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: Clara tastes freedom. The Doctor and Missy have an amusing diversion.
A week after her disastrous first bout with Ginny, Clara was back on the sparring mats. Her black eye had faded into a yellow corona around her eye socket, while the cut on her lip was an angry, fading slash across the flesh.
She'd guessed what was coming. She'd done nothing more than target practice and runs through the city since that hellish first fight, but she guessed they'd throw her back into the fire soon enough.
She'd made no further progress in her search for the Tardis. The only consolation was that Missy and the Doctor hadn't either. They were in limbo.
So, instead, Clara had concentrated on surviving in Dauntless. Her first fight had taught her the underlying brutality behind the faction's philosophy. Weakness wouldn't be tolerated, and she couldn't find the Tardis if she was kicked out early. Despite her lack of progress, Clara still felt stubbornly certain that the Tardis was in Dauntless, somewhere. The compound was huge, extending underground in levels which were restricted to her. She was sure the old cow was there.
After her day spent on the ranges and the streets, Clara had gone back to the training rooms to practice against the punch bags, refining her stance and her technique. Sometimes, Ginny joined her, but mostly she was alone as she practiced into the night.
She was better prepared now. She was changing, and Clara didn't recognise who she was changing into. Just last night, as she'd got changed for a shower, her trouser leg had caught on her calf muscle, and she'd been forced to throw them away and get a new pair. Her body was turning into pure muscle, and she could feel it in the way she no longer got out of breath climbing the sides of the Pit, and the strength in her arms as she pounded the bags in the training rooms. She hadn't been unfit to start with, but she'd never been so physically strong before.
As she stepped up onto the mat, the material rough against the bare pads of her feet, Clara mentally readied herself. This time, she had to be smart. She wasn't strong enough to be stupid; she had to use her brain as well. After all, she had aptitude for Erudite as well.
The corner of Clara's lips quirked sardonically, as Andrew stepped onto the mat, barefoot and his jacket gone to reveal rippling muscles and a tattoo trailing from shoulder to wrist. She felt a slight twinge of fear in her gut, before she determinedly pushed it down. She couldn't afford to freeze.
She assumed her stance, arms raised diagonally across her torso and face, knees bent and feet splayed. She watched Andrew do the same, and waited.
She'd seen Andrew and Ginny spar a few times while teaching her the basics, and she knew he clenched his fists slightly before he went to make a move. Despite the pounding of her heart, Clara found it easy to ignore it and wait for him to make his move.
"Okay, guys," Ginny called from the side of the mats. "Usual rules. Fight until one of you concedes. Or doesn't get up again. Either/or. Go for it!"
Clara saw Andrew's fist clench, and she moved. As he lunged towards her, she slid to the side, getting in a jab to his side before dancing away. Andrew stumbled but recovered quickly, pivoting on his feet to follow her. Clara struck before he finished turning, landing a blow across his jaw. She dropped into a kick to his ankles, forcing him onto his front.
Andrew rolled onto his back and lashed out at her own feet. Clara felt herself lose her footing, landing on her back, winded. Andrew suddenly appeared on top of her, his weight holding her down as he raised his fist. Clara managed to wrench one arm free and elbowed him across the face with all her strength. As he fell sideways, Clara scrambled to her feet and backed away, on guard again.
"Yeah, go Oswin!" Ginny called from the sidelines. "Might want to step it up a notch, Andrew!"
Despite the newly burgeoning nosebleed, Andrew barely looked out of breath as he rose to his feet and lunged for her again. Clara just managed to get her arm up to block him, wincing at the force of his blow. He grabbed her wrist and wrenched her arm behind her back, forcing her to her knees with a cry of pain. She felt his elbow impact against her spine, and then nothing but pain as she collapsed to the floor.
It raced along her nerves, burning, as she gasped for breath. A voice in her head…
Get up, get up, get up! Come on, you stupid Earth ape, get up!
Missy?
If you're going to insist on putting yourself in this ridiculous position and getting yourself hit all the time, then at least be smart about it. Now get up!
