Chapter Text
"Mingle," she had said, "Try not to annoy anyone."
It was not surprising that they had been forcibly ejected from the insalubrious establishment within half an hour of their arrival. The bar was roughly equivalent to the toughest biker hangout back on Earth, complete with intergalactic hogs and fierce, bald aliens with scars and more facial piercings than could be counted in the second in which it would be safe to look above anyone's neck. The most terrifying hog rider in the place was a four foot tall, stocky female with green scaly skin and white punk hair who the Doctor had somehow insulted with his eyes alone. The bartender, a giant of a man with wild red eyes and a scar from eye to chin, had lifted the Doctor clear of the woman's spiked fist and deposited him outside, stopping short of throwing him across the moonlit parking lot, preferring to drop him, still protesting angrily in an especially thick Scottish drawl, between two large, stinking, trash cans.
"Don't come back," Red Eyes barked, a lizard tongue flicking from his scarred mouth, "We don't want your sort here. If I see you here again I won't protect your worn out hide from anyone, especially not Malita."
Clara stalked out of the bar, narrowly missing Red as he barged passed her. Clara's heels clicked angrily on the steps and her biker jacket, ripped from shoulder to waist, swung from her clenched fist. A twelve inch barb held her hair bun very firmly in place. She glared at the Doctor, watching him straighten his jacket and attempt to adopt a casual disregard for the entire affair. The affectation was undermined by the wrinkling of his nose at the stench of stale alcohol and what they both preferred to assume was rotting food waste in the containers either side of him. Under Clara's fierce gaze he eventually capitulated.
"It was the eyebrows," he said defensively, "They have a life of their own."
Clara rolled her eyes and pulled the sharp piece of wood from her hair tossing it to the floor.
"You owe me a new jacket, a stiff drink, an apology and a thank you," she returned, blocking his exit from between the trash cans and throwing her ripped coat at him which he caught deftly.
The Doctor had the decency to look a little sheepish.
"Clara, I'll buy you a new coat, there's whiskey in the TARDIS, and I'm sorry for letting my eyebrows insult the oversized chameleon with a serious body odour problem. Perhaps I should shave them off? Do you think that would be less threatening?"
"Leave the eyebrows where they are," she shook her head in desperation, "And what about the 'thank you'?"
"Thank you?" he scowled in thought, "For what?"
A quirky smile spread across Clara's lips and reaching into the pocket of her trousers she withdraw a fine silver chain from which dangled a tiny, platinum key which sparkled in the moonlight.
"Not just a pretty face," she grinned.
"You humans, you're so full of yourselves."
A broad smile cracked across the Doctor's face, it was all the thanks Clara expected to receive.
Inside the bar there was a sudden roar of anger and the sound of tables being flung across the room. Clara pocketed the key and jerked her head in the direction of the TARDIS.
"Either someone else has dangerous facial hair or someone noticed they're missing their keys," the Doctor observed as he grabbed Clara by the arm and pulled her into a full blown run.
* * *
The TARDIS door slammed shut behind them with a volley of mini javelin shrieking through the night air and landing harmlessly at their feet. As fists began to beat on the exterior walls the Doctor threw a switch on the console and the TARDIS moved itself to some other, potentially safer, place in time and space. Clara laughed and tossed her coat over the nearest rail before fishing the tiny key out of her pocket.
"So, then, Doctor. What is this the key to?"
"My new Ferrari," he replied, concentrating on his work for a moment, "I thought it was time I owned a car."
"The way you fly your TARDIS there's no way I am getting in a car with you at the wheel," Clara retorted as she examined the key more closely.
It was the smallest key she had ever seen, no bigger than the nail on her little finger. The platinum was etched with a miniscule tree, its roots and branches reaching out widely to form a circle around the whole trunk. If it hadn't been for the silver chain dangling out of the lovely Malita's retro denim jeans Clara wasn't sure she would have found the key at all.
"What's it for?" she asked again, dropping it casually onto the console from where the Doctor snatched it up rather too eagerly.
"It opens a door," he said slowly, "A door to a place that, if the myths are true, should be protected from every living being for all eternity."
"Enigmatic," Clara moved closer to take another look. "Why did I just steal it? Did they know what it was for?"
The Doctor shook his head, "No, to them it's a good luck charm. It works, to a point. Not outrageous good fortune, not wealth or happiness or love. It's more subtle. It's probably what saved you from getting one of chameleon girl's barbs through your skull."
"Not bad," Clara admitted, "So can I keep it in the pocket of the new jacket you're going to buy me? I could do with a bit of luck considering my current extracurricular activities."
