The Hybrid - Doctor Who Fanfiction

5

" You are the human? Very impressive specimen." He whispers curiously, if not a little condescending as he bends at the waist to further inspect the small but fiery woman in front of him.

His voice is mesmerizing and Clara feels forcibly drawn to him. In the back of her mind, she can hear the Doctor saying that this legendary race was what people used to create the myth of sirens. Something about their sensual voices one of their many ways of luring their prey to its death.

"Indeed, you're very lovely. For a barbaric savage, I suppose."  He straightens a little and looks like he wants to poke and weigh Clara like one would a steak they were about to purchase from a store.

His hair is damp with water, but Clara is sure that despite its dark color, when it's dry, it probably is looks a bit like some glorious honey-hued halo around his head.

"Who are you?" She tries her best to sneer. It's very difficult to seem just as fierce when her alcohol high is draining from her and she can barely keep her eyes open.

There's a sinister chuckle in the half lit hall and Clara flinches. "I've been informed you will be different than the others, more spirited and resistant."

A smile full of razor sharp teeth appears on his mouth and Clara gasps a little, trying to swallow her horror. There's a piece of ripped pink flesh caught in between two of his serrated dentition, and she wonders what--or who, rather-- he's had for dinner.

"If this is true," he adds delightfully, drawing Clara's attention to his black eyes once more, "then we will get along splendidly."

"Who are you?" she mutters again, confused as to how and why the TARDIS has suddenly abandoned her, the presence in the back of her mind completely gone now.

His smile widens proudly. "I am Caelius, High Duke of this realm. And you, Miss Clara Oswald, human occupant of the Planet Earth and current associate of the Gallifreyan Time Lord known as 'The Doctor'--you're going to help me with a little science experiment of mine."

~

Clara wakes with a gasping scream, her eyes shoot open as she struggles for breath. It's as if all the air has been generously sucked from her body the entire time she's been asleep and this is the first bit of oxygen she's getting in a while. She tries to sit up to simplify the process of getting air to her lungs, but is already being gently pressed back down into her mattress by large hands on her shoulders, a soft tutting emanating from somewhere beside her. She startles again, squinting into the darkness of her room.

"Easy, Clara, easy," the Doctor murmurs, keeping a hand on her shoulder while he twists to turn on the soft light of her lamp, illuminating his familiar face to the terrified woman who is covered in sweat. "Breathe, just breathe."

Clara's eyes frown at the sight of him, at the concern in his voice because her brain doesn't trust him and hasn't for a while now. But that paradox means nothing to her heart, which inevitably begins to slow with the reassurance that she is safe. He wouldn't let anything get to her while he's here. 

"Good news," the Doctor pipes up, raising his eyebrows at a thermometer that's appeared in his hands. "Your fever's down, nearly all gone. It'll take some time for your body to get used to its normal temp again after it's been up for so long. You'll feel like you're freezing and probably be a little achy. But you'll be fine in a few days."

His presence is so bloody disconcerting. It's seeing him with those same mannerisms, with that Scottish baritone chatting her ear off just like the old days. She doesn't know how to react. Should she be angry or relieved or skeptical? Or thrilled? Maybe all of those at once?