A/N: Sorry about the slightly longer wait lol. In my defense, at 6,600 words this chapter is about twice the length of most of my other ones. The shit hits the fan in chapter 16 lol just you wait. That one is also probably going to be really long. Enjoy!

…

Chapter 15: Friends and Enemies

Weeks passed. Every day Clara suited up, picked up her drill, and bored deeper and deeper into the asteroid's core. She had mastered this new skill after the first week and had no problem meeting her quota every shift.

Every night, she returned to her cell for her daily infusion of water and what she assumed was an intravenous nutritional supplement. Of course she missed the concept of three meals a day, but at least she wasn't completely starving. Still, she was sure that she had lost several pounds by now. A few stubborn ribs began to poke through her skin and her cheekbones seemed a little sharper than they used to, at least Clara imagined they were. She hadn't seen a reflection of herself in over a month now. Clara chuckled to herself dryly with the realization that maybe now she could finally fit into her high school clothes again.

The situation could definitely be worse. She was actually quite surprised at the relative lack of cruelty from the Daleks. Perhaps they were still hanging on to the idea of converting her.

Clara froze. No wonder they have been keeping her healthy. She shrugged it off. They had not converted her yet. Maybe they never will. Clara was just grateful for the comparatively mild treatment she has been receiving. She had been imprisoned with much crueler captors before, just never for so long. The Doctor had always come to save her.

Speaking of the Doctor, Clara tried to reach out to him every night during her nutritional infusion- when her mind was strongest. At first, she assumed that her starved mind was currently too weak to maintain the psychic link between them, but she eventually came to the worrying realization that the Doctor simply was not responding. It was almost as if he was dormant. He must be frozen in Angel form, Clara concluded, but why for so long? Perhaps Missy turned on the Tardis's anti-Angel field again, she thought with a growing sense of dread. Whatever the reason, Clara knew there would be no rescue for her. She was on her own.

At least Missy had the decency to leave Clara alone for all these weeks. She still hadn't returned like she'd promised, and for that Clara was grateful. Even the Daleks didn't really bother her. In fact, Clara had hardly seen any since her first day in the mines. They seemed to leave their dirty work to the ever-present ever-watchful Zygon secret police that seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

Clara surmised this because while they too were prisoners, the Zygons did enjoy privileges other species in the Camp did not. They were not required to work in the mines, instead using their shapeshifting abilities to monitor and regulate the other inmates. If a fellow inmate was suspected of trying to escape or organize an incursion, the Zygons would disguise themselves as one of their friends and verify the suspicions. Then the Daleks would come and take the prisoner away either to be interrogated further with torture, or to be exterminated.

With all of her basic needs met, Clara began to shift her focus. Every apparent weakness of the Camp, every slight imperfection in the security, was noted carefully. Long ago, The Doctor had taught Clara how to structure certain areas of her mind to store information like a filing cabinet. With nobody to trust, and nothing to write with that couldn't be discovered, Clara created her own secret place where she could pull up any scrap of information she needed at a moment's notice. Rusty had been helpful with information regarding the Camp itself; such as the fact that Dalek Camps were much more loosely guarded by actual Daleks than one would think, and that the entire camp was maintained by the Dalek hive mind. Meaning that if a door was opened somewhere or the security drones spotted something, the Daleks instantly knew about it.

After days of tedious memorizing and nightly meetings with Rusty, an escape plan slowly began to form. It was complicated, with lots of moving parts. One mistake at any point could cause the entire plan to unravel. Costing them their chance to freedom- and possibly even their lives.

"We're going to need allies," Clara whispered through the thick metal bars, "People we can trust."

Rusty whirred in disapproval. "WHAT ABOUT THE ZYGON POLICE? THEIR SPIES ARE EVERYWHERE. WE CAN TRUST NOBODY."

Rusty closed the distance between them, pressing his eyestalk against the bars separating their cells.

"WE MUST WORK ALONE."

Clara shook her head. "No. This plan is multi-step. It must be synchronized with the utmost precision. We need more players." she drew back from the bars slightly and smirked, "And besides. The Zygons are terrified of me." The smirk became a grin. "They know that the Daleks will blast them into dust if they so much as lay one of their disgusting sucker-fingers on me."