Clara shook her head, trying to will away the pain as her lungs burned for air. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins, and she focussed on that rather than the pain, her heart racing. She suddenly had the insane urge to laugh.
"D'you want to concede?" Ginny shouted, somewhere overhead. Clara felt the mat depress a few centimetres by her feet, and realised that Andrew must be right behind her.
Clara gathered the last of her strength, and kicked out, back and up. Her feet met soft, yielding flesh as Andrew cried out behind her. Clara forced herself to her feet, turning as she went, to find Andrew on his knees, tears in his eyes as he stared at her, his face red and mottled, his entire body hunched over in pain.
If I were still male, I'd almost feel sorry for him…
Mentally rolling her eyes at the voice in her head, Clara went for the takedown before he could recover. Her fist collided with his throat, making him choke and wheeze, before she spun into a kick that lashed across his face, snapping his head to the side. She underestimated her own momentum, however, and overbalanced. She landed on the mat, and stayed down, gasping for breath.
"And we have a KO! Nice one, Oswin!" Ginny bounced across to her excitedly, clapping her hands. "You ok?"
"Yeah," Clara muttered, breathless. "Sure."
"All right then," Ginny held out a hand for her, and Clara grasped it gratefully. As she pulled her to her feet, Clara groaned. She ached all over.
"Is Andrew alright?" she asked, nodding toward his unconscious form. "I didn't hurt him too badly?"
"Nah, he'll be fine," Ginny scoffed. "I saw him take worse knocks during our own initiation. We'll drop him off at the infirmary."
As Ginny left her to tend to Andrew, Clara took a minute to inwardly check the telepathic link between her and Missy. It had activated so suddenly during the fight, after weeks of nothing, that Clara wondered if it had ever really weakened at all.
Bravo, my Clara. Bravo…
Clara sighed at Missy's tart parting shot, as the link faded in her mind, and she slowly came back to herself. She refused to admit how much she'd missed Missy's sarcastic tones in her head.
Together, they dragged a semi-conscious Andrew to the infirmary. A familiar voice called their names as they left, and Clara turned to see Ryan jogging to catch up with them.
"Just saw you drop off Andrew," he explained, with a grin. "Your handiwork?"
"Yeah," Clara grinned, wincing as the movement made her lip twinge. "My first win."
Nice one," Ryan laughed. "How about a tattoo to celebrate?"
"Uhhh," Clara breathed, wondering how she was going to get out of this one. Both Ginny and Ryan laughed at her discomfort.
"Don't sweat it," Ryan assured her. "I'll be waiting when you're ready. Now get this girl some chocolate cake, Gin."
"Yessir!" Ginny mockingly snapped to attention, making Clara roll her eyes. Ginny slung an arm around her shoulders and dragged her off to the cafeteria.
News spread quickly about Clara's win against Andrew, and that night at dinner, Clara's back ached from all the backslapping she had to endure.
The next morning, Andrew was back on his feet and assured her there was no hard feelings. They'd all gone for a run that morning, and Clara had eyed Andrew's obvious limp, wondering why she didn't feel worse about it.
Another two weeks of training passed. Despite having to spar more often with Ginny and Andrew, Clara suffered no more episodes of Missy's voice in her head. She still lost fights, but she was getting stronger and faster, learning how to apply what she'd learned to their sessions.
Every night, she conferred with the Doctor via the nanotech and her mirror, but to no avail. None of them had made any progress, despite the Doctor choosing to specialise in engineering and Missy in their neuroscience team. It was beginning to get frustrating.
One morning, two weeks after her victory over Andrew, Clara made her way down to the training room. As she walked inside, she was met with a small audience.
Ryan was there, along with several others Clara hadn't met, as well as Andrew and Ginny. The latter met her eyes with a guilty, almost apologetic look.
Then Clara saw Hulk. And Adam.
The Dauntless leader and the dark-haired fence guard she'd made an enemy of on her first night in Dauntless. The Hulk wannabe eyed her approach scornfully, while Adam just grinned bestially at her. There was a sick look of anticipation in his eyes that turned Clara's stomach.
