"Human Female will care for the Time Lord."
The sound was loud and felt right above her ear as Clara jerked away from it, raising a hand protectively, and she bumped something at her side, shifting away instinctively as she opened her eyes to the darkened room. Turning, she looked at the dark grey wall there before glancing up and realizing it wasn't a wall, it was the base of some sort of shelf and as she lifted herself up, she found herself at a loss for breath as she took in the Doctor's haggardly appearance, lying atop it. A bed, she knew now.
A hard box with a thin mattress and the man.
There was a bandage high on his chest and she struggled to stand, dropping onto the bedding beside him to touch his face, giving it several light taps while calling out to him to no avail. Clara felt her breath becoming ragged and she held back tears as she pulled the gauze away and looked at the red wound. It had been treated, some thin slivers of adhesive were strung in a web over the healing skin, and she glanced about.
"I can't care for him without new bandages. Tape. Anti-bacterial something."
"Human Female is not to move," came the quick response.
But she stood when the door opened, protectively shifting herself in front of the Doctor even as her legs ached to be relieved of the weight of her body. One being aimed a gun at her while another settled a box atop the sink and then they moved back out, the door closing and sealing into the wall and Clara went to pull off the top of the box, glancing inside and finding what she'd asked for and she moved back to the Doctor with several items clutched in her hands, steps labored before falling at his side.
"Not much of a nurse," she warned, "But I've dealt with quite a few scrapes in my time." She smiled down at his sleeping face, wishing he could give her a grin and a witty retort that would reassure her, but he simply dreamed, features frozen.
She set the soiled bandages aside and carefully rubbed a paste across the wound, watching it easily soak in and stretch, forming a lighter web that sealed over the reddened area before she applied a new bandage and rested her palm at his chest. Clara closed her eyes, feeling the heart underneath her fingertips beat softly and then she drifted her hand across and felt for the other, sighing in the understanding that he was ok. He was alive and he was with her.
Glancing around the room as she absently scratched at her thighs, urging the pins and needles to subside, Clara examined the sparse furnishings and understood it was some sort of prison cell. At least, it felt like a prison cell, but she knew she'd rather be there than inside one of the white rooms. The white rooms meant they'd done something to her and her hand came up to her abdomen, to the dull ache that still resonated there, and she could only imagine what they'd done.
She didn't want to imagine it.
Looking down at the sleeping man at her side, she knew she wanted to forget it all. Wanted to pretend they were back in the Tardis and he'd simply tripped over a part he'd left lying about and she was nursing a concussion, instead of what looked like a laser shot to the chest. Clara winced as she pulled herself up and climbed over him, nestling herself at his other side with her back to the wall, his arm limp along her body. She didn't care what he thought when he awoke.
She rested her cheek against his shoulder and laid her hand over his bare stomach, fingers slowly trailing back and forth over an inch of his skin. It might be romantic, except she was crying. Slowly at first, grateful to have his presence so close to her after what felt like an eternity of lost time, and then it was uncontrollable sobs that shook him next to her until she fell asleep.
She sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the hospital bed, wanting nothing more than to be handed her clothes and have the IV taken out of her hand as she played rock-paper-scissors with the Doctor for the thirtieth time, laughing when she beat him. Again. It seemed ridiculous, two grown-ups, hands clasped tightly in front of them, eyeing one another as though the outcome meant the other's sudden death, but she welcomed the distraction from the day. From feeling foolish for not knowing better and getting them stuck on this planet to begin with.
Of course, she knew, he was itching to get out amongst the people. He'd already listed enough stops for them to see to occupy months of time and sometimes she thought he wished they could. Some days she wanted to give into those urges – to travel with him on a full-time bases and get lost in the days without counting or considering she had to get back home. Clara laid her palm flat as he kept his balled and he grunted before laughing up at her.
"I'm beginning to think you're reading my mind," he offered.
She shrugged, "Maybe you're not as unpredictable as you think."
He smiled.
Clara chuckled softly to herself, laying her hands against her thighs, looking down at the bandage on her left and the IV at her right and trying to decide which would be harder to explain when she got back. There was always some bump or bruise to explain away to friends or family. Her father, she knew, was beginning to suspect Clara might be involved in a damaging relationship and she knew this wouldn't help.
