Chapter 4: The Partnership
Missy twirled her dress in a curtsey. A toothy grin with lipstick that was far too red to look sophisticated crept across her face. "Aw, you remembered," she crooned. "How sweet. Anyway, darling, where is that Doctor of yours?"
Clara tightened her fists. Her nails dented little half-moons into her palms. She did not have the energy to deal with this. All she wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry for days. Normally, she would worry about what kind of trap or evil scheme Missy was up to, but right now she was just too tired to care. "What do you want, Missy?" she sighed.
"Well," the Time Lady began in a sickly-sweet Scottish accent. "The Doctor and I have this bond, you know. I sensed something. You cannae possibly understand, but I do care about him."
"Care about him?" Clara scoffed. "You're always trying to kill him."
Missy shrugged, partially lifting the lacy purple parasol she carried with her. "It's my flirting."
"How did you even get here?" Clara crossed her arms and frowned, not seeing a second Tardis anywhere.
Missy hiked up her violet sleeve to reveal a burnt out vortex manipulator. "One-way trip, I'm afraid. Not all of us have Tardises. Speaking of which," she leaned on the doors, "lemme in."
"No, Missy, don't you understand!?" Clara cried, finally at her breaking point. "He's gone! The Doctor is gone, the Tardis is broken, and I don't know what to do!"
"Broken?" She raised her eyebrows, dragging her manicured nails over the blue paint. "Yeah I figured. Why else would he come to this wretched planet?" She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
Her eyes widened. "Hold on," she gasped, staring Clara straight in the eyes with blown pupils. She laid a hand on Clara's arm, squeezing tightly. "What do you mean he's gone?" she laughed nervously. Genuine disbelief and worry laced her voice. Probably the only thing genuine about her, Clara thought.
Clara swatted the gangly hand off with disdain. "He's dead, Missy," she whispered. She choked back a sob, meeting the Time Lady's dark eyes. "They executed him."
Something sinister flashed in Missy's eyes. Her half-smile dropped off her face. This was more serious than she had thought. "Executed?"
A pang stabbed through her double hearts, robbing the air from her lungs. Not possible. He should have regenerated. She gripped Clara by the shoulders and shook her, searching for answers. "Did he regenerate?" she growled, but in her heart she already knew the answer. She could feel it. Their childhood bond had shattered and there's only one way that happens.
Clara shook her head despondently. "Whatever they gave him prevented it. It's like they knew how to kill a Time Lord."
Rage flickered across Missy's features. She growled and stared into the distance at the city's glow beyond the trees. "I'll torch this planet. I'll–"
"Missy, you don't even have a weapon," Clara interrupted. She raised her arms in defeat. "He's already gone, what's the point?" She almost surprised herself with those depressing words. All the fight has gone out of her. The Doctor's attitude had been contagious. Everything felt utterly hopeless.
Missy snapped her face back towards the human with a crazed look in her eye. "I'll find out what happened, and when I do, there will be hell to pay."
She glanced down to Clara's hand and saw she was holding a Tardis key. In the blink of an eye, she snatched it and twisted it in the lock. Clara was too out of it to resist. Everything still felt so surreal. This whole thing felt like a nightmare that she could not wake up from.
Missy shoved her way into the crippled Tardis. Clara doggedly followed, gently shutting the doors behind her. The Tardis could not go anywhere or do anything, so what was the harm anyway?
Missy took note of the disheveled ship and stepped around scattered books and other objects. Smoke still rose from isolated places in slow lazy whisps. Shattered slate chalkboards and graded assignments littered the floor. Scorch marks discolored the console. She rested her hands on her hips and whistled. "What the hell happened here?"
Her heels clacked against the steps as she headed into the understory. She yanked up the hood and found the problem. She picked up the mangled mass of wires and threw them back down disgustedly. "That idiot," she hissed through her teeth. "He blew out the crystal."
Clara had not bothered following her downstairs. She shed her tear-stained jacket and padded into the bathroom to scrub the streaked makeup from her face. She then made her way into the kitchen and sat at the simple metal table. A cup of hot tea appeared in front of her and she mentally thanked the ship for her kindness.
The Tardis seemed to know too. The lights were dimmer than usual. The rotors spun with its usually cheerful dome lights turned off. It purred quietly, and to Clara, almost brokenly, like sobs.
