Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. I am making no money off this bit of whouffle goodness.
Author's Preface: A horrible bunny egged on by friends and whoufflespuffs on Tumblr. Blame them.
The Doctor quashed his panic when he saw the tableau behind the door. He had expected to find it, so it was not shock. He channeled it instead into productive anger and shattered the bell jar that contained a still Clara, smiling as though carved out of porcelain inside a bell jar - and at her side, a well-groomed man, obviously one of the "brightest and best" that had been recruited. It deepened his disgust for Mrs. Gillyflower even further. How could she expect someone she thought to be married - to him no less! - to simply move on to the man they had placed in this house?
Jenny offered to help him carry the unnaturally stiff Clara back to what he could only refer to as a thawing chamber, but he insisted on carrying on alone, and she didn't push. He stood his companion carefully inside, and closed the door, switching it on and watching nervously outside the chamber.
"Can she be revived, like you were?" Jenny asked.
For once, The Doctor didn't have an answer. He only had hope and an iron-strong will. "I hope so." His hands were pressed hard against the metal, looking deep into the steaming chamber, feeling a little helpless, with no other ideas. If this didn't work he'd have to get it out of Gillyflower.
Jenny saw the oncoming threat of rows of minions, walking into the room, and tapped the time-travelling alien on the shoulder. "Doctor."
The Doctor turned, and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Oh, great. Great. Attack of the supermodels. Time for a plan."
Jenny beat him to it, and before he knew what was happening, his favourite Victorian chambermaid was tossing Gillyflower's minions like they were so many puppets, and he and his screwdriver were a little redundant. "That is a plan." He said in admiration, until Gillyflower's pilgrims with bats looking to play rounders with their skulls stepped up to bat. "Okay, time for a new plan. Run!"
Before the running could commence, however, the rest of the Paternoster Gang arrived, with a "Sontar-Ha!" and the gleeful laughing of a psychotic potato-dwarf. Strax's aim had apparently not improved by much, but it ran the brightest and best of Sweetville off for a little while, and he pressed his back against one of the cubicles.
"Let's go!" Madam Vastra said, all Silurian military efficiency.
"No, ma'am. We're not escaping. We've got to help the Doctor with Clara."
The Doctor felt his old friend's eyes bore into his back as her wife let the reincarnated governess out of the bag. He didn't see it, because the moment they were out of danger, he had spun to once again check the thawing chamber. He didn't know how to explain, but he could feel Vastra's uncertainty. He had the feeling Vastra, clever lizard she was, would ask how many laws of time he violated, but even that would be an easier answer than the truth. "Long story." He said, instead, and was very grateful when Strax on a sugar high distracted them.
The Doctor calculated the differences between Time Lord and human DNA, the effect of a proper preservation versus a failed one, and scanned with his screwdriver again. "Okay, I think she's about done." He opened the pressure seal on the metal cubicle with a groan, looking at the peaceful Clara inside, for just a moment. "I know who you think she is, but she isn't. She can't be." The thing was, only half of his words were directed at Jenny and Vastra, the other half were directed at himself. Especially in those clothes, he had to remind himself.
"I was right, then. You and Clara have unfinished business." Vastra said, without anger, only curiosity and concern.
He didn't answer, partially because he didn't have any, and caught Clara in his arms as she fell from the chamber. "There, there. Hello stranger."
Clara, as she regained consciousness, looked a little dazed and wide-eyed. She reached up and booped his nose. "My Doctor."
The Doctor chuckled at that, as her eyes travelled, unfocused over the group, startled. "What's all this then?" She asked, in her Yorkshire accent, giving The Doctor the first indications that not all was well.
The Doctor's eyes creased as he looked down at her, only half-joking, in his own exaggerated accent. "Oh, haven't you heard, love? There's trouble at mill." He paused slightly. "She's a lizard."
"Ah." Clara replied, releasing him and holding out a shaky hand to Vastra, seemingly unbothered. "Hello, I'm Clara Smith. I see you've met my husband."