Chapter 9: Vacation Part 2
Claire walked for twenty minutes on her aching, protesting feet, cursing the Doctor and herself and the TARDIS for leading her out here, and the prime minister for not keeping an eye on the affairs of his own planet, and the Wegran's Fever and it's audacity in growing where it had, and everything else she could think of.
She couldn't deny that she was relieved when she at last broke free of the forest, and finally saw a familiar tweed coat in the distance, but she also became a lot angrier, with worry no longer dominating her thoughts.
With her goal in sight, she managed to quicken the pace, and advanced on her unsuspecting target with a speed that impressed even herself. He was walking unsteadily, half-unbalanced, apparently completely oblivious to her presence directly behind him.
Maybe it was mean, but Claire took pleasure in startling him as she grabbed his arm and pulled him to a halt.
He yelped, and tried to yank free, but years of experience with sometimes-violent patients made Claire fully capable of hanging on.
"Doctor, it's me," she said. "Claire."
He stilled. And then squinted at her, as if trying to see a resemblance. It reminded her sharply, abruptly, of how Kilgrave - or, the Doctor himself, she corrected - had peered at her while sitting on Jessica's bed, trying to pick out features despite his blurry vision. It was strange to find such a concrete, visible connection between the two of them, although she knew that they were the same now. It made her skin crawl. "Oh," he said, finally, though he still sounded confused. "What are you doing out here?"
Claire only barely held back a tired sigh. It would only make him defensive, and the last thing she needed from him now was more resistance. "Looking for you," she told him, with an attempt at levity. "You went running off on us."
"I've got to go find the prime minister, remember?" he said, jerking a thumb behind him, in the direction he'd been headed. "There was the prison, and those trigger-happy guards. Yes?"
"I remember," Claire replied. "That's all well and good, but do you think now is the best time for this?" She tugged him very, very lightly back towards the forest. The gentlest of suggestions.
He didn't fall for it, simply frowning at her. "The sooner the better, isn't it?" he asked. Then, realization lit up his face. "Oh," he said. "You're worried about me."
It took all of Claire's learned patience not to roll her eyes. However, she couldn't stop herself from snapping, "Well, you look half dead, so I think it's warranted."
"I'm fine," he told her, almost convincingly. "But maybe I could use your help with the prime minister. Might not be the best plan to head in there on my own, in case he is responsible for what's going on, yeah? Want to be my backup, Claire Temple?" He grinned. If he hadn't looked so glassy and unfocused while doing it, Claire might've found his excitement contagious.
He seemed to sense her hesitation, because he took a turn pulling on her. "Please?" he asked, nearly pouting. "Please, please? C'mon, you want to help save those people down there, don't you? I told them we'd get them out, and I intend to follow through on that promise."
"You didn't promise today," Claire pointed out. She pulled on him back. It was a weird sort of tug-of-war. "Come back to the TARDIS, get some sleep and recover, and we can take care of this tomorrow. It'll all still be here."
"A lot can happen in a day," the Doctor countered. "You saw what conditions were like down there. And I'm sure those guards expect us to try and take them down - if we don't act quickly, they might do something rash." He sobered, quickly enough that it made Claire's blood run cold. "I won't be responsible for those people's deaths, Claire. I don't think you want to be, either."
They hadn't known each other very long, but it clearly hadn't taken him much time to pin her down. She could feel herself caving, giving into her desire to help, to save the beaten-down people they'd met from more pain, despite the fact that she knew this was a terrible idea.
He jerked his arm back, tearing away from her grip, and started off again. Claire reached out an arm to try to grab him, but fell just short of reaching him.
It's definitely not bad luck that you keep getting into these situations, she thought angrily. It's because you're a bit of a hero-type yourself. You idiot.
The Doctor stopped about two yards away, and looked back at her. "Coming?"
Claire held back a sigh. "Yeah," she said. "I'm coming."
By the time they reached paved roads and the indications of a city in the distance, Claire was resignedly serving as the Doctor's crutch. She hadn't had much of a choice after he'd started very obviously losing both balance and direction. It felt like pure luck that they'd reached civilization at all.