"Did you not just hear me say it should be kept away from every living being? Humans are the worst, if one of your lot got hold of this... it would be a disaster waiting to happen. Maybe not in your lifetime, but eventually, when you lot finally get yourselves off Earth and into space, the legend of the key and the key itself would meet. It would be a disaster of universal proportions."
"Why?"
"Because, if the legend is true, it opens the gates to Fel-har-dai."
Clara frowned and caste her hands wide, "In terms I would understand?"
The Doctor looked at her sombrely.
"In your terms, the closest single word is Eden."
"You cannot be serious," Clara's eyes bulged, "That's the key to Eden?"
The Doctor looked askance, "It is the closest single word in the English language. Fel-har-dai literally translated would be garden eternal life, but if you look at the original transcripts, which I have studied in detail, it was called Felrani harmoxia estradai, the garden of dangerous beauty where life is eternal."
"Fel-har-dai," Clara opted for a more succinct name. "And we stole the key to it because....?"
"I heard a rumour that someone knew what the key was and how to use it."
"Okay, and it wasn't the person we stole it from, so what do you plan to do with it?”
Shaking his head the Doctor hung the key carefully over a lever on the TARDIS console, his fingers brushing it very gently.
"I am going to destroy it," he answered quietly. "I cannot presume that I will always be strong enough to resist its power. I am capable of terrible things, Clara, worse by far than any human because I understand what Fel-har-dai could offer."
Clara moved slowly around the console and came to a rest beside the Doctor. She was drawn to the key, its beautiful simplicity. She reached out and the Doctor caught her hand, drawing her away from it.
"Didn't you wonder how you found it in that bar? Without knowing what you were looking for? Without knowing what it looked like or who claimed it as their possession?"
Clara nodded but said nothing.
"They key is designed to reach out to those who search for it. It is a rare form of psychic beacon. It doesn't control your thoughts but it tempts you, draws you closer. I can resist it because my senses are different to yours, more developed..."
Clara opened her mouth to object but he carried on talking, still not letting go of her hand.
"...and for once I'm not insulting humans for my own amusement. Humans and Timelords are simply genetically different, despite my outward appearance my blood, my cells, my brain… they are all structured in ways that are fundamentally alien to you. For a Timelord this key is multidimensional. I can feel it in my mind. The moment we walked into the bar it began glowing inside my head, I could almost smell it. You aren't even aware that you are being drawn in, are you?"
She closed her eyes and concentrated. There was no beacon, just a vague thought that the key was pretty, an item she would like to hold. Nodding her acceptance Clara stepped slightly away from the key and pulled her focus back to the Doctor.
"Does it have to be destroyed? Its just a legend after all, how do you know that Fel-har-dai holds some secret of the universe?"
Before the Doctor could answer the TARDIS lurched. The central column began to pump furiously and there was a terrifying wrenching sound that rattled the room around them. Flung sideways, Clara grabbed hold of the nearest piece of handrail at the bottom of the stairs and held on as the time machine bucked and tilted like a fairground ride. The Doctor swung himself back to the controls and after trying several different buttons eventually threw off the handbrake causing the TARDIS to perform one last heave before rapidly accelerating. With the worst of the shaking over Clara ran to a monitor watching for anything familiar to appear.
"We're being dragged through space," the Doctor called to her, "We've been pulled out of the space time vortex and we're hurtling through..." he winced as he read the display above Clara's head, "We're currently hurtling through an asteroid field. I hope the shields are up."
There was a phenomenal surge of power, the lights flickered and went out, leaving only the glow of the central column as it pounded relentlessly, not in its usual sedate and reassuring manner but like a steam engine running out of control, wheezing and screeching as it moved.
"Brace yourself!" the Doctor shouted above the noise but there was nothing substantial to hold.
With a final twist the TARDIS seemed to rotate vertically through 360 degrees, Clara's stomach clenched, the Doctor threw himself towards the handrail, missed and as the TARDIS bounced into land he found himself lying uncomfortably on the steps with Clara in a heap under one of the secondary control panels.
The central column's light steadied to a faint glow and the emergency power flicked on. Clara rolled onto her back expelling a deep breath, her head spinning. The Doctor adopted a seated position on the steps for a second, taking in the situation then stalked over to the console. Clara gave him a thumbs up and the Doctor gave a brief nod. No broken bones.
"What the hell was that?" Clara clambered to her feet and joined the Doctor by the scanners. Unconsciously she ran her hand across the key that was now lying lose on the controls.
"Apparently someone wanted our attention."
Scowling he spun around and ran out of the TARDIS door. Adrenalin pumping, Clara grinned and sprinted after him.
