[ There's nothing for a long moment, and then there's a slight crackle; a shuffling sound; movement, maybe. And then a voice, as enthusiastic as he can make it, as normal as he can keep it, but there's something off about it too — the barest edge of strain. ]
Clara? Clara. [ There's an exhale, ragged. ] I'm all right. Are you safe?
[She's trying not to let him hear her crying, so she hesitates and tries to compose herself before saying anything in response.]
...yeah. I got a bit banged up, but I'm safe now. But the guards aren't letting me get to you.
[She promptly switches over to video because she wants him to understand how that's going to be a problem for her. There's a wild look in her eyes that says she's going to tear apart and burn down the entire palace to get to him.]
I've lost you before, and I'm not letting it happen again. So tell me. How injured are you? Be honest.
Good. Good, I'm glad you're safe. Wherever you are, stay there. Stay where the others can look after you. Where you can be most helpful to them.
[ Oh, Clara. He may not know you as well as you might know him, not yet, but it isn't difficult to hear the thickness in her voice, the valiant attempt to keep herself in one piece. All of his companions of the past had been similar in some ways: brave, strong, heartfelt types. Good people. All very, very good people.
He doesn't dwell too long on those faces, not wanting this to be any sort of goodbye, not yet. He doesn't believe things will end for him here, that isn't what he's heard, but then again time has a funny way of revealing unexpected details when one least expects them. He lets himself think of Clara though, lets his favourite memory of her linger in his mind for a moment too long so the line feels like it's gone dead.
And then: ]
You won't lose me, Clara. Hey? Not ever. [ He sees her face appear in video but keeps his communication as it is. There have been . . . further developments he doesn't want her to see, not if he can help it. The light here is shoddy anyway.
He ignores the way his skin itches, the way the dark spot where he'd been attacked seems to be hot and cold at once, and leaves him with a lingering smell of — well, he supposes it's decay, the physical form breaking down in reaction to the monstrous DNA. One of the far more claw-y monsters had managed to sink a rather sharp, curled nail through his shoulder in an attempt to reel him back into the fight, and — well. It was a stupid mistake, really. He'd been nosing in places he shouldn't have, to help the people and (in part) to help himself. He'd wanted to see the infected for himself and then he'd been overwhelmed. ]
That would explain why none of us has seen any company pass through, though. They've fortified these walls here.
[If there's one way to get her to switch back to audio only, it's his promise that he won't lose her. Knowing what she knows only makes his words pierce her heart and cause it to painfully twist. It's not his fault, of course. Clara's realizing for the first time since they found each other in that dark room upon arriving on the station that their timelines are all wrong.
She's been unintentionally meddling in his, casually dropping spoilers about adventures that likely haven't happened for him yet. Knowing that makes her heart ache even further, to the point that she can't respond to him right away. It takes at least a few minutes for her to cry out everything she's feeling. From her frustration to not being able to help him, to her desperation to save him, to her heartbreak at having him age and regenerate that she hasn't been able to properly deal with yet. None of this is fair to either of them, but she's not childish enough to think that matters. Life isn't fair.
But she's going to get them through this.]
Course I won't lose you, Doctor.
[She keeps it to audio only, and makes sure that she sounds happy enough even through her upset.]
We'll be laughing about all this back on the station in no time. The Doctor and Clara Oswald, Clever Boy and Impossible Girl. Safe and sound, orb hunters that successfully completed their first mission.
[She's really good at lying. So good that she sounds like she actually believes that will happen.]
So don't worry about those walls, yeah? We're gonna find a way to take care of them.
[ Perhaps he's said something wrong, but he doesn't have a whole lot of time to mull it over. In the brief pause between them, he uses it to regain his composure once more, taking in a few deep breaths and adjusting his current position in the rather lumpy beds all the infected have been provided. Some of them are asleep, others are like him ... awake and restless and exhausted all the same.