"And what's better," she giggled under her breath, "is that they think I'm weak. They'll never suspect me, and if they do, they'll be too scared to go near me."

Clara slumped against the wall and gave her best impression of a near-death slave, complete with labored breathing and feeble movements.

"All I have to do," she gasped, pretending to be in mortal pain, "is keep up the act. As long as I still make my quota every day, and act half-dead, I won't draw attention to myself. All the Zygons know is that I'm a prisoner of value. I doubt they know who I really am. Otherwise I would have been spied on from day one."

"HOW DO YOU KNOW YOU ARE NOT BEING SPIED ON? HOW CAN YOU DISTINGUISH FRIEND FROM ENEMY? IT IS IMPOSSIBLE."

"Well, looks like we're just going to have to risk it." Clara beamed with a hope she knew she shouldn't possess. But somewhere in her heart, she knew the plan would be successful. Call it premonition. Or prophecy. She knew.

…...

Clara arrived to the dressing room early the next morning, making sure she was alone. She took a deep breath, scanning the room with eyes that did not reveal the nervousness behind them. Where was Jomos? Where was the Ood?

Clara had done some further research into the Ood species, conjured up from a long stored memory. They apparently communicated and operated through a shared psychic link and had the ability to create multiple mental links even with members of other species. Exactly what she needed. Half of her plan hinged on Jomos's support, assuming of course that her information was accurate and he wasn't a Zygon in disguise.

"I am sorry, Miss Clara. I did not see you come in." Jomos appeared, speaking through the orb he carried.

"It's alright, I'm early today." Clara swallowed thickly, knowing the risk in what she was about to ask.

"So you are." he replied, noticing the tension in the air. He suddenly put on as inquisitive a look as his strange face could allow. "Is there something on your mind, Miss Oswald? You seem troubled."

The Ood stepped closer and rested a hand against her arm in a comforting gesture. They had been speaking casually for the past few weeks, enough to build a comfortable level of mutual trust. Jomos looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and worry, "How may I assist you, Miss Oswald?"

"Well..." Clara started, suddenly unsure if she wanted to continue. She cleared her throat. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you." she forced out, noticing the absence of a numbered collar around Jomos's neck. He was the only prisoner in the Camp lacking one. Clara looked around the room, breathing a small sigh of relief when she saw no sign of a camera or surveillance drone in the room.

She looked up into his eyes and took the hand around her arm in both of hers, knowing that if the Ood turned out to be a Zygon spy, this could be the last thing she would ever say. "Jomos, do you feel free?"

Jomos blinked and searched her eyes for an answer. "I do not understand."

"I mean here. Do you feel free here, working in a Dalek Camp? I read up on your species. Oods usually travel in "packs," not alone. Where's the rest of your group?" she asked, softly, hesitantly.

Jomos was obviously taken aback, his eyes widening. "You do not mean to-"

"Answer the question, Jomos. Think about it. Think hard. Where are the other Oods?" she asked more firmly than she had intended.

"Dead." he whispered suddenly with an underlying tone of pain. "They are all dead."

Clara froze, a sinking feeling of guilt washing over her for forcing him to recall something so painful. "I'm sorry I-"

"To answer your question, Miss Oswald," he cut her off, "whether I feel free here or not is irrelevant. I have been enslaved here for decades now."

"This asteroid used to be an Ood colony," he sighed. "Oh, it was so beautiful. My race lived here peacefully in the shadow of the Great Planet for eons."

There was a faraway look in his eyes that vanished as quickly as it appeared. His expression darkened. "About 30 years ago, a passing Dalek ship scanned our solar system and found this asteroid belt to be rich in Dalekanium. They slaughtered us like livestock."

Clara's face paled in horror. Jomos took in a shaky breath, nearly collapsing onto a nearby bench with the weight of his past. "I used to be a scientist," he choked out, "a geological surveyor for the colony to monitor the unstable core of the asteroid. The Daleks spared me, and me alone. I watched my entire family fall to the flames. The severance of so many mental links crippled me for life."