What was she going to do? She could not go home with the ship in this state and she had no idea how to fix it even if she did manage to get a crystal. She allowed her mind to go blank and took a sip of her tea. All this worrying was doing nothing but wearing her down.
She thought back to the Doctor. How he had looked so terrified strapped to that gurney. She would never forgive the universe for this injustice. She would never forgive the Kapponians for denying her the chance to say goodbye. That man had saved countless civilizations. He should have earned a free pass by now.
She remembered his last moments. His final shuddering breath. How he struggled against the restraints. It may have been a mundane ending, but at least he went down fighting. Like she had always imagined he would. She had stayed and waited for a sign, anything to show that he was not really dead. She had seen him regenerate before. Why hadn't he regenerated? She could not believe that a civilization as primitive as this one had done what Daleks, Cybermen, and countless other enemies had never been able to do– to kill the Doctor for good. She was still in denial. Nothing felt real anymore. She felt a lump gather in her throat but no tears welled in her eyes. She had cried them all out.
Missy's heels thumped against the heavy steel floors. They grew louder as she approached her location. Clara sighed. Couldn't she just be left alone?
The Time Lady appeared in the entrance to the kitchen and leaned against the frame, hand on her corseted waist. She chewed on the inside of her lip before she wordlessly took a seat. She reclined and propped her dirty shoes up onto the table. Clara shot her an angry frown but said nothing. It wasn't worth it.
"Welp, he definitely screwed some shit up." Missy remarked. She picked at her teeth with a long painted nail, poorly trying to appear aloof to the situation. "He fried the Kapponite. Deleted most of the ship."
"I know," Clara rasped, hoarse. She cleared her throat around the stubborn lump, trying to sound less strangled. "We ran into some enemies a while back that sapped dimensional energy from the Tardis. Made it tiny."
Missy raised an eyebrow and hummed. "Yeah, that'll do it. It was only a matter of time." Something almost resembling sympathy crossed her face but Clara knew better. "You're trapped here, aren't you?"
Clara nodded silently, burying her face into the mug.
"Well, me too." Missy unbuckled the scorched vortex manipulator and threw it to the ground. A simpering grin split her face in false excitement. "Looks like we're going to be roommates!"
Clara's eyes flicked up to hers with a scowl. "Missy, you can't stay here."
"Like you have a choice," she smirked. "You can't make me leave. Besides," she raised her arms, gesturing broadly to the interior of the ship, "you need me to fix this junkpile."
"Oh, and that's another thing!" she snapped her fingers. "I read the articles about what happened. These people hate Time Lords. We used to do some mining here for their crystals, and yeah, we were not always the kindest about it."
"Pretty soon, they're going to come looking for the Tardis, if they haven't already. They knew of the Doctor, so they'll probably know to look for his signature blue box. We need to disguise it."
Clara shook her head. "Chameleon circuit's broken." She tapped her nails against the ceramic mug nervously. What if the ship had been spotted already?
Missy chuffed, swinging her shoes off of the table. "Nah, he was just too lazy to change it."
She stomped off and Clara was grateful for the silence. She finished her tea and stared into space. Bags under her puffy eyes revealed how tired she was. Even though Missy was evil and had tricked her before, she had to admit that she was at least somewhat thankful for the company. She did not know if she could face this alone.
After a moment, the Tardis began to whirr laboredly. It was probably too damaged for things like this. The poor ship buckled and strained before finally sitting still. It let out a final heave and was quiet. Curiosity getting the better of her, Clara emerged from the kitchen and made her way into the console room. Nothing seemed to have changed.
"I told you it didn't work," Clara called up to the console.
"Ah, on the contrary, dearie," Missy preened. She leaned over the rails with the proudest of smiles. "Step outside."
Clara shifted her gaze to the direction of the doors and raised an eyebrow. "Oh."
"'Oh' is right," Missy smirked. The usual wooden doors had been replaced with a polished steel door not unlike one you would find in a restaurant kitchen. "Go on, step outside," she encouraged.
Clara pressed on the brushed metal door and it swung out into what appeared to be a stereotypical American diner. Red vinyl booths lined the walls. Music records, guitar picks, American flags, and portraits of Elvis speckled the walls. Chrome siding on the tables and bar caught the light and shone brilliantly. She gasped, running her hand over the chairs to see if they were real. The Tardis had turned into a diner.