Outside the TARDIS the air was warm and the light a hazy gold. Blinking in the brightness Clara sought out the Doctor who stood with his back to her looking at a rough white stone wall. He was close enough to the stone to touch it and he cautiously laid one hand on the cold structure, closing his eyes and listening intently. Clara moved to speak but he raised his other hand and she held the silence until he withdrew from the wall and slipped his sonic sunglasses from his pocket.
"Where are we?" Clara asked, though a feeling of excitement in her stomach told her she already knew.
"Fel-har-dai," the Doctor said shortly. His agitation apparent on his taut face he scanned the wall with his sonic shades and his lips drew into a thin line.
"What's wrong?" Clara drew in line with this shoulder, her proximity making his tension ease slightly.
"Probably nothing," he put away the glasses with a touch of bravado, "We'll just have a look around while we're here."
"Which way?"
The Doctor looked left and right along the wall which stretched as far as they could see in both directions. Neither left nor right had any discernible merits. With a damp finger, moistened briefly in his mouth, the Doctor felt for a breeze in any direction. Clara slipped her hand through his arm.
"I have a good feeling about left," she told him, "If you're just taking a stab in the dark that is."
They turned left following the wall which ran perfectly straight along a narrow path. It was three stories high, curling over a the top at an improbable angle and every stone seemed to shimmer as they drew near it. The Doctor was strangely silent as they began walking, his eyes fixed firmly forward, his pace unusually slow.
"Doctor, what's inside the wall?"
Clara's voice brought him out of his reverie.
"Exactly? I don't know," he paused. "What do you know about the myth of eternal life?"
She shook her head, "Not my forte. Every culture has its own I suppose, the holy grail springs to mind."
"Yes, yes, yes, but that's just a fairy tale..."
"And the difference between a fairy tale and a myth is?"
"That's not important right now," he said quickly, "The point is the legends, the myths, many of them talk about a fruit that will supposedly grant immortality with varying combinations of eternal youth, rejuvenation and rebirth. There are tales on every sentient planet in every universe about the trials of an ancient who sought the tree of life, the elixir of youth, the fruit of the gods. No-one ever wants to die."
"And that's what's behind this wall? A garden of fruit that might give you eternal life?" Clara's eyes widened, "Not possible!"
A dark look crossed the Doctor's face, "Immortality is not impossible, just incredibly unlikely. It has been fashioned by mortal hand."
Clara drew a long slow breath and let it out steadily.
"This is about Ashildr."
He looked away from her. "No. Not precisely."
Clara's hand caught his arm forcing him to stop.
"You've been brooding about Ashildr since the minute we left her village. That was... that was weeks ago for me, how long ago was it for you?"
There was a non-committal shrug and an eventual admission, "I lost track."
"And you've been spending your time investigating immortality myths because you want to what? Stop any more immortals being created? How many immortals do you know that you are so sure this is the right thing to do?"
Clara's tone held disbelief and the Doctor rankled at the sound.
"I have known one or two that are cursed with the inability to die, or at least to stay dead. You don't understand, Clara. I am afraid I made a terrible mistake reviving Ashildr. No-one is supposed to live forever, no-one deserves that kind of ..."
"..luck?"
"...punishment. You’re an English teacher, you must have read A Picture of Dorian Gray. Wilde was perceptive man. It’s hard for an immortal to remain…compassionate. When everything you love dies, not once but over and over again, when there are no lasting consequences to your actions… what is there to fuel your desire for life, love?"
Clara's brow knotted. "But you’ve been alive for centuries and you’ve not lost your passion.”
An ironic smile flickered across his lips. Oh, Clara Oswald, he thought, I have lost more than you could ever know.
“We are not talking about Timelords, Clara. Longevity for my kind is natural. Death, however, comes to us all.”
“Okay, okay, I'll buy that,” Clara agreed, “But I know you can’t undo what you did, the whole not crossing your own time-line end of the universe scenario. So what now? You didn’t intend to come here but the key clearly had other ideas."
"We are just having a look around. Make sure everything is secure."
"And then?"
He walked on without answering.
Clara threw her hands up in frustration and let him go. There were times when it was better to say nothing. She looked around properly for the first time since they had arrived. The golden light was low in the sky and it was hard to see in any direction but it seemed as though there was nothing around them, no plants, not ocean, no sand or earth, only a light that stretched into infinity. Clara stepped backwards to rest on the wall and yelped in surprise as the structure gave way behind her.
By the time the Doctor was beside her Clara was back on her feet dusting off her trousers. Where the wall had been there was now a gaping hole. Bent bronze gates hung off their rusted hinges and large white stones that had once been part of the wall littered the ground. Behind the gates trees 150 metres tall blotted out the golden light and a smell of decay wafted unpleasantly from the forest floor.
