The Doctor stood in the hallway of the busy hospital. He waited until no one was in sight before he pulled out his sonic to unlock the door to the nearby cleaning cupboard. He turned the handle quietly and pulled the door open. Dr Malik was lying on top of a pile of mop buckets asleep with his mouth open, just as he had left him.
Malik stirred as the light streamed in and he shielded his eyes. He squinted at The Doctor, recognising him immediately from their confrontation earlier that day.
"Hey, you!" he said attempting to get up, but he was pushed back down by The Doctor who stepped forward, pressing an index finger to his forehead.
Dr Malik collapsed unconscious onto the pile of mop buckets and cleaning supplies. A toilet roll fell from a shelf and rolled out into the hallway through The Doctors legs. He quickly gathered it up and threw it back in at Malik before slamming the door shut.
Two nurses sat at the Nurse's Station in Ward 1. They were going through piles of paperwork at the end of a long shift.
"Have you met that new Scottish Doctor?" said the Head Nurse. She was an older lady in her fifties with a face that suggested she'd been nursing for most of her life.
"Yes, I have. He's a bit.. odd," said the younger one.
"He's a silver fox is what he is," she replied in a whisper, nudging the younger nurse with her elbow. "If I wasn't a happily married woman.." she said shaking her head. They both giggled quietly as they filed their papers.
"He's actually quite abrupt. He told a patient today he'd be dead within the year for being fat."
The Head Nurse chuckled. "Well, he's not very P.C. but he's great with kids. I saw him using some kind of magic wand toy in Paediatrics. They loved it. And he managed to get young Henry to actually eat something."
Speak of the devil. Dr Smith approached. Despite the long shift, he looked as fresh as when he had started.
"Hello Doctor," said the Head Nurse looking up and he strode by.
"Hello Ladies," he replied giving them a friendly wink.
They held their laughter until he was out of earshot.
The Doctor entered Ward 1D and made a beeline for Clara's bed. He grabbed the chart and scanned it, casting a glance towards Clara who lay still and silent.
Her bloodless lips were parted slightly and she appeared to be deep in slumber, hair damp and splayed across the pillow. Clara's face was still deathly white but she now had a splash of redness across her cheeks. She was slowly simmering in her own juices.
The Doctor glanced at the vitals on the chart which had been dutifully tracked by the nurses. Her temperature had risen steadily over the hours since his initial visit.
The IV was drip feeding a cocktail of antibiotics and antipyretics into her bloodstream just as he had ordered, but her body's response to the drugs would not be instant.
He ran his fingers through her hair to get it off her damp forehead and reached for a wash cloth which had recently been pushed aside, leaving a wet patch on the pillow. He grabbed a couple of ice chips from a cup on the night stand and folded them into the cloth before placing it back on her forehead.
She was so comatose she didn't even move. He looked around to make sure he had indeed closed the curtain around her bed and that no one was watching.
The Doctor cupped her face with his free hand and stroked her cheek with his thumb as he let the cold cloth do its work. To his surprise she leaned into his touch slightly. He ceased his stroking.
"Clara?" he said gently. There was no answer.
Clara's phone buzzed on the night stand. It was Danny. The Doctor left the cloth on her head and picked the phone up. He ducked out into the hallway, leaving Clara to sleep peacefully.
"Yes," he said bluntly.
".. Clara?"
"Clara is indisposed."
"Oh, it's you." Danny sounded disappointed. "I heard she collapsed at the school. Is Clara alright?" he said, voice knotted with worry.
"Absolutely fine. I've got everything under control," The Doctor said impatiently.
"What's wrong with her?"
"Pneumonia," The Doctor replied bluntly.
There was a pause as Danny digested this new information. "Is it serious?"
"She'll live," he said. No thanks to you.
"Why are you answering her phone?" Danny said with a slight hint of jealously creeping into his voice.
"Because she's asleep you fool. I'm surprised you aren't here mopping her brow," he mocked lightly.
