[ There was no time to get the apparatus out of her head, so in the end, he'd had to cut the wires and leave them in, disconnecting her from the shell of the Dalek, but the machinery still controlling her mind, keeping her from being able to move her arms and legs. She's effectively paralyzed from the neck down so the Doctor has to carry her as they run from Skaro before it burns. She doesn't know where Missy went, she doesn't care. The machinery in her head is rebelling; the hive mind knows the Daleks have been dealt a massive loss and the electrical impulses make her cry silently, the tears soaking her hair.
There's something in the back of her mind, an echo of a nightmare, being trapped forever inside of a Dalek.
As the Doctor carries her, Clara doesn't even realize she's pleading wit him, begging him to get her released completely. ]
Please, Doctor. [ Her voice is hoarse and strained as she holds back a sob and struggles to stay awake. She's afraid if she closes her eyes they won't open again, and the nightmare will be true. ]
It's okay, Clara. It's going to be okay. I'll fix this. Just a little longer.
[He's murmuring it over and over again like a mantra to try and soothe her but keep himself calm too. The Doctor's mind is normally controlled chaos, with any number of thoughts swirling in the expanse that is his brain but right now the loudest thing, the most important thing, is helping Clara.
They can't get to the TARDIS fast enough. He bursts through the doors, slamming the lever down on the console, trusting her to take them anywhere safer, far, far from here. The TARDIS knows and whirs to life and he thunders down the hallway, carrying Clara to the medical bay.
After placing her down on the cot his hands tremble slightly as he fumbles for his sonic screwdriver. His brows are furrowed as he examines the machinery still embedded into her skin. A rolling anger undertones his worry and panic but he has to swallow it. Clara is the most important thing right now. He tries to bring levity to his voice, but it's hard when his own expression is a storm.]
This might sting but you've dealt with worse. It won't be any worse than a shot.
[ Clara's eyes find his and she swallows hard, not looking away. Even as angry as he is, she only sees worry, concern, and something else they've never named looking back at her. ]
Promise?
[ She sounds small, much smaller than she ever has or likely will again. She's legitimately terrified, unable to do anything, completely helpless. ]
[His voice is hoarse but rings clear and true as his thumb brushes the tears spilling from her eyes.]
I promise.
[And with that he sets to work. He tries to make it as quick and painless as possible but he's never had to disconnect someone from Dalek tech. It's meant to stick, to dig into its host's flesh so that it stays. It's a reminder of the hive mind, of their joint mission and he hates it with every single atom of his body.
He's determined to keep his promise. The sonic screwdriver makes quick work and he hears the sickening pop as his fingers nimbly remove the nodes attached to her temples.]
[ The electrical impulse as he disconnects the first node makes her cry out more from surprise than pain. He did keep his promise - it wasn't more than a stinging. There's blood left behind, four slow trickles once all the nodes are removed and the holes are left behind.
She expects to feel her body again but she doesn't. She waits, heart beating hard in her chest, but as the seconds tick by, then the minutes, she still doesn't feel anything and the panic begins to swell again. ]
It's just your body recalibrating. Taking back its synapses and nerves and muscles. It won't be long until you get them back.
[He's trying to wax poetic in order to keep her focused on his voice. She once told him that she enjoyed listening to his voice; it bolstered his ego at the time despite it taking him aback for a brief moment. Her compliments usually did.]
Let's move you to your room.
[He never wants to see the nodes again but his practical side knows he'll want to examine them later. He tosses them into a clatter onto the tray deciding that the medical bay served its purpose and he wants her to be comfortable. Carefully he picks Clara up again, holding her close to his chest where she undoubtedly hears his two hearts hammering in his chest. He tucks her into her bed, promising to be back before hurrying back to the medical bay to collect supplies.
He hurries back, terrified that something is going to happen to her, but forces himself into a calmer state as he begins to clean the blood on her temple.]
[ When he carries her, Clara presses her face against him, breathing him in, needing to feel those heartbeats against her cheek. When he leaves her alone there's a momentary flash of panic because they were just separated and it didn't go well. But this is the TARDIS and she has to tell herself that she's safe.