"That's Bolich, the capital," the Doctor explained as they continued their staggering approach. "I think. Bit blurry."
"Is the prime minister there?" Claire asked. Please God, say he is.
"Should be. I would hope. It's where he lives."
Claire sighed, disguising the action as blowing hair out of her face. "You sure you don't need a break?" she checked. "I'm practically holding you up here, Doctor."
Some of the weight he'd been leaning on her lightened. "No," he said, "I'm fine."
"Does 'fine' mean something different to your species than to humans?" Claire asked, only half-joking. "Because I've noticed you say it a lot, especially when most people would not."
"Now you're being smart with me," the Doctor informed her, almost incredulous. "'Fine' means 'fine,' Claire Temple. You're such a mother hen, has anyone told you that?"
Claire nudged him with an elbow. "I'm a nurse," she snarked. "It's my job to be a mother hen."
He snorted a painful-sounding laugh, and then shuddered - a weird, jerky movement.
Immediately, Claire stopped walking, and sat him down on the grass. More concerning than the laugh or the shuddering was the fact that he didn't so much as pretend to fight her off. He blinked up at her and frowned, and that was the extent of his disagreement.
"Maybe...sitting is good," he hedged, as she stared at him.
"This was a bad idea," she decided, heart clenching regretfully. "I shouldn't have listened to you."
"I'm okay," he insisted. Considering he still hadn't moved, however, his claims carried little weight. And he kept twitching. The longer Claire watched, the more it looked like more of a flinch.
"If you think we're going to make it all the way into the city, you're deluding yourself," Claire informed him. She crossed her arms to punctuate her point. "It's probably another few miles at least. I know I'm exhausted, and I didn't touch an evil plant."
The Doctor wrinkled his nose. "A plant can't really be evil, Claire." He relented, however, as she glared. "I suppose I see your point. But we can't exactly head back, either, can we? Even if I was tired, which I'm not, it's a long way in either direction. I think we should keep going."
"Of course you do," she muttered. Louder, she said, "You're getting worse, Doctor. Don't think I can't tell. I'm a trained professional."
He visibly tried to stop himself from doing any further flinching, but that only drew lines of pain on his face that had Claire doing some flinching herself out of sympathy. "I can handle it," he near-whined. "I can handle lots of things. More walking, for example."
Claire stepped back as he stood up. He managed to stand upright, hands on his hips, giving her a smug look, for a solid second before he staggered. Claire tried to help him settle, but in the end they both ended up falling to the ground, gasping in pain and, in Claire's case, wheezing curses under her breath.
"Sorry," the Doctor said, trying to catch his breath beside her. "Dizzy."
He was saved from a biting response by someone shouting from the other side of him - a suspicious, mildly threatening male voice. "Hey! This is private property!"
Claire hastily pushed herself up to a sitting position, and immediately picked out the form of a bulky figure in the distance; just close enough that she could pick out a few features, but not close enough to allow anything less than yelling. Like all of the natives to this planet, he was light green and humanoid, with the tiniest hints of fish ancestry evident on his body, like the easily spotted gills in his neck. He wore fancy-looking clothes, with shiny lines in the jacket that glinted in the sun.
"Sorry!" she called back. "We're trying to get moving!" She forced herself up, onto her blistering feet, and reached down to help the Doctor.
"I think I'll stay down here," he said, faintly. "Maybe just...a second." She attempted to pull him up, but he couldn't even manage to stay sitting for longer than a few seconds. "Just a second," he repeated. He did another of those jerky shudders. Claire's stomach dropped.
She looked up to the man again, and found that he was approaching them, close enough now that she could see a bulge at his hip that implied a weapon. Her heart lurched into a frantic pound.
"We're not armed!" she announced, spreading her hands wide to prove it. The Doctor looked confused, but followed her lead.
As the man continued walking, she thought he might look vaguely amused. Which was either a good thing, or a very bad one.
