#thefaceofthedevilhimself

"What. . . Is. . . This?"‏

The Doctor: The Doctor stiffened, stilling in his movements as he realized he'd just been found quite literally red-handed. He licked his lips, turning around to face her, a smile plastered on his face. "Hello, Clara! Nice of you to join me for baking time!"

Clara: "B-baking time? Baking time?!" She didn't move from her spot in the doorway as her voice rose in volume, eyes darting about, taking in the ghastly scene before her. "Doctor, these are people! Humans! And you. . . Y-you're putting them in. . ." She slid down to her knees, shaking as she continued, "Th-that cake you made. . . Th-the one I ate. . ."

The Doctor: "Clara, it really is quite healthy. I've only gotten people who don't have diseases or disorders. You have nothing to worry about." He stepped closer, rubbing his gloves fingers together with anxiety. "Clara, please, it...it's really not so bad. I'm just trying to..." Oh, how could he explain this? "I'm trying to be human..." Yeah, that explanation was horrible.

Clara: "Y-you've been feeding me people!" She slowly rose to her feet, her entire body still shaking as she took a nervous step towards him, fear evident on her features. "And you. . . You're doing this to be human? How the hell does this make you human?!" Running her hands through her hair, she choked out, "Home. I want to go home, Doctor."

The Doctor: "...You are what you eat. It's a slow process but I can already feel my second heart slowing down. One day I'll be like you." He took a deep breath. "One day I will finally no longer be alone."

Clara: ". . . What do you mean, no longer be alone? Apart from the times you have traveled alone, you've had a companion, right?" She bit her lip, taking a step away from him. "What are you planning?"

The Doctor: "I'm the only one of my kind, Clara. Do you know how that feels? How lonely it gets even if someone is there? I can't do it anymore! I can't be this anymore!" He was shouting now, losing himself to the emotions he'd been holding in around her. "I need to finish, Clara. But I don't want to be completely alone during it. I had started to ENJOY it without someone here to make me second guess it all. I need you."

Clara: She flinched as he began to shout, wanting to run as far away as she could but unable to move, frozen in fear. "Doctor. . . Doctor, I need to see Angie and Artie, I have to. . . H-have to make sure they're okay. . ." She's trying to ignore it. A madman from space who eats people to be human. And he had her eating them, too. "Th-then we can. . . Can go and sit down, and get you calm, okay?"

The Doctor: "I can't." He replied, swallowing. "I....I haven't been able to pilot the TARDIS as well lately..." He turned away. "Some of that ability has been lost too..."

Clara: "So I'm stuck here then?" In the past, the idea would be almost fine. She liked being here, had a room even. But with the knowledge she now had. . . "At least let me send a message to them somehow, please. Just to check up on them!"

The Doctor: "You don't have to worry about them. There's no point. They're safe." He moved to give her his most trustworthy expression he could, standing before her. "They don't need you. I promise."

Clara: "What have you told them? I don't want them thinking I abandoned them!" she shouted, almost moving to shove him away. But she couldn't do it, her fingers curling against his shirt. "Why are you doing this?"

The Doctor: "I don't want to be alone, Clara. Every time I am, things go horribly wrong. I need you. I need you here with me."

Clara: "I. . . I won't leave. I promise, I won't." Oh, but she wanted to. Wanted to leave and hide and forget this ever happened to her. "Let's. . . Let's sit down, have some tea and. . . And calm down."

The Doctor: "I am calm..but if you need some time...I can't leave the baking yet. It will burn." He was stumbling over his words, glancing back at the monstrosity of a scene behind him. "I have to finish them, Clara. I can't let it go to waste."

Clara: ". . . I'll be in the library," she murmured, glancing over the bloody mess again. This man was her friend, how could she be so blind to all of this?

The Doctor: He nodded, moving back over to his cooking, quickly making work of the various ingredients. He had a batch in the oven and another he was mixing.

Clara: She stayed for only a moment longer before turning and running to the library. She had eaten all of this. . . Had enjoyed it. If it made him human, what did it make her?