By the time he makes it back she looks like she might burst into tears again but she doesn't. She's relieved and lets out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, closing her eyes tightly. But when she does the images behind her eyelids involve so much hate that she has to open them again. ]
I think my head is trying to explode.
[ Her voice is shaking, her eyes on his, waiting for him to soothe away her worries. ]
Clara you haven't even had that much wine. [The joke falls flat unfortunately even as it leaves his lips and he swallows.] But your head isn't going to explode. Not while under you're my care.
[There's so much conviction in his voice as he wrings the water from the towel, clear water turning red with her blood. His fingers can't help but tremble slightly as he wipes the rest of it away. His fingers brush against her skin for a brief moment, her skin is like fire and his fingers linger for only a minute before he reaches for the gauze.]
Do you want me to tell you a story? Take your mind off it? Or I can put you to sleep? Tea? [He doesn't know what to do here but he's trying to stay as desperately positive as he can.]
[ The joke definitely doesn't land, but she knows what he's trying to do and wets her lips, trying to be as calm as he's attempting to make her think he is. But when he asks what she wants, she figures this is the only time she'll be able to get what she truly wants. ]
I want you to hold me.
[ She has no hesitation and no shame in her voice. She almost died because he almost killed her, and Missy's still out there somewhere. Clara feels stupid for falling for her tricks, for giving her even a modicum of her trust. She wants to bury her face against the Doctor's chest and let him soothe her mind. It's the only thing she can think to want, but that doesn't mean he has to say yes. ]
Please.
[ She adds that quietly, and she's able to just barely move her hand, her fingers brushing against his leg. ]
[The words hang in the air as he echoes her request. Physical affection and physical touch - even the thought of it sends a prickle of nerves through his system. He had been so willingly open with it before and while there was nothing wrong with that he can't help but wonder if it got to his own head. That's why he had told her that he wasn't his boyfriend.
Physical touch meant something to people and not so much to others. It meant something to Clara and he could see it in her eyes. Rory and Amy were still fresh in his mind in horrifying clarity and he hadn't wanted to suffer heartbreak again in a different form. If he wanted to sit down and psychoanalyze himself, maybe that was why he shied from touch, specifically her touch beyond a hand hold. He swallows the lump in his throat and he wants to tell her that that can't be what she needs right now -
But then she reaches for him with the softest butterfly touch and he relents. A beat follows. He nods.]
Just let me finish bandaging these up. [His fingers work steadily and when he's done he slowly takes his shoes and jacket off before climbing into bed beside her. Wrapping her slight body in his arms, he pulls her close.]
[ Clara can feel the cogs of his mind turning and she can't begin to describe the way it hurts her feelings, that he can't even agree after she's been trapped inside a Dalek without hesitating. She tries not to miss his younger self but she does.
But for as hurt as she is, the second he pulls her into his arms she completely falls apart. She can't be brave anymore, she's too tired, and it all pours out of her until she can't anymore and his shirt is soaked. Taking a deep breath, she shudders when she lets it out, voice hoarse and thin. ]
[He can practically hear all the past companions he's ever traveled with admonishing him in their own way, some more explicit than others. He knows he's being an idiot. He knows that it should just be that easy. After everything she had gone through today a hug was the least of the things that he should have been hesitant about. In fact, it was the least he could do. But there he was, being selfish again. Running into danger and letting anyone and everything get caught in the crosshairs.
The Doctor feels her body shudder before he hears her sob and he has to brace himself. Her cries pierce his hearts like knives and he holds her close, arms trying to provide a safe place. Trying to tell her that he's sorry, that he's a moron and that even like this she's a braver person than he'll ever be.]
Don't apologize. I'm the one who should be apologizing. [His hand strokes the top of her head continuing to let her cry. She should never be like this. This isn't how he wants her to be.] I'm sorry, Clara. I'm sorry.
[ She sniffles and doesn't move, staying within the circle of his arms. She can feel the rest of her body now, and with some relief she curls herself up as small as she can. ]
It wasn't your fault. It was Missy.