"Then the Daleks forced me into service. They needed me to show them the safest places to begin drilling without causing a catastrophic implosion. I tried to trick them. After two days of mining, a great sink hole tore open the earth and swallowed an entire legion of Daleks deep into the molten Dalekanium core of the asteroid. They tortured me for days, leaving me barely clinging to life. I did my best to fight against their will, but in my heart I knew that I did not have the courage to rise against them ever again."

"Since then, I have helped them create this horrible facility. See these buildings? They used to be part of the colony. This room we are standing in right now? A school. A school now devoid of children."

"The Daleks eventually regretted killing the Ood- apparently we are useful as a species of slaves. They realized that the mining was too time-consuming and dangerous to waste Dalek manpower on, so they began taking prisoners. I watched the first slaves arrive. None of that original batch remains. Or any of the next batch, or of the one after that. The Daleks do not hesitate to exterminate those who become too weak to carry their burdens any longer. And I was powerless to do anything. Every day I would suit them up, knowing they did not have the strength left in them for one more day of labor, and I sent them off to the mines- to their deaths."

"Of course, there have been a number of incursions. Plenty of attempts to escape were made, and some were almost successful. The Daleks then began targeting Zygon settlements, taking captive the most talented members and killing the rest. They trained them to become an elite group of spies, shapeshifting into the likeness of fellow inmates to gather information and stop any plan for an incursion before it could even be conceived."

Jomos's eyes widened suddenly, releasing pent-up tears to streak down his face. "The spies! Their eyes are everywhere! You are a spy!" he shrieked, alarmed. "Why else are you asking me these things? Why am telling you? Please do not report me! They will kill me! They will-"

Clara grabbed ahold of his face firmly. She squeezed her eyes shut and focused, searching. She found the entrance to Jomos's mind and broke in, causing them both to gasp. Clara pressed her forehead to his, tears forcing their way out of her eyes as she witnessed all he had just described like some horrible movie. She put the memories aside, speaking into Jomos's very soul. 'I am not a spy, and neither are you. I am Clara Oswald. I am the Doctor's companion, his best friend, a defender of the weak.'

'I am not here to hurt you. I am human. Could a Zygon do this?'

'No.' Jomos breathed, shuddering in awe. There was something distinctly beautiful and dangerous about her mind. A ferocity and a gentleness- a kind presence.

'You—' he choked out, 'you have psychic abilities. A Zygon cannot form a mental connection with me, but neither can a human. How are you doing this? What are you?'

'I am the Impossible Girl.' her voice boomed in his mind like something wonderful and terrifying. Like a divine presence, almost as if she were a god. 'You will listen to my question, and you will answer. Do you yearn to be free, Jomos? Do you wish to avenge the death of your kind?'

'Yes.' he answered breathlessly. 'More than anything.'

Clara released her hold on Jomos's temples and gently broke the connection. She locked eyes with the Ood and something wild and golden flashed deep within her pupils. "Then you will help me."

"With anything." Jomos panted, struggling to stay on his feet. He had never felt another presence so powerful, and he tried to place the emotion he found running so rampant in there- the brilliant and treacherous one that threatened to drown out all else in its passion.

Love, he realized. That feeling was love. A fierce, relentless love. And grief. She had lost somebody; someone she had loved with all that she is. Her soulmate. The Doctor.

Suddenly the Ood understood her plan all too clearly. He knew what must be done.

"I am going to escape, rescue all the prisoners, and blow this place to hell, but I need your help."

"You need me to create mental links with every prisoner that passes through my doors to communicate the details of the plan." Jomos gasped.

Clara smiled. "Exactly. But not all of the prisoners, that's too risky. Just a select few. I will tell you exactly who after my shift today."

She smirked knowingly. "The Daleks will find they have made the greatest mistake in keeping me healthy. They want to convert me into one of them," she chuckled to herself, "Oh they'll have my genius all right, just not in the way they intend."

"Clara, I have seen many escape attempts rise and fall at this Camp over the years. What makes this plan different from the others?"