Claire kept entirely still as he came closer, but by the time he was standing in front of them, she could feel herself shaking a little bit - as a result of her exhaustion, or adrenaline, or a mix of both.
He looked at both of them, his beady-eyed gaze lingering on Claire's dishevelled hair and sweaty face, and the Doctor's predicament on the ground, and his obviously feverish appearance. Slowly, the man's face seemed to change to something a bit less stern.
"What are your names?" he asked. His accent was almost American, but the r's were a little wrong. He sounded like a man used to being listened to.
"I'm Claire Temple, and this is the Doctor." Claire kept her gestures slow and open.
"You're foreigners," he noted, glancing between them again. "What brings you to these parts? Few tourists find their way out here." The suspicion returned, although less severe than before.
"We were just exploring," Claire explained. "We have some friends with us, but they're back at our ship." She threw a hand vaguely in the direction they'd come. "The Doctor decided it would be a good idea to wander off."
"I see." The man looked to the Doctor again, who was frowning like he wasn't sure what was happening. As Claire had thought, he was definitely getting worse. The man seemed to be thinking similar things, as he said, "he doesn't look well."
"Wegran's Fever," the Doctor piped up, his face clearing. "In the forest. There's quite a bit of it."
Instantly, the man looked sympathetic. "I understand."
"We're trying to get to Borich," the Doctor continued, a little more cheerfully. Claire might have been fooled by his energy, if he wasn't still flinching now and again. "Is there any way you could help us out?"
"I thought your ship was that way." The man gestured to the forest. Some of his suspicion returned. "It seems unwise to wander further from it in your condition."
"Oh, not you too," the Doctor pouted. Still, he didn't get up.
Claire sighed. "We're looking for help," she said. "There were some men after us, earlier, and we're trying to deal with them."
"Men," the man repeated, frowning. "Hm." He paused, glancing at the Doctor again. "Would you mind coming with me? If you can."
Every bad horror movie Claire had ever watched warned against this kind of thing. But the Doctor was struggling to sit up, and she had little choice but to grab onto him and help. "Where are you expecting us to go?" she asked. "I don't want to be rude, but-"
"There's someone you should talk to," he cut in, not unkindly, "about these men. You aren't the first ones to have this problem. Maybe we can help each other."
The Doctor prodded her in the back, with more force than she expected. "I trust him," he said, in her ear. "I've got great instincts, Claire."
She couldn't help but glance to the man's hidden weapon again. "We have food and water," he offered, either not noticing her concerns or not caring. "If nothing else, we can help you regain your energy for your journey back."
At the very mention of water, Claire felt her throat clench, and her mouth go dry. And she couldn't exactly say she wasn't hungry, either. She wished this didn't feel so much like a trap.
But the longer they stood, the more weight the Doctor leaned on her. Soon, she knew, he'd probably be completely useless. He was already hardly able to stand as it was - the longer they waited, the more likely it was that she would have to carry him back to the TARDIS. And since she could hardly carry herself at this point...
Claire kept her guard up, but she nodded. "Thank you," she said. "That sounds nice."
The man smiled, or almost did.
"What's your name?" Claire asked.
"Tuan." He gently took her hand, and then released it, like a wimpy sort of handshake. Claire tried to smile. Apparently it was convincing enough, as Tuan moved to the Doctor's other side to help. The moment some of that weight was lifted off of Claire she felt a little better. And although her feet protested her every movement, walking was made just easy enough that she managed to plow onwards.
Fortunately, their walk was a short one. Tuan led them further forward, and then turned them onto a dirt path through a small wood. No Wegran's Fever in sight, to Claire's unending relief.
The path was well-groomed and smooth enough that it wasn't too unpleasant, and it led quickly to a small but obviously expensive cabin buried among the trees.
Cabin in the woods, Claire thought, tensing although the cabin didn't look terribly threatening. Great.
"This is an odd place to stay," the Doctor remarked.
"It's secure and unsuspecting," Tuan replied, a little too stiff to be casual.