[ Clara swallows after saying her name. ] She made me believe her. I believed her.
[Missy. The thought of her always brings a rise of complicated emotions including anger to what she's done to Clara and his brow furrows outside of Clara's view.]
It wasn't your fault. You look for the best in people. [They both did.] Even when they don't deserve it.
[The Doctor takes another moment to answer her question because his ego rears its head. He knows Clara isn't asking why he hadn't figured it out sooner but the critical voice in his head makes it sound like that. It's his own voice, criticizing him for not being more clever, for not knowing, for getting blindsided by his own anger and hate that he couldn't see what was right in front of him. His Clara.
His body deflates, a hint of shame and anger mixing into his voice.]
I didn't know. I thought that there was something in the way it - you - spoke. Something desperate and pleading.
[ Her hands fist in his shirt and Clara closes her eyes, unable to find another thought before exhaustion sweeps through her and she's asleep before meaning to be. Not for long though; she has a dream, that nightmare on the edge of her vision. She's trapped and she's begging him not to go.
But then he walks away and she's left screaming that she's human. She wakes herself up with her own scream on her lips and tears on her cheeks, flailing her limbs in an effort to burst out of a Dalek shell that isn't there. ]
[The Doctor waits for her to say something, waits for her to be upset or to cuss him out - anything really because he feels like he deserves it but also because it would mean Clara wouldn't feel broken in his arms.
But it doesn't come. He feels her breathe and her mind even out into a steady beat and he can't help but hold her close choosing to stay there instead of leave.
He doesn't sleep; not really. If anything he's lulled into a meditation by their heartbeats falling into time. But he's ripped from his meditation by Clara screaming and catching him in the face. Panicked, lets go slightly only to give her room to move. It's only when she's stopped flailing that he reaches for her, gently moving to put his hands on her cautiously.]
[ As soon as she's clear-headed and realization sinks in, Clara slumps against him again but she doesn't cry. The dream took too much out of her already. She won't sleep again either, she knows that.
Pressing a hand to her forehead she winces. ] My head is killing me. [ It's a quiet murmur between them, though her voice is still shaking. ]
[His hands tremble slightly just like Clara's voice as they hover around her, uncertain about what to do. He's never been good at this caring thing - Clara is his carer, his other half that provides a voice of reason and compassion when he fails to do those things himself. He worries that he'll hurt her again more than he already has.
But it's exactly for that reason that he has to do something for her.]
May I?
[His hands reach hesitantly for her head, and if she let him, he gently cups her head, bringing their foreheads together to touch sending out waves of soothing energy towards her mind.]
[ She doesn't protest at all, and any lingering hurt she felt when he hesitated to pull her close fades away. As soon as their foreheads touch she lets out a soft breath and closes her eyes. ]
How are you doing this?
[ Clara's words come out just slightly above a whisper. She doesn't know what he's doing, but it feels safe and she feels like somehow he's just tightened his grip on her. ]
[He can feel her mind beginning to calm, the suggestion he had made taking hold on Clara. Slowly his thumbs begin to draw slow circles around her temples in an attempt to provide some level of relief.]
Your brain waves are all muddled for good reason so this is supposed to help smooth them out. Slow them down. [He knows the answer to his question but he'd rather hear it from her.] How are you feeling?
[ Clara always, always wants to stand strong, to be brave. He saved her, he found her and didn't kill her. She'll live, she'll be fine, and they'll go on to thwart another threat. ]
I'm okay.
[ What a whopper of a lie that is. But she's trying. ]
I think I had a dream about one of the echos. I dunno if that's possible, but you were there. It was you, the younger you, and I was in a Dalek, stuck inside. Did that happen? Did you meet a version of me that died inside a Dalek?
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makemeasong) wrote2022-08-20 11:07 am
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There's something in the back of her mind, an echo of a nightmare, being trapped forever inside of a Dalek.