"Oh, you'll see. For I have a secret weapon. The ultimate ally in this place. If all goes according to plan, you will walk out of here a free Ood within an hour of all the events setting in motion. Trust me."

"I trust you. I trust you." Jomos affirmed. "When is this plan taking place?"

"Soon. I just need a few more days to get all the players set."

A loud bell rang out across the Camp. It was time for the prisoners to wake up, suit up, and march to the drill-site to begin their shifts.

Clara locked eyes with Jomos. 'Dry your tears. The others will be here soon. Speak nothing of this. All of our communications from here on out must be done telepathically. As you said, spies are everywhere.' she spoke directly into his mind from the new subtle link she had created there. 'I will give you more details as the pieces come together.'

Jomos nodded, drying the tears that had unconsciously streamed down his alien face. He found her suit and began to clasp the heavy garment securely to her body. After this, she would go out and find her select few for him to create the mental link with. Where the greatest risk in their mission lied, where anyone could be a Zygon spy and could not be verified otherwise. He hoped he wasn't suiting her up to go off to her death. 'Be careful, Clara.' he whispered across the link.

'I will.' She locked eyes with him once again as he screwed her helmet into place. They shared a knowing glance- exchanging a thousand works in a single look. Jomos started the flow of oxygen into her suit and punched the keys to release the airlock. Clara stepped outside into the harsh alien landscape and disappeared into the fog without another word.

...

Clara received her drill, rode down the rickety elevator from hell, and began her shift. She eyed the Zygon guard to her left standing in its full sucker-pocked glory. She had to resist the urge to recoil in disgust. Maintaining her guise of sickly weakness, Clara hobbled over to the best spot, determined to meet her quota early today to leave her with time to carry out more pressing matters.

She quickly fired up the drill and began boring deep into the rock. Other slaves joined her shortly after, and soon the mines were bustling with activity. There was no way the few Zygon guards could keep an eye on everyone, and the only Dalek surveillance camera Clara could see was pointing away from her. Perfect. What better place for a needle to hide than in the middle of a haystack?

Clara scanned the mines for a particular person. The Silurian. It didn't take her long to find the alien, being the only Silurian in the Camp. She didn't know why, but she had a feeling that the Silurian could be trusted, being a native of Earth, like herself.

After a few hours, Clara loaded what Dalekanium ore she had mined into a cart for processing and slowly began to inch her way, stalagmite to stalagmite, over to where the Silurian was drilling.

After an hour, she stood beside the alien. She inconspicuously switched on the microphone inside her helmet. "What's your name?" She asked, as quietly as possible.

The Silurian straightened its back in acknowledgement of her question, aware of the watchful eyes potentially surrounding them. It eyed her suspiciously, searching her form for anything that might identify her as a Zygon, if she was one.

"I am not a Zygon, if that's what you're thinking." Clara whispered.

It believed her somehow. It turned away from her slightly, gluing its eyes to the drill it held. "I was once the communications officer of a human-led research ship. My name is almost unpronounceable to the human tongue, so the crew called me Malonyo. Malonyo Scaye. It means 'scale face' in my language." he replied in a hushed voice. He obviously had experience in speaking to fellow inmates without raising suspicions.

"Have you been here long?" Clara asked.

"Two Earth-years," he responded gruffly, the crocodilian scales studding his face gave him a more fearsome appearance than he intended. Clara was not fazed. She knew the kindness that lay beneath that exterior. He had risked his life to help her on her first day here.

"So you know a lot of the other prisoners here, yeah?" Clara asked boldly.

The Silurian raised a scaly eyebrow at her, sifting through her words to find her true motive. He had seen her sneaking over to him over the course of the past hour. He knew her words carried more weight to them than mere small talk. "Why?"

"Just answer the question." Clara pressed.

Malonyo gave her a look over, sizing her up. He narrowed his eyes. "I had a cellmate like you once," he answered, his tone stern. "His name was Xio, a native of the Nebulus Galaxy. A good man."

"He was bold, daring. He too saw how relatively lax security seemed to be around here and took the bait. He thought it would be all too easy to just walk out of here."

