THE ONE WHERE IT ALL WENT WRONG – 2

Throughout the next morning, Clara found it extremely difficult to concentrate on her work.

Not only had she hardly been able to sleep that night and was now dreadfully tired, but even in the classroom, her thoughts kept drifting back to the Doctor. During the routine morning meeting in the teacher's room she had been so despondent that a colleague had pulled her aside after, to ask her if she was all right. Of course, she had answered that nothing was wrong. But her colleague had probably not believed a word. It had reflected itself in her sympathetic look and the way she had patted Clara's shoulder.

She probably wasn't making a very good impression, considering this was her first week teaching at this school…

Now, it was almost time for lunch break and for once, she was even more eager to get out of the classroom than her students. Checking the clock on the wall every two minutes, as the time ticked by painfully slowly, she felt more and more anxious about seeing the Doctor. Until finally, the bell rang.

Clara jumped up and left the classroom even before the first student had managed to pack their things.

It didn't take her too long to spot the Tardis, which stood in a darkened alleyway, just around the corner from the school. She was carrying a plastic bag with a few supplies, having considered it a good idea to stop at a nearby supermarket and, just in case, a chemist's. She knew that meds intended for humans would probably not work on a Time Lord, but who was to say that there couldn't be a lucky exception?

Making sure that no one was looking in on her, she tentatively knocked on the blue wood of the Tardis and entered, squeaking hinges announcing her arrival. Then, after closing the doors behind her, she made her way to the console.

Not much had changed since she'd left the previous day. The Doctor's toolbox and gadgets were still covering most of the floor and the lights were similarly dimmed, maybe even a bit more. She did notice that the cups were still where they'd left them, but she really didn't blame the Doctor for not taking them to the kitchen. He'd probably headed straight for his room, considering how tired he'd been…

Well, she'd just have to take care of that later on. Right now, all she wanted to do was to see the Doctor and reassure herself that he was still okay. Or rather, as okay as he could be right now…

Just as she was about to leave the console room in search of the Doctor's bedroom, she noticed a faint, repeating echo.

Someone was lightly snoring up ahead.

A smirk forming on her lips, Clara went back up the stairs and then gingerly made her way to the upper deck, trying not to make too many rustling noises with her plastic bag. The Tardis was kind enough to turn the lights up a notch, so Clara could at least see where she was going. The sight in front of her caused her smile to widen into a grin.

Almost like a cat, the Doctor was half-sitting, half-lying on his side in the big armchair, several blankets wrapped tightly around himself, so that the top of his head only just poked out of the bundle. He was facing the wall, the fluffy fabric on top of him raising and lowering itself with the rhythm of his breathing, as he slept soundly. On the floor, Clara spotted a teacup, a pile of carelessly discarded books, a plate with a half-eaten piece of toast and next to that, a small metal bin.

Clara breathed a sigh of relief and mentally kicked herself for worrying so much. He'd certainly made himself comfortable here… And the fact that he'd even managed to eat somethingmade her feel a lot better.

Deciding she had nothing better to do, she stacked up some of the heavier volumes, sat down on them and picked up another book, this time for reading purposes. Of course, she immediately recognised the cover image. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone…

Somehow, she'd never really thought of this Doctor as the sort of person who would read Harry Potter. His last incarnation, certainly. But ever since the regeneration… Somehow she just didn't take him as a man who read fantasy books. Not until now, at least.

She was definitely going to have an extensive book discussion with him once he felt better.

Suddenly, as if reacting to some sort of cue, she heard how the Doctor's previously steady breath hitched. For a moment, he didn't make a sound, until a grunt emanated from within the mound of blankets, followed by a short, sharp intake of air. And then he lapsed into a frantic series of coughs.

All Clara could think was a sympathetic Oh dear, here we go again… That could not be a nice way to wake up.

It turned out to be the worst coughing fit so far. Or maybe just the worst one that Clara had witnessed, which certainly was a troubling thought. It went on for ages, each intake of air triggering another spasm, until the Doctor sat doubled over, head between his legs and arms wrapped around his own shaking body. Clara desperately wished that she could somehow help him make it stop, but all she could do was to kneel next to him, rubbing his back gently and talking to him in hushed, soothing tones.