Why would it need to be unsuspecting? Claire wondered. She tried to glance at the Doctor to gauge his reaction, but that was made difficult by their current position. She very nearly voiced the thought, concern clenching around her chest, but she was interrupted by the front door of the cabin opening.
An old fish-man stepped out - a gray sort of green, with hints of white hair on his head, and a beautiful cloak that clashed with the simple brown clothes he wore underneath it.
"Sir," Tuan greeted, passing a little of the Doctor's weight back to Claire in order to perform a slight bow.
"Are these the intruders you found?" the old man asked, scanning over Claire and the Doctor with sharp, keen eyes that had Claire straightening her back to look a little less like she was collapsing under the weight of the Doctor and her burning feet.
"Yes, sir," the other replied. "They go by Claire Temple and the Doctor. Apparently they made contact with some Wegran's Fever in their journey through the forest."
The older man's eyes narrowed. "What were you doing in the forest?"
The Doctor cleared his throat. He twitched again. "My ship is parked nearby," he explained.
"They claimed to have been attacked by some men," Tuan interjected. The old man's eyes narrowed further.
"In the process of escaping them, we had to go through the forest," Claire jumped in, fighting down her nerves. Whatever this was, they could get through it. They'd already escaped gunfire and angry guards today. Why not this? "We didn't realize what we were surrounded by until it was too late."
"I'm fine though," the Doctor added. Since he was holding up almost none of his own weight, Claire knew the old man would not be convinced.
As predicted, he frowned at the Doctor, and tilted his head in an obviously disapproving manner. Nonetheless, he stepped back into the cabin and said, "Come in."
It took almost all of Claire's remaining strength to take the final steps into the cabin, despite Tuan's help, but once inside she was rewarded with a welcome sight - a polished wooden table directly ahead, surrounded by cushioned chairs. She couldn't hide her relief as Tuan took the Doctor's weight off of her entirely, and she was able to take a seat. As soon as the pressure of her body weight was taken off her feet, she was able to relax.
Tuan sat the Doctor down beside her, and then proceeded to enter the tiny kitchen to the right of the door and dig into the cupboards, leaving Claire to try and keep the Doctor from collapsing forward and bashing his head on the table. The old man sat down across the table from Claire, where a steaming cup of something herbal and fragrant waited for him.
Claire managed to get the Doctor mostly upright in his chair, but she knew it probably wouldn't last very long. He was paler than ever before, and those weird shudders had increased in frequency, although he maintained a surprising grip on lucidity.
Tuan returned with water, and a plate of what Claire thought was buttered toast. Maybe it was a bad idea to eat any food offered by a stranger in a situation like this, but...they were already in deep as it was. And she was starving. The others might already be out looking for us, she reasoned as she chewed. If this does go badly, maybe we'll be lucky and they'll get here in time to rescue us.
"Thank you," she said, after swallowing her first bite. Tuan nodded as he sat beside the old man. The Doctor took a few clumsy sips from his water, but nothing more.
"Tell us more about these men you encountered," the old man invited.
"They were fond of guns and hallway chases," the Doctor muttered. Upon looking at him, Claire found that his eyebrows had come together in what looked like a willful suppression of pain. She'd seen it on many patients' faces before. She had to clench her jaw to stop herself from squeezing his shoulder - she doubted he would appreciate the gesture.
"They were all around the same height and build," she clarified. "They were wearing heavy black armor, and they had stun guns. They captured us while we were exploring the countryside, and we all woke up in an underground prison that was full of other...foreigners. We got the impression that they were after us for that reason alone."
The old man inclined his head, and his gaze drifted thoughtfully down to his drink. "There have been previous reports of armed guards attacking tourists," he said, at last, in a deep and sorrowful voice that surprised Claire with its intensity, "but there have been no confirmed reports from any that managed to escape." His eyes lifted again to meet Claire's, unhappy and bitter. "I should have expected this to happen."
Tuan shook his head. "The ignorance of others is not your responsibility, sir," he argued.
