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Beads of sweat made their way down the time lord’s forehead as he continued shovelling in the garden, away from the Nightmare. He was focused on the task at hand, keeping the thoughts at the back of his mind.
He had to get out of there.
The fine dirt cloud occluded most of his vision when he tried to look up at the Sun. It must have been nearly half an hour since he had started digging.
He could stop. But the Doctor had to know what they wanted him to find.
So he could get out. And save Clara.
His shovel made its way through the dirt a few more times until it hit a surfeace, making a dull sound. The time lord immediately threw the shovel to the side and started clearing the layer of soil with the palms of his hands. The surface underneath was unusually smooth and stretched for quite a distance behind him.
A box was uncovered; fit for a person.
He stared horrified at the box.
A coffin for him?
A symbol?
Was he digging his own grave for when they are ready from him?
He opened the lid hastily. He froze, his hearts breathing faster. The time lord felt suffocated, seeing the ghostly sight in front of him.
His companion's body was laying in the coffin.
Clara, exactly the same as he had seen her last, her hands resting on midriff.
He had laid her that way on the bed right before leaving.
His long arms wrapped very gently around her body, which immediately rolled into his grasp. Her head lolled over his arm, to which the Doctor gently shifted to let her head rest on his shoulder.
His stick-like fingers brushed away the hair from her face. Since it was close to sundown, he couldn't see her very well. Nonetheless, taking into account how limp her body was and how her scent still lingered on her skin and clothes, he could have imagined the body could not have been more than a few minutes old. An hour max.
How were they able to set this whole thing up?
He held her cold body close to his. Her head fit perfectly in the crevice under his chin.
The time lord's fingers intertwined with hers. They were so so cold and limp.
"Oh Clara. My Clara." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, careful not to let her head loll back. "I am so sorry." The Doctor burrowed his nose into her hair. Her scent was still there. He pressed his lips to her forehead, breathing in her scent. "It's going to be alright, love." He rocked gently back and forth with her body in his arms, lulling her. "You're safe."
Or was he rather lulling himself from that nightmare? His eyes stung.
It was his Clara. But she wasn't there. Her soul had been relieved of the suffering of the world.
He held her tighter to him. They had killed her.
She had done nothing wrong. She just wanted to do the right thing.
And her kindness and wit led her too far.
He thought she would be safe by herself.
He had a duty of care.
They He killed her.
He got back into the castle, carrying his companion's lifeless body in a bridal hold. He longed to have her alive, just to hold her like that one more time. Warm. Breathing. Pulse against his.
He had done this multiple times before. Outside, to TARDIS, to medbay, to the bedroom. Maybe too many times for his liking. He'd walk through the halls as he'd feel her breath tickle the little hairs on his neck. He'd keep her safe, tell her that it was going to be alright. She would smile, saying that she knew; she was in the hands of the best Doctor in the Universe.
Warm tears trickling down his face shook him from his memory.
Sometimes he'd double-take as he continued walking through the desolate castle, thinking he heard her whimper, felt her shift or even say something to him. But she was as still and limp as a paper.
Hope... A horrible thing to possess when the Universe gives you none.
The time lord looked down at her as light from the torches shone onto them. Her dry lips were delicately painted over with a pale shade of blue, her skin scaringly pale. Her eyes almost sunken and having dark circles under them.
The Doctor felt like the ground was going to swallow them when his knees felt weak. He fell to his knees, his broken sobs echoing through the dark halls of the castle. The time lord hugged the cold corpse to his chest. He wanted his hearts to fail there and then. He'd wished it when she had died, and he'd wish it now.
But she has passed too much strength to him to pass.
Promise me. Be a doctor.
"I have failed you, Clara." He breathed into her hair. "Why can I save everyone, but I couldn't save you?"
You always fix it.
She believed in him. She trusted him to save her, to fix her. He had let her down.
The Doctor walked to the bedroom, slowly and carefully laying her on the bed. He did his best to remove the sheets without stirring her too much before covering her with them.
