[Author's Note: Thank you so much to my lovely reviewers! Glad to know this doesn't totally suck, haha. Anyway, next chapter. I kind of wish I had pulled out a different prompt, because this chapter is rather angst-y and I wanted to keep things light-hearted for a bit, but the hat-of-prompts doesn't lie. Maybe this will be okay after all. :3]
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Chapter 2:
Fight- (noun) an angry struggle between two or more people, usually because of a strong disagreement.
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"Clara, come on." The Doctor ordered for the third time and he turned and began to walk away, to where he could see the TARDIS in the distance.
Clara spun around and raced after him. "Doctor, wait!" She shouted angrily, sprinting to keep up with his longer-legged stride. "Where are you going?"
"To the TARDIS." He said stiffly, stopping for a moment to let her catch up. "Come along."
"What? Do you not see what's going on?" She cried, flinching at the sound of a rapid burst of gunfire in the distance behind them.
"Yep. Come on." He spun on his heel and continued walking. The smoke from the nearby fires had reached them, making the air thick and ashen.
"No!" Clara shouted. "You can't honestly be telling me you're just going to-"
There was a loud explosion from behind them, and the Doctor grabbed Clara's arm, throwing her and himself roughly to the ground as a piece of burning shrapnel flew past them, smashing into the ground a few feet away.
"Come on, Clara, we need to leave now." The Doctor said as they struggled up from the scorched earth. He grabbed her hand in his, not in an affectionate manner but more as a means of controlling her, as he began to pace away again.
"Doctor, stop!" Clara shouted, prying his fingers off hers and jumping back. He turned to face her and and she crossed her arms over her chest, not moving. "We're not just leaving!"
"Yes we are." The Doctor repeated. He stared for a moment at the look on Clara's dirt-streaked face and swallowed. "I'm sorry." He said softly. "We have to."
"Why?" She demanded angrily. "We were here when this started, we can't just run away!"
The Doctor looked nervously at the bombardment in the rapidly-shrinking distance. "Clara, we can't stay here. The fighting will come this way, it's not safe."
"Why do we deserve to be safe and the people back there don't?" Clara challenged.
"Clara, we can't get involved in a war battle." The Doctor said firmly. "We can't risk changing who wins, and I can't let you run out into gunfire!"
"Why did you take us here then!" Clara cried out. She was shaking, and her voice was beginning to rasp from the smoke quickly filling the air.
"I didn't know." The Doctor panted. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I forgot what happens today."
"Then it's your responsibility to help them!" Clara snapped. She broke off coughing, and the Doctor tried once more to lead her away. She slapped his hand and stepped back. "That person we were just talking to back in that shop, you just watched them get shot! How can you just watch something like that?"
"What do you want me to do?" He snapped.
"Go help the rest of the people!" She replied. When he didn't make any move she turned on her heel and glared back at him. "If you're not going to help, I will. I made friends back there, I'm not going to run off while they die!" She began to move back towards the wall of fire and bullets they had come from.
"Clara, stop!" The Doctor shouted. When she continued away into the smoke, he lunged forward, grabbing her roughly by the arms and pulling her back away from the fight.
She cried out in protest and tried to lash out at him with an elbow, but he pulled her arms sharply behind her back, holding her immobile. She cried out in pain at his tight grip, and a stab went through his chest, but he continued hauling her backwards despite her struggling to get free.
He continued staggering backwards through the smoke until his back bumped into the TARDIS doors. Without a second thought he shoved them open, flung his protesting companion in, and stepped through, slamming the door behind him.
He blocked her out as she shouted angrily at him for several minutes, instead just walked quietly around the console, flipping this switch and pressing that button to take them swiftly away from the mess of bullets and flames and dying.
Clara finally grew quiet and instead dropped down on one of the console-room chairs, her face stiff and impassive. He tried to catch her gaze but she looked stubbornly away, her eyes streaming from the smoke residue.
"Clara," The Doctor began after a few minutes of silence. She shook her head angrily, still refusing to look him in the eye.
Quietly, he stepped towards her and hesitantly placed a hand gingerly on her shoulder. She didn't respond, or even acknowledge his presence by her side. Gently, he squeezed her shoulder comfortingly.
She didn't even look up, and he sighed, looking up at the ceiling lights but not removing his hand from his companion's shoulder. And a few moments later he felt her gently lay her hand on top of his and give it a slight squeeze.
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[Author's Note: That... actually turned out pretty decent, although I feel like I'm still struggling with the characters. I hope I'll get better. Anyways, that was nice, I like angst-y-ness. But this fic will be alot more fluff than angst, don't worry. Unless you liked this, in which case I will be quite happy to write more. Review, s'il vous plaît! :3]