clashildr one shots

He Was Not A Very Nice Man

    Another round of vibrato shots rang out across the wasteland. Ashildr used her torso to cover Clara's head as they crouched behind the barrel, shots pinging off of it.
    "That was it, that should be it, his magazine's empty," Ashildr whispered in the shattering silence that followed.
     Click. Slide.
     "That's cheating! He's brought more amo! He's not allowed to do th-"
     She was cut off by more rippling shots.
     "Come out, come out, wherever you are," the assassin called out, sing-song. "Daddy's got plans for you."
     Clara shifted her weight slightly. She was fighting back a smile. She raised her eyebrows once at Ashildr, and then went to stand up.
      Ashildr blanked. Acted out of pure instinct. She stood alongside her, throwing her body in front of Clara's with barely a thought, tacking her to the ground as she did so. Pain slashed through her. She felt as if a hole had been ripped through her stomach. It burned it at the edges, screamed through her, felt like all fire and sulfur and hell. The only thing she could process was Clara laid beneath her, splattered with red.
    "Clara, you're covered in blood."
     "It's not mine."
     "But, that means-"
     She placed her hand on her stomach, right where the pain burned brightest, and felt the warm stickiness that was almost familiar. She stared down at her hand, almost bemused.
      "Hey, look," she said, pushing two fingers together. "I've been shot!"
      And then everything went dark.

--

    Ashildr didn't come to until hours later. She stared at the old friend of her bedroom ceiling, feeling completely removed from all feeling in her body. She turned her head to one side to see Clara sat on a chair beside the bed with head in her hands. She reached a tentative hand out and brushed her fingers along Clara's wrists gently.
    "You're awake," she said.
    "What happened to the guy?" Ahildr made a crude trigger-pulling motion with one finger. "The, uh, shooty one."
    "He died." Clara's voice was short. Harsh. She spoke with more venom than Ashildr thought possible.
    "How?"
     Clara met Ashildr's eyes. They blazed with an unseen fury that was almost scary.
    "He just did."
    "I didn't think you had it in you."
    "I was faced with the possibility of losing you. Do you seriously disbelieve that would make me capable of anything?"
    Ashildr went to sit up and immediately regretted it. Her stitches tugged at her flesh underneath the bandages that allowed minimal movement; she glanced down at her stomach to see splotches of red already peeking through. Best not move, then.
     She took a minute to catch her breath. "Lay with me."
     "I have things to be do-"
     "Please?"
     The chair squeaked as Clara stood. There was no attempt to conceal her disapproval, none at all; instead, she simply positioned herself carefully around the hole blown through Ashildr's side and locked her arms around her torso. The behaviour was recognised and gratefully accepted: Clara's arms were positioned as such that nothing could ever come between them, no harming force could ever break the impenetrable ring of steel. Safe and warm, Ashildr drifted off into the nothingess that waited at the bottom of whatever drug she had been given.