Chapter 17: Recovery

Nothing.

There was nothing. Nothing but heat and the blinding purity of light. It banished every corner of darkness it touched. Like the lightning of a midnight storm.

Time stopped. Every eye shut in instinctive vain. It was nearly as bright behind closed lids- searing into brains, blocking out all other senses.

Clara Oswald felt weightless. Blind and deaf to everything aside from this overpowering brilliance and its scorching influence. She might have screamed. The whole ship might have screamed. She wasn't sure.

And it was gone. Like someone had flicked a switch. The starry darkness of space filled the stolen Dalek ship once more.

"Shields are up," someone gasped out. It could have been one of the pilots, but Clara couldn't tell. The voice sounded so small, so distant. And there was that ringing- drilling through her eardrums.

Her head swam and, like a cloak, darkness enshrouded her mind. She wondered briefly if another bolt of lightning would come to split the blackness and bathe the world in light once more.

But it never did.

The quiet abyss wrapped around her, body and mind, and took her deep into its depths below.

...

Floating. Drifting.

Clara attempted to open her eyes, but was met with nothing but darkness. Whether or not she was actually able to open her eyes seemed like a concept beyond her grasp.

No air rushed past her fingertips. No sound kissed her ears. Her skin... something was off. It felt rougher, stiffer. As if body had been sculpted with concrete. She tried to move but nothing happened. She wasn't even sure if she was in her body anymore.

Was she dead? Is this what death was like? A quiet conscious paralysis?

Something touched her hand.

Her breath hitched, if she was breathing at all, that is. The foreign entity gripped her softly, almost as if it were another hand. Its warmth and softness rushed across her body like water, melting the roughness back into pliant flesh. It vibrated gently and seemed oddly familiar.

Something dripped. A liquid of some sort. It oozed from the proffered hand and seeped between her fingers. It was warm, but heavy in a way. A smell suddenly filled her nostrils.

Blood. It was blood.

Clara screamed and tore her hand away. She attempted to shake the fluid off but it clung to her skin like a coat of paint. Like a marking.

She calmed down, breathing deeply with air that didn't technically exist. She steeled herself. She reached out once again, groping for the hand in the blackness.

It caught her. As if it had been reaching out to her. It gripped her fiercely and squeezed.

Blinding pain shot into her entire body. Blood gushed from a million places at once. She screamed but could not let go. Its agony seared into her body for only a second.

And it was gone.

The pain dissipated as if it were never there. Unseen wounds mended themselves, and blood dried and flaked away into nothing.

The hand. It loosened its grip on hers slightly, almost as if it were losing its strength. Its vibrations were now faded, only evident near the pulse point of its wrist.

Vibrations. Twin vibrations.

Heartbeats.

Clara's eyes widened. Her heart pounded. Golden light speared through the obsidian. She'd know it anywhere.

'Doctor!'

...

"Clara! Clara, calm down! You're safe, you're alright."

Sheets went flying. IV lines ripped from their holds. Medical supplies clattered to the floor.

Hands. More hands. They grasped at her all over, pinning her down against something- something soft.

"Clara!"

A shock. Her name- an anchor of something real to hang on to. Reality crashed back into her mind like a truck hitting a deer. Her limbs seemed to be everywhere and moving. She willed them to stop and this time they obeyed. The hands pinning her down left her body.

She opened her eyes and was met by the sight of something green. She blinked, blearily trying to clear the fog from her vision. She tried again and made an attempt to focus.

The green was complicated, as if it were a shape. It had patches of lighter and darker areas, bluer and yellower areas, and what were those- spots?

Scales.

"Malonyo?" Clara groaned, her voice as hoarse as her tongue was dry.

Her vision adjusted to the light fully and the smiling face of the Silurian came into focus.

"Mornin', sleepy head!" Malonyo exclaimed. "You gave me quite a fight there just now. You punched my arm!"

Clara frowned, eyeing the apparent greenish bruise he showed on his right arm. His left was bandaged from his upper arm to his chest. His face appeared happy, yet concerned. "I'm sorry," she rasped, still trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind. "I don't know what came over me."