"Oswin, right?" Hulk stepped forward, his enormous arms crossed over his chest. "Been hearing some good reports on your progress."
"Thanks," Clara replied, cautiously.
"But fighting on a sparring mat is one thing. Fighting in a more realistic environment is another," Hulk continued gruffly, eying her dubiously. It annoyed Clara, but she refused to let it show. "Adam here is one of our best hand-to-hand fighters on the fence patrol. Let's see how you do off the sparring mat, with a real opponent."
"Sure," Clara shrugged, aiming for nonchalant. Adam shot her a disbelieving, disdainful look, and she met it defiantly. As she turned away to prepare herself, their audience moved outward into a circle, taking in the sparring mat, a punch bag and two of the support columns.
Ginny caught her arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't suggest this," she whispered urgently. "You have to be careful. I don't know what they're trying to do."
"I'll be fine, Ginny," Clara breathed, far more confidently that she felt.
"Adam inhales before he punches. And he's got a weakness in his left leg from an old bullet wound," Ginny continued, in a fierce whisper. "You're fast, and he underestimates you, Oswin. Go for the attack, and he won't see you coming."
"Thanks," Clara whispered back, squeezing her arm. Ginny stepped away reluctantly, joining the circle. Clara glanced at Andrew and Ryan, both nodding at her once, before she inhaled sharply and stepped forward, assuming a defensive stance.
Adam struck before she could even blink. His hands grabbed her waist and her throat, driving her back into one of the columns. Clara gasped and whimpered, her throat crushed by his grip, before instinct took over again.
She brought up her elbow, and drove it into the arm holding her against the column. She repeated it once, twice, before he broke his grip with a snarl. He threw her back into the column with his other hand, but she grabbed his neck. Clara reached up with her foot, stamping down on his weak left leg, satisfied by the cry of pain that left his lips. She swung her other leg over his shoulder, locking his neck between them before letting her weight tip sideways, flipping him over her head. She scrambled upright, and backed away.
Clara's entire body ached, shooting pains running through her ribs with every breath.
"Still up, eh, pansycake?" Adam taunted her as he pulled himself to his feet. "Not had enough pain?"
"I'm not the one on the floor," Clara spat, lunging for him. He grabbed her arm as her fist flew past his jaw, using it to wrench her arm back at a painful angle and fling her to the floor.
"Now you are," he quipped, before driving his elbow into her chest. Clara cried out and spluttered, her lungs burning for air. She brought her knee up and smashed it into his face, forcing him back as she twisted onto her front and forced herself upright. Adam was still on his knees, as Clara took him at a run, jumping into the air as she brought her fist down against his face. His head snapped sideways, but as he fell sideways, his leg lashed sideways, driving into her stomach.
Clara stumbled backwards and fell onto her back again, winded and gasping for breath. She could hear Adam rising to his feet again, and did the same, bringing her elbows up in defence. His nose was bleeding and misshapen, a sight she took in with no small surge of satisfaction.
He glared at her, all amusement gone, only lethal intent in his eyes. He'd kill her, if he had the chance. And Clara didn't doubt that Hulk would wait until the very last moment before stepping in.
Oddly enough, she didn't feel afraid. Just like last time.
"You're pathetic, weak. You don't belong here, pansycake," he snarled at her through bloodied teeth.
"Stop playing with each other and fight!" Hulk shouted from the side, as Clara took that split second of distraction and used it to her advantage. She darted in, under Adam's guard, and punched him in the side. As he retaliated, she dropped her guard to intercept the hit, twisting as she did so and stepping out of range. Adam lunged for her again, and she blocked, retaliating with her own hit.
They twisted back and forth, in a dance of lunge and parry, Clara always taking care to remain just far enough out of reach that he couldn't land too heavy a blow to her torso or face. But he was strong, and she was tiring. Her ribs ached, and she was sure she was covered in bruises.
There was a sadistic grin on Adam's gruesome face now, blood drying in congealed lumps across his cheeks. He was enjoying this, enjoying hurting her. He thought she was weak, easy prey despite the fight she'd put up, he'd take his revenge just to prove she was as weak as he said she was. And she was tired of being the weak one, the easy prey for the Doctor's enemies to pick off. She was tired of being perceived as less than what she was.
