Chapter 18: Mind Games
"Clara!" Missy yelled, running into the Tardis frantically. "Clara! You won't believe what just happened!"
After a moment, Clara emerged from the hallway with a quizzical look on her face. What could have gotten the Time Lady so excited? "What is it, Missy? What happened?"
"Okay so," she paused, holding her palms out, "don't freak out, but remember how I got the evidence?" she panted, almost tripping over herself to get the words out.
"No?" Clara cocked her head. "You never told me how you got it." She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Why would I freak out?"
"Ah," Missy clapped her hands together, taking in a deep breath. She knew Clara wasn't going to like this. "Okay well," she started. "Basically I kidnapped this police officer–"
"You did what!?" Clara exclaimed, hardly able to believe her ears. She knew letting Missy go to town was a bad idea. So much for keeping a low profile.
Missy waved her hand dismissively. "I wore a disguise, don't worry. So anyway, he came to the bar tonight."
Clara folded her arms. "He didn't recognize you, did he?" she wondered aloud, worry evident in her tone.
"Well, um…" Missy twiddled her fingers nervously, unsure how to put it without infuriating the tiny human currently staring her down.
Putting the pieces together, Clara's jaw dropped. "Oh my God, he did, didn't he?" She smacked her legs angrily. "Damn it, Missy! You've blown our cover!"
Missy held her hands out as if trying to shield herself against Clara's anger. "No, no, I didn't!" she defended herself. "He's a good guy! He's helping us!"
Clara's face morphed from incredulous irritation to pure confusion. "Helping us?"
"Yeah, yeah," Missy began excitedly, glad that Clara's rage was deflected, for now. "He told me about this extremist group called 'The Faction.' He thinks they framed the Doctor."
"Framed him?" Clara furrowed her eyebrows together. "Why?"
"Because they hate aliens, especially Time Lords. They want them off their planet. Apparently, they thought that framing the Doctor would send a message. Or maybe it was to galvanize the rest of the population into hating Time Lords too. Or both, I don't know," she shrugged helplessly. "I'm just guessing."
"And this cop, he told you this, why?" Clara asked with a frown, still not convinced.
"Officer Drychek," Missy nodded. "Yeah, he said he doesn't believe in this planet's justice system." She held her arms out, gesturing vaguely. "Which, yeah, it's pretty awful."
Clara's face lit up. A broad smile spread across her face. Hope flamed in her heart. "So the Doctor could be innocent," she realized, breathless.
"That's what he thinks, yeah." Missy rested one hand on her hip and leaned against the console with the other. "He said he'll come back in a few days with more information."
Clara shook her head in a mix of wonder and disbelief. "Missy," she chuckled, "I don't know how you managed to stumble into this kind of luck, but I could kiss you right now."
Missy held out a hand like a stop sign. "Save it. Let's see how this actually plays out."
"Right," Clara concurred, grounding her fluttering emotions that were about to fly away. "Well, I'd better tell the Doctor," she resolved. "He's awake now, if you want to see him."
"Actually, I do," Missy confirmed, standing up straight. "I want to take a look-see at that head of his. See if I can unlock those memories. Drychek believes the framers may have implanted false memories into his mind."
Clara pursed her lips thoughtfully. "How could they do that?"
"Apparently, some of the Kapponians are telepathic," Missy pointed at her temple. "Must be powerful ones too."
"Well, let's find out, then," Clara stated, determined. She started in the direction of the Doctor's room. "Let's go."
The duo arrived at his door and knocked softly. A gravelly "come in" sounded from inside. Entering slowly, the door creaked open to reveal the Doctor sitting up in bed reading a novel. Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Clara realized. She smiled knowingly. His favorite.
He gently closed the book and set it down on the night table. Clara sat on the edge of the bed while Missy slouched against the doorway pensively. He raised a mighty eyebrow in question, searching both of their faces for answers. It was awfully late for a casual chat.
Clara cleared her throat and recounted what Missy had told her. The Doctor listened with rapt attention, asking questions at times. When she finished, he folded his arms in thought, chewing on her words.