Malonyo's eyes darted to look over his shoulder. Clara's gaze followed.

"You see that Zygon over there? Number 626? Well that suckerface somehow heard a rumor about Xio's plan and took the form of one of his closest friends, his most trusted confidant. He had been careful in whom he told, but it didn't matter. Someone ratted him out."

Malonyo sighed and continued, "Xio didn't realize until too late that he had exposed his plans, not to his ally, but to a Zygon spy. He begged the Zygon to keep quiet and even tried to bribe it. Nothing worked. Later that night, I heard the heavy metal lock to his cell unlatch and I hid in the far corner of my cell, listening silently as two Daleks came into his cell."

"I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out as they tortured him for hours. I'll never get those screams out of my head. The Daleks demanded to know the extent of his plan and his other accomplices. He held up for half the night, but eventually they broke him. He gave up everything."

Malonyo's expression darkened, his eyes clenched shut against the pain the memory brought. "Afterwards," he whispered, "I heard nothing but Xio's garbled sobbing as he choked on his own blood. Then there was a blue flash, and I heard it no more."

He sighed and continued after a brief pause. "The next day, the Daleks rounded up Xio's accomplices and made the rest of us gather in the center of the mine to witness what would transpire next. The Daleks removed the collars of the damned and forced them to their knees. They charged them with conspiracy and sentenced them to death."

"Oh, they begged." Malonyo's aloof facade gave the slightest hint of cracking. "The damned begged and pleaded for their lives. The Daleks showed no mercy and made an example out of them. They were shot down, one by one, and their bodies were thrown into a pit for 'recycling.'"

The mask slipped back into its place with a scowl. "You ever wonder what they feed us? What's in that bag? People. Daleks occasionally feed off their victims; what else would they have as a food source around here? Every night, we stave off starvation with the liquid remains of less fortunate prisoners. Some of them died naturally, but the overwhelming majority were executed."

Malonyo gestured to Clara's horrified face, "You've been here a few weeks, but you don't look all that worse for the wear. Every other prisoner in this camp is emaciated. I'd say you've been getting a heartier dose. Enjoy your dinner."

He glared at Clara with an intensity that did little to conceal the hopelessness in his eyes. "If you've got any plan for an escape, forget it. I don't want to be nourished by your pretty corpse anytime soon."

Clara swallowed thickly, casting a side-eyed glance at the Zygon responsible, digesting Malonyo's words.

"I would prefer death to rotting in here for all eternity. I have to try," she finally choked out.

"Oh, don't worry, sweetheart," Malonyo scoffed, "of course you won't rot in here. You'll rot in a Dalek case. They're keeping you healthy because they want to convert you. Frankly, I'm surprised they haven't already."

"I don't think you know who I am," Clara snapped in a harsh whisper, matching his gaze, "I have vital information that is keeping me alive. I am Clara Oswald. The Doctor's companion, his best friend-"

"Then why hasn't he rescued you?" Malonyo sniped.

"Because I have to rescue him!" she blurted out, angry tears trailing down her dirty face. "Something's wrong and I have to save him."

"How do you know he hasn't simply abandoned you?" Malonyo huffed.

Clara rose up to her full height, anger flashing deep within her pupils. "How dare you. How dare you! That man gave his life- his very soul- to me! We are forever bound in mind and spirit. He is stuck as a Weeping Angel because of me! Banished and dead to the sight of all that live! He's in danger, and he needs my help. He's out there somewhere, frozen as a statue, and I have to save him."

Clara narrowed her eyes, her body shaking with fury. "With or without you, I am going to escape this prison, and you will not stop me."

"The Doctor is dead? He's a Weeping Angel now?" Malonyo whispered, taken aback.

"Yes." Clara seethed.

Malonyo scanned the room cautiously. It would be a miracle if their conversation had gone unnoticed. They seemed to be alone now without a Zygon or Dalek in sight.

"You see this?" Malonyo asked, pointing to a dial on the side of his drill. "This is an output adjuster."

