There was a swimming feeling in her stomach as she started to come to and Clara rolled to her side, one hand coming up to clutch at her head. It was pounding just behind her eyes and she couldn't quite recall what had happened to cause it. Slowly blinking, she looked out at the white surface she was lying on and she jerked, inhaling sharply, and pushing off the ground, met with an immediate wave of nausea. It brought unexpected dry heaves that burned at her throat and stung her eyes as she lifted herself on her hands and knees and tried to combat the feeling.

You were on the Tardis, she told herself. No, she argued, we were on a planet.

"Largest medical facility for ten galaxies!"

Clara opened her eyes again and looked to the spit she'd managed to cough up before inching away, hearing the odd squeaks the skin of her knees were giving against the plastic beneath her. Eyes coming up, she winced against the brightness of the room around her as she looked for the Doctor. He was with you, she knew, he was holding your hand and leading you somewhere. No, not leading…

"Clara, run!"

They were getting away from something. Something chasing them, someone. Some group. Clara shook her head, trying to dispel the cloudiness of the memory, to try and understand what was happening and she coughed again, backing up into a wall that she leaned against, taking in the room again and knowing, definitively, that the Doctor was not with her.

"Hello?" She managed, but her voice was broken, weak, and her throat felt thick.

Her senses were coming back to her, slowly and she tried to relax – to do what the Doctor would do – absorb everything around her for clues, but it seemed pointless. It was silent, eerily so, and she could almost hear her heartbeat in her ear as she tried to stand, stumbling, fingers splayed on the ground beneath her when she collapsed and she glanced down at her legs. Clara touched them gently, feeling the numbness that came with immobility and she scratched instinctively, closing her eyes against the pins and needles starting to pick at her.

"Don't try to move," came the male voice over a loudspeaker she couldn't see.

"Hello!" Clara called, hand freezing at her knee. "Hello, can you hear me?"

"Don't try to move," the voice responded, evenly.

She nodded, slowly, and brought her legs up underneath her as she leaned against the wall, trying to see where someone might enter or exit because she needed to get out. Clara needed to find the Doctor so he could tell her what had happened – or at least so she knew she had someone with her with whom she might be able to extrapolate what happened.

They were on a planet, she reminded herself.

They were on a planet.

Her head gave a shake as she tried to bring the moment to the forefront, stepping out of the Tardis into the pristine building with glass walls and a bustle of activity, but her concentration was broken by a swooshing sound nearby and she glanced up to see the two men enter. Or, at least, she presumed they were men. They were as tall as men, but their faces weren't human. Clara couldn't tell what they were.

They were vague, featureless, with oversized eyes that stared into her blankly. She thought they looked almost like the creatures in books about UFO's she'd seen at the library. Movies she'd seen on the television. The first familiar aliens she'd had the misfortune of meeting and they moved hastily towards her with purpose that pumped the blood through her veins quick enough to make her faint.

"Where am I?" She demanded as they picked her up off the ground by her arms, turning towards a gurney being floated in and Clara looked from one expressionless face to the next and repeated loudly, "Where am I?"

One of the men entering approached with a gun and she shouted out, trying to struggle to free herself from their grasp, but when she finally did, her legs collapsed underneath her, leaving her grasping at the squeaky material there to try and get away. She knew it was pointless – five of them and one of her – but she tried anyways, slapping away the long fingers that curled around her waist, holding her in place as the gun was pressed to the side of her neck and she screamed when it discharged, pinching her skin to inject her.

"Doctor!" Clara shouted, but she could feel her voice leave her as she fell unconscious.

They were on a planet.

"Clara!" The Doctor gasped awake, hands coming up defensively before he blinked at the bright lights that blared down at him from an incredibly high place. He winced against the headache pounding between his ears as he raised himself up into a sitting position and tried to get a look around. The room seemed like some sort of decontamination chamber – stark white and void of any furniture or any of anything, he observed. It could be a prison chamber of sorts, he also knew, hand coming absently to his breast pocket and frowning when he found nothing. Of course they'd take the Sonic. Studying himself, he groaned, they'd taken everything from his pockets.