"You weren't even scared. And you should have been."
Clara felt mentally winded as, for the first time in weeks, she recalled Danny's voice, his face, after that disastrous incident with the Skovox Blitzer and the Doctor. He'd been talking about her reactions, as she'd helped the Doctor. It had annoyed her then, and it made her angry now.
She didn't have time to ponder her own psyche. The anger gave her strength.
Calling on her last reserves of strength, Clara dropped her hands and ran at Adam. She glimpsed shock cross his face, before it hardened. She suddenly dropped, sliding across the floor and between his legs, ludicrously grateful that he was so damn tall and she was so damn small, small enough to pull it off. As she cleared him, she rolled onto her stomach and lashed out with her foot, driving it into the weak spot behind his left knee. She felt the ligaments give way, and his knee buckled as he went down screaming. She forced herself upright, turning and kicking him behind his other knee, ensuring he stayed down.
Panting, she staggered upright, walking around to face him as he looked up at her through lank, sweat-drenched hair, his eyes dilated with pain. She felt an alien, cruel smile cross her features before she raised her fist and knocked him unconscious.
For a second, silence reigned before everyone suddenly burst into cheers and applause. Then Ginny and Andrew were there, and Ryan, pulling her away from Adam's somnolent form, as their audience shouted her name.
"Not bad," the Hulk wannabe shrugged, as Clara met his eyes. "You took too long to take him out. Need to go for the kill and mean it, Oswin."
"You did great," Ryan cut in, with a reproving glance at Hulk. "C'mon, let's get you to the infirmary."
As soon as they were out of earshot of Hulk and the others, Clara finally let herself groan and lean on Ryan. "My ribs hurt," she muttered. "Bastard."
Ginny huffed a laugh. "About time. I was beginning to wonder if you even knew how to swear properly," she giggled.
"I'm sure the infirmary will have something," Andrew squeezed her arm, one of the few places on her body that wasn't hurting. "Now you know how I felt. You pack quite a wallop, Oswin."
"Glad to hear it," Clara breathed, her breath coming short and pained, as the four made their way slowly to the infirmary.
Her ribs were bruised, and her arm sore from where Adam had wrenched it back. There were mottled bruises down her back from being thrown into that column. They gave her something for the pain, and let her go.
Apparently Adam was in far worse condition. Clara tried, and failed, to feel badly about that fact.
After taking a shower and changing her clothes, she stopped and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Despite the cuts and bruises, there was a fiercer glint to her eyes now. She no longer looked like she was playing at being a warrior, she looked like a real one now. All the turmoil and anguish from the past few months, ever since the Doctor first went back to Trenzalore, had hardened her. It had changed her, irrevocably.
"You weren't even scared. And you should have been."
Danny's words echoed in her head then, as she wondered what he would make of her now. The thought made her sad, but she brushed it off. I'm sorry, Danny, but I can't be someone else, just for your memory. This is who I am…
A knock at her door disturbed her ruminations, as she jumped slightly at the noise. As she went to answer her apartment door, she wondered why the fight hadn't brought Missy back into her thoughts, or ensured a panicked call from the Doctor.
The fact that Missy had presumably felt her pain, both times, intrigued her. It seemed she could feel Clara's emotions, just as Clara could feel Missy's. And it must be driving her loopy, having to put up with actual human emotions in her head every hour of the day…
The thought made her smirk mirthlessly, as she opened the door to find Andrew, Ginny and Ryan waiting for her. "Hey guys, what's up?"
"Come on!" Ginny grabbed her good arm, letting the heavy door swing shut behind her. "You kicked ass this morning. Time to celebrate!"
"Slow down, Gin," Ryan laughed. "Let the poor girl breathe."
"You impressed a lot of people today, Oswin," Andrew explained, with a rueful grin. "Time for a little initiation ritual, Dauntless style, to celebrate."
"What kind of ritual?" Clara asked, dubiously. Ginny laughed.
