A/N: Thanks for the lovely feedback on Chapter 1! Here we are on to chapter 2. Let me know what you think!
Chapter 2 – Eleven and Clara
Clara is running like she's never run in her life, and that's saying something since life with the Doctor means she's always running from something.
She lost the Doctor somewhere farther back in the caves, she isn't sure where and she can't stop long enough to think about it. The Klaxor chasing them have talons so sharp she can see the razor edges glint in the light, and if she slows down, if they catch her, they could probably slice her clean in half. And they want to, she can feel it.
Clara curses the Doctor yet again for picking up that stupid egg. He said the aliens were sleeping, that this particular species sleep so deeply, they wouldn't hear the cloister bells if they rang right next to their ears. It's why the race was nearly extinct; so many other species are poaching their eggs while mum and dad sleep. Apparently the Klaxor have done a bit of evolving, because the moment the Doctor picked the egg up, mum came awake with a piercing shriek. And even though the Doctor instantly returned it, mum, dad, and several aunts and uncles gave furious chase.
"Doctor!" Clara yells, trying to find him in the madness. She thinks she hears his muffled voice from somewhere behind her, but she can't be sure.
She comes to a fork in the caves and has only a moment to choose; left or right. She chooses left, she always chooses left, for some reason, and pumps her legs harder. The halls of the cave are dim, and she doesn't see the dead end until she nearly runs into the wall. Coming up short, Clara's heart sinks. She can hear the Klaxor behind her. She hears the smooth rustle of its scales as it raises its claws.
Clara turns to face her death head on. The alien is poised, ready to strike, and Clara takes a deep breath. The alien is so large, it fills most of the hallway, but with its talons raised there's just enough space to the right of it for her to slip through. If she's fast enough. She has to be fast enough.
She forces herself not to think about the consequences, because if she does she'll be frozen with terror and her plan will never work. Instead, she takes a brief moment to steel herself and then dives toward the space. The alien's claw comes down behind her, and Clara feels the displaced air stir the hairs on the back of her neck. There's resistance from the red sweater she wears as the alien's talon catches the fabric, but it slices the sweater clean off and leaves Clara free to run.
She's made it. She puts on a burst of speed, digging into the uneven ground, hoping to reach the freedom and refuge of the TARDIS soon.
Her toe catches on a rock, and she falls.
Clara turns as she falls, landing hard on her shoulder and grimacing as sharp edges cut into her skin. Burning pain flares through her arm, but it doesn't matter. Not if she's going to die in the next five seconds.
The alien looms above her, his talon lifted high in the air, ready to cleave her in two. She closes her eyes, but the killing blow never reaches her. Instead she feels a rush of air and hears a grunt somewhere above her and then the piercing shriek of a dying alien.
Slowly, Clara opens her eyes. Just barely at first, peeking out to see if she should look more fully. Everything seems still. The alien's body is crumpled on the ground, one of its talons twitching like it might come roaring back to life. Clara opens her eyes the rest of the way and sits up, rocks and gravel from the ground gouging her hands and her knees. Her tights are a shredded mess, she's sure of it.
Next to her lies the Doctor.
"Doctor?" Adrenaline spikes through her as she leans over his prone form, checking for severed limbs or spilled entrails, but there's only a gash across his chest. It's deep, but not nearly as bad as it could have been. The Klaxor must have just grazed him. His braces are severed though, and she's sure he'll be absolutely petulant about it. Sometimes she feels more like a babysitter than a companion.
"Doctor, come on. Budge up, we've got to get you to the infirmary so we can heal up that gash. Come on." The Doctor stirs and groans. A grimace flashes across his features. Clara reaches for his hands, ready to haul him to his feet. She's used to a dry coolness when their hands clasp, but this time they feel clammy, like he's got the flu. His face is sallow.
"Doctor? Doctor!"
Clara firmly pats his cheek, almost a slap really, and he opens his eyes.
"Hello," he says, his voice soft and weak. Clara frowns over him. Sweat beads on his forehead…do Time Lords sweat? Clara isn't sure. Whatever the case, he's in pain.
"Come on, we've got to get to the TARDIS." She stands and pulls him with her, but he wobbles and slumps into her, almost taking her down again. "Doctor?"