"Shhhhh, it's going to be okay… It's going to be okay… Just try to calm your breaths… that's it… shhhh, that's it…" she murmured on repeat, hoping to somehow help him get his breathing under control. And to give him a bit of moral support as well.

After a perceived eternity, the fit gradually subsided, until the Doctor finally managed to breathe normally again. Clara continued to rub gentle circles on his back as he slowly straightened himself up, propped his elbows up on his legs and buried his face in his hands, making a small whimper-y sound. He was shivering all over. Not surprising, seeing how he'd involuntarily shaken all the blankets off.

Clara got up, gathered the fabric up from all around him and put them back in place, one by one. "Any better?" she asked, as the Doctor reached for the edges of the blankets and pulled them back around himself.

He gave a curt nod in response, but kept his eyes squeezed shut as he sank deeper and deeper back into the warmth of his bundle. Meanwhile, Clara bent down, picked up the teacup, which still had a bit of liquid left in it and offered it to the Doctor, saying "Here you go… It's cold, but better than nothing. You must be absolutely parched."

The Doctor blinked his eyes open and stared groggily at the white ceramic cup hovering in front of him, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with it. Then, his brain finally catching up to him, he reached one hand out from under the blankets and grabbed it carefully. He made a bit of a grimace when he swallowed a mouthful.

Clara somehow felt the need to lighten the mood, as the heavy silence surrounding them was making her nervous. "Well… Cold tea. Not the best thing in the world…" she said, smiling apologetically.

The Doctor shrugged, emptying the rest of the cup in one go and then set it down in the nearest bookshelf. "Could be worse," he whispered hoarsely, causing himself to cough again. "… Just hurts a bit, that's all."

"Yeah… Not surprising." Clara sighed, regarding him with a sympathetic gaze.

Poor Doctor. He didn't exactly look any better than the day before. If anything, his complexion was far worse. Not only did he have even less colour in his face, he also displayed the telltale signs of a fever. Glazed eyes with dark circles forming under them, a slight blush in his cheeks and a fine sheen of sweat along his temples, not to mention the shivering… He wasn't even trying to suppress it much. Which worried Clara to no end. He must be feeling absolutely miserable, she told herself in the privacy of her own mind.

Her thoughts must've been written all over her face, because having noticed Clara's look of sympathy, the Doctor started glaring up at her in irritation.

"Stop lookin' at me like that," he mumbled, letting himself retreat even deeper into the blankets, until the bottom half of his face was totally covered up and his eyes poked out just above the edge of the fabric. Coupled with his wild hair, which was sticking out in all directions, it made him look like a grumpy old owl. "It's embarrassing," he added sourly, voice muffled.

"Well… you're ill, Doctor. And there's absolutely no reason to be embarrassed about that." Clara tried an encouraging smile, even though her heart wasn't really in it. The cold lump of worry forming in her stomach was too much of a distraction.

The only answer was another irritated grunt and the shift of his glare away from her and towards the central column.

Clara decided to change the subject.

Clearing her throat, she bent down and picked up her supplies from where she'd left them next to her makeshift book-chair. The Doctor visibly perked up at the rustling sound. "What's that?" he asked, suspiciously eyeing the white plastic bag in Clara's hands.

"Goodie-bag," she explained.

The Doctor's frown deepened. "Goodie-bag?"

Clara nodded. "Thought it'd be a good idea to go to the shops and get some things… How do you feel about food? Toast isn't really the right thing for your throat right now, is it?"

"I hate chicken soup," the Doctor pointed out, seemingly guessing what must be concealed inside the white plastic.

"I know," Clara replied, "that's why I brought some veggie and some noodle soup. Your choice."

The sceptical look on his face lightened a bit. "Okay…" he began, pausing as he thought about it. "Veggie sounds good… Can't promise anything though."

"Got it."

About twenty minutes later, they were both sitting at the little corner table in the Tardis' small kitchen, eating soup. Or rather, Clara was. The Doctor, after having taken a couple of mouthfuls, was now listlessly stirring the liquid with his spoon. He had his head propped up on one hand and was staring at nothing in particular. It almost seemed as if he was in a world of his own.