The Doctor knows he should be doing something, but he isn't sure what, and his brain's finding it difficult to keep his thoughts in order (not that they were particularly organized to begin with, but there's a difference between an organized mess and a plain mess, you see). He taps at his temple, trying to jumpstart the little communicator in his mind, and about to call her name again — and then he hears her voice on the other side.
A reassurance. An agreement. The familiarity of her voice. ]
That's right. [ He exhales, mouth curving into a smile. It can be heard in his response. ] Impossible Girl. [ Yes, yes, it sparks something in his mind — well, sparks many somethings. He'd met her before, several befores, and he could never figure out how or why or for what reason. Perhaps he might never know, but she's an impossible mystery and so important too. Clara Oswald, the Impossible Girl.
He wishes he were there right now, but not like this. No, not looking like this. ] Our first mission. Sounds kind of fantastic, doesn't it? A mission. Like we're spies.
[ His breath hitches despite his best efforts to ramble on a hundred miles per minute. ]
Or — well, hunters. [ Another breath. ] Ah. You saving me this time, like we're taking turns.
[It's easier to think of it that way. Like they're taking turns. Except she feels like she's having to continually save him and she's tired, but can't let him know that because it's basically waving a giant banner that says SPOILERS in front of his face.
So she abandons her focus on that and instead replays the sounds of his breathing through her head. He's not doing well, that much is obvious to her. She wishes she could be there to hold his hand or comfort him somehow. But she can't be, and she's going to have to live with that.
For now.
She can already feel her patience wearing thin, her exhaustion creeping in to something that makes her dark and willing to do whatever it takes to get what she wants. It's a side of her that the Doctor doesn't know and hasn't seen, and she's almost thankful he won't be in a position to see her now.
There's work to be done, and she has to be a part of making it happen.]
Sounds like I'm due to get in over my head on the next one.
[She actually manages a laugh, one that has no tears behind it.]
You better rest up so you're able to figure out a way to save me when it happens.
If you're asking me for permission, I won't give it to you.
[ There's a playful little tone of petulance in his voice, or perhaps it's stubbornness — either way, the banter keeps him from spiraling deep into his thoughts. Besides which, he likes the sound of Clara's voice, right in his ears like she's there beside him.
He leans back against the too-flat, too-uncomfortable mattress, and exhales a small cough. ]
But I'll always save you, Clara. You know that. [ There's another deep breath, and then a shuffling. Clearly the Doctor's getting a little uncomfortable with the sentimentality, and when he clears his throat it's to recompose himself. Get him back on track, as it were. ] Right. Tell me what's happening over there? Have you seen the Ghost Girl?
[But seeing her that once wasn't enough to really figure anything out, which is good because she hates having to avoid telling the truth when it comes to him. ]
I'm not sure what everyone on this side of the infirmary's doing. Newt's keeping me from making any stupid moves trying to get to you. So we'll definitely owe him a big thanks once this is all said and done.
[She can't give away much of anything else without either worrying him or failing her personal goal, so she sighs and trails off there.]
Ah — yes, yes, of course. The other doctor. The one with monster experience, hey?
[ Maybe a little different from this particular kind of monster, but he can only hope that Newt's expertise could help in this endeavour. Either way, his voice sounds a little soft. Yes, when all of this is done and over with and they've wound up back on the station, good as new, he'll have to give Newt his utmost gratitude for helping to keep Clara safe.
This isn't a place he wants her in, certainly not when he's looking the way he looks right now. And hell, everything hurts too. ]
Good. [ He's still thinking about the others keeping her from making any of those rash moves he's already been privy to in the short while he's known her. It's not quite unlike what he'd do, but he's got two hearts (truth) and 27 brains (a lie) and being an alien on his side.
But just for good measure: ] Clara, you have to promise me you won't do anything stupid. [ And lightly, he adds: ] Not without me.
[Is...he actually trying to make her promise this right now? Clara appreciates the last second add on, and there's a soft laugh that she hopes can suffice as promise enough. But this is the Doctor, and her safety is always important to him. She doesn't like breaking promises, but she also wants him to be able to rest easy.
A little white lie to reassure him won't hurt anything.]