"Like it?" Missy crooned, hooking her umbrella to the coat rack near the glass door. "We need a way to make money to buy another crystal. They're quite expensive and we are broke. I would just steal one, but we need to keep a low profile if we're gonna find out what happened."
Clara turned back to her, surprised. She folded her arms. "I'm impressed, Missy."
"Well yes, I'm quite fond of the design myself. I once visited this little diner in Utah and–"
"Not about that," Clara cut her off. "I'm impressed with you. I thought this planet would be burnt to a crisp by now."
"Oh." Missy turned out her palms and shrugged. "Well, like you said, I'm kind of underequipped here, and frankly I'm still in denial. Also, this is a mission that requires a certain finesse." She quirked her lip, revealing sharp teeth. "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, dearie. We need to convince some locals to divulge information to us. I need answers."
"We?" Clara scoffed. "What is this we?"
"Admit it." Missy tapped the tip of Clara's nose with her spindly finger. "You need my help."
Clara swiped the finger away from her face. "I'm going to bed," she griped. She shoved past the painted diner door and disappeared back into the depths of the Tardis. She knew Missy was right but she sure as hell wasn't going to trust her. She arrived at her bedroom and plopped down onto the bed. She passed out before she could remember to pull back the covers. She had even forgotten to change into pajamas.
The next morning, Clara rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned. She cracked her stiff neck and grimaced. Next time she would aim to sleep on a pillow. She dragged herself into the hallway to visit the bathroom for a much-needed teeth brushing. Missy hadn't killed her in her sleep or set fire to the place overnight, so that was a start.
On her way, she passed by a solid wooden door which led into another bedroom. She could almost swear that she heard faint sobbing inside but thought better of it. That would require Missy to have a heart.
After brushing her teeth, Clara started in the last known direction of the vast Tardis wardrobe, hoping it hadn't been deleted. She needed to look the part for her new job. She had never envisioned herself as a waitress, but at least it would give her something to do. The Tardis could synthesize a vast array of foods, so she would not need to hire any cooks. She would simply need to step backstage into the diner "kitchen" and dial in the order. The Tardis was her chef, she supposed. She snorted at the mental image that thought created.
A familiar set of French doors came into view and Carla sighed with relief. The wardrobe was still here. She stepped inside and started to browse through the infinite selection of clothing. The Tardis read her mind and put forth a variety of tailored waitress-themed outfits, complete with name tags.
Clara picked a royal blue button-down blouse with a white collar and cuffs. She tied a cream colored apron around her waist and stuffed a notepad and pen into its single pocket. Black tights and heels completed the outfit. She tied her hair up into a ponytail and applied her usual makeup. She checked herself out in the mirror and allowed herself a slight smile, her first in over a week. She looked good.
She returned to the checker-floored diner and took stock of the place. She wiped down the bar with a rag and mentally asked the Tardis to synthesize some beverages to stock the bar with. Lemonade, sodas, and beers of various origins filled the taps. If Clara didn't know better, she would have thought the Tardis was having fun with this too. It was a nice distraction.
Clara ordered herself breakfast and finished setting up the bar while she ate. She borrowed an unbroken chalkboard from the Doctor's study and wrote down a simple menu with prices. She thought about the cost of the shoes she had bought and based her idea of the value system on that. Breakfast? Half a pair's worth. Steak and eggs? Worth a pair. She had no idea what a Kapponite crystal would cost, but Missy had said it would be expensive. They needed to make a lot of money.
Clara flipped the "closed" sign around to its "open" side and hung it in the glass entryway. She flipped a switch. Pink neon lights lit up the outside of the ship. "Clara's Diner," it read. It was a simple name but she supposed it would do. Now all she had to do was wait for her first customer. Hopefully, over time, she could develop a rapport with some locals and glean some information or favors.
It was about an hour before the bell on the door rang cheerily, welcoming its first patron. A Kapponian hiker stepped through the door, looking hungry. He hung his hat on the rack and took a seat at the bar. Clara picked up her notepad and pen and forced herself to smile.
"Welcome to Clara's Diner, what can I get for you?"