If I Could Pray, Chapter One

Just watched The Witch's Familiar and it didn't make sense to me that Clara would come away completely undamaged by the mind link that Missy talked her into when she convinced Clara to get inside the Dalek in The Witch's Familiar. Missy clearly states that she does not know what the effects could/would be. Could there have been a deeper reason for the look of horror on the Doctor's face once he realized that he had been shouting at and pointing a weapon directly at his special companion? Did he know that Missy's actions were not without their consequences?

I just felt like Clara needed an 11 moment from 12. He does kind of owe her that after nearly killing her…We all can dream can't we…

Also, Missy references the nano technology - Last night I was also watching The Empty Child and then I was wondering what would have happened if the nano technology had tried to turn Clara into a Dalek just like the way it affected the people in Germany in that episode. Let's see what happens!

Ps. Peter Capaldi's song If I Could Pray is awesome. This story was inspired by the line

"I hope you'll find your way

And if I could pray, I'd pray

You'll find your way."

Ps. Sorry for the long disappearance - been a lot going on. I've got the writing bug back though, and should have updates soon! Sheltering in place from this virus has helped me and my muse get acquainted again!

"I'm so sorry, Clara." The grey-blue eyes that stared boldly into the Dalek viewfinder, typically so gentle and yet commanding, were livid, frightening, and molten with anger. "But you really are a Dalek."

"I am Clara, I am Clara!" She cried desperately, pleading eyes focused on the screen before her, framing a Doctor in it's view who was turning into someone she did not recognize. "I AM YOUR FRIEND!"

"I am a Dalek, I am a Dalek." The mocking voice of the metal weapon surrounding her body refused to translate her pleas in English, its metallic voice resounded harshly through the hallway and into her ears. Desperate tears streamed down her face. "I AM YOUR ENEMY!" The mind probes lodged in her temples throbbed with her own high blood pressure and the battle of the nano technology to prevent damage to her brain and yet allow the device to reign over her emotions and thoughts. The Dalek's words pounded in echoes into her mind, mocking her desperation.

"You are a Dalek." The Doctor before her spoke firmly through clenched teeth, his voice terrifyingly calm, face tense and cold. Missy's condescending words from where she stood spectator to the side of the hallway had goaded him into harsh action. Clara would have been touched by the obvious loss he felt thinking she was dead, perhaps angry at his use of force to avenge her – if only she wasn't the one inside the Dalek on the receiving end of the gun.

His heart was hard and he felt nothing. His hand clenched around the weapon that Missy offered him, long fingers twitched toward the trigger on the Dalek gun that he grasped tightly. Perhaps there was a balm in being a judge and executioner. With bitter resolution in the eyes of it's operator, the weapon was raised to the quivering Dalek eye and in silence, he fired.

Her cries of "I am human, I am not a Dalek! I AM HUMAN!" were drowned in a blinding flash of blue light and searing pain as the grey eyes and the world disappeared, with fading echoes of "Clara, Clara, Clara."

Clara sat bolt upright, a piercing scream of fear dying on her lips, immediately bumping into something or someone, which startled her even more, and sent her scrambling backwards against the wall at the top of the bed. She hadn't heard the Doctor calling her name. He was seated at her bedside, helplessly watching the troubled dream slowly twisting into a terrifying nightmare. A little while earlier, he had been busily adjusting some settings on the Tardis controls when she had hummed instructions for him to go immediately to Clara's room.

"She is sleeping, old girl," he had argued. "You, on the other hand, spend quite a bit of time floating around the Dalek room in fragments, and I have to make sure that you are all back together again."

The Tardis sighed and a door to the lower level hallway swished open. Eyebrows furrowed, the Doctor glanced up at the whispering column of light, then back to the open door. As if from a distance, he heard Clara's voice repeating, "I am not a Dalek, I am not a Dalek!"

The doctor hesitated for a moment. He could sense that something was terribly wrong. For all the times she had been mischievous to Clara, the Tardis did care about him at least. She cared that his companion was hurting. He stood from his crouched position under the control station, then gently patted the Tardis. "Thanks, old girl, you're a gem."

He flipped on the desk lamp beside her bed, revealing to the startled companion she definitely was not locked into a Dalek shell anymore.

"Clara, Clara, you're okay. You're in the Tardis." The tall, lanky Doctor was hovering right there beside her, a hand reached out to hers. The steady hand that had held the deadly Dalek gun to her face.