"Did the legends say anything about being able to find the place without the key?" Clara asked, walking boldly toward the open gate.
The Doctor shook his head, "No, but apparently somebody did.”
"And came equipped with enough fire power to blast their way in," Clara looked back at the Doctor who’s face was pale and grim. For a moment Clara thought he looked almost afraid.
“Clara,” he spoke quietly, looking at the ground rather than meeting her eyes, “Perhaps you should wait for me in the TARDIS.”
He received no reply and when he finally raised his eyes Clara was walking through the gap in the gates and on into the darkness.
They walked in silence between the trees following an ancient path that could just be distinguished from the forest floor. Far above them, in a canopy taller than anything Clara had ever seen, something hooted a three note tune and something else cawed back, a rough raucous sound that reminded her of a raven. What light there was came in piercing shafts of the sun’s glare that penetrated through thinner patches in the trees, sometimes blinding them, at other times barely producing enough illumination to see three steps ahead. The inhabitants of the trees did not venture low enough in the bows to be seen and there was no sign of any ground dwelling creatures, the absence of tracks and animal scat made the Doctor more wary. The odour of decay hung heavily in the still air.
“Stay on the path,” he urged Clara as she reached to touch the perfectly smooth bark of the nearest tree, “And don’t touch anything.”
“For a place that’s supposed to be home to the fruit of eternal life this place isn’t very hospitable.”
“It’s not supposed to be,” replied the Doctor, “If there’s no challenge in reaching your goal, is it really something you desire?”
“One does not simply walk into Mordor,” Clara muttered under her breath, then more loudly added, “Do you think we are going to have to slay dragons?”
“No dragons,” the Doctor stared into the darkness of the trees, “There would be a smell of sulphur. Dragons are hard creatures to hide. All that fire leaves charcoal everywhere, and they usually have some bones stuck between their teeth so they are usually grumpy with toothache and have foul breath.”
Clara gawped at him, “Seriously? You’ve been that close to a dragon?”
He shrugged, moving into large pocket of darkness, “I’ve seen one or two at quarters closer than I would have liked. They are intelligent beings with explosive personalities. Never tell a dragon what to do and never interrupt them flossing their teeth. If you have that many teeth you don’t want to lose track of your progress.”
Her laugh was quiet, slightly further behind him than he had expected. Turning on his heal he slid his glasses out of his pocket, turning on night vision as he did.
“Clara?”
The glasses picked up nothing at all. He tapped them in agitation and tried again. Held out his hand and looked down but the sonic glasses failed to identify that either.
“Clara?” he called again. Could he hear his own voice?
“This is not a good thing.”
The Doctor frowned until his eyebrows were almost knit together. There was no sound. There was no light. Slowly he bent his knees and tentatively touched the ground. Between his fingers leaf litter crumpled into dust. So they were still in the forest. Or at least he was. He placed his hand flat on the floor and held his breath, focusing his senses to the small vibrations in the earth.
Come on, Clara, he thought, Move.
Clara stood motionless. She had walked only a few hesitant steps, arms outstretched hoping to snag the Doctor’s coat and had found nothing, not even a tree trunk. Careful not to spin herself around in panic she kept talking but a blanket of thick silence fell over her. She clicked her fingers beside each ear then pinched herself, hard, just to be sure she had not been transported out of her body. The pinch hurt, it would probably bruise, that was fine. She reached to the floor and felt the dry leaves between her fingers. They were still in the forest, or at least she was. Beneath the leaf debris she found a palm sized rock. Clasping it firmly in her fist Clara placed her other hand flat on the floor, she tapped the ground hard. The fingers of her left hand felt the soft tremor. She struck the ground again, harder this time, throwing her weight behind her shoulder.
The Doctor, his senses stretched to their limits, felt a single strike upon the path. Quickly he stood to his full height and stamped on the ground, twice, then dropped back to his knees, hands on the floor, fingers spread wide. Seconds passed, he held his breath. Then it came again. Three strikes this time, behind him and to his right. He stood, took a step backwards and stamped again.
Clara felt something in the earth move. It was hard to get a direction, but she could definitely feel a change in the soil. She stayed on her hands and knees, gripping the stone harder than ever. She swung fist again, feeling the air whisk by her skin as she moved, the vibration of the rock impacting on the path sending tremors up her arm. In such close proximity to the ground it was impossible to ignore the unpleasant stench of decay that seeped through the leaves. The ground vibrated again. Clara was sure it was stronger this time, and it was in front of her. She stood, took two long step forward and reached out her hand. Her fingers brushed against something soft and she snatched at the fabric pulling it towards her.