I'll save all stupidity for whenever we're back together again. Promise.
[It's sweet that he worries about her, even though he's the one suffering right now. She decides that she'll get him a little get well soon present and find a way to get it to him. A nice hat would probably cheer him up.
Lying to him probably would dampen that cheer, and she feels a little guilt as she quickly adds on-]
Intentional stupidity, obviously. Not the sort of stupidity that happens when...well, things just happen.
[ Oh yes, the Doctor knows precisely the flavour of stupidity that Clara means but ... he isn't against it either. Brings a little excitement to their lives and all that, you know? And after 1200 some odd years, it can sometimes be a welcomed thing.
It's only where his companions are involved when things get a little more complicated. Finding the balance between absolute reckless stupidity and being somewhat responsible and having a plan is where he's still got a few things left to learn, but he's trying. (And he'll continue trying; forever, and for the rest of his life.) ]
Things will happen the way that they happen but we'll always figure them out, won't we? [ There's a crackle of static, a wheezing cough to follow, and it's that break in their conversation that serves as a reminder of the very real severity of the situation.
Who's lying to who now, hm? ]
Breakfast. [ It's said suddenly, the way many of the Doctor's nonsensical starts to plans are brought to life. ] I was making a waffle-maker before the mission. When we're all back on the station, what say you, me and the good doctor have waffles together?
[She closes her eyes and imagines what something calm and normal like a waffle breakfast with her boys would be like. She quickly decides it's something she'll let herself look forward to.]
I'll be sure to track down some syrup for the occasion.
[She plays right along with his plan, sounding genuinely optimistic for the first time since she reached out to him. Because he's right, they always do figure things out. And even if they're separated now, they won't be forever. This is just temporary, and it's up to her to help figure out a way to help all the infected.
This is going to be just fine.]
But Doctor, you really should be resting. I'll -
[She hesitates, but forces herself to keep talking.]
Ah, syrup. Love syrup. Waffles drowning in syrup, that's the plan.
[ He sounds quite delighted about it, excited to keep this conversation going for as long as it takes to convince both of them that things will be all right. Whether it's true or not remains to be seen but the Doctor's always been a very good liar when he puts his mind to it. Now is one of those times when he hopes his lie becomes some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy filled with waffles and syrup, and fruit if they can find any. ]
I've had plenty of rest — [ He starts to protest, thinking he would rather ask her to keep him company (as it were) for as long as it's possible, for as long as she wants to, but he isn't going to admit to his clinginess. He'd done that once before, found it too difficult to let go of someone (someones, rather) and it resulted in the regret that brought him to the Ximilia in the first place. ] — but perhaps you're right. There's still lots to do over on your side, I'm sure. And — there's lots to do here too.
[ There isn't, but. ]
Soon. Yes. Good night, Clara.
[ It isn't exactly night but that also isn't the point. It isn't a 'see you soon' and it certainly isn't a 'goodbye' but it's something in between.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
audio ;
Clara? Clara. [ There's an exhale, ragged. ] I'm all right. Are you safe?
[ A pause. ]
You're back with the others?
no subject
...yeah. I got a bit banged up, but I'm safe now. But the guards aren't letting me get to you.
[She promptly switches over to video because she wants him to understand how that's going to be a problem for her. There's a wild look in her eyes that says she's going to tear apart and burn down the entire palace to get to him.]
I've lost you before, and I'm not letting it happen again. So tell me. How injured are you? Be honest.
no subject
[ Oh, Clara. He may not know you as well as you might know him, not yet, but it isn't difficult to hear the thickness in her voice, the valiant attempt to keep herself in one piece. All of his companions of the past had been similar in some ways: brave, strong, heartfelt types. Good people. All very, very good people.
He doesn't dwell too long on those faces, not wanting this to be any sort of goodbye, not yet. He doesn't believe things will end for him here, that isn't what he's heard, but then again time has a funny way of revealing unexpected details when one least expects them. He lets himself think of Clara though, lets his favourite memory of her linger in his mind for a moment too long so the line feels like it's gone dead.
