WRISTS REDDENED AND IRRITABLE UNDERNEATH TIGHTENED ROPES, cheek scraped almost clean through. Clara whimpered, all care for the image of a perfect and strong woman she tried so hard to maintain lost. She would endure a lot of pain for a long time before she’d give up the information that was keeping her ( and the Doctor ) alive.
THE ALIEN THAT HAD LOOMED ABOVE HER FOR SO LONG WAS GONE, but that only left her to focus on the pain. She didn’t know how it had disappeared, but she was willing to bet the Doctor had something to do with it. He’d tried. At least he’d saved the world in the process. She could hear him coming —– even as she felt her concentration wavering, she recognised the urgent footsteps and the whir of his sonic. He couldn’t come in and get her. The room was censored; once someone stepped it would go off and the needle would press into her back, the poison infecting her too soon to be saved.
SHE TURNED ONLY TOO LATE. A ragged ❝ NO ❞ screamed as he pushed the door open; and in pressed the needle. It was kind really —– end her suffering. But wasn’t it human nature to want to live? And not to want their best friend to watch it happen.
HE'D WASTED TIME SAVING THE world again, but it didn't matter if he couldn't save his best friend. the timelord was DESPERATE; he couldn't let her down AGAIN. oh, wasn't he VAIN, wasn't he occupied with things which didn't matter—he had donned A FEZ while he didn't notice clara had been SNAPPED away from his protection.
the green light from his trusted sonic illuminated his face with a sick shade of green before his running feet found their destination. palms connected with cold steel, his body crashing against the door, and he could see CLARA –beaten, bloodied, bruised, and it was his fault– through the smudged window. it was locked, and the sonic was giving off readings, warnings about entering, but he didn't care. the ONLY thing he cared about was getting inside and make sure HIS FRIEND WAS SAFE.
the sound of footsteps against cold stone floor stenched with her blood echoed in the room, as he made his way over the distance setting them apart but all he could hear was the EMPTY voice of Clara's. he came to a halt, only to watch her collapse, he watched her body fall together and he KNEW. he had failed her a last time.
his hand found her cheek and his gaze found the familiar fading brown orbs. the doctor looked into her eyes and it hit him—he wanted to RUN, ( how he wanted to FLEE and run away from this ) like he had done so many times before; but he couldn't. his companion had COUNTED on him, she had TRUSTED him, – they all had – and now the doctor had let her down once more. except this time was different. this time was FINAL.
❛ clara.. NO, clara----listen to me, hey, you'll be all
right, okay? you hear me? you're going to be OKAY.
it was neither beautiful nor poetic —— ( of course it was heroic, at least that was what she THOUGHT; she had sacrificed herself to save HIM ) she didn't deserve this. HE should have been in that chair, because he had promised, HE HAD SWORN he would keep her SAFE—but that wasn't true, not anymore, ( he was exposed ) reduced to his very core, a LIAR, a FRAUD. he was a FAILURE, and now he had to face reality: CLARA OSWIN OSWALD was dying, and again because of him.
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