spend the afternoon on the ranges practicing with a rifle. We'll also cover knife-throwing in the next few weeks-"
"This is going to be so cool!" Ginny interjected, cutting Andrew off. "We'd better get started. Take your jacket off!"
With a sigh, wondering how much she was going to ache when she got back to the apartment that night, Clara shrugged the garment off, and stepped onto the mat.
They quickly fell into a routine after that first day. Missy and the Doctor worked in Osgood's lab, awkward silences filling the air, until one day they were told they could choose their own disciplines.
Clara settled into a routine existence of learning to fight, shooting and going for runs through the city. She stumbled back to her apartment each night exhausted and sore, but no closer to accessing a computer terminal to hack into the Dauntless mainframe.
She was a natural at shooting and knife-throwing, it turned out. And she was learning the various forms of combat, the moves, the rhythm of a fight, quickly. The Doctor wasn't overly concerned when he watched the footage from her nanotech each night, when they were finally given some sense of privacy. They mostly showed her running through the city, on the ranges, or practising against a punch bag.
But at the end of the second week since they arrived in Chicago, the Doctor's worst fears were realised.
They were working in Osgood's lab, the young human having gone off to the cafeteria to fetch lunch, when Missy suddenly bent double, wincing in pain.
The Doctor dropped what he was doing, and rushed to her side. "Missy? What is it?" he demanded brusquely. "What's wrong?"
"Clara!" Missy gasped, her face screwed up in pain as she straightened. "I can feel her. She's in pain. Get the tablet!"
The Doctor scrabbled for the tablet in the inside pocket of his jacket. Glancing up quickly to make sure Osgood wasn't anywhere nearby, he turned it on and brought up the footage from Clara's earpiece.
Missy's face gradually eased, as they watched Clara as she grabbed breakfast in the Dauntless cafeteria, then met her two instructors in the training rooms.
The Doctor's face drained of blood when he heard and saw what happened next.
"Ok, Oswin," the male instructor called over. "Fight time! You've had two weeks to get to grips with everything, let's try a match."
"A match? With who?" Clara's voice sounded unconcerned, but the Doctor knew her well enough to know when she was faking.
"Ginny, to start with," the male replied easily. "Start you off easy. Gin!"
The female instructor came into Clara's view then, vibrantly dyed hair tied securely back, her tattoos stark against her skin. Before, the Doctor had observed that this one was the friendlier of the two towards Clara.
There was no friendliness in her eyes now. Just lethal intent.
"Just remember the training. You're small and fast, so use that to your advantage," the male stepped close to Clara to instruct her. "You've learned quickly, you'll be fine."
The Doctor and Missy watched as Clara stepped up to the mat, the feed dipping slightly as she lowered her centre of gravity. The female did the same, settling into a defensive pose as she raised her fists to stomach and throat level. Protecting the most vulnerable areas.
"Fight until someone concedes. Or you get knocked out. One of the other," the male called. "Go!"
The female struck, so fast she appeared as nothing more than a blur of blonde, red, blue and black as she barrelled towards Clara. Clara sidestepped and twisted, forcing the other girl off-balance, as she stepped backwards.
"Good girl," the Doctor breathed. But the female was back up again, and the focus in her eyes was truly terrifying. She struck, and while they saw Clara get a few blows in, she was put immediately on the defensive, until suddenly the screen went black just as they saw a fist flying towards Clara's face.
"Clara!?" the Doctor gasped. "Clara?"
"I can't feel her anymore," Missy whispered. "I'll kill them. I'll kill them for this."
The Doctor snapped out of his stupor long enough to grab her arm, forcing her back to him. "Don't be stupid!" he growled. "You can't go marching across Chicago, all guns blazing!"
"The hell I can't," Missy growled back, eyes flashing with hatred. With a jolt, the Doctor realised what was going on. It floored him, as he stared at Missy.
Just then, Clara's voice came over the feed, weak and whispering. "Doctor? Missy?"
They snapped back to the tablet, clustering close to see Clara, as her face appeared on the screen, reflected by a mirror. The Doctor gasped, and felt Missy's breath hitch beside him.
Clara's right eye was obscured by a dark bruise, her eyelids slightly swollen and it was clear she was struggling to keep it open. There was blood at the corner of her mouth, and she wiped it away self-consciously.
"Figured you'd seen the fight by now," she started ruefully. "Thought I'd just call to say I'm ok. It's just a black eye. They took me back to my apartment afterwards."
"Clara…" the Doctor breathed, a vice around his hearts, squeezing painfully.
"I'm ok, Doctor," she whispered, just a knock came at the door. "I've got to go. Speak to you tonight."
"Clara!" Missy barked imperiously, as the human reappeared, looking resigned. The Mistress hesitated. "Do try not to get hit again, there's a good girl," she drawled, patronisingly. Clara rolled her eyes.
"I'll do my best, nutjob," she retorted sarcastically, just as she turned away and opened the door of her bathroom. The Doctor closed the feed, feeling his hearts race with the turbulent emotions buffeting him.
He sensed it was far worse for Missy. "You care about her," he hissed at her. "You actually care about Clara."
Missy snorted, turning away. "Don't be absurd. You're forgetting who I am, my dear," she replied scornfully. "The Mistress, care for a pathetic human-"
"You can lie all you like, but I felt your fear. You wanted to kill the people who'd hurt her too," the Doctor interjected triumphantly. "You were ready to march over there and blast them all to perdition. You care for Clara."
Missy's mouth was gaping slightly, just as Osgood walked back in with a tray laden with sandwiches. "Lunch anyone?" she asked brightly, seemingly unaware of the tension filling the room as the Doctor and Missy stared one another down.
To Be Continued…