The Doctor: After a few hours, he finally arrived at the library. The smell of fresh cupcakes still lingered on him, but the smell of blood was faint. Hardly even noticeable, actually. He covered up well. He'd eaten some before arriving but he didn't bring any, for the sake of keeping her comfortable. "Clara?"

Clara: She didn't want him to find her, curled up in a corner of the library she had claimed as hers. Books surrounded her, most to distract her, some to maybe answer her questions. That wasn't working of course. When he called her name, she lifted her head, nearly smiling at him until she remembered earlier. "Yes, Doctor?"

The Doctor: He gave her a soft smile anyway. "I'm...sorry for earlier. I...never wanted to resort to this but it..." He glanced away, swallowing hard as he tried to keep his cool. "...it got to be too much. That's all."

Clara: "Got to be too much?" she murmured, meeting his gaze after trying to avoid it. "What do you mean?" She hated how she was asking these questions and not one of the many swimming in her mind.

The Doctor: "Being alone. Being the last of my kind. It got to be too much." He muttered, moving a bit closer to her. I know it...makes me look horrible, what I'm doing. But it was the last resort, I swear."

Clara: "So you. . . Never wanted to do this then. Eating people, it's something you never wanted to do?" she murmured, setting down the book she had been reading. "Then why feed me those people, too?"

The Doctor: "I can't travel alone... Everything starts warping. I didn't see how it could be wrong until you said something."

Clara: "You've traveled alone for too long, haven't you?" She gets up, hesitating before reaching for his hand, her fingers just barely brushing his. ". . . I. . . I won't let you be alone."

The Doctor: "I'm always alone, though. In a sense, I'll always be alone unless I'm no longer Gallifreyan." He hesitantly took her hand in his. "I want fragile skin like this. I want a single heartbeat. I want to attempt a peaceful human life."

Clara: "A-and if you can't get that?" she whispered, looking down at their hands. Perhaps she could make him stop, in the end. Perhaps she could find a way to keep him from eating anymore humans.

The Doctor: "Then...after everything I've done to try and achieve that goal....I'd rather die than continue on." He let go of her hand, moving to grab one of the books from her pile. "I think it's working, though. I have less control of the TARDIS and my second heart beats slower now...it's just a matter of time."

Clara: "Doctor, please! Please, let me give Angie and Artie a call, just to check on them! To let them know what I'm going to do for you," she said. After a moment, she stepped away from him again. "Who have you been feeding me? Anyone I know?"

The Doctor: To bring that up at a time like this? He went still, staring down at the floor. "I already told you, you don't have to worry about them." Oh, if only that were true. In his garbled thoughts of before, he had thought that was the truth. If they were gone, then she had no reason to worry about them. Now, he knew she had every reason to.

Clara: Clara grabbed his shoulder with one hand, his chin in the other, lifting his head just so he could meet her gaze. "Doctor. What have you done to my kids? What have you told them?!" She wasn't putting it together just yet, of course. After seeing the scene in the kitchen, after realizing what he was feeding her. And yet she still wasn't understanding why he told her to not worry about them. "Doctor. . . I just need to know if they're okay. . . Th-then we can um. . . C-can have some tea? I-I am calm, I am. . ."

The Doctor: "You're not calm." He mumbled. "And I get the feeling you won't be calm for a very long time. But I have a room that can help you with that. Let's...let's head there first, okay?"

Clara: I'm scared. That's what she wanted to tell him, that she was scared. But all she could do was nod mutely, letting to of his shoulder and chin. "Lead the way then. Your TARDIS, your rules."

The Doctor: He took her hand, beginning to guide her out of the library. He needed her calm. As calm as possible...And that could take a bit more than simply rubbing her shoulders and speaking in a soothing voice. He soon led her into a blue room, aquariums on three of the walls, and a few soft chairs in the middle that looked like high end dentist's chairs. "Take a seat."

Clara: This room was new to her. Never once had she even been mislead to this room, and it took her a moment before she realized he had told her to take a seat. Her feet guided her to once of the chairs, and she sank into it, leaning forward and running her hands through her hair. "What do we do now?"

The Doctor:  "You stay still." He mumbled, before the chair suddenly bound her, metal erupting from the armrests and the foot holds, trapping her there. The metal was soon covered by the same material the chair was made out of.

