Chapter 30: Ascension
Clara ducked and weaved through the dark streets, blending in like a shadow. Fortunately, there did not seem to be many people out late tonight, especially in the back alleys. Who knew the almighty Time Lords could still have such a human city with its greasy alleyways and garbage piled against the walls. The sights and smells were almost familiar. The air smelled stale, and Clara began to think that bubbling up the city was a bad idea. It could really use some ventilation.
Waiting for a shuttle to pass, Clara flattened herself against the alley wall. The bond in her mind began to shimmer brighter. She had to be close now.
She rounded the corner and came across a tall cylindrical building with barred windows. A prison, she hoped. It looked like a huge orange oxygen tank with little cutouts in it. Most of the other buildings looked similar. The Gallifreyans really had no sense of architecture, she mused.
The door creaked open and two guards stepped outside. Clara dove behind a strange looking truck-like vehicle, watching with an averted gaze. The two guards chatted and laughed, sounding drunk. They must be out on break. How was she going to get around them?
She looked at them directly and they froze immediately. At least her outfit was accurate. She looked almost exactly like them, albeit much shorter. Skirting around them, she carefully kept her eyes on both as she made her way to the propped-open door. Wow, this was a piece of cake compared to the Dalek camp.
She slipped inside, hoping that they would not investigate who had frozen them. She finally broke her gaze and heard them speaking from behind her. They assumed that they had been seen by some passerby and thought nothing of it. Thank God.
Noticing a series of security cameras, Clara quietly pushed a button on the sonic screwdriver and watched all the lights stop blinking, deactivated. To the security guard, the cameras would only show a loop of the last few minutes and not current footage.
She snuck around, following the bond like a bloodhound. She could sense his energy down the hall. He appeared to merely be in a holding cell for interrogation, not yet moved to a higher security prison. She crept forwards, sonic screwdriver at the ready.
Suddenly, a burly male guard rounded the corner and appeared in front of her. She startled and he instantly froze. Her heart pounded in her chest. She had the time between one blink and the next to think of a good excuse. Luckily, she was a fantastic liar.
She averted her eyes and the guard reanimated. "Evening, soldier," he greeted with a husky voice. "What are you doing here?" He too sounded a bit drunk. This could work to her advantage.
"Erm," she started, trying to suppress the waver in her voice. "I am relieving the two who just went on break."
The guard nodded, studying her questioningly. "You're awful short for a guard, aren't you?"
Clara shrugged. "Short staffed," she laughed nervously.
The guard chuffed but then narrowed his eyes from behind his thick helmet. "Hey," he said, his voice accusatory. "How come you're not turning to stone? I'm looking right at you."
Clara gulped. She thought of a quick lie on the spot. "Quantum suppressor," she lied, showing her Apple Watch. "They're the latest thing. They force objects to stay in one quantum state or another whether they're observed or not."
The guard's eyes widened in wonder. "No way," he trailed, grasping her wrist and fiddling with the watch. "That's awesome! I need to get one of those. How did you get one?"
"Overtime," she lied with a smile. An idea popped into her head. "Hey, do you know which cell has the Doctor in it? I'm supposed to interrogate him."
"Sure thing, he's in cell H-114," he pointed down the corridor. "Good luck getting anything out of him. We've tried."
What did he mean by that? Clara swallowed hard, trying not to think about it. "Thanks," she whispered, strolling towards the cell. The guard stomped off in the other direction, presumably to join the other two outside.
Clara found the door and pushed inside. It wasn't even locked. Once inside, she realized why it didn't need to be.
There was the Doctor, encapsulated in stone. Surrounding him were a number of mirrors, trapping him with his own gaze. There were even mirrors on the ceiling and floor. There was nowhere he could look without observing himself and turning into a statue. A mirror cage.
His face seemed pained. Clara removed the mirrors within his line of sight, turning them around to face the wall. She was about to close her eyes when she noticed something. His clothes were torn and his lip was swollen. They must have been beating him for information. Her heart dropped. Damn those idiots. He was trying to save them, for godsakes. She removed her helmet and reached out, caressing his puffy face. Poor Doctor.
There was only one way to get him out of this predicament and fulfill their mission. He definitely would never agree to it, so she only had one choice. Blood rushed through her veins like a river. Her muscles tensed, nervous. She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. She knew what she had to do.
Carefully, Clara placed her fingers to his temples, forcing her way through the stony barricade and into his mind. There she found him, curled up, apparently sleeping or unconscious. His pain was palpable through the bond. She winced, feeling the busted lip and bruises as if they were her own.