"You don't remember?" he asked, taking note of her confusion.

"Remember what?" she breathed, turning her attention to the multitude of catheters and IV lines dangling from the bed. She glanced to her arm at the beads of scarlet blood from where the lines had been ripped out. She touched them, smearing the liquid between her fingers, watching it stain her skin red. Why was this so familiar?

"The nightmare." Malonyo stated, his voice now laced with a slight level of concern.

Clara snapped from her trance. "What?"

The Silurian raised his eyebrows. He had never seen her so unfocused before. "You had a nightmare, I think."

"I did?" she asked.

"Well," he gestured to the large mess in the area, "you woke up kicking and screaming and did this."

"I'm sorry," she frowned. "I don't remember."

She turned her attention to the medical equipment, the room, and realized suddenly that they were not alone. Dozens of eyes were now fixed upon her, some she recognized and some she did not. Her brain slowly began to come around. Had she been drugged? Why was everything in slow motion?

She swallowed thickly. "What's all this?"

"Clara." Malonyo reached for her hand. "Clara, you've been in a coma for a week. You hit your head real hard. We thought we'd lost you."

Time stopped. A coma? For a whole week? Her eyes widened as she realized she was in a sickbay of some sort. Her throat was sore, like someone had jammed an ice pick down her trachea. She instinctively reached up to grasp at her neck.

"Oh, sorry about that." Malonyo gestured. "We had to stick a tube down your throat to keep you breathing." He pointed to the respirator beside her bed. "The doctor says it might be sore for a couple of days."

"The doctor?" she asked.

"Oh yes!" Malonyo exclaimed, clapping his scaly hands together. He spun around to the other side of the room and made a gesture around the corner.

An older woman appeared from around the bend, approaching Clara's bed with an air of confidence that suited her well. A human. She had beautiful dark skin, marred only by an occasional scar and the tell-tale signs of age. Her eyes were sharp and intelligent with a depth that suggested certain wisdom about her. She was dressed in a white physician's coat and held an electronic chart which showed Clara's improved vitals. She seemed familiar somehow.

It clicked. Clara's eyebrows shot up in a mixture of shock and recognition. The woman in the room had aged compared to her photographs, but it was definitely her.

Malonyo smiled, extending a hand to present their newest ally. "Miss Oswald, let me introduce you to U.N.I.T's Chief Medical Officer, Dr. M-"

"Dr. Martha Jones." Clara gasped out in disbelief, reaching out to shake the hand of the former companion.

"Clara Oswald." Martha grinned, showing off a beautiful smile with immaculate teeth and a posh British accent. "I've read all about you. I've been dying to meet you properly."

The good doctor made up the distance and ignored Clara's outstretched hand, instead reaching in for a hug. Clara was surprised at first but quickly melted into the embrace of another human being- something she hadn't felt in ages. Martha could almost count every single one of Clara's ribs beneath the thin hospital gown she wore.

"Wait, you two know each other?" Malonyo asked, confused.

They broke the embrace with smiles and a firm handshake. "Malonyo," Clara began, laughing in disbelief, "This is Dr. Martha Jones! Former companion of the Doctor. Way back in his...tenth incarnation I think?" she faced Martha again. "I've read all about you in the Tardis archives."

"Likewise, Clara." She smiled warmly. "I read your file at U.N.I.T. I do still try to keep tabs on the Doctor to see what mischief he's up to. I'm nosy like that."

"But...how did you get here?" Clara asked, switching her gaze between Martha and Malonyo.

"Oh," Malonyo started, obviously proud of himself, "while you were sleeping, we made runs to various planets and outputs. Buying supplies, picking people up, dropping people off, the works."

"I found Dr. Jones here on at a 23rd century Earth colony located on a planet in the area. It was pure chance, luck really. We happened to be in the same tavern at the same time."

"I overheard Malonyo trying to recruit crew for your ship." Martha interjected. "I heard him mention your name and the Doctor." Martha smirked cheekily. "I've always been good at eavesdropping."