"Venom," he says through his teeth as he eases himself back to the ground.
"What?"
"Venom. Fast acting, can't even regenerate fast enough to beat it."
"Regen-what?" Clara asks. He's not making any sense to her. She tries to lift him again, but he waves her away.
"I'm dying."
"What? Don't be daft, it's just a cut. Come on Chin Boy, the dermal regenerator will heal you right up. And if there's really a venom, I'm sure the TARDIS has an antidote."
"Nope. No antidote available. Never been able to get a sample of the poison. I'm dying, Clara. Will be gone soon. Don't worry, though, the TARDIS is set to take you home. Just leave it after it does, let it die. She was a good ship."
Clara stares at him, unable to fathom the way he's just sitting back and accepting his own death. Last of the Time Lords, brought down saving an unremarkable human girl. A girl who doesn't really matter, in the grand scheme of things. Not the way the Doctor does.
"You're so stupid!" she shouts, grabbing fistfuls of the Doctor's shirt. White, hot anger floods her veins, crashing over her like a tidal wave. "Why did you do that? Why did you jump in front of it? Now you're going to die and there will be no more Time Lords and I'm just a girl! Why would you do that Doctor?"
A ghost of a smile passes over the Doctor's lips and then quickly falls away. Even that small gesture is too much for him now. He strokes his thumb over her knee, the only piece of her he can reach.
"Impossible."
"What?" Clara asks, sure that he's delusional now.
"Not just a girl. Impossible. And it was worth it to save my impossible girl." Clara rocks back on her heels. She can't just sit there and let him die. There must be something she can do. The TARDIS will help, she's sure of it. Even though the ship doesn't like her, Clara knows the TARDIS loves the Doctor, and would do anything to help him.
Clara leaps to her feet and moves towards the dead alien. When she looks closely, she can see the shining beads of venom of the talon, even in the dim light of the cave. The Doctor said he never had a sample. Now he does, if she can get it back to the TARDIS. She surveys the corpse and frowns, realizing there's no way she can drag the dead weight of the massive Klaxor back to the Doctor's ship.
Working as quickly as she can, Clara repositions the alien so that the talon is leaning against a rock. If she can stomp hard enough on the joint where the talon meets hide, it might break and she could carry it back.
A satisfying snap echoes off the walls.
"Listen, Doctor. You hang on. I don't care what you have to do, you are not allowed to die. I'll be back. Do you understand?"
The Doctor manages a nod, and Clara runs.
#
With help from the TARDIS, Clara makes the antidote. There's far too much waiting, though, and by the time the small vial is ready, almost half an hour has passed. Clara fairly rips it from the machine that created it, pats the console in thanks, and runs back to the Doctor as fast as her legs will carry her, praying that he isn't dead yet.
"Doctor!" He's slumped against the wall, skin leached of all color and chest not visibly moving. Clara falls to her knees beside him. "Doctor!"
He grunts in recognition, his eyes open a sliver. Clara nearly sobs with relief. As it is, silent tears stream down her cheeks, splattering onto the Doctor's trousers. With shaking hands, Clara uncaps the vial and holds it to his lips.
"It's the antidote. You've got to swallow it," Clara says, tipping the liquid into his mouth. She clamps a hand over his lips, waiting for him to swallow. He does, slowly and grimacing with the effort, and Clara feels like cheering.
"You'll be okay now, yeah?" Clara asks, her hand settling on his thigh, She squeezed, trying to draw him back to awareness.
"Oh Clara," he managed to whisper. "So very brave."
"Not very."
"Yes, very. When the TARDIS takes you home…"
"She won't be taking me home unless you're the one driving her. You know she'd never listen to me. It's just as likely that she'll leave me on some strange planet in the Koyash System rather than taken me anywhere near home. You have the antidote, you'll be okay," Clara insists. The Doctor doesn't look any better, though, and she's starting to doubt that she brought it back in time.
"Shh," the Doctor weakly threads his fingers through hers and gives a feeble squeeze. "Clara, my impossible girl, I am so glad I met you."
He's saying goodbye. Clara knows it as clearly as if he actually said the word. There's so much left to say, so much she wants to tell him. He can't die, not to save her. He can't, but if he does…
"My Doctor," she whispers. She leans in and presses her lips ever so lightly to his brow.