"Framed, huh?" he mused, not really believing the possibility. He shook his head. "If somebody had implanted false memories, I'd have known." He looked Clara straight in the eyes and then flicked them up to Missy's. "Trust me."
"Would you though, dear?" Missy replied, leaving the door frame to approach the bed.
"Absolutely," he confirmed. He pointed to his head. "I know what's real and what isn't."
"Then just humor me, Doctor," Missy coaxed, taking a seat next to Clara. She reached out a hand towards his face, fingers splayed.
"What are you doing?" he recoiled, suspicion lacing the undertone of his voice.
Missy rolled her eyes impatiently. "Stop being a wuss," she chided, exasperated. She reached towards his face again. "Let me see."
He scoffed indignantly. "You really think I'd let you into my mind?"
"Honey, I'm already in your mind and you know it." She rested her fingers against his face and temples. "Now open up."
He swatted the hand away. "As if," he chuffed incredulously.
Clara grasped his hand. He glanced up at her, distrust in his eyes. She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand, attempting to allay his fears. "C'mon, Doctor," she returned the gaze intently, eyes inflating. He could never say no to her when she gave him that look. "It's the only way to find out. Don't you want to know what happened?"
The Doctor sighed, relaxing his shoulders that he hadn't realized were bunched up. Clara was right; he did want to know. The question had been burning at the edge of his mind for weeks. Missy was a skilled telepath. What did he have to hide that she didn't already know? Besides, when Clara asked of him in this way, he was powerless to refuse.
"Okay, fine," he grumbled, holding up a finger in warning. "But only because Clara wants me to."
"Peachy," Missy said. She ghosted her cold manicured fingers over his temples again, closing her eyes to focus. "Now open up."
With a frustrated huff, the Doctor met Clara's gaze with a pathetic "do-I-really-have-to?" look. She nodded, squeezing his hand reassuringly. He sighed and did as he was told. He knew when he was beaten. He closed his eyes, focusing on removing the barriers in his mind.
His bond with Missy shimmered like ripples on a clear pond. It had reestablished itself days ago when he woke up in the Tardis. Its purple glow pulsed as she followed it into the corridors of his thoughts.
To the Doctor's shock, she did not appear malicious. The telepathy worked both ways. He could read her thoughts too. She had done nothing but help him so far. He decided to let his guard down slightly, revealing more of himself.
A bonfire burned at the center of his subconscious. It shone in the distance like a beacon in the dark. It was hot and golden and nearly too bright to look at. Missy squinted against the light, holding up a metaphorical hand to shield her eyes.
Curious, she approached it slowly. The closer she got, the more the intense heat seared against her skin. She hissed in pain, retreating temporarily. She had to know what it was. It's not like it was a real fire. Undeterred, she reached out to touch it.
The golden flames licked up her hands and then her arms. They stung but did not burn. Thousands of thoughts rushed into her mind like a tsunami. It knocked the air from her lungs. She gasped, trying to catch her breath. Memories of his adventures with Clara played all around her like movies. Unfiltered emotions screamed through the bonds. It was overwhelming. She tried to withdraw but the flames would not let her go.
Yanking harder, she finally managed to get one arm free and then the other. Like becoming unglued, she abruptly separated from the hot gripping tendrils and fell on her ass. Her heart pounded in her chest. She knew what she had seen.
Love.
But not for her.
The Doctor was in love with Clara.
'That idiot,' she thought jealously, carefully concealing it from him. His bond with Clara glowed so much brighter than her own dull purple one. A bond with a human. It was practically traitorous. Disgraceful. Sneering, she turned her back on the fire with disdain.
Like wading through a pool of molasses, she trudged onwards. Thoughts and feelings fluttered around her like butterflies. She shooed them away. They were not what she was looking for.
After a few moments, she reached a barrier. It stood imposingly like the walls of Jericho, extending infinitely in either direction. It portioned off part of his mind– memories he had locked out of his consciousness. Missy reached out and touched it tentatively. It rippled at her touch but held firm like a forcefield. She knew this was what she was looking for.