"Why are you showing me this-"

"Because this laser drill is now a weapon. Powerful enough to kill the Zygons and maybe even the Daleks. I've figured out how to tamper with these drills to boost their output."

"You're going to help me?" Clara asked skeptically, not wanting to give herself false hope.

"A friend of the Doctor's is a friend of mine. I owe him. He saved my colony centuries ago. If you say he needs our help, then you have my help. I have some connections."

Clara swallowed a hard lump in her throat. Not only did she now have the support of a veteran prisoner, she now had a potential arsenal of weapons. "Connections?" she inquired in a shaky voice, wanting all the details she could get.

"I know almost every creature in this camp. Prisoner, Zygon, and Dalek. I know who to trust and who to avoid. And who to kill. You see, the average lifespan of an inmate in this godforsaken camp is about six earth months, a year at most. Those who've been here awhile know that in order to survive we must band together. There is an intricate code language nearly all the prisoners know and speak. Neither the Zygons nor the Daleks have been able to crack it, and to betray the code is to forfeit your life. Mining accidents are so easy to stage."

"And every seasoned miner in this cave knows how to convert these drills into weapons."

"So you're telling me that you've got an army?" Clara asked, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

"If you want one." Malonyo allowed the tiniest shadow of a grin to spread across his face- proud of the work he had been doing for the past two years. "Just give the word, and I can have this whole cave lighting up in hellfire."

"Good, because I have a job for you." Clara said without a trace of nonsense in her voice.

"What, are you a commander now?" Malonyo chucked, secretly admiring her boldness.

Clara shrugged, "Seems that I am now."

"Do you know Jomos?" she asked.

"The Ood?" Malonyo raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

"Because from now on you'll be taking orders from him. I have a plan to get us all out of here, and it's different from any plan you've ever seen before. I have a secret weapon." Clara smirked.

"A secret weapon?" the Silurian asked in disbelief but with a definite undertone of mild curiosity.

A deafening knoll echoed throughout the cavern. The end of the shift. All around them the other prisoners tallied their gains and loaded raw ore into carts while a small group of Daleks inspected their work. Once they were satisfied, the prisoners were dismissed, packed into the creaky elevators, and dumped into their cells for their daily infusions.

Clara and the Silurian exchanged a look and went their separate ways to avoid suspicion. Hope bubbled deep within her heart. The plan was falling into place seamlessly. Clara eyed the Zygon guard escorting her to her cell and smirked to herself.

'Jomos?' she called across the link.

'Miss Oswald?' the Ood replied tentatively.

Clara's heart beat wildly in her chest. She couldn't believe it. The link took hold. It was somewhat difficult to maintain the link, but Clara had been practicing on honing her new telepathic skills. And now it was paying off. 'The player we are looking for is the Silurian called Malonyo Scaye,' she broadcasted as clearly as she could. 'Meet him tomorrow morning and establish a psychic link with him. Then wait for my command. He will know what to do.'

'Yes, Miss Oswald.' Jomos assured, 'I will do as you ask.'

'Good,' she nodded, 'Because this whole plan hinges on you. You're the fuse.'

'May I inquire for details beyond my role in this scheme?' Jomos asked, understandably curious.

'Sorry, I can't have any one player knowing the full extent of the plan.' she apologized. 'It's too risky. This way, if one of us gets caught, it's not a disaster.'

'I understand.'

Clara rounded the bend to her cell and broke the connection. The Zygon guard practically threw her into the squalid cell- hooking her up to the waiting IV without a trace of carefulness- missing the vein several times before finally hitting it. She winced, not with pain, but with the knowledge of the vileness that was about to be pumped into her body. She felt bile rising in her throat and suddenly the room was too warm and the Zygon's putrid stench was too much.

The Zygon finished as quickly as possible and left the room with a snarl for good measure. The door bolted shut behind it and Clara sighed. Alone at last. She chose to ignore the milky contents of the fluid seeping into her veins- pushing down her nausea. She managed to stand up successfully with only minor dizziness and clasped her hands around the bars that separated her cell from the rogue Dalek's.

"Rusty?" she searched the darkened cell.

