"Is he dead?"

"No, Courtney. Of course he's not dead."

At least she hoped not.

Clara knelt next to The Doctor and gently took his hand. He was lying on the deck about three feet from the door.

No wounds that she could see, he just seemed to be in a very deep sleep.

"Are you sure?" Courtney bent down over her shoulder to get a better look. "'Cause he looks dead to me."

"He's fine," she snapped, then gave a forced smile. "What were you even doing in here anyway?"

"Door was open. Thought I'd just say hello."

"Did you? Did you really?" Clara eyed the schoolgirl suspiciously as she pushed herself to her feet. "Well, thank you for fetching me, but don't you have a class to go to?"

She took Courtney by the arm and steered her towards the door.

"Free period," Courtney said as she shrugged herself loose.

"Well then, off you go," she said shooing her out. "Go and do something non-disruptive."

Courtney had a better idea.

"I know!" She rushed back to where The Doctor lay. "I could do first aid! Got my certificate and everything!"

"Courtney, I don't think so." Clara closed her eyes and leaned her head hard against the open door.

"Miss, are you feeling alright? Should I get the nurse?" Courtney asked.

"No!"

Clara blew the dust off a large book and peeled it open.

"Hmm. Gray's Anatomy," she read. "Somehow I don't think this is going to be very helpful." She snapped it shut and pushed the heavy book back onto the bookcase.

They were in a cosy reading nook in the TARDIS library. The Doctor lay stretched out on a brown leather sofa, one arm loosely hanging over the edge towards the carpet. An antique lamp in the corner cast a warm glow over his gaunt features.

Clara pushed the worry down. Mustn't panic. He's just sleeping. It's a Time Lord thing. Perfectly normal. Probably.

"There must be thousands of books in here," Courtney said as she prized The Doctor's boot off. "Do you really think we'll find one that will help him?"

"I don't know. I hope so."

Clara shook a blanket out over The Doctor's sleeping form. Courtney tucked it in around his legs. She really was proving helpful, just as she had promised.

Clara sat down on the edge of the sofa and touched a hand to his cheek. No fever that she could feel, but then again, how would she know? His physiology was so different. He was an alien after all, and today, just today, it made her feel a little helpless.

She arranged The Doctor's hands neatly over the blanket and undid the top button of his shirt to make him more comfortable.

There was a dull thud and then the sound of a book hitting the floor.

Clara turned to see Courtney clutching her head in pain.

"Ow! Did you see that?" the girl shrieked.

"See what?"

"A book just fell and hit me in the head!" Courtney pointed accusingly to the bookshelf behind her as if she were dobbing in a fellow student.

A heavy volume now lay open at her feet. Clara rounded the sofa and bent to pick it up.

"One Thousand and One Deadly Poisons," she read at the top of the page. "It's.. it's a clue! She's trying to tell us what happened!"

"Who is?" Courtney said, rubbing the sore spot on her head.

"The TARDIS! She's telling us with books."

Courtney quickly stepped away from the shelves just as another book fell to the floor. She picked it up cautiously.

"Umm, Miss. It's a book about tea."

His tongue felt dry.

The Doctor swallowed hard and then wished he hadn't for it started up a coughing fit so violent he thought he'd tear himself apart.

Someone was pulling him upright and pressing a cup to his lips, telling him to drink. Slowly. Just sip it. Slow down. No, that's enough for now.

He fell back down onto the sofa, or perhaps he was lowered. He couldn't tell. Too tired.

He was in the library. It was the smell of old books and the feel of the leather couch under him that told him so.

There were two people there. He could sense it; their worry reaching out and touching the edges of his mind.

The Doctor's eyes shot open. "Clara?"

"I'm here."

Her hand was on his chest to reassure him. His brow furrowed with an unspoken question as he swallowed thickly.

"It's okay. Courtney's been helping me look after you." She patted his hand affectionately.

"Who?"

"One of my year tens. You know. The one you uh, left on the moon."

A glint of recognition registered on his face and his eyes drifted shut for just a moment.

"Remarkably, she still wanted to help," Clara continued. "She was the one who found you on the floor."

"Rubbish," he scoffed as he tried to sit up.

"It's true," Courtney said leaning over the back of the couch. "You grabbed me. Told me to find Miss Oswald. Don't you remember?"

"Pffft." Clearly he didn't or was too proud to admit it.

The Doctor threw the blanket aside and pushed himself up fully.

"Doctor, are you sure you should be getting up?"

Clara steadied him. She was telling him to sit down but his shaking knees would not respond.

It was too late. He felt his head spin and the carpet seemed to move towards him at an alarming rate. Then nothing.

Clara's face swam into view.

"Don't even think about getting up."

Two hands were on his chest now, and gentle but firm pressure to assure him that she really did mean it.

"Courtney's gone. I sent her home. It's past four in case you were wondering."

He wasn't. He couldn't care about anything accept for the ache at his temple. He pressed his fingers there gingerly.

"Headache?"

He nodded.

"Aspirin?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'd be dead in minutes." He pushed himself up into a sitting position. Clara shuffled over so they now sat more or less side by side.

"Fair enough. Mood patch? Something cheerful?" she teased.

He glared at her.

"So, what happened exactly?"

He rubbed his hands over his face wearily. "It was a tea party. Lovely young couple. Victoria and Albert.." There was a pause as he rubbed his temple again.

"And?"

"And, evidently someone poisoned the tea."

Clara's eyes widened. "What? The couple. Are they alright?"

"Fine. She reminded me of you actually."

Clara raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Bossy, with a surprisingly round face."

She smiled and relaxed back into the sofa. The Doctor seemed fine, thankfully.

"I've metabolised most of the poison but the side effects.." His voice trailed off as he struggled to think straight.

It was then he noticed the tea tray by the lamp. A large pot, two tea cups and a large pile of sugar cubes.

"Fancy a brew?" Clara asked innocently.

"Absolutely not."