Emotions destroyed him.
It was a known fact to practically anyone who had been associated with the Doctor at any point in his time stream. Emotions destroyed him. They didn't just hurt, they didn't just make him angry. In fact, the term destroy didn't even quite cover what he felt.
Emotions awakened the beast. Emotions sent him raging into battle with clenched fists and bared teeth. Emotions absolutely tore him apart, yet gave him strength that sent his enemies running. With each escalated beat of his hearts he felt a new surge of determination run through his entire being. The voice in his head screaming I'm coming only got louder. Only got stronger.
Adrenaline surging, the Doctor slammed down the final lever with a bit more force than necessary that sent the TARDIS lurching back into space. How dare they. How dare they. How dare they rip her away from him like that? How dare they lock her up and hold him back, making him watch while their disgusting henchmen walked circles around her tied up form tantalizingly slowly. How dare they make him expect the worst?
She wasn't abused. She wasn't used. She was simply a tease. She was simply a bit of entertainment for the revolting inhabitants of the unfriendly planet.
She was hurt. And they enjoyed hurting her. Nothing fatal, of course. After all, then they'd have to go through the trouble of finding yet another toy. It was much easier just to keep the current.
The simple thought drew a growl deep from the Doctor's throat.
He didn't allow himself to be thrown about as the TARDIS came to a thudding halt. His shoes felt glued to the metal flooring, his entire body numb. How dare they eventually force him away when he became too much to handle, threatening him with guns and knives when he attempted to come to Clara's rescue?
How dare they force him to waste the time running the miles all the way back to the hidden TARDIS, his only chance of rescuing her being the materializing ability the ship granted.
They dared. It was simple as that.
But they were about to wish they never had.
There she was.
Battered, bruised, clothes torn, hands tied behind her back.
And there they were. Laughing. He did hate the laughing, sometimes. The Doctor watched the heart-clenching scene unravel before him as the men took their turns harassing the innocent girl. They kicked, then spat, they punched. And then it just repeated.
The Doctor had expected much worse, but that didn't make him any less enraged. He'd expected her to not only be hurt, but broken. Both emotionally as much as physically. He'd expected to see Clara curled up in a submissive ball, tears streaming down her cheeks as she begged for mercy. He'd expected some sort of outward signs of agony. Of helplessness. He'd expected to feel completely broken himself, just to see the sight of her.
But that indignant young woman from Blackpool was still fighting. Her legs shot out violently in warning every time she was approached. Villainous curses escaped her lips in reply to each threat, each revolting remark. Her hair was disheveled, falling in front of her face only to be blow back away by her painful puffs of breath. Her shoes were missing and her jeans for half ripped. But did she seem to care? No. But for some reason, it only seemed to entertain the crowd even more.
"If you take one step closer, I swear it will be the end of you!" He heard her howl, and the sound of laughter split the air. Instead of dampening her spirits, she only grew more determined. More furious. And that was something they should be scared of.
The Doctor was done observing. He was done being the victim, so he stepped up to be the hero.
"Stop!" The deep, throaty, booming growl brought all activity, all laughter, all noises to an abrupt halt. Many eyes glared at him from the dusky almost-blackness. Some of them worried, some surprised, some even frightened. But the expressions changed without missing a beat, and laughter erupted all around.
"Carry on!" Someone shouted, the room too packed for the Doctor to tell who.
"I said," He leaped over the short barrier blocking him from the violent action, withdrawing his screwdriver from his breast pocket with an intimidating glare around as he waved it in the air. "Stop." The crowd fell silent. "All I have to do is press this button, and you people will be picking each other's guts out of your hair. So I suggest you listen up."
As if she'd just now become aware of his presence, Clara, now laying mere yards away, rolled painfully onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow, several deep, frightening breaths escaping her lips. "Where the hell have you been?!"
"I'm here now, and that's all that matters." He wanted to rush to her side. He wanted to come to her aid. He wanted to not only be her friend, but her doctor for whatever time he could. But no. He was sparing a beat to take one last measure
"Listen here, you insufferable lot!" He took a step closer to the group of frighteningly unsure brutes. "I want you all to stay completely still. If I see so much as a blink, I'm blasting this entire premises. I see anything I don't like, you'd all better make peace with your gods."
"Says the bloke with a spanner for a weapon!"
"Oh, do you not believe me?" He quirked his eyebrows, thumb hovering dangerously close to the activation switch. "Because I'm more than happy to give you a demonstration..."
"No, no, no!" They all shouted at once. So much for tough brutes, the Doctor thought with a huff. "Listen, mate, what is it you want?"
"What is it I want?" He growled. "What is it I want? I want revenge! I want to make you suffer. I want to show you what it means to get on my bad side! Because you hurt someone close to me. You took her away and you hurt her. And if any of you were to know me, you'd know that is," He lowered his brow. "Very," Tucked his chin. "Bad," Took a step forward. "News!" The huddle didn't even have the time to tremble before his thumb bore down on the button. A slow, speedily escalating beeping emitted from the device, and the crowd made a dart for the exit. "Don't even bother!" The Doctor called, laughing. "You won't get far." And with that, they were out the door.
"Idiots." He shook his head with disgust, pocketing the sonic before retreating a few steps.
Now that he was close, he had a much better image of Clara's condition. Her adrenaline surge coming to an unfortunate end, she was left weak and trembling, slumped against the the rough, cold stone wall with shaky hands. "Took you long enough." She laughed out.
"Clara." All previous thoughts and emotions pushed far into the back of his mind, he broke into an unnecessarily paced stride that led him right before her. He looked down, and he eyes shown his apology more than words ever could. The red that lined them never ceased to betray the emotion he kept so well hidden. The Doctor gave one long sniff, then extended a hand.
Clara seemed to consider it for a moment, as if she weren't completely sure whether she'd make the agonizing climb back to her feet. It seemed to take nothing more than a decisive sigh before she gripped his hand with a surprising force, keeping her back pressed against the wall as she inched her way up.
The action seemed to exhausted her. She leaned back against the stone for a brief moment, eyes closed, breathing heavy. She let out one quick cough, hand absentmindedly rubbing over her chest.
"Alright?" The Doctor leaned in closer, taking her hand in one of his and gripping her shoulder with the other. When his question earned a mere sullen nod in reply, he moved to stand directly beside her and began gently nudging her forward. Apparently a bit more worse for wear than he initially thought, her knees crumpled beneath her and he barely had enough time to catch her beneath her arms. "Okay, here we go." He chimed with an attempted lighthearted laugh, hooking one arm around her waist to hoist her back up. "It's alright."
"Sorry." She muttered amidst a chuckle, squeezing his hand for support as she slumped against his side.
"The TARDIS isn't far." He promised. "You can rest once we get inside." He felt that searing, burning gust of rage yet again at the sight of what they'd done to her. Sure, she'd put up a fight. Sure she'd manage to remain stubborn and, quite frankly loud with her warning protests. She'd done more than live up to his expectations. She hadn't let herself down.
But they'd still hurt her. They'd still dared.
And for that, they would never be forgiven.