Roughly brushing away the tears from her damp cheeks, she tried to slow her ragged, gasping breath, and quickly glanced around the room. She really was still in her bedroom in the Tardis, albeit a slightly larger room than she was used to. Either the Tardis was showing off because the Doctor was here, or it was feeling sorry for her. She considered that for a second, then she glanced toward the Doctor. The confusion she felt was evident in her eyes and he could see it clearly. Those expressive eyes. He studied them, taking in the terror that they reflected. He had almost killed her. In her dreams, he realized that he probably had.

"You left me inside the Dalek." She spoke so quietly that he almost didn't hear her.

His eyebrows shot up at the accusation, and he stood to his feet quickly.

"Clara, I did NOT leave you there. You are here, right here, right inside the Tardis. That was only a nightmare. You're right-"

She gazed up at him, startled by the sudden movement, which displayed his agitation clearly, and did not help her confused mind feel any more comfortable with his presence. He sighed at the large eyes that gazed up at him, looking like a frightened deer.

"The eyes," he mumbled to himself, scanning her face with his sonic again. "Stop that. How do you do that? It's like they just have a mind of their own-"

"I am not a Dalek!" She crawled toward him, desperation in her eyes. "Please, please see me, Doctor, I am not a Dalek." She stopped at the side of the bed, blankets wrapped around her, giving her the appearance of a child pleading with their parent.

His own words came back to his mind, as clearly as they came from her lips. "See me, just – see me."

He reached out quickly and grabbed her shoulders. "Clara, I see you. You are not a Dalek, you are human, the Impossible Girl, you are Clara!" His eyebrows knit together; desperation crept into his voice. Had this reincarnation called her that? "How Eleven of me," he mumbled to himself.

Pulling away and shaking her head at his distraction, Clara pleaded with him again. "I am NOT a Dalek."

Her voice had dropped to a whisper, and he could tell there was still much confusion in her eyes. He clenched his teeth as his mind replayed what Missy stabbing the Dalek mind control leads into his companion's head must have been like and he reached out a friendly hand to her again.

"Clara, Clara, do you trust me." His voice was low and gravelly, strained with his suppressed emotions.

She raised her eyebrows at the simple comment. The dark eyes were glazing over increasingly as the seconds passed. "I am a Dalek. I trust no one." Her voice was small and lost.

The Doctor's eyebrows knit in confusion. "You are Clara. You are not a Dalek."

"I am a Dalek," she replied forlornly, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. "I am a Dalek. But I am NOT a Dalek, I was human. Oswin. I am Oswin Oswald. And I am now a Dalek."

She fell back against the bed, clutching her head in her hands and whimpering unintelligible words. The Doctor sat down on the side of the bed and leaned slowly toward her. "Clara?" His voice whispered her name, hoping for some sign of recognition.

His hearts broke as his companion raised a tear streaked face to meet him. "Who am I, I don't know where I am? I don't know where I am. I just don't know where I am."

"What did Missy do to you, Clara?" he whispered, examining her closely as if all the answers to his questions would just pop into view. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver again and quickly scanned her head, trying to ignore the way she flinched under his careful movements. "Easy, Clara. It's okay. You are still feeling the effects from your brain's short connection to the Dalek hive mind. The nano technology that was transferred inside your skull is still trying to figure out if you really are human or if you are Dalek. That's not good." He spoke the last sentence under his breath, more to himself than to Clara.

"I don't know who I am," she said softly, her large eyes now focused on the wall opposite them. "I don't know who I am." She was rocking back and forth, completely oblivious to the Doctor's scanning sonic.

"You are Clara, Clara Oswald." The Doctor spoke desperately, grasping her hand in his. "You are Clara, my Clara."

His mind flew back to the moment so long ago when he had found her inside his collapsing time stream. "Clara, my Clara"

The twelfth Doctor tried to gently brush her hair back from her furrowed forehead, but she startled and backed away from him. "I am not a Dalek, I am human." She mumbled, desperately, her back pressed against the headboard trying to keep distance between the Time Lord and herself.

The Doctor knew he had to get inside her mind to see what was happening there. That was the only way he could help his companion. He was seeing glimpses of the hideous Dalek in his own mind and imagining his Clara reduced to a one-eyed throbbing blob inside a machine that kept it alive - the very idea sent a wave of nausea through his stomach and both his hearts pounded uncomfortably. He had to know what damage had been done to his companion.

"Clara, do you trust me?" He asked again, his knee so close to hers that they were nearly touching.

Clara did not respond to his question, and simply kept repeating "I don't know where I am. I don't know where I am," and rocking back and forth.