Malonyo nodded, chuckling. "Yep, next thing I know, I couldn't get rid of her," he teased. "Looks like she's here to stay."

"She fixed up my arm from my fight with Jomos and saved your life, Clara. You had a bleed in your brain. Honestly we thought we'd lost you, after being in a coma for a week and all. Nothing was working to snap you out of it, but hey, you're awake now!"

Clara looked to the doctor, nodding her thanks. She furrowed her eyebrows together, deep in thought. "How are we safe?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer. "How have the Daleks not come looking for us? I mean, we're in a bloody Dalek ship, aren't we?"

Malonyo looked to his feet, suddenly crestfallen. "Rusty."

The memory of the fallen Dalek crashed back into her mind like a freight train. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

The Silurian took in a deep breath, meeting her gaze. "Just before he..." Malonyo cleared his throat. "...ordered his self-destruction, Rusty sent out a mayday signal from this ship, indicating that it had been destroyed. The Daleks are so arrogant that they never question anything from one of their own. To them, Daleks are perfect and fall in line perfectly."

"They're not looking for us. Nobody is, in fact. Engineers I've recruited in the past few days have been involved in repair and retrofitting projects and have managed to get this ship's perception filters activated. We're invisible. We're safe."

"We're safe." Clara repeated, the words on her tongue almost feeling strange. Like she wasn't ever supposed to know the feel of safety ever again. "We're safe," she repeated again, processing the phrase. She grinned widely. She made eye contact with the Silurian. "We did it. We did it, Malonyo."

"And that brings me to my next point." Malonyo began, members of crew filtering into the room to form a decent crowd around her bed. "This ship needs a captain." Malonyo smiled knowingly, holding Clara's surprised gaze. The weight of the implied question permeated the air with excited tension.

"Me?" she squeaked out, pointing to herself.

Malonyo nodded. All eyes were on her.

Clara giggled to herself. "Doesn't 'Captain Clara' sound too much like 'Captain Crunch?'"

Martha burst into a peal of laughter, doubling over and clutching the guardrails of Clara's bed for support. Everyone else just looked confused- missing the joke. "Yeah," she forced out between giggles, "I suppose it does."

"Yeah, it really does. I don't know if that's a good idea." Clara snickered. "The Doctor always likes to tease me for being too bossy. If he saw me as a captain he'd defini-"

Clara's eyes rolled to the back of her head. Blackness swallowed her vision. Malonyo darted out and caught her before she could collapse onto the medical equipment scattered upon her bed. Martha dove into action, plugging the IVs back in, turning monitors back on.

Rapid jerking motions wracked Clara's bony frame. Foam dribbled from the corners of her mouth. "She's having a seizure!" Martha shouted. "Give me space!" she barked, ordering the crowd in the room to step out.

...

She was back. Floating again.

The weightless vacuum of space suspended her body like a leaf blown onto a still pond. Except it wasn't a pond at all. But there was liquid. A distinct scent filtered into her nostrils.

Blood.

A soundless shriek failed to escape her lungs. The surface tension broke. She was sinking, drowning. She thrashed against the currents pulling her under.

There was a hand. It clasped around hers with a familiar strength. It pulled her from the depths. That warm golden light she knew so well flashed before her eyes, but refused to take root in her mind where it belonged. She could feel a tangible pain emanating from its glow in odd erratic pulses, but it withheld all it could from her. Protecting her.

It was saying something. Whispering.

'Clara.'

...

"Midazolam's in!" Martha shouted, hanging an IV bag of the solution. She turned the seizing companion to her side lest she aspirate fluid into her lungs. Her patient's heart beat rapidly, threatening to go into an arrhythmia. "Stay with me, Clara!"

As suddenly as it began, it stopped. The Impossible Girl fell limp against the sheets, the powerful sedative working its magic. Her heartbeat slowed, but only slightly. Martha took out a device from her pocket and scanned it over Clara's skull.

"I don't understand. Her brain is fine," she muttered, scrutinizing every last piece of data, not wanting to miss anything. "Clara?" she called, turning her onto her back and shaking her shoulder gently.