"The fun kind, we promise," she enthused. "Come on, come on!"
The 'ritual' comprised of meeting a small group of other Dauntless by the train tracks, just in time to run and pull themselves inside as it pulled out of the compound. Despite her injuries, Clara managed it fairly easily. She spent the journey sat on the floor of the train carriage, laughing and joking with Ginny, Ryan and Andrew.
They'd disembarked at Michigan Avenue, although the landing made Clara wince, as the jolt sent waves of discomfort through her torso. Andrew had sent her a commiserating glance, as they pulled her towards a towering building, at least one hundred stories high.
The Hancock Building.
The lifts were out of order, so Clara carefully followed the others up the stairs to the roof, her side burning. By the time they reached the hundredth floor, she was gasping for breath.
"C'mon, Oswin. Not far to go now," Ryan gave her an encouraging tap on the arm, as she nodded and forced herself upright, breathing through the pain. They burst through an access door, and out onto the roof of the Hancock. Clara caught her breath at the view before her.
Chicago unfolded before her, the night wind teasing strands from the low ponytail she'd thrown her hair back in. It was biting, refreshing, as Clara inhaled it gratefully. The buildings looked like toy models in the night, the moon's glow barely reaching down to the ground below. Clara approached the edge of the building, looking over the railing.
Behind her, Ryan, Andrew and Ginny were laughing and joking as they went to a series of crates left beside the door, hauling one open. Just then, Clara noticed the thick steel cable trailing down from a gantry above their heads, disappearing over the roof's edge and into nothingness. She began to have a sneaking suspicion just what this ritual entailed.
"It's a zipwire!" Ryan explained excitedly. "You're not scared of heights?"
"No," Clara laughed, shaking her head. "God, this is incredible."
"I know, right?" Ginny smiled, as she hopped up onto Andrew's shoulders to adjust the harness. She attached a black sling to the metal, before hopping down and carefully guiding it to the roof edge. "Come on!"
As Clara contemplated what she was about to do, an exhilarated thrill shivered down her legs. Her heart was pounding, but it was pounding in the way it always did, when she ran with the Doctor.
"You're up," Andrew said calmly, with a smirk as he helped her into the sling. It swung from side to side, giving Clara a dizzying sense of the height, as she was suspended over the edge of the roof, staring a hundred stories down to the ground.
"Go for it! Do it, Oswin!" Ginny called, laughing. "We'll join you at the bottom."
"It's just like flying!" Ryan added, before tapping her shoulder to make her look at him. He pointed to a metal handle hanging above her left shoulder. "Don't forget to pull the brake at the bottom!"
"Okay!" Clara shouted, above the roar of the wind. Both Andrew and Ryan wore identical, devilish smirks.
"Let's do this!" Andrew shouted, just as they both pulled back on the harness slightly, then pushed it out. Clara flew from the roof with a shout.
Her stomach dropped as she descended sharply, before hitting a level section, as the wind buffeted her face and hair, making it fly back. Her heart was racing, her blood was alive, singing in her veins as she laughed and held her arms out.
She soared through the skyscrapers and buildings, like a bird, her heart was light and free as it hadn't been in months. Before Danny, before the regeneration, before Missy and all of this.
She cleared a building, and looked left to see the dilapidated remains of a pleasure park stretching out into a pier in the darkness below. She looked ahead to realise that the cable's path took her through the ruined remains of a skyscraper, and pulled her arms in to her chest, just in time. The ruin echoed with her cry of joy, as the cable suddenly dropped into a steep dive, and she picked up speed. She half-screamed, half-whooped, before she was jolted violently as the cable levelled out again. Her ribs burned, but she no longer cared.
As she neared the ground, and the buildings drew in and the road came closer, she reached back for the brake. For one scarifying moment, as she glimpsed a wooden board with a great white 'X' painted on it appear in the near distance, surrounded by Dauntless, she struggled to catch hold of it, but then she managed to grab it and pulled hard. She slowly came to a stop a few feet away from the board, as applause and roars of her name exploded beneath her. She laughed and shouted with them, as they linked arms below her. She wriggled free, and landed hard, knocking the breath from her as she couldn't stop laughing.