He leaned closer, steely eyes focused on her large frightened ones. "You are Clara Oswald." He spoke quietly. "You are Clara Oswald, teacher, my companion, wide eyed wanderer. Not a Dalek. Never a Dalek."

His hands trembled slightly as he reached, hesitated, and then decided. Better to have no companion than watch one crumble and fall apart in anguish. The shaking companion trapped between the Doctor and the wall of the bedroom was still mumbling that she was lost, but the moment his long fingers connected with her temples, she fell silent and still against his broad chest and he found himself standing inside the hallways of her tormented mind.

"Clara?" He spoke softly, his lined face drawn with confusion. Looking around, the Doctor could make out the individual cells inside the wall around him pulsing with energy. The floor beneath him throbbed with energy. Treading with cautious steps, he made his way slowly down the dim hallway. All around him blood vessels hummed as red cells raced past inside the walls and taught nerves zinged with their millisecond impulses as they intertwined around the busy blood vessels. In the distance, the pounding of the single human heart could be heard as a steady thunder. He smiled fondly. His Clara's heart.

"Well, Clara, you let me in. All the way in. I don't know if that's good or bad. You aren't doing much to defend your brain from intruders. Not that you could have kept a Time Lord out. Need to find out if that is voluntary or part of the nano technology." The hallway was winding, but his vice did not echo as he spoke to himself aloud. The Doctor's grey eyebrows rose in surprise as he walked around a bend in the hallway and came face to face with a long hall of what appeared to be books lining the flickering cellular wall. "Long Term Memory Books," he breathed. "It really is a thing. Maybe you lot aren't such pudding-brains after all." Stepping closer, the Doctor could make out titles such as "First Time on a Ferris Wheel" and "Teatime with Mom." He smiled as he walked leisurely down the hall reading title after title of fond memories that his companion had logged throughout her life. "Maybe not a pudding-brain but definitely a cluttered book-brain. You lot keep everything." He walked past "Learned to Tie Shoes" and "Kicked A Man in the Head with a Ball." He froze, then took a step back. A flash of a memory tickled his consciousness and he reached out, brushing his fingers across its spine. It glowed beneath his hand and he tugged it from its slot in the wall. Opening the cover, he found himself looking into a memory that he had quite forgotten. A young Clara, maybe five or six playing kick the ball with her parents. The smell of the green trees hit his senses and the laughter made his hearts jump with gladness. His little Clara was happy. Out of nowhere, the stray ball came flying toward where he stood and hit him full force in the head with a flash of white and black. A simple soccer ball. The memory of the impact felt as real in that moment as it had all that time ago- so much so that he slammed the memory book shut and stumbled backwards, dodging an invisible force. Shaking his head, he hugged the book for a second. Then, tucking it back safely into its place, he began to walk again.

"Oi, are you looking for something?" A familiar voice asked behind him.

He turned quickly with the word "Clara?" on his lips.

The figure of Clara stood there - chestnut hair curled at the ends, dark impossibly round eyes, a smart red dress that matched her lips. She regarded him with confusion but also with a kind, familiar smile.

She shook her head. "Clara? Naw, wrong girl, mate. It's Oswin. Oswin Oswald at your service." She reached out a hand to shake his hand but he was so discombobulated that he could only stare at her, hands fluttering uselessly at his side. It was Clara's face, and Clara's voice, but a different name? Impossible!

"I-I" he stammered awkwardly, "I don't - do- the -hugging. Thing."

The girl called Oswin tilted her head up at him. "This isn't a hug, mate, it's called a handshake."

The Doctor glanced from her hand to his own. "Why would humans want to do that?"

She laughed, a sound that made his hearts flutter. "Because it's a way of saying hello." She held out her hand closer to him.

He backed away, nearly shoving his elbow into the row of memory books. "I'm - pretty - sure I don't think I - do those either."

For a moment, the Doctor simply couldn't think. He turned away, muttering to himself. "Clara, but not Clara. Why can't I remember? She was - somewhere – then I left. Bow-tie - She saved me. Long time – long time ago." He was now pacing quickly, mumbling, glancing at the akimbo form standing before him, Clara, but not Clara. "A very - very – long time ago." Suddenly, he turned on his heel, long finger pointing at the arrival's face. "You - you - You!" He was nearly face to face with her, her much shorter frame so far beneath him that he was looking down into dark eyes that were desperately familiar. "You are souffle girl."