There was a rattle of chains and a soft blue glow as the Dalek's eye shone to life. It stared at her. Through her. "IS THE PLAN SET IN MOTION?"

"Not yet." Clara admitted. "I need some more time to work out all the details. Maybe another few days."

"WE MUST NOT DELAY." Rusty said not in impatience but in wisdom. Like Malonyo, he too had been at this camp for a long time.

"I've got it all under control, trust me." she assured, hoping the facts would turn out as true as she claimed.

"Got what under control, dearie?" Missy grinned, peeking through the hatch in the heavy cell door.

Clara's heart dropped into her stomach. She scrambled away from the bars as if she had been burned. She attempted to speak, to come up with an excuse, but the words died in her throat.

"Making new friends, I see?" she crooned. "Well good. You'll need them now more than ever." She smirked knowingly to herself.

Clara steeled herself, clenching her fists. She was not about to let Missy take control of the situation. She strode over to the hatch and paused, standing face to face with the one she hated most in the universe. Missy feigned shock and put on her most offended face.

"Well, aren't you going to let me in?" she pursed her lips, pouting. She grinned suddenly, exposing rows of perfectly white teeth. "Oh yeah!" she cackled to herself, "You can't!"

She took in a deep breath to quell her crazed laughter. "Do you like your cage, my dear? I picked it out." She gestured to the walls. "I just love the interior design."

Clara clenched her fists tighter, her jagged nails digging sharply into her palms. "Well, looks like I'll be redecorating soon." she hissed, turning to swipe a finger through a layer of encrusted blood which coated parts of the dingy walls. She rubbed the crimson dust between her fingers thoughtfully. "What do you think of brain-matter grey?"

"And how do you expect to do that, sweetie?" Missy snickered.

Clara stood inches from Missy's face, staring deep into the madness which flashed within those pupils. "Why don't you open this door and find out?"

Missy's expression darkened, the eyeshadow which coated her half-lidded eyes defined the bones of her eye sockets. "Don't play with fire, Clara. I'm just here to tell a story, that's all."

Missy snapped her fingers and a sudden electrical jolt from the collar around Clara's neck brought her to her knees. Clara yelped in surprised, but gave no other indication of pain. She clutched at the collar, bracing herself against a wall. Missy unlocked the door and strolled in, daintily stepping over Clara's frame.

"Oh, you're gonna love this story," Missy grinned, again showing the glimmer of sharp white teeth beneath her painted lips. "It involves your boyfriend." she cooed.

Clara choked, clutching the heavy collar around her neck. "What have you done to him? Where is he?" she growled, panting heavily.

"Ha!" Missy exclaimed with a trace of cynicism in her voice. "Wish I knew! I can't find the bastard anywhere."

Clara blinked. "What do you mean you can't find him?"

Missy threw up her hands in frustration. "He just won't let me win! The nerve of that man." she shook her head in mock disapproval. "I have total victory, yet he won't let me claim it. I won. I killed the Tardis. It was fair and square-"

"You did what!?" Clara shrieked, refusing to believe the lies Missy spun.

Missy shrugged. "I killed the Tardis." she said matter-of-factly as if it was nothing. "Blew it up into a million pieces. I crushed the soul of that old hag."

"Shut up! Shut up! Why do you tell such horrible lies?" Clara screamed. She wanted nothing more than to bolt to her feet and catch Missy's smooth neck beneath her fingers and squeeze the breath from her lungs. To shut her up for good. Respiratory bypass system be damned. Morality be damned. Morality was dead in a ditch. All bets were off when it came to Missy. Clara jerked her body in vain- somehow rooted to the spot. Her legs tingled painfully, and to Clara's dismay, refused to move. Paralyzed.

"Oh, it's no lie, my dear." Missy grinned, proud of herself. "The Tardis is dead."

Clara trembled, her anger giving way to raw grief which threatened to gnaw away at her bones. "And where is the Doctor?"

Missy picked at her manicured nails with disinterest. "Floating away in space. Somewhere."

"Somewhere?" Clara asked with restrained fury, refusing to allow her voice to display her growing state of panic.

