"Hit me," Clara stated roughly.
The Doctor turned to stare down his companion, hissing, "What?"
Clara looked to the approaching men, feeling her pulse quickening through her veins as she glanced from one angry face to the next before landing her eyes on the Doctor's, filled with a terrified sort of shock. She flared her nose and nodded to him, telling him as swiftly and quietly as possible, "Hit me now, or they'll think you're weak."
"Clara," he began, heat tilting, eyes narrowing in pain.
She shook her head, "The men in this village dominate their women in every way, including physically, and here you come in, telling them what to do while letting me walk all over you – they see it as a sign of weakness and in turn it will become a reason for suspicion and then for dissent and eventually your head will end up on a spike on the outskirts of the village as a warning," she gulped and then added, "Right next to mine."
"Couldn't I just yell at you," he argued, bending slightly, watching her eyes widen. "I'm fairly good at yelling."
Nodding slowly, Clara raised her fingers to press into his chest, whispering, "Just yelling at me isn't going to sell this and you know it." She gave him a stern glare and demanded, "Hit me."
She could hear the murmurs as they crossed the muddy ground, saw them tightening their grip on axes and trading muttered words at one another, nodding in agreement. And her fingers curled around the lapels of the Doctor's coat as he stared down into her, begging her to relent, but she merely shook her head and watered her eyes, feigning fear as she took a step away, body bracing for the impact as she watched his face freeze in a sort of reluctant determination.
And it stung more than she knew it should have.
It sent her stumbling to her left as she listened to the Doctor cry out, "And don't you ever question my authority again," before he took a step towards her, feet sinking into the mud she'd been left on her knees in, wanting nothing more than to fall at her side and apologize.
There were cheers and she looked to the ground, breathing heavy with relief as she heard their hands clap onto the Doctor's shoulders, leading him away as she watched the first drop of blood fall lightly into a puddle. Her eyes closed then, blinking tears more out of pain than anger, and she pulled herself to stand, steadying her legs by grabbing hold of a wooden wheel leaned into a half-demolished barn. She smiled just a touch, bringing the back of her hand up to her mouth to wipe at the small wound there.
It didn't surprise her that the ladies of the village came to her then, petting her hair soothingly and brushing their hands over her shoulders, sadness in their eyes. One lamented, "We thought maybe you were different, you and your Doctor."
Bowing her head, she let them lead her into a common house where they washed clothes and she sat silently in a corner for a while before trying to engage them in conversation about their lives. The information would help, she knew, and she fell back into the role the Doctor needed her to play on this trip, tending to a baby girl and a set of young boys while their mothers began preparing dinner.
It was there, by the fire, that the Doctor finally returned to her side, sitting heavily on the log with her, and Clara made sure she visibly flinched – a show for the men still watching – as the Doctor quietly began to relay what he'd learned about the creature plaguing them. And then she did the same, fetching him a plate of food and speaking in hushed whispers while his eyes remained focused on the flames, elbows resting on his thighs as he ate.
Once she'd finished, he nodded and set his plate aside, standing and holding out a hand to her, one she looked at in confusion before reaching up to take it, allowing him to pull her up. For a moment he stared into her face, eyes roaming over her features and lingering on her bruised lip before turning away, giving her hand a gentle tug towards the tent they'd been offered while they stayed to help.
He pushed open the thick flaps and moved inside quietly, then stood still after the flap dropped down, muting the world behind them as she watched his shoulders slump. "Don't ever ask me to do that again," he stated lowly.
"They could have killed us," she began to say, but his hand tightened its grip on hers and he turned around, eyes glistening in the darkness.
He laughed sadly, and repeated, "Clara, don't ever ask me to do that again."
"It's part of the job, Doctor – we have to play the parts, otherwise..."
"Don't ever ask me to do that again," he bellowed, and Clara recoiled, but he stepped into her, hand coming up to caress her cheek. "We have parts to play, but that isn't one of them; these people," he gestured back, "These people need our help for more than just the thing lurking in the forest at night, stealing away their livestock; threatening their children. They need our example and I'll not lay another hand on you, even if it means my body on a pyre, roasted away at sunset to reinforce their primitive patriarchy, that is not what we stand for; that is not what we do." He bowed his head and his hand fell away as he repeated quietly, "Clara, don't ever ask me to do that again."