Instead of the recognition he had hoped to see, the Doctor saw incredulity. "Souffle girl? Sorry, mate, never met you before. I don't know how you got here, or how you even know that, but you better get going. We have a system update in a little bit. And," she poked at his arm," no visitors or strangers allowed."

He turned pleading eyes to the large familiar ones, an expression that always worked on Clara, and was inwardly ecstatic when Oswin nodded. "Okay, fine. I won't toss you out. Off with you then and take the puppy dog eyes with you. And don't touch anything. Else."

He turned on his most charming smile. "I would much rather stay here with you. You seem quite -" he turned away, mentally searching for the right human word and tapping his temple in thought - "knowledgeable." His face lit up and he drew his shoulder's back and faced her. "You seem very knowledgeable. Please enlighten an old man, I've come here quite unintentionally, and I don't know where I am." He cringed as he thought of his Clara's desperate plea of the exact same phrase.

Oswin rolled her eyes, something he was delighted to see. That was a very Clara thing to do.

"You, mate, are inside what is known as the Inner Consciousness. We take control of memories of the mind and work on its development and organization. My job is Chief Cataloger. I search through all the memories and time banks within the consciousness and collect data. I have been tasked by the Outer Consciousness to catalog and destroy all memories associated with someone called The Doctor. Don't know the chap but he must be a real nuisance. They said it was an honor to the Consciousness to get the compilation of memories destroyed."

She started walking on down the hall that he had been exploring and called back, "Come on, I will show you to the door."

He tried to think of something to delay her when they turned another corner to see a glowing row of books labeled "Traveling in Space."

She stopped walking at that moment and scanned the wall of memory books.
"It's so strange." Her voice faded as she stood next to him. He glanced her direction, trying to plaster a look of indifference.

"What's the matter, Oswin?" He asked quietly, coming to stand behind her.

"I just don't know why they hate him so much." She spoke softly, so like Clara, yet so like Oswin. Her hand trailed over the row of blinking memories.

"Who?" The Doctor asked, trying to remain uninterested. Within, his two hearts were pounding. He remembered her. This splinter of Clara, Oswin Oswald, who had been captured by the Daleks and eventually gave her very life to remove his name from the Dalek memories and secure his escape was standing here before him. How was that possible?

The idea that one form of Clara was inside the real form of Clara was enough to set a Time Lord's head spinning. That just wasn't possible. The paradox would be unimaginable. Yet, here she was, ready to destroy the real Clara's memories of him and his past regeneration, with the result of perhaps also turning her into another Dalek. The thought sent an intense wave of nausea through him again, and he almost missed Oswin's response.

"Doctor Who? There isn't a who. He's just called The Doctor. Some guy that the Dalek's hate. A Time Lord or something, I think."

"You say that as if you don't care about the effect that changing things would have on history, and on time." The Doctor spoke intensely before he caught himself. The chaos that would be created, the terrible rip in time! Worlds would implode and disappear, tribes and races would suddenly be extinguished, the evil would have won.

"And you say that as if you do care." Oswin turned to face him, her red lips captured between her teeth in an expression of suspicion.

Trying to cover his error, the Doctor chuckled. "Simply a history uh, teacher, my dear. It's not possible to change past time. Just the future. Right?" His attempt to play dumb was not bought by his listener, visible as she narrowed her eyes at him and gazed deep into the grey orbs then shrugged.

"Who knows. Not my job to find out. Just my job to do what I'm told." She reached for a book labeled "Robin Hood." Inwardly cringing, the Doctor knew his own face would be front and center if she opened it, as well as herself, although she was just a splinter. Thinking quickly, he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Oswin, before you finish your destroying – uh, organization - care to show me around? I've never been inside an Inner Consciousness before." The puppy dog eyes put on their most convincing show and she smiled up at him. So Clara.

"Sure, history teacher, but quickly. I want to finish so I can go home." She waved for him to follow her and turned on her heel, heading back the way they had come.

He followed her down the hallway where she began to descend a spiral staircase. "Home, where is home?" He asked, huffing to keep up with the strange Oswin.

"The Alaska. I was a Junior Entertainment Manager. Got caught up in all this Consciousness stuff. Once I finish this mission then they are sending me back to my ship."

The Doctor frowned as he watched the curled hair bounce up and down as they descended the stairs. Not Clara, but was Clara. Wasn't Oswin fully converted into a Dalek though? How was she standing here in front of him?

He shook his head. "She's impossible."

"Who is?" She stopped and half turned to look up at him.

He floundered for a moment. "Uh, well, this whole - Consciousness. It's new to me, that's all."