"Welcome to the calm room. Settle in and we will ensure you have a calm day." Came a mechanical voice from above.

Clara:  She was too shocked by the metal trapping her against the chair to say anything, let alone make a sound. She tried to struggle, facing the Doctor as the mechanical voice spoke, eyes wide.

"What is this? What are you doing?!"

The Doctor: "Your escape." He muttered, moving over to the wall to lean against it. "I use this room when I know I have to sleep, when I know it will be a full-blown night terror I have to face. This room has the ability to subdue me so I don't hurt myself in my dreams." He glanced back at her, taking a deep breath. "I'm sure you're wondering why I've brought you here. The fact of the matter is...I thought I was doing the right thing at the time. My thoughts were all wrong, you see. I thought if they were gone, you didn't have to worry about them. Technically, yes, that's true, but I realize now it was the wrong thing to do."

Clara: As he spoke, she felt herself growing cold, sick even. Gone. They were gone. . . She had agreed to travel with him while they ate a cake. A cake made from people. ". . . You told me to not worry about them. . . Did. . . Did you. . . ?" She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back tears. "Oh, god, did I. . . ?" If he said anything about her eating them, she honestly didn't know what she would do. Make whatever life he had left hell, maybe. "What. Did. You. Do. To. My. Kids?" She had to force each word out, though she was already certain she knew the answer.

The Doctor:  "Your first cake here. Since this started. And a few other meals and confections after." The Doctor replied, taking a deep breath as he faced her. "I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I wasn't in the right state of mind. But I'll fix it. As best I can." He took another deep breath before speaking to the room. "Voice command: calm chair two."

"Voice command recognized. Calming chair two." The chair suddenly bound her face as well, pressing a gas mask over her mouth and nose. It was then a tasteless, scentless gas started coursing through her. A needle soon injected both of her wrists, and there was even an added massage feature in amongst it all, rubbing at her back and shoulders.

Clara:  "I ate them. Angie and Artie, you had me eat them!" No. It wasn't like he forced her to do so. She did it willingly. And had enjoyed that cake and all those other meals and treats they'd share. Human, it made him human. But it made her inhuman, right?

Then she felt the mask over her, couldn't even bring herself to scream at him when the needles went into her wrists. Her hands had been curled into fists, and were now relaxing, her eyes feeling heavy. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she managed to meet his gaze, her breathing calming down from her fit before.

She didn't risk speaking. Didn't even know if he would hear her through the gas mask. Instead, she sighed, relaxing in the chair and closing her eyes.

The Doctor: He walked over, hesitantly moving to run his fingers through her hair. "I promise...we'll make it through this. In fact, some research shows that as long as you don't eat the diseased or infected, humans can become enhanced. Smarter, stronger...you'll become better than the others. And...ever since you started traveling with me again, I've only targeted criminals. Healthy criminals, of course. I promise you'll stay healthy. You may even end up better than your peers once this is all through. But I can't let you leave, Clara. Not after you've shown me the light again. I can't let you go."

Clara: He's mad, totally mad. She'll become better than the others because she's eating people? If she wasn't strapped down to this chair, gas and whatever else being pumped into her system, she would have shouted. And yet, at the same time. . . She felt mildly indifferent. She already began to eat people. Why change that? The part of her that wanted to fight this was stronger, of course, but she was trapped now. And he wasn't going to let her go. ". . . Am I. . . Some sort of experiment then?" she mumbled, unsure if he heard her.

The Doctor: "No, you're my friend...And I want you to live long enough to be my friend until I'm human as well and I die just as you will." He moved to kiss her forehead. "You're important to me, and I never want to let you go."

Clara: She couldn't even pull away when he kissed her forehead, the normally comforting gesture actually placing a bit of fear in her now. "And how long will it even take you to be human? How long to you expect me to live?"

The Doctor: "I don't know. But I suspect it could take some time. But you'll live through it. I'll make sure of it. We never have to be apart again."

Clara: At last there was a whimper, another tear rolling down her cheek. Take some time, he says. He would force her to love for centuries, probably. If that was the case, she wouldn't eat the food he would make, she would fight against him however she could. ". . . I told you I wouldn't leave you alone. . ."

