So...I may or may not be very much dead after watching Hell Bent. I'm so extremely dead inside. (And I know that the moment I get out of this stupor of post-Whouffaldi depression, I'll be releasing more works about those two because honestly, that ending though.)
But I've written this chapter a few days ago - I've been saving it up because I know that I'm going to want to stay in my happy Whouffaldi land, so here we go. Enjoy!
Hidden Message Four.
"Come here. Let me fix it."
Clara walked into the TARDIS to hearing loud, repetitive clanging sounds. She froze in her tracks, bewildered, as the clanging sound persisted – and then came angry, dark mutterings from…was that in the lower level?
Clara hurriedly threw her jacket aside, calling uncertainly, "Doctor? Doctor, are you alright?"
"Clara!"
Clara ran down the stairs, heart jumping up in her chest. "Doctor?" she shouted. "What's going on?"
There were a few frustrated sounds – and then the Doctor was barreling into Clara, holding onto a large, metal box with both hands. "I forgot you were coming over right now," the Doctor was saying, slamming the box onto the steps. Clara jumped a little and moved briskly out of the way.
Crouching next to the Doctor, Clara placed a hand on the box. Heat stung underneath her fingertips – and Clara pulled back, a shrill cry leaving her lips.
"Clara!"
Clara felt the Doctor sitting by her, his hands already gingerly making their way over her fingertips. "Are you hurt anywhere?" he asked worriedly. He shot the box a venomous look. "I knew I should have gotten rid of that useless thing ages ago…"
"I'm fine," Clara grimaced, rubbing her hands together. She gave a slight nod to the box. "What's that thing for anyways?"
"Some broken hologram-map," the Doctor replied dismissively. "I thought it'd lead to some ancient city – and I was bored, you know. Things just pop in and out of the TARDIS sometimes – you know that by now – and then I was trying to figure the map out…when I realize that it's broken. I tried fixing it with my sunglasses, only that didn't work – and now I think my sunglasses are broken. They got roughed up the last time I used them…" His voice drifted. With a soft growl, he gave a light kick at the box. "And now the damn thing keeps overheating."
"Not its fault," Clara said lightly, though the rest of her expression dissolved into a grimace. She started to stand up. She'd have to run over some cold water – and almost as though her thoughts were read, the Doctor stood up to pull down what seemed to be a shower nozzle. Icy water drizzled down on her hands, and Clara smiled gratefully in response.
"Well…" Clara tilted her head to the box. "How are you able to touch it without getting a burn?" A corner of her lips twitched into an excited, amused smile. "Is it a Gallifreyan thing? Or an alien thing?"
"Close," the Doctor responded, shooting another resentful look at the box. "Cream developed by an alien race known as the Calor resistentia. Also known as heat-resistant. I would call it clever and convenient species-naming, but it was actually the humans who first named them when they found them in the twenty-second century – but ah, that doesn't matter anymore. Damn thing's broken. I might have to sleep on it."
"You never sleep."
"True."
"Only once in a while, though."
"Also true." The Doctor stood up and bent down to pick up the box. He grunted softly as he hoisted it up the stairs. He only got up a few steps before slamming it back down to the ground. "You would think that a holo-map would be less heavy than this."
"Must be some map," Clara replied, hopping up the stairs. She sat down next to the Doctor, spreading out her hands. "Go on – give me that special calor-something-something cream. I can help you carry it up."
"Calor resistentia," the Doctor corrected. He tugged a small, clear tube out of his jacket pocket – and after taking Clara's hands, there was a strange, tingling sensation in the palms. Clara stared down her hands with some fascination as the cream dissolved straight into her skin, leaving behind a faint tropical smell.
"Wouldn't mind using that as an actual hand lotion," Clara said lightly.
"You can only use it when you're about to carry things that were specifically made by the Calor resistentia," the Doctor replied, standing back up to his feet. "If you tried to excessively use it for other reasons, it might end up burning your skin."
Clara grimaced. "Never mind, then. Where do we start?"
