"Hello?"
It was a throaty, raspy voice that made Clara wince when the other end of the line picked up. It sounded like the Doctor –maybe- but barely. The only evidence that it was still the Doctor on the other end of the line was the biting tone of his voice, at least that never changed even when he was down with a cold.
"Hi –it's uh. Clara. Clara Oswald," She quickly added. She had never used her first time with the Doctor, seeing as though the other had always referred her to Dr. Oswald. But it felt strange introducing herself over the phone with the title. "Amy Pond gave me your number. She stopped by my office to let me know that you were sick."
"Well of course she would," The Doctor seemed to have started to grumble before a barrage of coughs seemed to cut his words short. "She owed me a favor eventually, anyways. That girl is absolutely technologically challenged; she breaks her television set every week it seems."
"Thank you for the tea," Clara said lightly, smiling into the receiver end of the phone as she leaned back in her chair. The tea was still lukewarm in her hands but it was nearly done. "But you really didn't have to-"
"Don't be saying that, of course I had to," He snapped back before a sneeze punctuated his words. "You'd be missing out a prime opportunity to experience my knowledge. All of those shy pudding brains probably couldn't string together a coherent sentence I could come up with in my sleep." At his words, Clara rolled her eyes in mock amusement. It seemed as if even with a cold, the Doctor could still be just as rude and crash as he always were. Not that it seemed as though he disliked any of the students, he seemed rather helpful to the ones that sat near him (Which basically only consisted of Amy and the blond haired boy that followed Amy like a shadow). Rather than poking deeper into the issue, she had already reminded him that he was one of her students as well; she decided to take a different route.
"You sound absolutely terrible."
"Thank you for stating the obvious, Dr. Obvious," He snapped back with another loud sniffle. "Is that why you decided to call me? Let me know how bad I sound right now? It's your fault by the way. I was trying to ensure that my next assignment was perfect for you and I lost track of the time. Cue waking up freezing by the desk with a runny nose. Great way to start the morning."
"What's this? The big bad Doctor can't keep up with the other students? I don't hear them losing track of time." Clara couldn't help but jib back, teasingly. He guffawed from the other side and he muttered something underneath his breath that she couldn't quite catch. Furrowing her brows, she could make out the words 'eyes' and 'in it for the prof'. But based on those key words, she'd rather not learn about what feedback he had heard from the other students.
"Anyways, I am sorry that you caught a cold," Clara decided finally, sighing quietly into the receiver. That was the whole purpose of the call, wasn't it? It wasn't always the easiest thing for her to apologize but this was definitely one of those situations that was indirectly her fault. Or at least, she felt a modicum of responsibility for her student. "If you'd like, I could push the deadline for you a bit later for you to get more time to work on your assignment."
"I'm done so don't worry about it," The Doctor replied dryly. "Finished it just before I crawled into bed for the rest of the day. Fortunately, it's still covered with some drool and snot so maybe I'll get you back for this cold when I hand it in."
"I'll be….sure to handle it with great care. With rubber gloves. And lots of sanitizer."
"You better. Anyways, as great as-," He let out a whopping cough that even made Clara wince on the other side. "-this talk was, I should get some more rest. Seriously, you can really make a person feel better," He said sarcastically. "Calling me in the middle of an important healing trance to taunt me is a true hallmark of a great educator. " Before Clara could protest, the Doctor quickly added, "I'll see you in class."
And then the line went dead and Clara just stared, unblinkingly at the phone in her hands. For some reason, she couldn't exactly place how the conversation had gone. What had she been expecting?
Or rather the question was –had she been expecting something from the Doctor?
At her next class, it was an understatement to say that she was anxiously waiting for the Doctor to come to class. Would he be well enough to come? The thought had troubled her as students began to file in and she would deny the fact that she had taken frequent glances up to the door whenever it was opened.
It was never the Doctor who entered and she was beginning to give up hope when class was about to begin. But just as soon as she called for attention in the class, the door swung open and the Doctor entered the room, flanked by Amy and a blond haired man. For a moment, Clara faltered as she began the introduction to her lecture when she took a careful look at the Doctor.
She could barely see his face with the giant surgical mask across his face. The trio had decided to settle near the back of the class –or at least, Amy seemed to have forced the Doctor into one of the seats near the back. He didn't seem happy but there definitely weren't any available seats in the front anymore. But somehow, the arrival of the Doctor gave Clara a surprisingly boost of confidence –or maybe she was just relieved that the man didn't just drop dead- because she managed to cover the lecture smoothly without any lapses in her discussion.
It was a different class, to say the least. While the Doctor was normally the disruption, this class was much quieter causing her to pick on random students to share their thoughts and ideas. But these conversations were peppered with loud, obnoxious coughs from the back and they only stopped when there was a small 'ow' cry attached at the end.
Looks like, Clara smiled inwardly, someone was keeping the Doctor in check at least.
