Clara called out to the doctor as soon as she dressed up. Her hair was still wet, and she felt sleepy. For some reason, he didn't answer. So obviously, she went to find him.
Only, she found an unknown man whom she did not know.
"I'm sorry, but I didn't know we had company. Who are you?" Clara asked, looking at the stranger in front of her. He looked sort of sheepish, before he answered.
"Um, this might be a little befuddling, but it's me. I'm the doctor." He said, looking at her, his accent strictly Scottish.
Clara reeled back as if he'd slapped her across the face with a plate of perfectly poached fish.
"WHAT?! You're lying! Doctor! Doctor, where are you?!" she said, giving him the most vicious look she could muster, which made her look like something between that man from hell raiser and a woman giving birth. With that, she looked ready to bolt any moment.
He caught her hands before she ran.
"Clara! It's me! The same doctor who you saved millions of time! The same one who knocked on your door dressed up as a monk! The same doctor who finds ghosts to be fantastic! Okay, not anymore, but you get the gist! It's still me!" He said, as her facial muscles relaxed, and she went into shock.
"But- you, and gone- and wha- I mean, how? But- WHAT?" she said, not being able to form a proper sentence.
He sat her down on a chair, which was surprisingly close, courtesy of the TARDIS, and sat down on another one.
"It's alright. Just breathe." He told her, as she seemed to go through an anxiety attack right there.
After about five minutes of fanning herself with her hand, she tried to form a sentence again.
"How did this-this thing happen? Aren't you suppose to have a mortal injury, or get shot in the heart or something?" she asked him, wincing at the fact that she wasn't there when he was brutally killed.
An expression of pure embarrassment marked his face.
"Doctor?" She prompted, again.
He sighed, before answering.
"Imighthaveslippedinthetubandhitmyheadreallyhard." He said, extremely fast hoping she wouldn't understand.
"what?!"
"I said, I might have slipped in the tub and hit my head really hard, alright?" he said, avoiding her.
Clara's face held a dumbstruck expression, and she thought she felt her left eye twitch.
"You mean to tell me, that you regenerated because of the mortal injury also known as 'slipping in a tub?'" Clara asked, as slowly the uneasiness was being replaced by the insuppressible urge to laugh.
"Yes, okay? Can we get over it now?" The doctor said, a pout finding its way to his face.
Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Don't laugh. He just died. By slipping in a bath tub. Do Not laugh, Clara, do not- oh hell.
Clara exploded into fits of laughter, wringing her hands, her hair bouncing. She doesn't even stop when she notices him sulking like his previous regeneration. In fact, she just laughs more.
Fifteen minutes later, Clara Oswald can be found on the floor in hysterics, clutching her stomach which now hurts in the best way possible, and a sulking doctor.
"You know what? I'm going to go work on the TARDIS, since my companion can't stop the giggles!" he said, his Scottish accent lacing every word, as he stood up and walked away.
"Doctor! I'm sorry!" Clara said, standing up and walking towards him. She can't stop the laughter though, and it blows out of her again, as she tries to catch up to him.
"Doctor, I'm sorry you regenerated by slipping in the bathtub! I wish I could've been there!" She yells out.
After a few moments, she hears an answer.
"I'm sure you'd save my life by laughing all over me, I suppose/"