"I'm away at a conference."
"Oh, really?" The Doctor said in mock-surprise. "PE teachers have conferences do they?" he said sarcastically. "Refreshing your swimming certificate?"
"For the last time, it's Maths." Danny sighed into the phone. He was getting nowhere. "Will you just.. tell her I called?"
"Of course. Goodbye." He ended the call, slipping the phone into the pocket of his coat.
The Doctor returned to Clara's bedside. The cloth had slipped off again onto the pillow or perhaps Clara had pushed it away. He wasn't sure but her head was now turned towards him.
He took the cloth and wiped the dampness away from her neck and face. Clara stirred, her brows knitting together in obvious discomfort. She coughed weakly as The Doctor put the cloth back on her forehead and pressed it down firmly.
"Danny?" she whispered groggily, legs shifting restlessly under the blanket.
He rolled his eyes. "Guess again."
".. Doctor?" she said cracking her eyes open.
"Ten points to Gryffindor," he said patting her on the shoulder lightly.
Clara didn't acknowledge the joke. Her eyes were fixed in the ceiling, struggling to focus.
"There's something.. in the ceiling," she whispered her eyes rolling upwards.
The Doctor looked up. All he could see was white ceiling tiles.
Clara suddenly sat bolt upright, cloth sliding off her head. She gripped The Doctor's coat in panic, eyes wide and terrified.
"Quickly, it's coming!" she cried, fingers tightening on his coat.
"What's coming?"
"The TARDIS! We need to get to the TARDIS!" She pulled him down towards her by the collar of his white coat, with a strength that surprised him.
Her fever was sky high. He could feel the heat radiating off her as their faces were inches apart. He grabbed her hands pushed her back gently onto the mattress. The Doctor went to strip the heavy blanket back but she caught it and wouldn't let go.
"No, Clara. You're too hot," he said wrestling it out of her grip and pulling it down to the end of the bed, leaving her with just the sheet.
"Why thank you, Doctor," she purred drunkenly, sitting up to reach for him. She giggled like a loon.
He looked suitably repulsed. "That's quite enough, Clara." Not like this.
He didn't have the time or the patience to deal with the delirium any longer.
"Sorry," he said as he pressed his index finger into the middle of her forehead. Her head lolled as she fell asleep in a sitting position. He gave her a gentle nudge at the collarbone, sending her falling back into the pillows. "Actually, not sorry."
The Cleaner approached the supply cupboard. Her key didn't work initially so she tried again, jiggling the door handle in case that would help. She pulled it and suddenly the door knob, rose and spindle came straight out into her hand. 'Bloody hell', she thought. A call to maintenance would be needed and God knows they wouldn't get around to fixing it in a hurry.
She pulled the door open with her finger by the hole where the door knob used to be and switched the light on. The fluorescent tube flickered to life and she saw that the whole cupboard was in total disarray. Items from the shelf were either missing or scattered around. Her prized collection of mops were no longer standing at attention. They were now splayed at odd angles and one was even snapped in half.
"Christ Almighty," she breathed.
And what was that splattered on the walls? Had some chemical bottle exploded? She didn't have any red chemicals though. The smell hit her nose and she recoiled slightly. Working as a hospital cleaner had made her hard as nails and accustomed to cleaning up all manner of bodily fluids so she recognised the smell immediately. It was blood, and there was quite a lot of it.
Another foul substance hung in globs from the shelf ledge. It was also splattered on a broom handle and a blob of it suddenly fell from above, landing with a splat on the floor. It looked like the kind of frothy saliva that would be produced by a rather large, drooling dog.
She looked up slowly and realised that half the ceiling tiles were missing. The fluorescent light was hanging by the cable and it began to flicker and it swung lazily above her. An ID badge hung from the edge of the hole in the ceiling by the lanyard. She reached up and grabbed it. Malik, she read. It was Dr Malik.