The strikes had stopped. The Doctor held his position, fingers digging into the dirt in desperation. Where was Clara? He thought he had sensed movement in front of him, the air moved rather like a door being opened and closed. This was not right. A distinctly sick feeling crept into the Doctor’s stomach. This was not a challenge. This was not part of the forest. This was a trap.
For a fleeting moment relief welled inside Clara but the sudden icy grip on her wrist from thin, hard fingers tore it from her instantly. Clara screamed but no sound came. The rock still in her fist she lashed out, catching something at her own head height hard enough to feel something crack and produce wetness on her skin. Yanking herself free of the grip she ran blindly, the ground beneath her feet felt firm and she hoped that she was still on the path. No trees trunks seemed to bar her way. She moved left several steps slowed down, walked forward, stepped left, ran forward again. He feet found softer soil and she knew she was no longer on the track. Without sight or sound she could not tell if she had been followed, she gasped for air, adrenalin buzzing through her veins. Falling to her knees Clara groped around her until she found the hard edge of the path. It ran left and right. Moving quickly, stooping low, she took several steps forward, check the path was still at her side, and moved on again.
The darkness must end, she told herself, I just have to keep going.
The Doctor had stopped moving. He was sitting on the ground, cross legged, letting every muscle in his body relax. Convincing his mind to be still. He breathed slowly, nostrils flaring, savouring the breath. His nose wrinkled at the strongest scent, rotting leaves mixed with the decomposition of something that had once been living flesh. Tree sap, sweet and strong came in the next breath, then guano high above him in the trees. Next came blood. It was fresh, and a body odour, sweaty, scared and unfamiliar. They were not alone in the forest. Whatever or whoever it was lurked close behind him, weaving backwards and forwards, left to right, moving closer with each step. Rising to his feet he breathed again steadily. Clara’s scent swept in from a distance, her soap and perfume mixed with adrenalin and fear. Concentrating on keeping the stranger behind him and Clara in front the Doctor ran.
She was travelling downhill. Clara hadn’t been sure at first but a stumble and an extended roll had been enough to confirm her theory. She slowed down, her sides ached, her chest burned and her ankle twinged angrily at every step. The fall could have been worse and she knew it. Fear was forming a lump in her throat and she clenched her jaw against it. In her palm was the rock she had used as a weapon, she gripped it tightly with all her muscles prepared for an attack.
Above her head there was the same three note tune of the bird she had heard before, it was distant, barely audible.
“Doctor?” Clara said tentatively, her voice sounded shaken and raw but she could not have been more delighted. Without stopping moving she called again as loudly as she could. “Doctor!”
“Clara!”
The Doctor’s voice came from behind her and she spun around. Though sound was returning the forest was as dark as the desert on a moonless night. Clara called out again.
“I’m over here!”
Sound was fading again. She thought she could hear his footsteps for a moment but they stopped before they reached her. She struck out into the blackness with her hands and felt something hard sweep rapidly back and forth over her hand. Clara hesitated, held her ground. The breeze swept over her hand again and she lifted her palm rapidly, trying to grasp it. A thin piece of string caught between her fingers and a hard smooth object ran into the back of her hand. The string went taught, tugged twice, carefully. Clara tugged back and instantly the Doctor’s hand, warm and strong had seized hers. There was a hesitation, then the Doctor pulled Clara into a quick, very tight, hug before tugging her into another run.
Somehow the absence of light and sound was less daunting now. After a few minutes sound started to return again.
“Why does the sound keep dipping in and out?” Clara panted.
“Maybe someone is messing with the volume control,” the Doctor replied dryly, “Or we are moving out of range of the device that’s dampening it.”
“There’s someone else in there,” Clara spoke urgently, “It tried to grab me, I hit it with a rock.”
There was a grunt of approval, “Unless you’re bleeding that will be the blood I smelt behind me.”
Remembering their earlier conversation Clara asked, “Is this a trial?”
“No,” his voice was tinted with anger, “This is a trap.”
“Please tell me we’re running out of it,” a laugh forced its way from her lungs.
“We’re being driven downhill,” came the gruff reply, “Away from the path. If I were a gambling man I would say we’re running straight into it.”
“You’re the best gambler I’ve ever know.” Clara said softly.
A loud snapping sound filled the air and suddenly the ground was falling away beneath them. Feeling himself falling the Doctor shook off Clara’s hand and pushed her forcefully away just as the final branches on the trapping pit gave way and he tumbled headlong into oblivion.