Hey everyone; sorry for the wait! Here is chapter 3! P.S. I have started referring to the Doctor as Twelve as well, just so you all know. It's tiresome having to write 'the Doctor' each time I need to refer to him.
To TheFezWearer15: I will continue this as long as I can! :)
They landed with a bang a few minutes later. "Alright, so where are we?" Clara asked.
"May 6, 1937, Hindenburg," Twelve answered shortly.
Her eyes widened. "Wait, but isn't that -"
"Yes, it is," he cut her off. "The Hindenburg is going to blow up in precisely five hours, three minutes, and ten seconds. And we're here to find out why."
"And if we don't find out in time?"
"What happens when you leave toast in the toaster too long?" the Doctor challenged.
Clara gulped. "Okay. Enough said. Don't want that happening to us. Let's go."
"First, you need to change. Get dressed for a party. Bring out the special effects. You'll need them to get people to talk."
Clare raised a pencil-then eyebrow. "Excuse me? What kind of talking am I going to be doing? What kind of woman do you think I am?"
He wrinkled his nose. "Hilarious. No, you're going to be trying to figure out the secrets of the Hindenburg. Does it have cargo other than people? If so, who put it there? Things like that."
"And what are you going to be doing while I..." she flailed her hands, searching for a word to aptly describe her task, "try to seduce people?"
Twelve smiled. "I am going to be scanning for alien life."
"You really think aliens made the Hindenburg blow up?" she challenged.
"Yes." He calmly met her gaze, chocolatey eyes against blue ones. "Now go change."
Clara scooped one of her suitcases into her arms, her strength belying her apparent musculature, and hurried off into the depths of the TARDIS, presumably to find a changing room somewhere. After ten minutes (during which the Doctor had spent his time twiddling his thumbs and sighing loudly - why did women take so long to get ready?) she reappeared from the corridor and set the suitcase down.
"What do you think?" Clara asked, smiling slyly as she spun in a circle to display the entirety of her outfit. She was wearing a slinky black dress that came to her knees. She'd evidently curled her hair (somehow managing to do it in ten minutes); it fell about her shoulders in waves of rich brown. Her shapely feet were tucked into high heels.
In short, she was beautiful.
"Well, you look fifty instead of sixty," the Doctor commented. Actually, he thought she looked ravishing, but he wasn't about to tell her that. "Put on some makeup though. That'll take a few more years off your face."
"Doctor," she hissed through gritted teeth,"I've got makeup."
He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well. Never mind then. Let's go."
"Wait, aren't you going to change?" Clara gestured to his waistcoat. "That coat looks like it came from an antique store in the Dark Ages."
Twelve stared at her with horror. "Oi! There's nothing wrong with my waistcoat!"
"I could go on for hours about what's wrong with your waistcoat, so we should really leave now."
The Doctor offered her his arm, trying to make up for his... well, 'makeup' comment. Smiling at him, Clara accepted it, placing her hand on top of his elbow as they exited the TARDIS.
Clara gasped as she took her first steps into the Hindenburg. She and the Doctor were standing inside an immense ballroom. Crystal chandeliers glittered from the ceiling several yards above their heads, casting light on the proceedings below. 1930's music was emanating from a corner where a band was set up. Couples crowded around it, dancing and talking amongst themselves. Waiters milled about the room, bearing platters of drinks and appetizers. Passengers were seated at a cluster of tables in the center of the room, laughing and playing poker. Large windows set into the left side of the room provided a view of clouds and fog.
Clara and Twelve weren't given much time to admire their surroundings, as a waiter approached them almost as soon as they had stepped out of the TARDIS. "Excuse me," he addressed them dreamily,"are you authorized to be here?" His eyes seemed glazed over and unfocused.
"Of course we are," Clara answered smoothly, patting the Doctor's arm. "I'm his parole officer. Just taking him for a little holiday. Thought it might get those genocidal thoughts out of his head, you know?"
Next to her, the Doctor closed his eyes and groaned.
Oddly, however, the man seemed completely unaffected. "Of course," he murmured. "That's quite alright then. Can I offer you drinks?"
"No, that's quite alright," the Doctor told him sharply. "Go away."
"Right away, sir." The waiter smiled at them and glided away into the crowd.
"Parole officer?" the Doctor breathed in Clara's ear. "Are you insane?"
"I was only joking!" she shot back. "Thought it'd be funny! But did you see him? He didn't ask for a passport or anything! He seemed totally okay with it! And what about his eyes? They were creepy!"
"I did see him," Twelve replied grimly. "Something's up here. I need clarafication. Let's go talk to someone else and see if we can get it."
Clara stared at him in disgust. "Did you just make a pun with my name?"
"Yes." He beamed at her.
"It wasn't funny."
He deflated. "Oh."
The two of them continued on their way, smiling at everyone who crossed their path. Although they all smiled back, their gazes were dreamy and out of focus, just like the waiter's.
"Oh, hello!" an old woman called to them, smiling warmly. She seemed more awake and lively than the others. She was clothed in a gaudy red evening dress and sported a large, feathery hat. "Haven't seen you two before."
The Doctor fumbled in his pocket for his physic paper and thrust it at her.
She squinted at it. "Doctor Oswald... and her husband," she read slowly. The Doctor's eyes widened with surprise.
"That's right," Clara chirped, proffering her hand. "Lovely to meet you, er..."
"Agatha," the woman smiled. "And you are?"
"Clara. Clara Oswald. And this is... my husband," she corrected herself hastily. She'd been about to make another joke, but she had remembered just in time that the psychic paper had already determined their identities.
"Nice to meet you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be... Hope to meet you again!" Agatha grinned at them one last time and strode away.
"Doctor Oswald and her husband!?" the Doctor shouted, earning several frowns from the passengers seated around him. "What?"
"You said the psychic paper shows people what they want to see. So maybe it showed me what I want to see," Clara smirked.
"You hacked the physic waves with your brain," the Doctor grumbled. "That is not possible."
"It is now," she countered. "But look; can we get a move on? If we're going to split up and investigate, we should do it now. Something's up."
"You're right. All these people seem... dead. Brainwashed. They aren't even giving the TARDIS a second glance. And something about Agatha seems fishy. All these unfocused people, and there she is, perfectly normal? I don't trust her. There's more to the Hindenburg's demise than meets the eye." He paused and then added with a roguish grin,"Let's go solve a mystery."