It shouldn't have ended like this. She was still so young, so... Full of life.
He had sworn to her, but even more to himself, that she wouldn't die with him.
Die with whoever comes after me, you do not leave me!
It was a thought in the back of his mind; her leaving him. It was inevitable. After all, she was only human.
She was an impossibly possible human.
He'd had countless dreams of her leaving him. Various possibilities. But he was lucky to have her to wake up to most of the time.
Yet, this was a nightmare he could not shake himself from.
Away from home, his Clara dead, trapped within his own torture chamber.
He's never felt so alone in all his life.
As his fingers passed over her cheekbone, which he noted was more prominent that usual, her skin felt ever so slightly rougher.
The biting cold did not leave her, not even when he hugged her tight.
"I just want you to be alive, Clara. To be happy. And it's all my fault." He sniffed. "Look what I've turned you into." The Doctor's lips pressed against her cold forehead. "My sweet brave Clara."
He remembered Trenzalore. The days Clara had spent unconscious on her bed, fighting against the chaos in her mind, in and out of it all. She would wake up screaming... he'd be there to hold her tight. And he though hearing her scream and cry time and time again was the worst thing he could ever go through.
"I have failed my purpose, Clara. I had a duty of care. And I've failed you." He sighed. "I just wish it were the same. I wish... I wish you were still alive." His fingers curled around hers, hoping he'd feel the slightest throb of life.
He still had that duty of care.
That is why he needed to fight back.
Fight whatever, or whoever was keeping him in here, torturing him, using his greatest strength as his weakness. Not for the Doctor, the Doctor didn't bother with anything that happened to him.
Whoever planned this whole thing was a sick freak.
They were desecrating his best friend's life and memory.
"Why can't I just rest, Clara? I'm tired of running."
And yet, she didn't run.
She was brave enough not to run in the face of Death.
His thoughts were soon cut short when he heard heavy paces as the Veil crept closer into the bedroom.
His jaw tightened, before kissing Clara's knuckles delicately one last time, sitting up and facing his fear.
Facing his raven.
"First, you kill her in agony. Now this?" The Veil did not stop as it entered the bedroom. The time lord had no escape; maybe escaping from the window again. But he doubted he'd live yet again.
Besides, he wasn't going to leave Clara... Her body was there. Clara was still there, however lifeless her body was. "Torture me however you like, but as soon as you touched her, it's personal. She did no harm; nothing to deserve this. And then, you rob her of a proper burial?! You dare dishonour her memory like this!?"
"You better be very very careful how you mess with me. I will find you, and I will make you regret your entire existence."
The time lord jumped. Long thin dark fingers were just a foot breadth away from his face. The Veil was practically occluding him.
The time lord acted fast and slipped right under the Veil's arms, barely needing to bend as he was resting on the armchair in the bedroom.
Bed. Clara.
Looking back into the room for just a moment, the bed was neatly arranged; never stirred.
He released a breath he did not know he was holding, before heading out and running as fast as he could.
The shots from his nightmare returned to him as he ran further and further away from his tormentor.
There was no Clara. Thank goodness. It was all his imagination.
Or something they must have placed in that soup to make him more susceptible. It was a torture chamber, after all, and they had all the tools at their disposal to squeeze an answer out of him. And they chose his greatest weakness
Never.
He stopped next to the dining hall to catch his breath. The room was well-lit thanks to the sunlight entering the large windows. He stopped. Unless....
Keep on fighting, Doctor. You always win. This isn't a battle you can afford to lose.
He looked at the screen at the corner of the hall, slowly making his way towards it. The Veil was still walking out of the bedroom. Good.
The time lord sighed. He had to keep running. If not for him, for Clara. She fell where she stood, trying to save him from Me. Now he had to run to get vengeance for her death.
I am in room 12
He straightened up and fished in his inside pocket, to pull out a small journal and pencil.
Very well, Clara. Time to find Room 12.