'Doctor, I said you need to let me in,' she thought aloud through the link.
'I am letting you in,' he replied, frustrated.
'There's a block. I can't get past it.' Back in reality, she knit her tensed her jaw, pressing her fingers into his skin harder. 'I'm going to try and break it down, Doctor.'
He bristled at the thought. What was lurking beyond that wall? Did he really want to know? He frowned, attempting to wiggle out of her grasp. Clara put her hand on his thigh, bringing him back to earth. He stilled. He had promised her that he'd try.
Scrunching his eyelids, he focused hard. The wall Missy described was hard for him to see, almost like it was cloaked in a perception filter. He blocked out all other thoughts from his mind, honing his attention on the barrier. Like a veil lifting, the wall gradually came into view.
He reached out and kicked at it, testing its strength. It did not budge. Irritated, he ran his hand over the surface, searching for weaknesses. How could he not break down a wall he had built himself? He struck it harder. Missy joined him. Together, they rammed the great blockade. It shook but did not crumble. It might as well have been a wall of Azbantium.
They continued to chip at it. It shimmered at their touch and Missy knew it was weakening. She reared back, channeling all of her strength. She lunged forwards, hitting the wall with everything she had. Miraculously, a crack appeared. Just a hairline fracture, but a weakness all the same.
Back in reality, Clara watched the two Gallifreyans intently. Their eyes were closed and their faces were furrowed in concentration. The heart monitor picked up its tempo. Clara shifted her gaze to the screen and then back to the Doctor. His face began to contort into a look of pain.
His blood pressure climbed and she knew he was in distress. Her instincts screamed at her to abort the connection. His body had not healed enough yet to handle the stress.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she placed a hand on Missy's wrist. "Missy, let him go. It's too soon," she warned.
The Time Lady scrunched her eyebrows defiantly. "No, I've almost got it."
She continued to strike at the mental blockade. Cracks spread across the surface like a spiderweb. With every new fracture, she could feel a flash of pain shoot through his mind. Their thoughts connected, she could feel every bit of it as if it were her own. She grimaced but did not give up. She had to know.
His heart rate continued to climb. Sweat poured down his face. He gripped the sheets as hard as he could. He let out a strangled cry and that was enough for Clara. This could not go on any longer.
"Missy!" she shouted, no nonsense in her tone. "He's not ready yet! Let him go!"
"No!" she barked. "I'm almost there, I–"
Before she could finish her sentence, she impacted the hardwood floor with a solid thud. The force of the tackle sent Clara tumbling after her. The connection severed instantly. The Doctor panted, eyes flying open. He stared at the ceiling, panting harshly to regain his breath.
"Now what did you do that for!?" Missy snarled. She rolled into a sitting position and caught Clara's gaze. "I was so close!"
Clara pointed at the Doctor's distraught form. "Look at him, Missy! He's not ready yet! You could have hurt him!"
Missy breathed heavily, sweat highlighting the contours of her neck. His pain finally started to dissipate from her mind. Her head throbbed with every beat of her heart. Residual tingles crackled through her bones. She looked up at the monitor, noticing the concerning numbers that were now ticking back down. "I'm sorry, I–"
"It's okay," Clara forgave her. "You were just trying to help." She rose up from the floor and knelt by the side of the bed. The Doctor kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling, catching his breath.
"Doctor, it's over," she sighed in relief. She carded her fingers through his hair, enjoying their softness. "It's all over," she whispered.
He met Clara's gaze. Her eyes were huge and watery with unshed tears. He hated seeing that look on her face. He had never meant to upset her. Worry was written across her features. He took her by the hand, trying to be strong for her. "Where's Missy?" he managed to grate out.
Clara indicated towards the floor with her eyes. He peered over the edge of the bed. Missy sat slouched on the floor, rubbing at her forehead. "What the hell just happened?" she groaned miserably.
"I don't know," the Doctor replied breathlessly. "But we sure as hell aren't doing that again."
A/N: Reviews are greatly appreciated!