"I can't find him." Missy huffed, exasperated. "He was in the Time Vortex when the Tardis bit the dust. He could be anywhere in time and space for all I know. Apparently he knows me too well because he's got himself frozen in Angel form and he's closed off his mind to cut off the broadcast of any telepathic signals. Signals that could betray his position. What a twit!" she grumbled. "He makes my life so difficult sometimes."

Missy's words stung. Clara clung to any scrap of doubt she could find. Anything that could refute Missy's story. A million thoughts raced through her head at the speed of light, and above all, the mental image of the Doctor, her Doctor, drifting alone through the black nothingness of space. Dead as a stone.

A single tear escaped and mingled with the fine grime coating her once rosy cheeks. It was true. Everything was true. It made sense. The pale, unresponsive glow in the back of her mind which used to represent the very spirit of her best friend in the universe was evidence to Missy's claim. She wept. She wept for the Doctor. For the Tardis. She searched and searched, finally coming to a set of blockades she did not remember creating. She tore them down one by one, finding nothing within but a faint pulsating flicker of light where the mind of the Tardis used to reside. The mind of the old ship had been so suddenly and viciously ripped from Clara's that Clara's mind had instinctively erected blockades around the site, blinding her from reality.

"Oh look at you." Missy prodded Clara's side with a pointed boot. "You're making such a mess."

Clara shifted her gaze with bleary eyes, suddenly so tired. Her strength had been siphoned from her body and left nothing but a husk in its wake. She groaned, her mind reeling.

"Why?" she choked, her voice barely a whisper. "Why did you do it? I thought you needed the Tardis to bring back Gallifrey."

Missy patted her head, stroking her hair in a false gesture of comfort. "Come now, my darling. Stop your crying," she cooed. "I'm here because I've given up."

When Clara did not respond she felt the need to elaborate. "I blew up the Tardis because...well, I guess I just felt like it. Just had the urge." Missy moved to the other side of the cell, staring at the far wall, her hands clasped behind her back. "I remembered what all the Gallifreyans have done to me over the years, and suddenly the prospect of saving them seemed not so hot an idea. I am not a kind person, sweetheart. And I am definitely not the forgiving type."

She sighed, almost in regret. Maybe even in grief. "I searched for the Doctor for weeks. But even I have my limits, dearie. I eventually grew bored and now I've set my sights on other matters. The good news is I'm done with you, Clara, my dear. You no longer are of any use to me. My new Tardis and I have all kinds of mischief we could be getting up to right now and I ain't waiting any longer."

She crooked a finger underneath Clara's chin to lift her downcast face, and Clara found that she no longer possessed the will to resist.

"No hard feelings," Missy began, "but I have to hold up my end of the deal with the Daleks, of course."

Clara's eyes widened. Missy released her hold on her face and made her way over to the door, her heels clacking noisily against the rough stone floor. She punched a code into the keypad and the door slid open soundlessly. Harsh light flooded into the tiny room, obscured only by Missy's frame in the doorway.

Missy's face melted into an expression of something almost resembling sympathy and it was then that Clara knew that things were about to get much, much worse.

"Tomorrow morning," she began, "you will be converted into a Dalek."

Clara's heart stopped. Her breath caught in her throat. The sympathetic look on Missy's face seamlessly morphed into a wicked and sadistic smile. "Enjoy your last night, Clara dear, and goodbye."

Missy slammed the door shut behind her with a loud clang that fell on deaf ears. The roar of blood rushing from Clara's head drowned out all other sounds and suddenly she felt like she might faint. She crumpled against the stone and struggled to breathe.

Clara knew. It was now or never.

"Rusty?" she called out weakly.

"YES?" the Dalek grated out behind from behind the wall which now supported her. He had heard everything.

"There has been a change of plans." She took in an unsteady breath, aware of the gravity of their situation.

"The escape is happening."

"Tonight."

I hope y'all enjoyed the chapter, and please take a moment to leave a review! Y'all don't even know how much your reviews mean to me and inspire me to finish this story. Thank you, and stay tuned for Chapter 16!