"Bognor Regis awaits!" The Doctor said as he pulled the lever, grinning like a lunatic.
Clara looked less than enthused. In fact she looked pale and positively exhausted.
"Can we go another time? It's just that.." She pinched the bridge of her nose in a vain attempt to shift the building headache. "I can't think of anything worse right now."
The Doctor's grin evaporated and he eyed her closely.
"Aspirin. Medbay. Go!" he ordered, pointing to the corridor beyond the console room.
Clara turned in the direction of the medbay, or at least she thought she did. It's difficult to see where one is going when one's eyes are screwed shut.
She felt The Doctor take her by the shoulders and spin her around to the right direction. Her stomach lurched at the sudden movement and she swallowed down a wave of nausea.
He held her there for a moment while she steadied. "Top shelf, second cabinet from the right. Next to the Lemsip."
Clara found the packets neatly stacked. Beechams powders. Boots rehydration treatment. Lemsip. Aspirin.
She popped 2 tablets from the blister pack, filled a glass with water and quickly threw the tablets down.
Clara looked in the mirror. She was a wreck. With the kind of day that she'd had it was no wonder. Beetles the size of delivery vans. Giant spiders. Mad scientists.
And she'd fallen through a hedge at one point. Clara picked a piece of foliage from her hair and dropped it into the sink.
She grabbed a facecloth, wet it, and slowly wiped the dirt and sweat away from her face and neck. Most of it came off easily enough.
Perhaps she stared in the mirror a little too long, but she suddenly felt a sensation like her head was slowly inflating. Her ears started ringing and her tongue went thick and heavy.
Clara tried to swallow but her throat constricted painfully. She took hold of the glass but it tumbled out of her hand and smashed in the sink. Clara cursed and looked down at the broken shards.
Something was amiss. Her hand. She looked in horror as she realised it was a claw; black, hard and covered with swirling whorls and patterns.
Clara attempted to scream but all that came out was a vile burbling sound.
She looked in the mirror and found, to her horror, that she was in the body of a Wyrrester, again.
Clara sat in the jump seat as The Doctor scanned her with the sonic. She squeezed her hands into tight fists and then released them, as if to reassure herself that they were, in fact, human fingers.
"Your brain is still recalibrating from the body swap," he said grimly.
"How long will that take?" She tried to sound casual but inside, the terror was growing.
The Doctor shrugged and tucked the sonic away. "Not sure," he said looking down at her.
Clara's fear was poking through. It wasn't just the look on her face. She was actually leaking it. And, as The Doctor was a telepath, she might as well have still been screaming.
His face softened a little. "Perhaps, we can hurry it along."
TOUCH
"I'm really not sure about this," Clara said as she sat blindfolded on the jump seat.
"Trust me."
She could hear him a few feet away. It sounded like he was dragging something across the deck. He quickly returned and crouched in front of her.
The Doctor took her right hand and gently uncurled it. He dropped a piece of chalk into her palm.
"Doctor, it's chalk," she said unamused. Worst present ever.
"Good guess. Now, tell me what it feels like."
Clara rolled the chalk between her fingers. "Um.. it's cylindrical?"
"And?"
There was silence.
The Doctor rolled his eyes and stood abruptly. "You know, for an English teacher, you're not very good at this."
"Alright, alright. I'm trying."
She rolled the chalk in her hands again.
"Dust," she said. "Chalk dust, sticking to my fingers."
"Very good."
He hoisted her out of the chair and guided her a few feet away. The blindfold came off and she found herself standing in front of one of The Doctor's blackboards. It had been wiped clean on one side.
The Doctor stood back to give her some space. "You will write, 'I am not a Wyrrester' ten times."
"Doctor!"
"Just kidding," he said, clearly amused. "Write anything you like."
She hesitated for a moment and then began to write a quote from Hamlet.
"And the point of this is?" Clara said as she moved the chalk across the board, slowly at first but then with practiced ease.
"The point, Clara, is could a Wyrrester hold a piece of chalk?"
She ceased her writing for a moment. "No, I suppose not."
SMELL
Clara stepped out of the TARDIS. The Doctor followed not far behind and shut the door quietly.
"Doctor, we're in a church," Clara said, looking puzzled. "You're not turning religious are you?"
He gave an explosive snort.
The smell of old wood polish hit Clara's nose and with it, a flood of memories.
"It's St. Pauls! Doctor, I went to Sunday School here," she said, spinning around with delight. Then she wished she hadn't, for the nausea was back again.
The TARDIS was parked in the middle of the chancel and they stood facing towards the empty wooden pews. There was a large ornate window at the back, which streamed in the late afternoon sun.
It was a peaceful, contemplative atmosphere; just the thing to take the edge off an otherwise horrifying day.
The Doctor broke the silence. "This room is recalibrating your sense of smell, and reminding you that you are, Clara Oswald, the human being, who once went to Sunday School."
"Oak polish," she said with a smile. "Old hymn books. Felt-tip pens." Clara placed her hand on a nearby pew and patted it fondly. "We sung songs. I still remember them!"
"Yes, well, no need for a recital." The Doctor offered his hand to Clara. "I think you've recalibrated enough." He quickly led her back into the TARDIS.
HEARING
The Doctor threw open the classroom window and leaned outside. The students were having lunch in the playground.
"What do you hear?" he asked.
Clara joined him at the window and looked down. "Girls squealing. Silly jokes. Basketballs on the pavement."
"What else?" he prompted.
"Birds. A tree branch scratching on glass."
The Doctor slammed the window shut.
SIGHT
The Doctor plonked Clara down at her dresser.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror and slowly raised her hands up to her face. Thankfully, they felt like fingers this time.
"My face feels strange," she said worriedly. "Big."
The Doctor stood behind her. He checked her reflection in the mirrors. All three of them. "Clara, your face is exactly the same size as it was before."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely," he said putting his hands on her shoulders. The Doctor felt the tenseness and gave her shoulders a quick knead.
"You have hair and skin and eyes that are a bit too big." He grimaced as he worked a particular nasty kink out of her shoulders. "A Wyrrester on the other hand has bristles and spindly legs. Huge barbed tail. Big wet mouth with-"
"Doctor, I don't need a description!"
"Sorry," he said as he ceased the massage. He stood thoughtfully for a moment. "I know just what you need."
TASTE
"Found these in your fridge," The Doctor said as he placed the tray down on the dresser. There was a pot of chamomile tea and two sweet treats; a red velvet cupcake and a cinnamon roll.
"Oh, I got those from the bakery the other day. Forgot I had them," she said with delight.
"Which one do you want?" he asked, pouring some tea for her into a dainty cup.
"Umm, the cupcake," she said taking it from the tray.
"Excellent choice." He poured himself a cup of tea, leaving plenty of room for the milk and sugar.
Clara licked the icing off the cupcake with a look of childish glee.
"Wyrrester's don't eat cupcakes, you know," The Doctor said dropping a handful of sugar cubes into his teacup. "Clearly you are human."
"Ok," she said smiling. "You've convinced me."
There was silence for a moment as they sipped their tea.
"After this, have a wash and off to bed."
"You're seriously sending me to bed?" Clara said taking a huge mouthful of cake.
"If I have to, yes." The Doctor drained his tea cup and sat it down on the tray. "You'll wake up tomorrow and be back to your old self."
"Promise?"
"Promise."