Someone pushed a bottle into her hands, as she sat on the floor, waiting as first Andrew, then Ryan flew into view, dropping into their fellow Dauntless's arms without a qualm. Ginny was last, laughing and screaming, as she came to a stop.
The alcohol burned pleasantly on Clara's tongue, as Ginny rushed to her side, hugging her wildly. "Wicked, huh?!" she shouted enthusiastically. "What did you think?"
Clara had never felt so free. "I want to go again," she said with a grin, as Ginny and the other Dauntless laughed.
"You're definitely no pansycake. You're Dauntless through and through," someone in the crowd pronounced, to more applause and shouts of her name. Clara smiled, drunk on her own freedom as well as the alcohol, as Ginny looked down at her with a raised, questioning brow.
"I want to get a tattoo," Clara said.
The Doctor sighed as he loosened the top button of his shirt. It had been a long tiring day, working alongside Osgood in her lab, and he was weary. And frustrated.
They'd made exactly zero progress, and it was beginning to grate on him. He'd been so sure that the Tardis was somewhere in Erudite, but so far, he'd found no trace. He was beginning to wonder if Clara had been right, if it weren't for the similar lack of progress in her own investigations.
The knowledge that Clara was taking such huge risks, out of sight and out of reach, wasn't helping. Watching her feed on the tablet when they returned to their apartment at night wasn't helping. Being forced to endure Missy's constant wincing and flinches whenever she felt Clara's pain across their telepathic link wasn't helping.
It should be him.
They were a unit, had been for so long. Missy had somehow managed to insert herself into that unit, and despite himself he didn't begrudge her the connection now he knew the truth, however much Missy wanted to deny it, but he also knew that he should be sharing in Clara's pain too. He had driven her to this, he should be there for her in whatever way she permitted him, but he was reduced to anxiously watching Missy for any signs of Clara's status, or watching the footage from her nanotech on the tablet.
Even the former was reduced, since their spat over Clara and Missy's true feelings for her. They'd each chosen different disciplines to specialise in, the Doctor in engineering, working alongside Osgood and Missy was working in the neuroscience team, testing new versions of the aptitude test and initiate testing simulations that the Dauntless used. The Doctor hadn't missed the significance of Missy's choice, he just knew better than to point it out aloud. He liked his internal organs exactly as they were, thank you very much.
It had been a bad one today. He'd only watched a few minutes of footage during a meal break, but he felt his hearts break all over again watching Clara's fight with that brute. More than once, he'd sympathised with Missy's fierce desire to march over there and just obliterate them all. Except he'd do it so much slower than anything she planned, oh no. Every dark instinct the Doctor possessed wanted to make them suffer tenfold for every bruise, every cut, every blow Clara had taken.
But what was more, he wanted to obliterate himself. Watching Clara win, watching her take down her opponent with such ruthless precision, he'd hated himself then. Words from so long ago, words that had cut him to the hearts even then, echoed in his mind and hearts.
"You take ordinary people and fashion them into weapons…"
He'd seen it happen before, watching Rose, Martha, Donna, Amy and so many others over the years change because of him. He hated it, but he could no more stop taking them, stop showing them the wonders of the Universe than he could stop being a Time Lord.
Just then, the tablet lying abandoned on the table caught his eye. He'd not watched the entirety of the footage, not wanting to see his Clara hurt anymore, but curiosity got the better of him. He reached for it, and pressed 'play'.
He looked away when Clara showered and changed. Even though the footage was from her point of view, he refused to intrude on her privacy. He watched as the Dauntless girl came to collect her, and caught the train with a whole crowd of them. He watched them climb the stairs of a building he recognised as the Hancock, his hearts racing as Clara jumped off the train.
They almost stopped when he saw the zipline.
As Clara was hoisted up and strapped in, he realised she was laughing. As they let her go, and she soared through the skies, he felt a small smile dawn on his own face. Her laughter was carefree and wild, the glimpses of her own reflection he caught in the windows of the skyscrapers she passed peaceful and fiercely exultant despite the bruises. She looked like herself again, as she hadn't for a very long time.