She put it aside and reached out. Gently, she brushed at his soul, trying not to wake him. He began to stir slightly and she knew she needed to be quick. Clara removed one hand from his temples and took a stony hand in hers. She woke him up just enough to make one suggestion. One thought, put there herself.
'Displace Clara Oswald.'
She blinked. In a flash, Clara Oswald was gone. The air sparkled where she had once stood. Energy surged through the Doctor, waking him from his stone hibernation with a start. The time vortex whirled like a hurricane and shot through his bones like ice. He yelped, feeling its golden tendrils piercing his every cell. He arched his back and brought his arms up defensively, trying to protect himself from the onslaught happening to his body. What the hell was going on?
He opened his eyes. The mirrors in front of him were turned around, ineffective. Bright light shone so fiercely in the remaining mirrors that he could not see himself in them. The rays roared through his body like a wildfire, shooting out from his fingertips and head.
The hot white light speared through the barred windows and into the hallways. Guards burst through the door, stun guns drawn. "The Doctor is escaping!" a guard shouted. The two others opened fire, finding their blue lasers ricocheting harmlessly off the Doctor. It almost appeared that he had a forcefield around his body. They looked at him but he did not turn to stone. His eyes shone like fire. All traces of injury had disappeared from his face. His wings gleamed, red hot.
The guards fired again with all they had but no shots found their mark. Instead, some of the lasers reflected back off of the mirrors and struck them instead, stunning them. The guards fell to the floor, groaning. Security alarms blared, but the Doctor could not hear them. All he could feel was fire and the overwhelming urge to fly. He screamed but no sound came from his mouth.
More guards poured into the room, unnoticed by the Doctor. With one powerful flap of his wings, he burst through the ceiling, through several floors of the building, and into the sky. Searing golden energy burned in his wake like a comet. He rocketed through the glass dome and soared high into the atmosphere. Once in the clouds, he fanned out his wings, catching the warm air currents easily.
Outside, several Angels gathered on the ground, pointing to the bright light in the sky. It was nighttime but the whole citadel lit up like it was day. Rassilon stormed out onto his presidential balcony. "What the hell is going on!?" he shouted, peering through the hole in the glass at the apparition in the sky. "Is that–?" he stammered.
"The Doctor," a child on the ground whispered, pointing and tugging on his mother's robe. "It's the Doctor!"
With a final flap of his great wings, the Doctor threw his head back, arms outstretched. Regeneration energy, the time vortex, and the breath of a supernova poured from his arms, legs, and eyes in an inferno. The energies shot out like laser beams, scorching the ground below. There were many stars in the sky, but he was the brightest of them all.
Tendrils appeared from the beams and forced themselves into each and every Gallifreyan on the planet. From the smallest child, to the lowliest janitor, all the way up to the High Council, energy flamed through their bodies. Every person on Gallifrey threw their heads and arms back, mirroring the Doctor. Energy passed through them like they were nothing. Their faces froze in silent screams. The light consumed all, and it became impossible to see without blinding themselves.
Wings burned up, stone facades fell away, and the Weeping Angels were no more.
Except one.
Gradually, the light began to fade. The last bits of energy spewed from their mouths and deserted them, returning to the Doctor. A blinding flash illuminated the sky more intensely than had ever been seen before, and then it was gone. The moonlight returned to the night sky, unchallenged.
The Doctor untensed, all energy gone from his body. He felt his body go limp. With his wings drooped, he began to drop out of the sky. Half-gliding and half-falling, the Doctor careened towards the desert below. With a hard thud, he impacted the ground. Clouds of red sand burst into the air, displaced by the new crater. Partially buried in the cool sand, the Doctor laid there, unconscious. Luckily, whatever had protected him during his ascension had also protected him from the fall. His fingertips still glowed with residual energy like embers.
The sound of sand gliders revving up in the distance fell on deaf ears. The sensation of people gently pulling him from the sand did not register in his mind. Out of the chaos in his head, only one thought remained.
He shot his eyes open, fighting against the strong arms holding him up. He panicked, searching each of the faces surrounding him. None of them turned to stone. None of them had wings any longer. The children of Gallifrey lived once again, but none of them were the person he was looking for.
Turning to the nearest citizen, he gripped their lapels, desperate.
"Where's Clara!?"
The Doctor called out to her in his mind. What had she done? 'Clara!' he cried. 'Clara!'
But his head was empty. Their bond was gone, and Clara was nowhere to be found.