And then: ]
You won't lose me, Clara. Hey? Not ever. [ He sees her face appear in video but keeps his communication as it is. There have been . . . further developments he doesn't want her to see, not if he can help it. The light here is shoddy anyway.
He ignores the way his skin itches, the way the dark spot where he'd been attacked seems to be hot and cold at once, and leaves him with a lingering smell of — well, he supposes it's decay, the physical form breaking down in reaction to the monstrous DNA. One of the far more claw-y monsters had managed to sink a rather sharp, curled nail through his shoulder in an attempt to reel him back into the fight, and — well. It was a stupid mistake, really. He'd been nosing in places he shouldn't have, to help the people and (in part) to help himself. He'd wanted to see the infected for himself and then he'd been overwhelmed. ]
That would explain why none of us has seen any company pass through, though. They've fortified these walls here.
no subject
She's been unintentionally meddling in his, casually dropping spoilers about adventures that likely haven't happened for him yet. Knowing that makes her heart ache even further, to the point that she can't respond to him right away. It takes at least a few minutes for her to cry out everything she's feeling. From her frustration to not being able to help him, to her desperation to save him, to her heartbreak at having him age and regenerate that she hasn't been able to properly deal with yet. None of this is fair to either of them, but she's not childish enough to think that matters. Life isn't fair.
But she's going to get them through this.]
Course I won't lose you, Doctor.
[She keeps it to audio only, and makes sure that she sounds happy enough even through her upset.]
We'll be laughing about all this back on the station in no time. The Doctor and Clara Oswald, Clever Boy and Impossible Girl. Safe and sound, orb hunters that successfully completed their first mission.
[She's really good at lying. So good that she sounds like she actually believes that will happen.]
So don't worry about those walls, yeah? We're gonna find a way to take care of them.
no subject
The Doctor knows he should be doing something, but he isn't sure what, and his brain's finding it difficult to keep his thoughts in order (not that they were particularly organized to begin with, but there's a difference between an organized mess and a plain mess, you see). He taps at his temple, trying to jumpstart the little communicator in his mind, and about to call her name again — and then he hears her voice on the other side.
A reassurance. An agreement. The familiarity of her voice. ]
That's right. [ He exhales, mouth curving into a smile. It can be heard in his response. ] Impossible Girl. [ Yes, yes, it sparks something in his mind — well, sparks many somethings. He'd met her before, several befores, and he could never figure out how or why or for what reason. Perhaps he might never know, but she's an impossible mystery and so important too. Clara Oswald, the Impossible Girl.
He wishes he were there right now, but not like this. No, not looking like this. ] Our first mission. Sounds kind of fantastic, doesn't it? A mission. Like we're spies.
[ His breath hitches despite his best efforts to ramble on a hundred miles per minute. ]
Or — well, hunters. [ Another breath. ] Ah. You saving me this time, like we're taking turns.
no subject
So she abandons her focus on that and instead replays the sounds of his breathing through her head. He's not doing well, that much is obvious to her. She wishes she could be there to hold his hand or comfort him somehow. But she can't be, and she's going to have to live with that.
For now.
She can already feel her patience wearing thin, her exhaustion creeping in to something that makes her dark and willing to do whatever it takes to get what she wants. It's a side of her that the Doctor doesn't know and hasn't seen, and she's almost thankful he won't be in a position to see her now.
There's work to be done, and she has to be a part of making it happen.]
Sounds like I'm due to get in over my head on the next one.
[She actually manages a laugh, one that has no tears behind it.]
You better rest up so you're able to figure out a way to save me when it happens.
no subject
[ There's a playful little tone of petulance in his voice, or perhaps it's stubbornness — either way, the banter keeps him from spiraling deep into his thoughts. Besides which, he likes the sound of Clara's voice, right in his ears like she's there beside him.