"Not hungry?" Clara piped up, slurping up another batch of noodles.

The Doctor shrugged. "Don't have much appetite…" he mumbled, flicking a quick glance over at Clara, who sighed.

"Just try to take a little bit more. The only thing you've eaten today was half a toast, Doctor. You need food if you want to get better."

Instead of an answer, he closed his eyes tiredly and shook his head.

"Please?" She tried, "I mean, you don't need to finish the whole bowl. Just take a couple more spoonfuls, okay?"

Again, the Doctor's head shook in negation. "Don't think I can keep it down," he explained, trying and failing to suppress a yawn. It ended up making him choke again.

Clara decided not to pressure him about the food any longer. She couldn't really force him to eat when he didn't want to and a little soup was better than nothing. Instead, she picked up the plastic bag and set it down in the middle of the table. There had to be something here that could help with that nasty cough. From the sound of it, chances were high that he was developing a chest infection… Or maybe, he already had one.

"What… what are you… doing?" the Doctor managed in-between coughs.

"Got some meds here…" Clara explained, "Didn't really know what state you'd be in, so I just grabbed a couple things. Wanna have a look?"

Having more or less brought his breathing under control again, he stretched out a hand. "Let me see," he said, wheezing a little.

She handed the bag over to him and the Doctor started digging through its contents, mumbling while he was taking out and closely inspecting one packet after another. "Nope… Won't work… Won't work either… Aspirin? Definitely keep that one away… Ah!"

Clara raised her eyebrows. "What, 'ah'?"

"This," the Doctor announced triumphantly and pulled out one of the little cardboard boxes. Inside it was a bottle of your standard over-the-counter cough syrup. "This might help. Tastes terrible, but works a treat."

Leaning back, he held the bottle into the light and craned his neck to read the tiny little letters, which declared the formula for its contents. In shifting his position, the Doctor had once again dislodged his blankets, making them slip off his shoulders. And now, his neck was exposed.

And that was when Clara saw it for the first time.

Her eyes shot open. Feeling the cold, worried lump inside her chest tighten, she got up and strode over to her friend with determined steps. "Doctor… hold still," she demanded in a sudden, strict tone.

Immediately, the Doctor's frown deepened and his attention shifted from the bottle to Clara's face. The look in her eyes unsettled him deeply. "Clara? What's wrong?"

"I said hold still. And don't speak," she ordered, placing her fingertips on the damp hair at the back of his head and gently touching the area below his chin with the other hand. "Chin up. Head to the right… That's it…" Then she removed both her hands and leaned a little closer, squinting her eyes.

Feeling a little spooked by her close proximity, the Doctor discreetly tried to lean away. Clara wouldn't have any of it. "Hold still!" she exclaimed, hunkering down to get a better look. Then, she lifted her thumb and started tracing something on the side of his neck, from the top downwards.

Suddenly, the Doctor flinched away, simultaneously making a hissing sound, as he sucked air through his gritted teeth. "Ow! Clara, what are you doing?!" he protested, hand darting up and covering the spot she had just painfully touched. A mistake, as he immediately jerked it away again, pulling a grimace. "Ow," he repeated, confused.

Clara stared, feeling the stealthy beginnings of panic bubble up inside her. "Doctor, this is important…" She told him gravely. „Is it normal for a Time Lord to get a… a rash when they have the flu?"

The Doctor's frown deepened and for a moment, he left his mouth hanging open. "What rash?" he finally asked.

Clara's eyes wandered down to his neck again.

There, crawling up his skin from under the collar of his pullover, red-rimmed, snaky and angry-looking, was an accumulation of dark, blueish lines. It almost looked like a fresh tattoo of a finely drawn tree.

Only… she knew it wasn't.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, she grabbed the Doctor's wrist, locked her eyes with his and said: "We need to go to the medical bay. Right now."

End of part two. Things are definitely getting interesting… ;) Stay tuned for the next part.

Thanks to everyone who's read, followed, faved and reviewed this story! You are all awesome people! Thank you so much for all your kindness! And I hope I won't disappoint as the story goes on.