They'd even taken the purple tweed and the waistcoat he'd been wearing.

Testing, he found the bowtie at his neck and then frowned.

"Clara," he breathed, glancing around and looking for the diminutive woman he'd been travelling with and he found himself in a momentary state of panic because she wasn't just a few inches away. Or even a few feet. She was nowhere to be found and he settled 'find Clara' at the top of his to-do list, just ahead of 'figure out where you are' and 'figure out who took you' and 'figure out why' and 'figure out how to get out of where you are' and 'try not to lose your head in the process'.

Shifting his weight, he stood with some effort, body still shaking off the effects of whatever he'd been given to sedate him and he stumbled forward, hands reaching out until they landed roughly against a wall. The Doctor moved around in a circle and nodded, accepting that it was the inside of an egg. No. It was an egg-shaped room. It was meant to give the appearance of space. Corners created spatial parameters, edges, finality whereas rounded edges made eggs.

Made infinity, he corrected.

Infinity all around meant to sooth, but actually psychologically terrifying as it provided no end, no limits, no space to concentrate the eyes and no assurances of safety because anything could come at you from any side. And eventually it created a sense of paranoia, of misdirection and a loss of sense, which lead to nausea and panic and… He stopped, hands pressed into the wall and shifted back. Doorway. Slight dip at the edges. Minute and indiscernible to the average being. But smooth, melded into one another. Liquefiable fibers capable of being strengthened and slacked at will, possibly with sound vibrations or…

"Please step away from the door."

"Sorry, what?" The Doctor replied.

"Please step away from the door."

He smiled, "Prefer not to; would like to leave, actually – and I've misplaced my companion. Small woman, brown hair, brown eyes, goes by the name Cl…"

"Please step away from the door."

With a nod, he took a step back.

"Please step away from the door."

"You were fairly clear and I was fairly obedient."

"Please step away from the door."

With a scowl, he took several more steps back and clasped his hands together, awaiting the door's opening, as he had yet to take his eyes off the irregularities in the wall. He imagined Clara was stuck inside a room like this one, afraid for her life and waiting for him to come save her. Or, he smiled, or she'd found the door, managed to kick it open with her small, but feisty legs, and was on her way with some sort of futuristic weaponry to save him.

The door shifted open and several aliens entered and he tilted his head, "Or you," he supplied before realization set in on his mind and he jerked away, shifting backwards until he landed with a thud at the opposite wall shouting, "What have you done with her?"

Hands wrapped themselves around his arms as he struggled to free himself and they worked against his tugs and growls. A high kick was avoided and his leg was slapped away painfully when it came up again. "Classification: Time Lord," he was told.

"Where's Clara?"

"Female companion to the Time Lord. Classification: Human, purity level, 97 percent," came the response.

He feigned a smile, "Yes, she's my human, could you give her back?"

"Human is being examined for anomalies."

"Clara has no anomalies, she's human," the Doctor told them as calmly as he could through his clenched jaw, watching them ready an injection gun at the entrance that he knew was for him.

"Human contains anomalous cell cluster," he was informed plainly.

"If she contains an anomalous cell cluster, you put it there," the Doctor shouted, knowing exactly who these beings were and what they were capable of. "What did you put in her?" He asked pointedly, watching the one with the gun approaching from the opening. "What did you put in her?"

"Human will incubate cluster; outcome will be studied for viability."

"You can't experiment on her, she hasn't consented!" He gave a rough pull on his arm and shouted when the fingers wrapped around him squeezed and a knee went into the back of his, dropping him to the ground. "She hasn't consented, we haven't consented!"

"Arrival on the planet of Grasfth, as known Universal Hospice and Quarantine Center, is contingent upon agreement to submit to exam and possible containment by the Council of Kukof."

The Doctor shook his head angrily, "And upon what grounds have we been sequestered – neither of us has been exposed to any of the illnesses currently requiring quarantine."

Pressing the gun to the Doctor's neck, the alien at his side remained silent as he pulled the trigger.