The TARDIS hummed contentedly all along her circuitry as she went about her daily business of hurtling through time and space, and protecting the two souls who currently dwelt within her confines. She liked the Doctor's newest companion, Clara. She was so clever and sweet. No, the TARDIS reminded herself, the human girl did not care to be called sweet. She was, though, and the Doctor thought so as well. And she wasn't nearly as much trouble as some of the others. Leela, for example, who had required near constant physical activity, or that wretched boy Turlough, who was always looking for things to break. Although one never did know which of her systems Clara would decide to explore next. All in all, the TARDIS decided that Clara reminded her just a bit of Nyssa.

The fraction of the TARDIS's awareness that monitored her passengers' life signs noted a (to her, anyway) minor anomaly in the Doctor's readings.

Clara stirred in her sleep, wondering vaguely what had woken her. Her head rested on the Doctor's chest and the beating of his hearts was a rapid rhythm against her cheek. One of his arms was wrapped around her and she was very warm. Too warm.

Abruptly startled into full wakefulness, Clara sat up and touched his face. The Doctor was burning with fever. "Doctor! Doctor, wake up!" She snapped on the lights, and shook him lightly. The Doctor's face was flushed and his skin was hot to the touch.

"Good job, Adric…now…explain the differential…" the Doctor muttered.

Clara hurriedly fetched a cool, damp cloth and sponged his face. "Doctor, I need you to wake up now, and talk to me."

"What did you learn in that school today, Susan?"

"Doctor, it's Clara."

"Miss you…why wouldn't you come with me?"

Clara took his hand. "I did come, Doctor. I'm here."

"Grace…"

Frowning, Clara kissed the back of his hand, then laid it gently on the coverlet. She settled the cold cloth on his forehead. "All right then…looks like I'm on my own here."

She settled herself at her desk and started typing at the computer console that the Doctor had set up for her, and which she had subsequently modified, creating a sort of search engine for herself to sift through the TARDIS's enormous memory files. So very much information…but where to start? What would help her to help an ailing Time Lord who supposedly shouldn't even be sick in the first place? Perhaps there was a clue in the names he was calling?

Adric…mathematical boy genius, long dead at the hands of the Cybermen. No help there. Susan Foreman, the Doctor's…granddaughter? That was certainly a conversation for another day. Grace Holloway. Now that was a bit more promising, a heart surgeon from 20th century California. Although Clara wasn't sure just how much help a human doctor would be. Or how she'd even begin to get there, much less find the woman. She glanced back at the Doctor, who was tossing his head on the pillow, admonishing someone called Leela to 'put down the knife, for pity's sake.'

Clara was beginning to realize that she was utterly alone, in a ship she was only just beginning to understand, in a universe that had a terrible propensity for cruel jokes. Well, no. Maybe not quite alone. There was only one thing she could think of to try. It was completely irrational, but then again, here she was, traveling through time and space with a thousand year old man in a box. With a final glance back towards the Doctor, she rose and made her way to the control room.

She drew in a deep breath and laid her hands on the console. "TARDIS?" she began tentatively. "Can you hear me? I know you can't talk to me. I know that only happened the one time, but can you hear me? The Doctor is ill. Really, really ill, with a terrible fever, and I don't know what to do for him. Is there any way you can help me? Or show me where to go for help? Please? It's an awfully…big…universe out there."

The TARDIS was delighted - the sweet girl was talking to her! None of the others had done that, only ever the Doctor. Now, what was she saying? Ill? Fever? The TARDIS checked her medical database. Clara seemed to be referring to some sort of organic malfunction. The Doctor was not generally prone to such things, but her sensors were reading a markedly elevated body temperature, and he did seem to be speaking to companions long gone.

The screen in front of Clara lit up, displaying a medical scan of the Doctor. A red tell tale flashed and an alarm beeped. "Yes, that's it," Clara said encouragingly. "That's not normal. His temperature shouldn't be that high, and he's talking to people that aren't here. Now, what can we do about it?"

The TARDIS obligingly flashed a series of medical diagnostics across the screen.

Clara stared at the series of images flickering across the screen. She recognized the symbols as Gallifreyan, the Doctor had shown her that much, but she was nowhere near able to translate them. "I'm sorry…I don't understand. Oh, I do wish you could talk!"

The TARDIS also wished very much that she still possessed the power of speech…it would make this all so much easier. Clara required someone who could understand Gallifreyan medical diagnostics, and communicate with her directly, preferably someone who could travel independently. There was someone in the database who fit those parameters. The TARDIS promptly dispatched a distress signal.

"Hello, Sweetie."

Clara stared in shock at the strange, curly haired woman who materialized in front of her. "Who are you? How'd you get here?"

For her part, River Song was equally surprised to be confronted with a strange woman in the TARDIS control room, with no Doctor in sight. "I am Dr. River Song. And you sent me a distress signal."

"Doctor? Medical doctor?" Clara asked hopefully.

"Archaeologist."

"I asked the TARDIS for help, for the Doctor.. No offense, but why would she send me an archaeologist?"

River raised a hand for silence. "Wait. You asked the TARDIS for help?"

"The Doctor told me a story about how the TARDIS has a personality…a soul, and that once she was transplanted into a person, and he could talk to her, and well, I was just about out of options, so yes, I asked the TARDIS for help. And please don't tell me that's crazy, 'cuz just look around us."

"Point taken. Why do you need help? Where's the Doctor?"

"He's sick."

"Sick? He doesn't get sick."

"Fine," Clara snapped, exasperated, "maybe you people call it something different out here, but where I come from, fever and delirium equals 'sick.'"

"Take me to him."