Eyes coming up, she watched the way the Doctor looked up at her from where he crouched in the wheel-able stool in front of her. His smile was infectious, but she didn't turn away, wanting nothing more than to reach out and fix the flop of hair at his brow and just as her fingers had gained a mind of their own and were rising to meet the soft locks, two odd aliens stepped into the room.
"Human Female is to come with us," one commanded.
The Doctor stood immediately and her hand fell away, brushing the sleeve of his coat lightly with a sigh of dissatisfaction before she looked up as he replied deftly, "The patient's name is Clara Oswald and she's awaiting discharge."
There seemed to be a commotion outside, a rush of bodies away from the room and it made Clara's heart race – something she listened to on the monitor just beside the Doctor. The steady beeps had turned erratic and she could see the way his head turned just a tick, registering her fear before looking to her and giving her a reassuring smile.
The aliens remained though, and the one repeated, "Human Female is to come with us."
"Got that the first time and I'm going to do a little repeating of my own – she's awaiting discharge."
"Doctor?" Clara questioned, seeing some hint of recognition in his eyes and she didn't like the way his body was tensing, as though he were properly afraid – something she'd rarely seen.
One of the aliens shifted forward and the Doctor reached back quickly with a quiet, "I'm sorry," as he yanked roughly at the IV in her hand as she stifled a scream and before she knew what had happened, they were running down the hallway. Clara tried not to feel faint, seeing her bloodied hand clasped in his as he pulled her forward.
"Doctor," she heard one of them repeat, "The Doctor is classified Time Lord. Time Lord must be contained for further analysis."
"What are they?" Clara shouted.
He barely turned, but she could read the terror in his eyes, felt it send a shiver through her body and he turned a corner, trying to find somewhere in the building they could hide, but they were met with closed doors and frightened staff – staff who seemingly knew what was happening and were doing nothing to stop it.
"Doctor, what are they?"
"Kukof," he shouted back, "And not the good ones."
"What, I thought the hospital was run by them?"
He raised a hand, "Really, now, now while running you want the explanation."
Pulling her hand free, she slowed, and turned it over, pressing her bandaged hand to the opening left from the torn IV and she looked up at him, practically demanding an explanation because her body was ice cold with fear and her feet were burning from slapping the tiled ground barefoot.
Skidding to a stop, he turned, and as he approached, he explained quickly, "There are hospitals. There are doctors and nurses and then there are private practices – more dedicated professionals who want to help – and then there are clinics and smaller hole-in-the-wall facilities that you go to when you're desperate and have little money and nowhere else to turn to and then…" he trailed, "And then there's the black market. The scavengers and the pilfers who know no rules and have little to no regard for life and then…" he trailed again, eyes searching the halls, "And then there are these. A faction of a species that will tear you apart alive just to see how much it hurts, Clara."
"Why…" she started.
"There are theories; theories they'd gone mad, but I don't think they're true. They're simply mad, mad enough to see a human of enough purity in a time when there are none left… and a Time Lord in a world where there are none… and they'd want to see us from the inside out."
"They're horrible."
"Yes, Clara," he nodded quickly, then turned to see them coming around a corner, guns raised, and he knew they'd probably be packed with tranquilizers, "Clara, run!"
He took hold of her hand again and it stung as the skin and bones were crushed in his frightened grasp and he yanked her forward. Clara turned to see them raising the gun and she pumped her legs harder to keep up with the man ahead of her, but she felt the prick of something sharp at her shoulder and instantly her legs went numb and she fell away from him.
Glancing up, she watched him as he continued to move and she knew what he was thinking – he could get away and he could return to rescue her – but it didn't stop her from momentarily feeling abandoned and afraid. And then he turned, eyes reddened with tears before he looked from her to the aliens approaching and then back again and she met his eye.
"Go!" She mouthed, pointing and assuring him it would be fine.
But he didn't. He slowed and lost his balance, slipping to the floor before picking himself up again to rush back to her and she felt herself losing consciousness, listening to his footsteps pounding into the ground over the tiles before he released a strangled cry and she laid her head against the cold floor.