As the Doctor carries her, Clara doesn't even realize she's pleading wit him, begging him to get her released completely. ]
Please, Doctor. [ Her voice is hoarse and strained as she holds back a sob and struggles to stay awake. She's afraid if she closes her eyes they won't open again, and the nightmare will be true. ]
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[He's murmuring it over and over again like a mantra to try and soothe her but keep himself calm too. The Doctor's mind is normally controlled chaos, with any number of thoughts swirling in the expanse that is his brain but right now the loudest thing, the most important thing, is helping Clara.
They can't get to the TARDIS fast enough. He bursts through the doors, slamming the lever down on the console, trusting her to take them anywhere safer, far, far from here. The TARDIS knows and whirs to life and he thunders down the hallway, carrying Clara to the medical bay.
After placing her down on the cot his hands tremble slightly as he fumbles for his sonic screwdriver. His brows are furrowed as he examines the machinery still embedded into her skin. A rolling anger undertones his worry and panic but he has to swallow it. Clara is the most important thing right now. He tries to bring levity to his voice, but it's hard when his own expression is a storm.]
This might sting but you've dealt with worse. It won't be any worse than a shot.
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Promise?
[ She sounds small, much smaller than she ever has or likely will again. She's legitimately terrified, unable to do anything, completely helpless. ]
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I promise.
[And with that he sets to work. He tries to make it as quick and painless as possible but he's never had to disconnect someone from Dalek tech. It's meant to stick, to dig into its host's flesh so that it stays. It's a reminder of the hive mind, of their joint mission and he hates it with every single atom of his body.
He's determined to keep his promise. The sonic screwdriver makes quick work and he hears the sickening pop as his fingers nimbly remove the nodes attached to her temples.]
Almost done, Clara. Just one more to go.
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She expects to feel her body again but she doesn't. She waits, heart beating hard in her chest, but as the seconds tick by, then the minutes, she still doesn't feel anything and the panic begins to swell again. ]
Doctor, I can't feel my arms and legs.
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[He's trying to wax poetic in order to keep her focused on his voice. She once told him that she enjoyed listening to his voice; it bolstered his ego at the time despite it taking him aback for a brief moment. Her compliments usually did.]
Let's move you to your room.
[He never wants to see the nodes again but his practical side knows he'll want to examine them later. He tosses them into a clatter onto the tray deciding that the medical bay served its purpose and he wants her to be comfortable. Carefully he picks Clara up again, holding her close to his chest where she undoubtedly hears his two hearts hammering in his chest. He tucks her into her bed, promising to be back before hurrying back to the medical bay to collect supplies.
He hurries back, terrified that something is going to happen to her, but forces himself into a calmer state as he begins to clean the blood on her temple.]
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By the time he makes it back she looks like she might burst into tears again but she doesn't. She's relieved and lets out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, closing her eyes tightly. But when she does the images behind her eyelids involve so much hate that she has to open them again. ]
I think my head is trying to explode.
[ Her voice is shaking, her eyes on his, waiting for him to soothe away her worries. ]
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[There's so much conviction in his voice as he wrings the water from the towel, clear water turning red with her blood. His fingers can't help but tremble slightly as he wipes the rest of it away. His fingers brush against her skin for a brief moment, her skin is like fire and his fingers linger for only a minute before he reaches for the gauze.]
Do you want me to tell you a story? Take your mind off it? Or I can put you to sleep? Tea? [He doesn't know what to do here but he's trying to stay as desperately positive as he can.]
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I want you to hold me.
[ She has no hesitation and no shame in her voice. She almost died because he almost killed her, and Missy's still out there somewhere. Clara feels stupid for falling for her tricks, for giving her even a modicum of her trust. She wants to bury her face against the Doctor's chest and let him soothe her mind. It's the only thing she can think to want, but that doesn't mean he has to say yes. ]
Please.
[ She adds that quietly, and she's able to just barely move her hand, her fingers brushing against his leg. ]
no subject
[The words hang in the air as he echoes her request. Physical affection and physical touch - even the thought of it sends a prickle of nerves through his system. He had been so willingly open with it before and while there was nothing wrong with that he can't help but wonder if it got to his own head. That's why he had told her that he wasn't his boyfriend.