Clara shot up, almost slamming into Martha's body hunched over her. Synapses were firing. Memories were returning. She had a mission, how could she forget? He was out there and he was suffering. Injured, but alive, and she'd be damned if she wouldn't try her hardest to find him. She knew that glow. She know those hands. She knew that pain.

"Doctor!" she screamed, her eyes wild and bloodshot. "He's hurt! We have to find him!"

Malonyo gripped her by the shoulders in an effort to calm her down. No. Not now. She refused to be calm. "Clara, the Tardis blew up in the Time Vortex. He could be anywhere in time and space. Not even Missy could find him; you told me yourself."

"I don't care!" she yelled, jerking from his grasp. "Malonyo, you are now captain of this ship! On one condition."

Her eyes bored deep into his reptilian ones. Something furious and pained flashed across her features, and the battered old Silurian found that he was scared. The human stared straight into his soul, as if creating a blood pact with him. To break it would be to pay dearly. He stood rooted to the spot, transfixed, his hands still hovering in space where they had been trying to comfort her seconds before. She took a deep breath and suddenly he was a soldier again, awaiting her orders.

"Find. The. Doctor."

Malonyo swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded.

...

Days passed.

Clara had graduated from her bed against her physician's wishes. She couldn't just lie around all day. She had to find him.

She stood vigilant, rooted to a spot behind the largest window the ship had to offer, all its scanners firing continuously. She searched, staring out into the vast expanses of space tirelessly. After her latest outburst, nobody had been brave enough to talk to her. She was grieving, and needed her space.

Malonyo had assumed command quietly, following Clara's single order with unwavering diligence.

Clara wracked her brain over and over, searching for the Doctor's presence. He was still there, but had cut off all broadcasting between themselves like Missy had said. She had never felt so alone, so empty, without his eccentric thoughts flying through her head. She knew his reasons, but she still felt hurt.

And the Tardis was nowhere to be found. Not a trace. A silent tear tracked its way down her face.

She was so involved in her thoughts that she failed to notice a warm presence approaching her.

"Hey there." Martha said quietly.

Clara did not turn to meet her gaze. "Hello, Martha," she whispered, her thoughts clearly somewhere else.

Martha stepped into her line of vision insistently, knowing her patient needed to talk things out with someone who understood. "Clara, tell me. What you said a few days ago...is it true? That the Tardis is dead? That the Doctor is dead?"

Clara shifted her gaze to the older woman with tired eyes. "It's true." she breathed, almost inaudibly. "The Master, Missy, killed the Tardis. And the Doctor..." she took in a deep shuddering breath. "I killed the Doctor."

"Oh, honey, you didn't kill him." Martha soothed, fighting against the tears welling up in her eyes with this news. Malonyo did not tell her, and U.N.I.T did not know of this, so consequently, neither did she.

"But I did!" Clara choked, tears now streaming down her face. "If I hadn't been so stupid. If he hadn't been so stupid...I was dead and gone! Why? Why would he do that!?"

"Do what, Clara?" Martha pressed gently.

"Die! Sacrifice himself! For me! A mere human, gone in the blink of an eye anyway! There are millions of people out there, waiting on his help, and now they'll never get it! He gave me his life, but I never asked for it. Oh but I love him for it." She turned to Martha, her eyes blown wide and teary with a new realization. "Martha, I love him."

Martha nodded with sympathy. The tears she had been holding back escaped their floodgates. She knew exactly what it was like to love and lose the Doctor- one way or another. "But he's not dead, Clara. You said so yourself. You said he's hurt."

"He's as good as dead!" she sobbed. "He's a Weeping Angel now, cast out and branded by his own people."

Martha widened her eyes. She knew about the Weeping Angels, but clearly did not know everything about them. The Doctor, a Weeping Angel?

"I can't even see him, Martha! I can never look at him ever again. Every time I open my eyes, all I ever see is a statue. Dead as a stone. He's alive only in my mind."