"You take one corner, and I'll take the other," the Doctor responded. As he had instructed, he tugged at one side of the box – Clara quickly took up the other side. The two bumped up the steps, the box unevenly colliding into their knees (well, in Clara's case, it was her shins. She was much shorter than the Doctor, after all). It was much heavier than Clara thought, too – the Doctor obviously hadn't been exaggerating.
They finally managed to get to the front of the console. Clara and the Doctor dropped the box without even a word to each other – the two had simply both decided at the same time that enough was enough.
"I think that's enough of an arm workout for today," Clara said, slumping against the console.
"And then we'll just have to move it somewhere else," the Doctor murmured.
"Not now," Clara groaned. "Or at least give us a few minutes." She looked over at the box again. "Is there any way to make it at least a little lighter?"
"By finding the map inside," the Doctor replied. He tapped the box lightly. "The Calor resistentia are useless in cold climates – they thrive off of the heat, hence the name. By living in hotter temperatures, they become more intelligent – more likely to survive – basically their own deities. This wonderful piece of engineering was one of their better works. It was designed not to lose its own weight until it was fully solved – which was also why if it was taken away, the thief would be weighed down."
"Smart," Clara nodded. She drummed her fingers against the box. "So – you said that the only thing we need to do to make this thing lighter is to solve it…"
"I couldn't even get ahold of it," the Doctor grumbled. "No point in it. I'll just have to pick it back up for a slower day than this one." He started to pick it up, but Clara slammed a hand over the top of it.
"No," she said. "Come here – let me fix it."
"Clara –"
"Come on," Clara said, a smile twinging at her lips. "Let me give it a shot. It's been bothering you, so let me try."
There were a few seconds of silence.
Then, the Doctor dropped the box in front of Clara.
"Thank you," she hummed cheerfully, placing her hands on the box. She looked over the designs – triangular, all with sharp edges and unexpected curves and lines. Clara pressed her lips together. Perhaps the designs were some kind of code – that was usually what the case would be.
She tried to think of a reason why the Doctor might not have been able to solve it yet. He might have been a little more scatterbrained than usual today (that doesn't happen all the time, but sometimes it does). He might just plain be frustrated, which sometimes happened as well. Or…maybe the problem might just be a little simpler than the Doctor had anticipated.
Clara looked down at the box again. The Doctor had said that the Calor resistentia were complicated in their designs, flourishing in their engineering techniques the hotter it got –
But what if the answer was still simple? Maybe the Doctor had set himself up with that fact, thinking that solving the box and unlocking the map would require some clever formula or solution.
Clara looked over the designs again.
Triangles…lines…curves.
Clara's eyes searched the box's corners – the box's top – bottom –
A-ha.
They all met.
They were all sitting at the centers of the box…
A grin spreading across Clara's face, she pressed her hands against the meeting points.
The box lit up. A bright, tuneful fanfare blasted through its thin walls, and Clara staggered back with a laugh. "I did it!" she shrieked, clapping her hands together. She turned to the Doctor. "Did you see that? You had to see that."
"You did," the Doctor replied, amused. "You – of course. I hadn't seen it before –"
Clara grinned, swinging an arm around the Doctor's shoulders. (She had to stand a little on the tips of her toes to do so, but that didn't matter.) "Come on, then," she said happily. "We've got a city to explore with this new map."
A/N - But on a better note, I admired how Steven Moffat and the other Doctor Who writers tied up the whole motif of "the hybrid" in the show. I loved how everything seemed to add up towards the finale (as all Doctor Who seasons do). I'll admit that I was a bit skeptical of season nine at first (mostly because I was still attached to season eight and its fairytale-esque atmosphere), but now that I've re-watched the season, I'm much happier to say that I enjoyed this season. (I'm forever going to miss seeing Jenna Coleman on my television screen, though. *sighs* And while I know I'll eventually accept the new companion, I feel like it's going to be hard. Ah, well.)
Reviews are always nice! (Besides, we need a Whouffaldi support group, don't you think?) Constructive criticism is alright, but flames are not.