The Doctor: "After telling you the truth, how can I be sure you'll keep that promise, Clara? How can I know you'll stay with me and care for me when I've done something like this? Even I wouldn't stay. If I did, it would be to hurt the one who hurt me."

Clara: She hadn't even fully made a plan, only ideas, and already he was seeing through her. She wanted to break down if it wasn't for this room, wanted to slap him and cry. "Y-you're my friend! I-I've got nowhere else to go but here! So you won't be alone. . ."

The Doctor: "And one day that's all we'll be again. Not a murderer and his indirect victim. For now, just rest. Rest and relax. The room will make sure you do. I need to preserve all I made today, make sure none of it can be wasted." He stood, moving towards the door. "I'll bring you some food later."

All are 100x100.

Examples:

Most nights, she would find herself going right up to the room she and some of the other girls stayed in after changing out of their costumes. But tonight, she didn't leave right away, heart still pounding from the experience of playing the lead. The applause from the audience though brought a bright smile to her face.

She turned when she heard her door opening, eyes widening at the familiar sight of Daniel Pink, her childhood friend who she could have sworn she loved once. Danny. . . She remembered clearly when the man before her had insisted so sternly as a boy to call him Danny.

"Danny!" And she still would. Clara ran over and hugged him, listening to him talk, grinning at the sound of the silly name he called her.

But he was just congratulating her for her performance, then he was mentioning a date. . . "No, the Angel is strict, I can't! Danny!" And her old love didn't hear her, leaving the room to prepare the carriage.

Clara shut the door, finding the sudden urge to lock it, to keep him out. She stiffened as she heard a familiar voice, the sound enchanting her almost. . . Her Angel of Music.

Clara awoke in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. Another night, another nightmare. She rolled out of bed with a groan, taking only a brief shower before getting dressed, knowing she had to head down to a mental institution first thing that morning.

Funny. She normally just went straight to the department she had been assigned to after completing her FBI training. But she knew not to anger her superiors, best to just do as she was told.

~*~

She didn't reach the institution until a mere minute or two before the time she was supposed to arrive, walking over to the man who was, for all intents and purposes, her boss.

"You wanted me to come down here, sir?"

"Ah, Agent Oswald! We were. . . Thinking of transferring you to another department. But we needed to see how you handled the Doctor. Have you heard of him?"

When she shook her head, he motioned for her to follow him, explaining that the Doctor was the alias of a man who had a tendency to eat any victims. Of course, Clara knew the stories of a cannibal locked away, she had just never expected them to be true.

"Before you go in there, know this. He will ask you to help him, he will try to maybe impress you. And if he asks for his device, tell him we don't have it."

They left her at that point, and she walked in, heading along the path until she stopped at his cell.

Roxxan smiled as the man in front of her lay screaming.  She was covered in his blood as he laid there withering in pain. 

"All sweetheart keep the beautiful sound coming." She said with a wink as she careful twisted the knife that was already in him.

She was enjoying this far more then she should. His screams sounded like music. The blood pouring from him was art to her eyes. She was so distracted she almost didn't hear the footsteps making their way towards her. She pulled her gun and pointed it in the direction of the sound. 

The alarming sound of the fire-bell was drilling into Jean's ears as she slammed the draws of her desk shut and jumped up to her feet. The first - and very predictable thought she had was Patrick, Patrick, is he okay? 

She hesitated before entering his office, even as morbid and terrifying thoughts started to haunt her mind. It still felt wrong to go in without knocking. Everyone at P & P could be about to burn to death and she was already imagining the mass funeral, too busy daydreaming and worrying about manors to stop whatever the hell was going on. She'd always told her parents that being polite wouldn't get her anywhere. That - and her imagination. It was so pathetic. What would Patrick say? Stop sounding so fucking sad, Jesus. 

Pulling herself together, she threw open the door and covered her mouth with her hand. Smoke be damned, there was no way she was leaving until she knew that Patrick was ok. After all, she was his kind-of-assistant. Or even his friend. 

"Patrick? Are you in here?" she gasped.