"And now he's not even in my mind. He's hiding from Missy, but it feels like he's hiding from me too. I'll grow old searching for him here. I may never find him. He's out there, in agony. I can feel it," she cried, placing a hand against the cool glass for support.

"But he is in your mind, Clara." Martha affirmed, perceptive as always. "A bond like yours cannot so easily be broken."

Clara looked to her, almost angry that she could make such a claim without actually being involved in the situation. "What do you mean?"

"You were brain-dead, Clara. That coma you were in should have kept you asleep forever. You had zero cognitive brain function. No brain waves, no electrical activity, nothing. The epidural hematoma you suffered before Malonyo found me had put pressure on your brain long enough to damage it beyond repair. When you woke up, I thought it must have been some miracle. And apparently it was."

Clara's eyes searched those of the old physician, probing for answers, the slightest tinges of hope. "Clara," Martha continued, "He woke you from your sleep. He reestablished the bond, if only for a few seconds, but it was enough to kick your brain back into gear and begin healing."

"Upon waking, you suffered mild amnesia and some disorientation, so he made contact with you again. You had a seizure, basically a brain reboot. He spoke to you. You felt his pain. That's how you know he's hurt."

Clara mulled this over, choking out a sob at the realization that he had not abandoned her. He was still saving her, no matter what. And now it was her turn to save him. "But he's not there now. I can't make contact with him."

Martha took Clara's hands in her own rough ones, noticing with a physician's satisfaction that some meat was returning to Clara's bones. "Yes, but he left a spark there. Chase it. It's a breadcrumb, Clara. Follow your heart. Somewhere in your subconscious lies the answer. Ask yourself, where is the Doctor?"

Clara swallowed thickly. She squeezed the scarred hands of the old battle-worn companion, wondering if someday hers would be like that too. "Okay," she agreed. "I'll try."

Clara closed her eyes, blocking out the world. She looked deep within herself, deep into her soul until she found it. The place. Except this time she did not float aimlessly. She soared effortlessly though the nothingness, like an albatross over silent seas. She knew what she was looking for.

A familiar smell returned. A fluidic sensation. The blood. God, there was so much of it. She had to be getting close.

And then she saw it. A pale figure in the distance. It was curled up into a fetal position, a perfect statue. There he was. The Doctor. He had never left her after all.

But where was he in time and space? Clara scanned the surroundings for any type of identifying landmarks. He seemed to be located in the middle of an asteroid field, disguised as just another rock in the crowd. She didn't recognize any of the constellations or star systems.

Except.

A small smattering of green light swirled at the edges of her vision. She focused harder, finding it difficult to take her eyes off of the Doctor, even for a second. She found the source of the light and squinted. It appeared to be a cloud nebula of some type, bright emerald green with hues of yellow and blue mixed in from supergiant stars of varying colors.

Clara gasped sharply. She had been here before. An asteroid floated out of her field of view and revealed the rest of the phenomenon.

'The Shamrock Nebula,' she realized, its four leaf-like clouds and constellations making up the 'clover' were unmistakable. The Doctor had taken her here long ago in his previous incarnation- way back from before she became a teacher. She had desperately needed to pass her teacher certification exams, so she had asked him to wish her luck. He obliged.

She had laughed at the time, calling him a superstitious idiot, but now she would never doubt the nebula's luck ever again. She had just found a needle in a haystack. Or rather, a specific pebble in a mountain range.

The vision faded from view. Clara opened her eyes, feeling the swirl of the ship's conditioned air against her skin, the cool feel of Martha's palms against her own. She took in a deep shuddering breath, an anchor to tell this world apart from the airless one she had just been in. She squeezed Martha's hands.

"I..." she struggled, choked up and smiling with overwhelming emotions of disbelief and pure unbridled hope, "I know where he is."

A/N: Here it is! So, I've got some good news. This chapter ended up being extremely long, so I decided to spit it into two separate chapters. This means that chapter 18 is all written and ready to go. I'll be posting it on Monday morning. Prepare for fluff and angst!

As always, all your reviews mean so so much to me. Those are really what keep me going. Please just take a moment and tell me what you think! Love y'all! :)