When class ended, she should've expected the Doctor to march right up to the front and shoved a neatly stapled, thankfully snot-free assignment into her face. "See. Perfection in front of your very eyes," He announced, words mumbled by the mask across his face. "I sweat blood and tears for this assignment. Literally."
Clara raised an eye as she reached forward to take the proffered assignment. "I expect nothing but the best from you, Doctor," Clara grinned back up to the Doctor as she rifled through the assignment. Even from just skimming the introduction and some of the pages, it seemed like a solid essay. "I'm glad you're taking this course seriously."
"I take everything quite seriously," He replied as a-matter-of-factly before he let out a string of coughs. "Read it. And tell me what you think of it. I'm expecting a lot of raves. And maybe a gold star –do you still do those things?"
"Maybe if you were still in grade school," Clara replied back with a raised eyebrow. "Are you?"
The Doctor merely shrugged. "Age means nothing when you're as old as me." Another coughing fit escaped him and there was a second that Clara was worried that he was going to double over from the force of his coughs. "But uh- it seems like the cold isn't going to get better anytime soon. I can't come to your offices next week then." If her disappointment showed on her face, she tried desperately to hide it.
Except Clara didn't stay disappointed because the Doctor had shot her a wink before turning on his heels. "But you do have my number. I wonder what you could do with it?"
"You're right. It's one of the best essays I've read this term," Clara breathed out into the phone as she held up the Doctor's essay in one hand and her phone in the other.
She was lounging in her apartment on her couch as she called him. It was a nice evening with little marking to do. His assignment had sparked her interest a few days ago but she had only just gotten time to read it. So with a nice glass of wine by her side and the essay, she had started to read.
But it was so enthralling. The level of analysis he went into for the poem about the ancient Mariner was extraordinary, she could tell the different facets of research he used to analyze the long poem. She could even recognize some of Dr. Song's citations within the body of the text which made her smile. Somehow, it didn't take long for her to finish the paper and she didn't hesitate to reach out for her phone this time around.
And it was odd, just a bit, how okay it was to ring up the Doctor. It was only their second phone conversation but somehow it seemed like the most familiar and normal thing to do. She should've been more hesitant because really, he was her student. All in all, regardless of his age, she was in a position of authority. And phone calls like the ones involving her relaxing at home did not seem to fit the bill of academic integrity. But maybe the alcohol did help lower her inhibitions. Besides, what was the harm in telling a student about what she thought about his work?
A laugh echoed from the other side. "Well. I can't deny that's the best conversation starter I've ever heard."
"No, but really," Clara insisted as she flipped over another page of the essay. "Your thoughts are incredibly well formed. I never thought about some of the issues you raised up before, which is actually quite an achievement because that has never happened before. Really, I was astonished. Maybe even a tad bit jealous," She let out a small giggle of laughter, taking another sip of her wine, noticing that there wasn't much of it left. Had it been one glass? Or was it more like three?
"Good to know that my hard efforts didn't go unappreciated," The Doctor replied back, coughing a few times again. But it seemed as if he was getting better, his voice sounded much less hoarse then before. Although the coughing suggested otherwise.
"The mariner driven by guilt is an example of one driven to the point of no return. Perhaps his sentence is a lesson in making amends and paying penance. It is something every individual will have to overcome in their lives. One day, our mistakes will follow us and be a lesson to all those who care to listen. Just like the mariner who will forever wander aimlessly sharing his story. We are all wanderers in our journeys. I can relate." Clara recited from one of the lines she had highlighted out of interest. "That's well done. But maybe you should have elaborated more on your own experiences. Adds a greater level of gravitas to your work."
A chuckle sounded from the other end as the Doctor replied back, "Or maybe I don't need to since it seemed as if you understood the point perfectly without it. What's the need in embellishing it with unnecessary details?"
Because somehow, something about you is so familiar. Yet I just don't know why your name, your real name, sounds like a memory that I can't remember.
"Well it's your own fault that you just had to get the reader interested," Clara grumbled offhandedly, pushing her other thoughts to the back of her mind.
"Well, it's just another experience I've drawn from my travels. Luckily nothing nearly as dramatic as the mariner. Or maybe I'd actually be a wandering skeleton."
"Will you tell me sometimes?" Clara asked. For a moment, the silence was drawn out for longer than expected. She could feel her heart stop for a moment, wondering if she had asked the wrong question. Or was she being too forward?
Yet the Doctor broke the silence with a small cough. "Well. I only really delve into my personal life after I've shared a few meals with someone. I don't just shout out my entire life to the whole world."
"Well it can hardly be any different from the conversations we've had during my office hours," Clara responded back, rolling her glass in her hands. "Or is this your way of asking me to ask you out to dinner?"
"Yes."
Clara was silent for a moment as she processed his answer carefully. But it was impossible to –perhaps with the alcohol in her system and her own confusing thoughts. It was even quiet on the other end of the line, although it was punctuated with the odd cough and sneeze.
"Wait, what is this a yes to? The first bit or the second?"
"Yes."