Clara finds herself in an impossible situation...
The place Clara is held captive, in my head is very like the Cat Kind Hospital in New New York. The 10th Doctor episode. The hidden 'catacombs' (no pun intended), where the cat nuns held their captive cure breeding programme. The next three chapters deal with each separate character...Clara first...
Scene 19
Clara had no time to register anything but the shocked look on The Doctor's face, as the room faded before her.
Her stomach gave a lurch, as if riding The Big Dipper.
She shut her eyes tight.
When she dared to open them, she was somewhere else entirely.
A vast arena.
Filled with level upon level, floor upon floor of a myriad of small compartments.
She looked up, the tiers stretched above her head, so far, she could barely see the top.
Thousands, there must be thousands, all identical.
So this was where they kept them. Stored. As if on the shelves in IKEA.
Good God, these creatures were truly evil. Despicable.
"What are you going to do with me!"
No answer.
"If you hurt me, and The Doctor finds you, you'll be in serious trouble."
She tried to sound convincing. Her words fell on deaf ears.
Claw like hands held her, twisting around her wrists and ankles.
Tentacular. Gripping vices. Touching her. Stinging sensations.
Probed. Pierced. Abused.
Too many. Too strong.
She struggled, in vain. Wrenching at the restraining force.
A final jab registered pain, into her upper arm, a clear liquid.
She watched in horror as it slowly leached into her blood stream, helpless to stop it.
Falling, falling, everything misting before her.
"Doctor." She whispered.
No idea of a time span. No real feeling at all.
Her eyes opened.
A mask was clamped on her face, covering nose and mouth.
Panic rose at first as she felt she would surely suffocate, but as she fought to control herself, she realised she was not dying, but living.
Her mind was still sharp, but the rest of her was completely numb.
Nothing.
Neither arms nor legs. She couldn't move. At all.
Vaguely she was aware that she was wired up, tubes in...tubes out.
But she had no control. Of anything.
All around her were transparent walls. She could see out.
She was inside one of the compartments, on one of the levels.
Oh God.
How would anyone ever find her? In all those hundreds and hundreds of doors.
At that moment, she almost despaired. Almost lost it. Almost.
Some tiny part of her, stayed focused.
The Doctor would save her. Somehow. Someone would come.
She would not be abandoned. Forgotten.
He loved her. He would find a way.
She never doubted him. Not for a second.
Briefly she recalled, when they'd made love.
That sweet moment, it seemed an age ago now. That first time.
She closed her eyes, tears leaked out as the memory flooded her.
The intensity she felt when their foreheads touched. She'd never experienced anything like it, a true joining, a oneness. No previous lover had ever made her feel that way, only The Doctor. He made her feel complete, whole.
Every fibre of her being loved him, the attachment was deeper than anything she'd ever known, would ever know.
How he'd been so patient, trying to teach her afterwards, gentle telepathy, a tangible link.
His evident joy when she'd begun to take her first tentative steps, his face, when she'd heard him in her head for the first time without them being in contact. She'd never forget that look as long as she lived. Tears in his eyes, his eagerness, his proud admiration of her feeble efforts. His amazement.
She pushed the emotion down.
Now she was unable to vocalise and even if she could, who would hear her cries?
So she squeezed her eyes tighter. Think. Think Clara.
Regain control.
Her mind was the one part of her over which they had no sway.
She could utilise it. If she could just concentrate hard enough.
Use what he'd taught her. Open the channels.
Breathing deep and even. Relaxing as much as she possibly could.
Bending all her will, all her thought, to that feeling, the feeling of their foreheads touching.
Reaching out with her mind.
"Doctor. I'm here. Find me."