Bewildered, Claire set aside her toast. However, the Doctor spoke up before she was able to gather the right words. "What do you think caused them to do this?" He looked less alert than Claire would have hoped, but at least he was keeping track of the conversation.
The old man grimaced. "We loosened our border security laws after we realized that the tourism industry is what drives the majority of our planet's commerce. There are some extremist groups that have always been against a tourism-heavy economy, but they were never so vocal until we expanded the industry in the past year." He took a sip of his drink, looking painfully regretful. "They believe that our economy should be self-sufficient, and unreliant on the travel of foreigners. I understand the logic, but at this point it's unreasonable."
"Oh, right," the Doctor breathed. He sat up as straight as he could, his eyes lighting up with more than fever. "The economy crashed a few years ago."
The old man sighed. "Yes. The only thing that held strong was tourism, so we poured our resources into that, hoping that the resulting profits could help us regain our former position. We were correct - we're already recovering our more devastating losses, and soon enough we'll be less reliant on foreigners to help us. But these extremist groups don't believe our figures. They've been heavily protesting for nearly a year, claiming that tourists are hurting our economy, not helping it. And, supposedly, kidnapping so-called 'criminal foreigners.'"
"Meaning any non-natives," Claire guessed, to which both men nodded. "Damn."
"I can't get through to them," the old man said, shaking his head. "I've done numerous press briefings on the true facts of the situation, even proving that I understand their point, but nothing seems to work."
Press briefings, Claire thought. She glanced to the man's cloak, and briefly around the unexpectedly beautiful cabin - too expensive to be just any old man's home.
"Tuan thought it wise to move me to this home," the old man piped up, giving Claire a sad but knowing smile, "in case one of these groups decided to come after me directly."
"You're the prime minister," the Doctor said. Some of the stress vanished from his face as he grinned. "Eeron Tlarick."
The man nodded, sorrow lifting from his expression. "Very astute."
Claire's throat was suddenly dry again, despite the water she'd been sipping on throughout their conversation. "Nice to meet you, sir," she said, quickly. "Thank you for your hospitality." She glanced to Tuan - his getup made more sense now. He was the prime minister's guard, and probably his assistant as well.
"We should be thanking you," Tlarick replied, turning his smile to her. "With your help, we should be able to locate this prison and put a stop to this at once."
Claire startled as someone poked her in the ribs. She looked to find the Doctor giving her a smug look. "See?" he said. "I have good ideas."
She rolled her eyes. "Yes. Wandering feverishly by yourself in what has already proven to be a hostile area is a great strategy, oh Wise One."
"But I told you finding the prime minister would help, and I was right," he insisted. He poked her again. "Didn't I?"
"You were looking for us," Tuan said, surprised.
"We didn't expect to find you here," Claire told him, pushing the Doctor's hand away. "We were headed into the city, hoping we'd be able to get a meeting to explain the situation."
Tlarick's smile grew. "Then it was fate. You've done our planet a great service, simply by virtue of your evidence. And you came looking for us knowing that you could be recaptured." He nodded to each of them. "Thank you." His gaze lingered on the Doctor, and open sympathy took over his face. "Now, let us help you with that Wegran's Fever problem of yours."
Claire stepped out of the TARDIS, and back into her apartment. It was exactly as she'd left it - blankets strewn across the couch, empty glass of wine on the coffee table, and her dog-eared copy of the fifth Harry Potter lying open on the floor where she'd dropped it in shock when the TARDIS had landed in her living room.
When she saw the time on her microwave's clock, visible in the otherwise dark kitchen from where she stood, her heart skipped a beat. Despite her still-healing feet and new clothes and widened perspective, she had only been gone for five minutes.
She heard the doors close behind her, and spun around with her heart in her throat to see the Doctor standing there, a plain white envelope in his hand.
"For a second I was worried you were taking off," she confessed with a laugh.
"Not without saying goodbye!" the Doctor exclaimed. With a day of recovery behind him, he was back to his usual self. "You thought I would let you say goodbye to everyone else and then leave?" But he was grinning. Claire grinned back.