She narrowed her eyes again for a moment, then smiled. "No worries, it's new to me too. Come on into the kitchen, there's a soufflé in the oven."

The memory hit his senses again. Where do all the supplies come from for the souffles?

They entered a small kitchen directly at the base of the staircase. She immediately took a steaming dish from the small oven, much to his surprise. He watched her dishing up the soufflé, not quite sure what to do. He had a series of problems. Obviously, the Dalek hive mind still remembered Oswin. She had definitely died a long time ago, giving her life for his, with the gentle "Run you clever boy. And remember me." Through the nano technology, the Daleks had to be using the old splinter of Clara to invade her mind and memory banks and delete memories. Of course, they would delete the Doctor memories first. Who would she be without him? This was clearly a blatant attempt to convert her into a Dalek – a hate-seething Dalek. And the only person that stood between himself and Clara's precious memories was Oswin. But how could the Daleks have put together Clara and her splinter? Their knowledge of history and the Doctor's time stream just didn't extend that far. One thing the Doctor was sure of was that he could never hurt Oswin to stop her. She had saved his life, and she was Clara.

As Oswin turned to face him, a cup of tea in her outstretched hands, it clicked in the Doctor's mind. Missy. Missy knew about him and Clara. Missy knew that this would happen. She was the Trojan Horse.

"But why?" He began to pace the floor, desperately confused. "Why, Missy? Why would you risk Clara's life so – so -easily?"

"In a way, this is why I gave her to you in the first place. To make you see. The friend inside the enemy, the enemy inside the friend. Everyone's a bit of both. Everyone's a hybrid."

Missy's cold words rolled back into the forefront of his mind and he clenched a fist to his lips, biting the joint of his forefinger in frustration.

"Oi, don't do that. What'd you think you are doing?" Oswin reached over and pulled his finger from his teeth. "Now drink your tea like a gentleman and let's continue this mission. You may have all day to dawdle, but I don't."

The doctor blinked as he tried to process what was happening. "What happens if the day is over and you haven't gotten to everything?" he asked, trying to keep his voice conversational, as he examined the pile of goop in the plate that he was offered by Oswin.

Oswin put her hands on her hips. "Souffle first. What do you think?"

His eyebrows shot up and he swallowed hard. "It's not Clara." His mind reminded him. But he couldn't find it in his heart to be mean, as he looked into those large expecting eyes. So he was his typical mischievous and bitter Scrooge.

"You get points for the smell, that's great. It looks atrocious though." He nearly laughed at the shock that rose on her face.

"You don't exactly get points for appearance either," She waved her hands at his clothing. "What is this? Magician? Mime? You don't look like a history teacher."

He snorted and took a sip of the tea. "Classic history."

Oswin was still looking determinedly at him, so he sighed. He would have to try the souffle.

"Fork?" he asked. She smiled brightly and reached into a drawer next to her and handed him the utensil. He looked into the dark eyes again, so shiny and large, the smile hovering on her red lips so familiar. He would do it. "For Clara," he whispered.

The steaming souffle had almost touched his lips when a loud dong sounded, echoing through the small kitchen and down the hall. Oswin's face clouded immediately.

"What was that?" the Doctor asked, setting down the souffle plate gratefully, frowning at the offending creation as it jiggled and then collapsed into a puddle in the middle of the plate.

Oswin took a deep breath and left the kitchen behind, beginning to climb the staircase again. He rushed after her. "Oswin, what was that sound?"

"My warning alarm." She replied, not slowing down or glancing back as she rushed up the winding steps.

"Why do you have a warning alarm?" he puffed, rushing after her, coattails flying.

"It's my warning to finish the mission. I only have thirty minutes to finish collecting the memories. After that.."

"After that, what?" the Doctor shouted up at her. She turned so suddenly that he almost ran over her and stopped face to face with the splinter. He reached a rough hand to cup her cheek. "Oswin, what happens then?"

"I will be erased," She replied. Taking a deep breath, she wrapped her hand around his, then gently lowered his hand and continued to climb.

NOTE: This is fan-fiction. I am trying to keep everything Canon. However, the 12th Doctor is a very hard Doctor to write, so I apologize if he is a little off in this story. I tried to write him the best I could in a way that seemed like his personality. Let me know how I did! Sorry for the repost...somehow I ended up with crediting Frank Capaldi (?) with the song If I Could Pray...it's definitely Peter Capaldi...that's what happens when you are writing at 1 am. Please review! It keeps me writing :)