Professor Doctor

The Doctor straightened his shirt and fiddled with his cuffs for the fifth time that morning, eyes peering judgmentally at the figure in the mirror leaned on the TARDIS Console. "I once travelled with someone who called me professor. Lovely girl. Had an affinity for explosives."

As Nardole helped him put on his cleanest red velvet jacket, he asked softly, "Sir, are you nervous?"

The Doctor's head turned sharply to his companion as he fixed his lapels. "What makes you think I'm nervous?"

"Because that's the third time you've mentioned Ace McShane. And you're sweating."

The Doctor faced the mirror again quickly. "Am I? Is it noticeable?"

Nardole gazed up at the Time Rotor and murmured, "Well, I noticed it."

The Doctor sighed at his reflection and pulled a comb out from one of his hidden, never-ending pockets. He brushed it through his unruly hair heedlessly and then turned back to Nardole, a wild look in his wide eyes. "How do I look?"

"You look fine. I'd be more worried about how late you're going to be if you keep worrying over yourself."

Without saying a word or even glancing over, the Doctor reached toward one of the levers and pulled. "There; gave us ten extra minutes."

Nardole shook his head couldn't help the smile that came to his face as the Doctor went back to combing his curly and tangled hair. "I've seen you face Daleks and soldiers but what gets you anxious is a job interview?"

The Doctor shot him a glaring eye before spinning back to the mirror for some extra preening. "We've already set up the vault. If I can't get a teaching job, people will start to get suspicious of us. We won't be able to check up on it as much as we should."

Nardole fiddled with the dials on the Console. "Is it really that big of a deal, though? It's just a woman in a box, isn't it?"

This time, the Doctor turned fully to his companion, putting both hands on the other man's shoulders. "Nardole, this is important: Missy can not get out of the vault. She is more dangerous than anything else on this planet, and that's including fascists, nuclear bombs, and all of the creatures at the bottom of the ocean."

The Doctor raised his hands to the sides of Nardole's head, earning a very bewildered look, and closed his eyes. A moment later, Nardole's head was flooded with stories of the Master; of death and destruction and deceit. Of chances at redemption and ultimate betrayal. An endless, maddening drumbeat and merciless, needless killing.

When the Doctor finally pulled away and replaced his hands on Nardole's shoulders, the shorter man was shaking. The Doctor's eyes were piercing and unblinking. "Nardole, do you promise to help me watch over the vault?"

Nardole nodded furiously, his eyes still darting fearfully across the Doctor's face.

"Do you swear you'll do everything you can to prevent Missy from escaping?"

"Uh-huh."

"And you'll do everything in your power to keep me here and make sure I don't abandon my post?"

Nardole was silent, mind reeling with what he had seen. The Doctor shook him roughly. "Nardole!"

"Yes! Yes; I swear!"

The Doctor let go of him instantly, face beaming, and clapped his hands together. "Good. Glad that's settled. Now, I don't know what else to do about this hair…"

He checked himself over in the mirror with a frown, running his hands through his unkempt hair. Nardole smiled. "I think it kinda works. In a mad-scientist kind of way. Like Einstein! He was a professor."

The Doctor looked back at Nardole, relaxed. "You think I'll get the job?"

Nardole nodded. "I think you'd better. Now-" Nardole led the Doctor with a hand on his back toward the doors. "I think you better get going or you'll be late, Time Lord."

The Doctor threw him a disapproving smirk and went out the door, looking up at the tall stony building in front of him. He spun around to Nardole, who was watching him from the threshold. "Any last minute tips?"

Nardole grinned. "Don't tell the truth, make yourself sound important, and pretend to be charming. Should do the trick."

The Doctor replied simply, "Be myself then?"

"Be yourself."

They shared one last smile before the Doctor turned back to the university, feeling almost like he were about to face a legion of Cybermen. He took a deep breath and whispered, "Geronimo," before setting off toward the building.

Hours later, the Doctor sat with his back against the vault, takeaway container and chopsticks in his hands. After swallowing a mouthful of chicken and rice, he called out absently, "I got the job. I'm a professor now. I've even got an ID card and a discount at the canteen. The chips are delicious; I'll have to bring you some sometime."

A loud bang came from the other side of the thick wall, and the Doctor creased his eyebrows. "I don't like this setup, either. I have no idea how long I'll have to stay here. Nardole won't let me near the TARDIS except for food and sleep. I don't even know what I'm supposed to teach. It's not even 1940, you know. Might as well be the dark ages."

The Doctor dropped his chopstick-laden hand to his lap as he stared into the darkness of the underground area. Another bang from inside the vault broke his thoughts and brought him to his feet. "If you're just going to be rude, I'm going to go back to my office. Nardole says we have to decorate it to make it more presentable. I'm going domestic for you."

A final bang resounded through the corridor. The Doctor stared at the vault door for a moment, then shook his head. "I have to get back. I've got three lectures tomorrow and I have to study my history so I don't mention something that doesn't exist yet. Nardole should be back later."

The Doctor waited for another knock, but none came. After a moment of silence, he closed his takeaway container and went outside, to where the stars were shining infinitely above. No light pollution from the city. The cosmos were fully visible, calling to him to run away and go on an adventure. But Nardole called louder from the nearby doorway. "Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone. You've got a big day ahead tomorrow, professor Doctor."

Nardole clapped him on the shoulder and disappeared into the underground corridors, and the Doctor turned back to the university building in front of him. An odd, unforced smile curled his lip as he looked at the darkened windows above. Tomorrow he'd be teaching a whole bunch of bright young minds, discussing space and time and the universe; maybe even a book or two. Life on Earth couldn't be all that bad. Maybe, for once, he could learn to live in one place for a while; to have a space to call his own and a place where he belonged. Maybe, for a while, the stars could just be distant orbs of chemicals and light.