"Clara?"
The question comes from a stumbling man and the Doctor catches him as he moves out of the room he'd been kept in; his female counterpart still sitting in a chair a few feet from the glass dome that lay shattered on the ground – Strax's way of following Clara's instructions to 'break' their inhabitants free.
"Miss Montague!" His voice was stronger, but not strong enough to gain the attention of the petite woman helping a pair of ladies towards where police vehicles were lined up, ready to interview each subject before they were handed off to a waiting relative, or shifted to another line to wait for a ride home.
Taking hold of the staggering man, the Doctor led him away from Clara and explained quickly, "I'm sorry, Captain Latimer, you're going to have to slow down, your body is still adjusting."
Unlike Clara, who'd been removed from her glass case abruptly and required a little… Sonicing and molecular stimulation finesse to wake her, the rest had been properly re-animated. Their chambers switched from the chemicals that kept them frozen and asleep to oxygen that filtered their systems and left them with headaches, but alive.
"You," the man muttered, grabbing hold of his collar and pushing him into the brick wall. "You," he looked over at Clara as she eased a woman to the ground, glancing around for water to offer her. "What is this?"
"You were subjected to an experiment at the hands of a wicked woman; you need sit down," the Doctor told him calmly, watching as he blinked before asking, "Where are Francesca and Digby?"
"They're being cared for," he nodded, looking about, "I came to see about a place in Sweetville for us," then he asked, "What happened – what treachery has occurred?"
Smiling, the Doctor plucked the man's weak hands off his chest and turned him to the wall, letting him slide to the ground with a confused expression plaguing his face as he continued to stare at Clara. He explained, as best he could, but he knew the man wasn't listening. He was narrowing his eyes at a spot over his shoulder. Captain Latimer's vision, the Doctor knew, would be sharpening and fairly soon he would realize that what he was momentarily convinced was a trick of the mind wasn't that at all.
The woman across the yard was indeed his former, and currently deceased, governess.
"She's dead," the man muttered with a shake of his head, then he turned, "You, it's you – you've stolen her; what sort of sick man fakes a woman's death to steal her?" Then he straightened slightly, "What sort of sick woman fakes her death in front of the children she's caring for?" He growled in frustration, the Doctor knew, and from the fogginess in his mind.
Squatting in front of him, the Doctor sighed, "What you're experiencing, Captain, are delusions." He snapped his fingers, "The face you see in front of you, it's been warped by the effects of the drugs in your system and that woman you keep rambling on about – she's not who you think she is."
"What sort of drugs could do that to a man?"
Sadly chuckling, the Doctor nodded, "Quite a few, actually."
"But she looks exactly like my Clara."
The words struck the Doctor because he'd suspected then, but now he knew definitively – Captain Latimer had harboured a well hidden affection for his children's governess and, the Doctor imagined, her death had affected him. Enough to want to seek out another place to live, as opposed to another governess.
The Doctor licked at his lips and turned momentarily, seeing Clara plucking an ornate hat off a woman's head and settling it on the ground to test the woman's temperature before turning to check on him. She smiled because she had no clue who the man who sat in front of him was and she offered the Doctor a simple thumbs up that he returned before looking back to Latimer, who was blinking slowly. "Captain, remain seated, take deep breaths. This will all soon pass."
"Doctor," he sighed, tilting his head back before looking at Clara again. "She's just as beautiful. And I never…" The words trailed as the man closed his eyes and shook his head.
Standing, the Doctor began walking across the yard knowing they'd have to leave. He passed a look back at Latimer just before reaching Clara, who stood and nodded back at him, "Who's the fellow – is he alright?"
The Doctor moved to her side, dropping an arm casually over her shoulder as she smirked up at him and he told her with a sad smile, "He was just winded, you know – bit too much oxygen," then he added on a sigh, "Thought he'd seen a ghost."