"I had a good time," she said. She thought of returning to work the next morning, and felt a pang both of longing and regret. She'd requested to go home, otherwise she suspected that the Doctor would have kept dragging her along on adventures forever. She'd had enough excitement for the moment. But that didn't mean life on the TARDIS didn't have its perks.
"Good. Most people say they don't want to run around and get into trouble, but it really is a lot of fun," the Doctor informed her. He stuck out a hand to shake. "Thank you for coming aboard, Claire Temple. Your help was invaluable."
Claire took the hand, but pulled him into a hug instead of shaking. He made a squeaking noise of surprise, but he transitioned into hugging easily enough. Claire felt her eyes sting a little, although at what she wasn't quite sure. She imagined, for a ridiculous moment, that she was hugging the Kilgrave-Doctor instead, and that practically tipped her over the edge.
"You're crying," the Doctor accused, pulling back at once with surprising strength. His eyes were wide with approaching panic. "Why are you crying?" He sounded so much like the Kilgrave-Doctor...like himself. It really sunk in for her, at that moment, that they really were the same man, appearances cast aside.
"I'm sorry," she said. "For my part in what happened."
The Doctor blinked. "What? Oh, you mean the whole...Kilgrave thing." He leaned back a little more, grimacing. "You did nothing but help, Claire. Most of what happened was my own fault."
"I should have known you weren't human the first time I took your pulse," she snapped. "But Jessica told me you were Kilgrave and I couldn't not believe her. I reasoned it away. I'm an idiot."
The Doctor shook his head, sighing. "You're anything but an idiot. There was no reason to suspect that I was anything other than a human, albeit maybe one with a heart condition. It's not everyday you meet a Time Lord, I'm not shocked you didn't recognize one." He dared a smile, and took her hands in his. "You're a good nurse, Claire Temple. And more than that, a good person." He'd stuffed the envelope in his pocket before attempting to shake her hand, but now he retrieved it again in order to hand it off to her. "You deserve a good life."
Claire's chest ached. She clutched at the envelope, feeling something slightly stiff inside. She guessed it was a card, but it was a little too small for that. "But-"
"I'm absolving you of any guilt," the Doctor interrupted. He moved his hands to her shoulders and gave her a light shake. "I couldn't have asked for a better nurse. You advocated for me when the others wouldn't. Or, maybe couldn't is a better word." He smiled. "You're very brave, Claire Temple. You prove it time and time again." He squeezed her arms, gentle and reassuring. "Thank you for taking care of me. And everyone else, for that matter."
Claire managed a smile back.
"Take care of yourself now," the Doctor instructed, glancing pointedly to the envelope as he stepped back. He snapped, and the TARDIS doors spilled golden light over the living room floor as they cracked open.
"You too," Claire replied, just before he shut the doors. She caught a hint of a replying smile before it was obscured by blue wood. Not ten seconds later, that blue began to fade, with a grating whirr that filled the entire apartment.
And then the TARDIS was gone.
If it hadn't been for the new clothes she wore, her sore feet, and the envelope she clutched in her hands, Claire might have believed it had all been her imagination. Wishful thinking - the desire for closure manifesting into a wild story.
Claire tore open the envelope with a pounding heart, and she couldn't deny that her hands might have been shaking a little as she removed the two papers inside it.
The first was a short note, scrawled on yellowed paper. Thank you, Claire Temple, it read. You are extraordinary. This is for the drawing next week. Take a minute out of your busy saving-people schedule to check the winning numbers. - The Doctor.
The second was a lottery ticket.
Sorry about the week-late update, guys! I forgot last weekend was Easter, and then I got caught up in holiday stuff, plus the last week of classes for the semester! Better late than never though.
This chapter's not really edited, so hopefully there aren't any glaring errors! If there are, please let me know!
I'm planning to update again in a couple of weeks, as usual, but after that I might take a short hiatus in order to finish this story fully before posting the rest of it. I'll keep you posted. As always, thank you so much for reading. 3