Physical touch meant something to people and not so much to others. It meant something to Clara and he could see it in her eyes. Rory and Amy were still fresh in his mind in horrifying clarity and he hadn't wanted to suffer heartbreak again in a different form. If he wanted to sit down and psychoanalyze himself, maybe that was why he shied from touch, specifically her touch beyond a hand hold. He swallows the lump in his throat and he wants to tell her that that can't be what she needs right now -
But then she reaches for him with the softest butterfly touch and he relents. A beat follows. He nods.]
Just let me finish bandaging these up. [His fingers work steadily and when he's done he slowly takes his shoes and jacket off before climbing into bed beside her. Wrapping her slight body in his arms, he pulls her close.]
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But for as hurt as she is, the second he pulls her into his arms she completely falls apart. She can't be brave anymore, she's too tired, and it all pours out of her until she can't anymore and his shirt is soaked. Taking a deep breath, she shudders when she lets it out, voice hoarse and thin. ]
Sorry.
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The Doctor feels her body shudder before he hears her sob and he has to brace himself. Her cries pierce his hearts like knives and he holds her close, arms trying to provide a safe place. Trying to tell her that he's sorry, that he's a moron and that even like this she's a braver person than he'll ever be.]
Don't apologize. I'm the one who should be apologizing. [His hand strokes the top of her head continuing to let her cry. She should never be like this. This isn't how he wants her to be.] I'm sorry, Clara. I'm sorry.
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It wasn't your fault. It was Missy.
[ Clara swallows after saying her name. ] She made me believe her. I believed her.
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It wasn't your fault. You look for the best in people. [They both did.] Even when they don't deserve it.
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[ Her voice is whisper quiet, a little muffled against his chest. After a few seconds of being quiet she can't help but wonder. ]
How did you know? You were so close to... [ Clara chokes off that sentence with a sniffle. ] What made you stop?
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His body deflates, a hint of shame and anger mixing into his voice.]
I didn't know. I thought that there was something in the way it - you - spoke. Something desperate and pleading.
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But then he walks away and she's left screaming that she's human. She wakes herself up with her own scream on her lips and tears on her cheeks, flailing her limbs in an effort to burst out of a Dalek shell that isn't there. ]
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But it doesn't come. He feels her breathe and her mind even out into a steady beat and he can't help but hold her close choosing to stay there instead of leave.
He doesn't sleep; not really. If anything he's lulled into a meditation by their heartbeats falling into time. But he's ripped from his meditation by Clara screaming and catching him in the face. Panicked, lets go slightly only to give her room to move. It's only when she's stopped flailing that he reaches for her, gently moving to put his hands on her cautiously.]
Clara! Clara it's okay. I'm here, you're safe.
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Pressing a hand to her forehead she winces. ] My head is killing me. [ It's a quiet murmur between them, though her voice is still shaking. ]
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But it's exactly for that reason that he has to do something for her.]
May I?
[His hands reach hesitantly for her head, and if she let him, he gently cups her head, bringing their foreheads together to touch sending out waves of soothing energy towards her mind.]
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How are you doing this?
[ Clara's words come out just slightly above a whisper. She doesn't know what he's doing, but it feels safe and she feels like somehow he's just tightened his grip on her. ]
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[He can feel her mind beginning to calm, the suggestion he had made taking hold on Clara. Slowly his thumbs begin to draw slow circles around her temples in an attempt to provide some level of relief.]
Your brain waves are all muddled for good reason so this is supposed to help smooth them out. Slow them down. [He knows the answer to his question but he'd rather hear it from her.] How are you feeling?
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I'm okay.
[ What a whopper of a lie that is. But she's trying. ]
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Clara, you can be honest with me. You don't have to be strong right now.
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I think I had a dream about one of the echos. I dunno if that's possible, but you were there. It was you, the younger you, and I was in a Dalek, stuck inside. Did that happen? Did you meet a version of me that died inside a Dalek?
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