Clara nodded slowly, eyes wide, and then she reminded, "You told me to give you the five lashes on Hazurfo – I was commanded to distribute your punishment for disrupting that festival, as my punishment in aiding you, and if I refused, I risked ten of my own, and you told me to."
His head came up as he began, "Clara, I couldn't..."
"If you're to take punishment for not obeying the rules of time and space, then you accept that I'm to as well, or neither of us do and we accept the consequences of that," she told him boldly. She inhaled and clenched her jaw before telling him, "I'd have gladly taken twice your punishment to remove the memory of how it felt, hearing your cries of agony at my hand, do you understand?"
"The rules of time and space..." he started softly, lifting her hands gently in his, but Clara shook her head and slipped out of his grasp.
"We help where we can; we change when we can, but either those rules apply to us both, or they apply to neither of us, and there are sacrifices I am willing to make to do what we do, Doctor, and we can change these people – we can help them beyond the thing in the forest – but we can't do that, we can't do any of it if we're both dead."
He smiled, head tilting slightly as he told her, "I told them what I'd done had been foolishness, inspired by the foolishness around me." He bowed his head, "I told them you had as much right to argue with me as I had with you and I told them it'd be wise if they gave their women the same respect." He raised his brow as he ended lightly with, "They laughed."
"Doctor," Clara breathed.
He shook his head, interrupting her gently to explain, "They said a man who lets his woman rule him was no man at all, so I said that was fine, then I am no man – but if I was expected to strike my friend again to appease their foolishness, then they'd expect no help from me, for that help comes because of you."
Clara waited, watching as he raised his left hand again to touch her face, to hold her cheek, thumb gently passing over the bruised cut at her lip. Taking a long breath, one she expelled warmly over his flesh, she asked, "What did they say?"
On a smile and a simply laugh, he shrugged, "After a moment's consideration, I was told if we didn't find the beast in the forest and rid them of it, they'd kill us both for treachery."
Laughing, Clara stated on a hoarse whisper, "I can live with that."
"Or not," he immediately replied, allowing the warmth of his palm to linger on her cheek, fingertips lightly shifting there before he dropped his head and began in regret, "Clara..."
"Kiss me," she sighed.
The Doctor's head came up swiftly and he questioned, "What?"
Her request seemed so unlike the one she'd barked just a few hours ago, and the Doctor waited, trying to imagine he'd merely misheard. But Clara blinked at tears and smiled, nodding almost imperceptibly as he reached up with his other hand, taking her face delicately as she encircled his wrists with her trembling fingers, breathing quickening as he tilted into her to brush his lips over hers.
Lingering there a moment, the Doctor reveled in the heat of her breath rolling over his skin, and he closed his eyes, angered at himself for being rewarded for a mistake with compassion, but he understood it was her mistake as well. And she needed his comfort in that moment as much as he needed hers. So many times they'd taken the hard route instead of merely refusing, chalking it up to the rules of time travel; so many inflicted wounds, given in absolute trust, that they could never take back.
He met her lips again kindly, feeling the rough patch of broken flesh rub harshly against his; the lingering metallic taste palpable as he succumbed to her insistence to deepen that kiss. Fingers slipping into her hair, he inhaled the sweet scent of her, as deeply as his system would allow and he moved closer to her, head spinning against the heat of her body molding into his eagerly.
And then he broke away, shaking his head against hers, telling her softly, "It feels undeserved; a kindness best bestowed on another less cruel entity."
Listening to her laugh, he kept his eyes closed as her hands worked their way around his midsection, pulling him into a hug as she replied, "You are so deserving, Doctor – of this, and so much more." She took a breath and whispered, "I'm so sorry you can't understand that."
He'd dropped his hands to her shoulders, and then let them hang around her back, swaying quietly with her as the laughter and shouts of the men outside roared into the night. He sighed, imagining those men thought he'd be bedding his companion and for a moment he allowed himself to consider it. The tender woman held in his arms might permit him the pleasure; the woman who sighed into his chest and sent his hearts racing would think him worthy of such love, but she was right – he would never understand why.
Standing with her until her breaths slowed and he had to lift her into his arms to carry to the small bed tucked into the side of the tent, the Doctor pushed the thought away. He brushed the hair from her face and watched her wince in her sleep as he touched a finger to her lip before he placed another simple kiss there, turning to exit the tent into the now cold quiet night in search of a beast to still his thoughts and slow his hearts knowing in a few hours' time, she'd rejoin him, ready to save a village from more than just a monster.