He leans back against the too-flat, too-uncomfortable mattress, and exhales a small cough. ]
But I'll always save you, Clara. You know that. [ There's another deep breath, and then a shuffling. Clearly the Doctor's getting a little uncomfortable with the sentimentality, and when he clears his throat it's to recompose himself. Get him back on track, as it were. ] Right. Tell me what's happening over there? Have you seen the Ghost Girl?
no subject
[But seeing her that once wasn't enough to really figure anything out, which is good because she hates having to avoid telling the truth when it comes to him. ]
I'm not sure what everyone on this side of the infirmary's doing. Newt's keeping me from making any stupid moves trying to get to you. So we'll definitely owe him a big thanks once this is all said and done.
[She can't give away much of anything else without either worrying him or failing her personal goal, so she sighs and trails off there.]
no subject
[ Maybe a little different from this particular kind of monster, but he can only hope that Newt's expertise could help in this endeavour. Either way, his voice sounds a little soft. Yes, when all of this is done and over with and they've wound up back on the station, good as new, he'll have to give Newt his utmost gratitude for helping to keep Clara safe.
This isn't a place he wants her in, certainly not when he's looking the way he looks right now. And hell, everything hurts too. ]
Good. [ He's still thinking about the others keeping her from making any of those rash moves he's already been privy to in the short while he's known her. It's not quite unlike what he'd do, but he's got two hearts (truth) and 27 brains (a lie) and being an alien on his side.
But just for good measure: ] Clara, you have to promise me you won't do anything stupid. [ And lightly, he adds: ] Not without me.
no subject
A little white lie to reassure him won't hurt anything.]
I'll save all stupidity for whenever we're back together again. Promise.
[It's sweet that he worries about her, even though he's the one suffering right now. She decides that she'll get him a little get well soon present and find a way to get it to him. A nice hat would probably cheer him up.
Lying to him probably would dampen that cheer, and she feels a little guilt as she quickly adds on-]
Intentional stupidity, obviously. Not the sort of stupidity that happens when...well, things just happen.
[He knows how that is.]
no subject
It's only where his companions are involved when things get a little more complicated. Finding the balance between absolute reckless stupidity and being somewhat responsible and having a plan is where he's still got a few things left to learn, but he's trying. (And he'll continue trying; forever, and for the rest of his life.) ]
Things will happen the way that they happen but we'll always figure them out, won't we? [ There's a crackle of static, a wheezing cough to follow, and it's that break in their conversation that serves as a reminder of the very real severity of the situation.
Who's lying to who now, hm? ]
Breakfast. [ It's said suddenly, the way many of the Doctor's nonsensical starts to plans are brought to life. ] I was making a waffle-maker before the mission. When we're all back on the station, what say you, me and the good doctor have waffles together?
no subject
I'll be sure to track down some syrup for the occasion.
[She plays right along with his plan, sounding genuinely optimistic for the first time since she reached out to him. Because he's right, they always do figure things out. And even if they're separated now, they won't be forever. This is just temporary, and it's up to her to help figure out a way to help all the infected.
This is going to be just fine.]
But Doctor, you really should be resting. I'll -
[She hesitates, but forces herself to keep talking.]
I'll talk to you again soon. I promise.
no subject
[ He sounds quite delighted about it, excited to keep this conversation going for as long as it takes to convince both of them that things will be all right. Whether it's true or not remains to be seen but the Doctor's always been a very good liar when he puts his mind to it. Now is one of those times when he hopes his lie becomes some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy filled with waffles and syrup, and fruit if they can find any. ]
I've had plenty of rest — [ He starts to protest, thinking he would rather ask her to keep him company (as it were) for as long as it's possible, for as long as she wants to, but he isn't going to admit to his clinginess. He'd done that once before, found it too difficult to let go of someone (someones, rather) and it resulted in the regret that brought him to the Ximilia in the first place. ] — but perhaps you're right. There's still lots to do over on your side, I'm sure. And — there's lots to do here too.
[ There isn't, but. ]
Soon. Yes. Good night, Clara.
[ It isn't exactly night but that also isn't the point. It isn't a 'see you soon' and it certainly isn't a 'goodbye' but it's something in between.
He exhales a breath.
Endings. He hates endings. ]