A/N: The prompt for this one was "Clara gets super strength and carries 12 around! 12 is into it!" I feel like this is related either to Encanto or to That One Comic Panel and frankly whatever floats your boat, my dude.
1459 words; kinda just ends, but that's because I had a different ending which I wasn't feeling, but I also didn't want to go full-on bow-chicka-bow-bow on this; rated T for a slightly intense scene and then a brief exchange
strong smol
It wasn't entirely their smoothest adventure, if the Doctor was honest. They had crashed on the planet in the middle of a war, to start, and were mistaken for enemy spies. After having been stripped and redressed in prisonwear, the pair were kept in separate cells, given separate guards, and denied most basic necessities. They were paid just enough attention to know they were being kept alive… though for what they had not a clue.
It had been roughly a week before they saw one another again. Clara and the Doctor were brought out of their cells at the same time and marched down the corridors together.
'I can't get a good grip on them,' he projected into her mind. There was a ringlet around his head and it looked too fancy to be anything but a psychic dampener. 'They know their stuff.'
'No wonder I hadn't heard a peep from you,' she replied in thought. 'I know we had been getting better at this telepathic stuff, but I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten in your panic.'
'Panic? I never panic.'
'Stop lying to me Doctor and tell me what we're going to do.'
The Time Lord glanced around as they were being led into a large room, filled with dozens upon dozens of medical stations, all unused. There were large machines, smaller devices, and sometimes merely hand-held tools with which to cause pain and agony. They were laid down on tables, their electric shackles separating in order for them to be fastened to the slabs.
'Doctor… I'd really appreciate a plan right about now…'
'Yeah, so would I,' he groused. He struggled against the cuffs, only for one of the waiting physicians to chuckle.
"Don't worry—you'll be treated no worse than your mate here," she said. The physician snapped her fingers and two of her colleagues produced syringes. One was emptied into the Doctor's thigh, and the other into Clara's; within moments, the Time Lord was rendered unconscious, slipping into a fuzzy, groggy darkness that was only aware of one thing outside of his own being:
Clara was angry.
When the Doctor woke up, he realized that he was in a completely different sort of room than before. In fact, as he sat up, he realized that he was in Clara's bedroom on the TARDIS, having been changed into pajamas and tucked into the bedding. At his stirring, she jolted awake from her chair, having fallen asleep during her watch.
"How'd we get here?!" he wondered. "What about the…?!" He was cut off by Clara raising a hand.
"We're here now, and that what matters," she stated. He watched her curiously as she shook her head. "Just don't ask."
"...but what about the sonic—" He stopped as she placed the sonic shades in his lap and stood. "Clara…?"
"Make sure you're fully and free of the toxin before coming out—I don't need to have you dragging me down." She gave him a playful wink before leaving the room, all but daring him to follow.
His mind immediately put aside wondering how they got there for the one thing that superseded all: Clara. His Clara.
Things were, again, not looking good.
Another planet in another war, though this time things seemed off. Clara wasn't entirely together either, seemingly distant as the guard captain of the group that caught them gloated about their imminent torture in the holding cells, located just within sight of the TARDIS on the far end of the corridor.
"...and if you ever break free—by some miracle—you will have to choose who lives and who dies," the captain said. The Doctor folded his arms across his chest, as their detail was no longer holding them in place.
"Now why would you say that?" he posed. The captain grinned wickedly.
"We put up a barrier around your ship," she said. "It's set up biologically; my troops and I can pass through as many times as we please, yet off-worlders? Only one set of feet may walk across the barrier and live."
"Only one set of feet?" Clara asked. "So it's pressure-sensitive?"
"Very good—the first one of you will make it through, while the second would be swallowed up the moment you touch the barrier floor."
"That sounds… inconvenient," she mused. "It could be worse, though."
The captain looked miffed. She snapped her fingers and a guard grabbed Clara's arm. "How worse do you want it to be?"
"Can't get worse when you have a plan."
Clara pushed the guard away, which led to him toppling violently into his comrades behind him. The Doctor and the captain stood there, stunned, and Clara groaned in irritation.
"Come on!" she urged. "Let's go!" The Doctor pointed at the pile of guards being helped up by their captain and opened his mouth to question what was going on when Clara pulled him along. It felt so effortless on her part that he was surprised—what was going on?
"Clara, only one person can cross the platform! You go and have the TARDIS jump here to get me!"
"There's no time," Clara grimaced. She hefted the Doctor up on her shoulder and ran across, shielding both of them from their attackers. In the ship and door closed, she only set the Doctor down when they were over by the console and she was throwing the TARDIS into gear.
"You…" he began, yet trailed off. "…how…?"
"Don't ask," she frowned.
"…but, that was incredible!" he marveled. "How did you do that with such ease? Not even the best human body builders can do that!"
"I just can, alright?"
"Since when…?"
"Since they tried to experiment on us!" she snapped. The two let silence settle in around them, it ending with a heavy sigh out of Clara. "Whatever it was that was in those syringes were the same thing, but it made you unconscious, while it somehow gave me super-strength like a cartoon character."
"You didn't think to tell me?" he asked. "Clara, this is huge!"
"No, it's annoying," she replied. "I'm ruining door handles, broken multiple jars, and I think if I wanted to, I could toss my motorbike clear across the Thames and have it land on pavement. I could go to the top of the Gherkin and throw a baseball and it land south of Croydon! What the bloody hell happened to me?!"
"Well, I can't figure it out if you don't tell me," he chided. She gave him a flat look, at which he raised his hands in surrender. "All I'm saying is that this is a technological and biological event that needs to be studied. Nothing else about you has changed?"
"My urine's blue… and no, that's not normal."
"No aches, bloating, changes in muscle density, hormone fluctuations, increased sharpness of vision or hearing, unusual secretions of the varying orifices…?"
"Doctor, this has obviously been a bad set of adventures, where we can't seem to kick anything off correctly," she claimed. "Before you start running a bunch of tests, can we just lay down for a bit? Relax? I'm not exactly in the mood for anything else now thanks to that pisspot of a planet."
"Are you experiencing unusual amounts of fatigue?" he wondered. She scowled at him and picked him up in order to make him stop talking. It worked, with him clung to her neck as she held him in a bridal carry.
"Now don't be a moron and I might let you walk of your own volition to bed," she said.
"Why would I want that?" he asked.
"Are you testing me?"
"I'm saying that it's not often that I find myself in this position. It's a bit novel, to be honest." He attempted to shrug, but Clara pretended to let go, catching him as he gasped and held onto her firmer. "It's a compliment!"
"Are you sure…?" she asked, eyebrow raised. "You're not pulling my leg."
"Why would I pull your leg on this? On anything? Unless pulling it meant it was part of a grander scheme to get us out of a place alive?"
She nodded at that—made enough sense as any other excuse he could have given at that very moment. Clara then began to walk through the console room, carrying the Doctor up the steps and over to his wingback chair, which she set him down in before settling on his lap.
"We will talk about this," she said, cuddling into his side. "But later."
"...after a… erm… proper lie-down…?" he hinted. She nodded again in agreement.
"If you mean a more active sort of one to clear our heads? Then yeah. Only after this nap."
Oh, he could barely wait.