With a sigh, he stopped the footage and shut the tablet down. He didn't want to intrude on her fun, he had no right to see her as such after he'd so often been the cause of her sadness.
But how he wanted to make her smile again, to see the warmth of her eyes light up at the sight of him once more. He just didn't have a clue how to go about it.
Just then, their apartment door opened and Missy sauntered in. It was past midnight, but then it wasn't uncommon for Erudite to work unsocial hours while they were on a project.
She stopped at the sight of him, tablet in hand. "How is she?" she asked coolly.
"Was it bad? This time?" he asked, referring to Clara's earlier fight. Missy turned away with a disdainful sniff.
"I wouldn't know," she muttered, turning away. "After the last few fights, I blocked the link. If that foolish girl's so stupid as to bring this on herself, I have no desire to join in-"
"Don't," he murmured, quietly. She stopped, her back still to him, but it was as tense as rock. "Don't shut her out. Don't do that, she needs us."
He put the tablet aside and stood from his perch on the window sill. He approached Missy cautiously, wondering if she was volatile enough tonight to lash out at him, but there was nothing but fear and confused anger coming through their own telepathic link. Her anger and fear wasn't directed at him, or even Clara, but at herself.
"You care for her," he continued, softly, as he reached out and pulled her back into him. They'd barely touched since their argument a few weeks before, but he relished it now as she softened into his arms after a moment's hesitation. "That's not a bad thing, Mistress. I'm not sure it's a good thing, but it's not a bad thing."
"Oh my dear Doctor," she purred, although he detected a tinge of sadness in her tone. "Still trying to find some vestige of good in me? Will that aggravating optimistic streak of yours never die?"
"It's survived this long, despite it all," he replied, jokingly. He felt her chuckle against his arms, sending shivers down his spine. She nuzzled into his chest, and he exhaled wearily. She turned in his arms, and he raised his head to look at her.
She looked so unMissy-ish in her Erudite clothes, the smartly tailored blue dress and heels, covered a blue lab coat. He found himself missing her Edwardian coats and skirts, that ridiculous hat, her mad hair. He missed the Tardis. He missed Clara.
"She'll come back to us," Missy's voice interrupted his litany, as he looked at her sharply. "Surely your optimistic streak will allow that?"
He huffed a laugh. "I suppose so," he breathed. "No more fighting tonight, no more arguing. I'm bloody tired."
"Pity," Missy wrinkled her nose, making the Doctor laugh again. "But if you insist. I could share her with you, you know. Not our link, of course, I doubt your vaunted morality would allow that without her permission, but an echo of her emotions, her-"
"No," he refused, firmly. "Not even that. Not unless Clara gave me her permission."
"Spoilsport," Missy snorted. "Fine, suit yourself. Now, are you coming to bed or not?"
There was a distinctly lascivious glint to her eyes, and the Doctor felt himself reacting despite his weariness. "Oh, why not?" he replied, pulling her deeper into his arms and letting his mind fall into hers as their lips met and clung.
"Doctor? Doctor!?"
He started awake as the voice in his ear jolted his mind from sleep. Missy was sprawled against his chest, and moaned as he moved, blinking up at him as he sat up. And people said he resembled an owl.
As that voice shouted his name again, he suddenly realised who. Clara.
"Clara?" he breathed, his voice husky from sleep.
"Hey, what's up Doc?" she asked, before descending into giggles.
"Oh god, she's drunk again," Missy groaned, feelingly. "And she accused us of being embarrassing drunks."
"I can hear you," Clara slurred.
"Clara, are you alright? Where are you?" the Doctor asked, tuning out their bickering.
"In my bathroom," she replied, her Lancashire accent thickening as the alcohol took hold. "Turn the tablet on, I've got somethin' to show yer!"
The Doctor sighed, disentangled himself from Missy's arms and shrugged into his shirt. He padded barefoot into the living area to grab the tablet, before returning to the warmth of their bed. Missy yawned and curled into his side, her curls dishevelled against his arm as he switched the tablet on.
He gasped as Clara's face came into view, in her bathroom mirror. The bruises and cuts were covered up, presumably by make-up, her eyes winged by eyeliner, making them look twice as big. It reminded him of the way she looked when he interrupted one of her first dates with PE. But that wasn't the shock.
She'd cut her hair.
Before they'd parted, after the Choosing Ceremony, her hair had been long and curly, almost down to mid-back. Now it had been cropped, so it curled gently against the rise of her shoulders. He could just see the collar of a leather jacket against her neck, before she shrugged it off and turned her back to the mirror. He had a brief glimpse of her bathroom door, before she turned her head enough that her peripheral vision caught the mirror.
He gasped again.
On Clara's shoulder was a tattoo of a bird made of fire. Its wings and tail feathers were comprised of curling flames, as it stared proudly out at him from Clara's back. It was a phoenix.
He made the connection, as she excitedly slurred in his ear. "It's Dauntless tradition. Gotta maintain my cover," she giggled. "D'yer like it?"
"Very appropriate," he cleared his throat. The skin around it was still red, and a droplet of blood lingered at the edge of one tail feather. "I…like it."
"Ha!" she laughed, turning back to face the mirror. "I went zip lining, did you see? I've officially passed the physical training phase!"
"I think someone's drunk," Missy trilled in a singsong voice, as she sat up, drawing the sheet around her naked form.
"Maybe…" Clara purred, almost flirtatiously. "It's fun, you should try it sometime. Oh wait, you did…"
"You're really drunk, aren't you?" the Doctor shook his head. "Hope you enjoy the coming hangover."
"Don' care," Clara laughed, spinning around. "I'm drunk, and I'm happy, and I love you, Doctor. Love you too, nutjob."
Both froze at that, as Clara kept talking, apparently unaware of what she'd just said.
"And I'm gonna find the Tardis, cos I'm righ', and yer not, and she's here in Dauntless…somewhere," she flapped a hand at the mirror.
"Clara, I think you need to stop talking now and go to bed," the Doctor replied firmly. "Before you say anything else you'll regret in the morning."
"Wait, what?" Clara laughed, before her face fell. "Oops. Promised Danny I'd never say that again. Oh well," she shrugged, then laughed. "Don' care. Too drunk to care."
"Go to bed, Clara," the Doctor repeated sternly.
"Ok, ok bossy boots," she grumbled, leaving the mirror. The tablet went dark but the Doctor could still hear her as she stumbled to her bed. She fussed with her boots, as the Doctor was momentarily distracted as Missy left his side and then returned, pressing her own nanotech into her ear.
"Now sweetheart," Missy murmured, her voice low and hypnotic. The Doctor would have stopped her if he hadn't realised what she was doing. Stopping Clara before she did something she'd regret in the morning. "Lie down on the bed, and go to sleep."
"Yeah, like that'll work on me," Clara snorted, but she sounded tired. "Not exactly the most suggestible person."
"You're managing full sentences, I'm impressed," Missy replied dryly, making the Doctor chuckle. "But your head is going to ache enough tomorrow. Just go to sleep, darling."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," Clara muttered, but they heard the creak of springs as she laid down, and the rustle of linen as she pulled the sheet over her body. "Night, night."
"Goodnight, my Clara," Missy replied softly, before she removed the earpiece, and the Doctor did the same with his. She sighed, before shaking her head. "In vino, veritas. Told you so."
"She's drunk, she doesn't know what she's saying," the Doctor replied repressively. Missy rolled her eyes, before laying her head on the Doctor's shoulder.
"Our Clara," she breathed, the thought echoing across their telepathic link as the Doctor closed his eyes, his hearts racing.
"Our Clara," he repeated, just once, before he pulled Missy deeper into his arms and fell asleep.
He just hoped Clara didn't hate herself in the morning.
To be continued...
A/N: I'm away on holiday for the next week, so don't expect an update before the 26th. Who else is excited by the Series 9 trailer!? Cannot wait!