Stir Crazy

The Doctor's boot tapped against the floor of his office in a pounding rhythm faster even than his two hearts. His eyes were hardly blinking, chin resting on his folded hands, as he stared blankly at the wall opposite. The only sound in the room other than the rapping of his boot was the tick of the clock, clicking in an achingly slow, endless pattern. The click of the second hand moving around and around felt like it was moving inside his head rather than on the wall in front of him.

Five minutes of this torturous sameness drove the Doctor to stand suddenly beside his desk and turn to the TARDIS. It was still sat in the corner, like always, it's blue wood faded and dusty from many years without use or attention. For a second, the Doctor glanced anxiously at the door, biting his lip. He hadn't seen Nardole in a while. The cyborg could come back at any time. Besides, the Doctor had classes to teach; young minds to open. He couldn't just leave.

Ah, but it was a time machine. Wasn't that what he always told his companions? He could be back before the next class bell. Just a quick flight to the moon, that's all he needed. Then he'd take his place back at the university and be a totally unassuming human professor for a while.

The Doctor was opening the TARDIS door before he'd really decided whether he was going or not. With an enthusiastic smile, he shoved through the entranceway and dashed toward the Console. Only then did he noticed that the lights had been on when he'd turned them off yesterday, and that Nardole was sitting in the flight chair leafing through War and Peace.

"You've got double Physics in half an hour."

The Doctor felt color flush to his cheeks. He watched the Time Rotor churn up and down, his ship calling to him, begging to be flown to Venus or Mars or even Raxacoricofallapatorius.

"You're not my mother," the Doctor replied darkly.

Nardole shut his book and stood slowly, swapping out his reading glasses with his usual ones. "You made me swear an oath too, remember? I'm just doing what you told me. Keeping you on Earth, supposedly guarding the vault."

The Doctor waved him off, going to the computer. "Ah, the vault will be fine. I won't be gone long, I promise."

Nardole came beside him. "What's gotten into you today? You seemed fine yesterday. Did something happen?"

The Doctor took in a breath, and then turned sharply to Nardole. "It's a Timelord thing. If we don't time travel for too long, bad things happen."

Nardole squinted at him. "What kinds of 'bad things'?"

The Doctor stammered for a moment, searching for words. "Well, you see, our, er, Timelordy...ness requires us to time travel at least once every, ugh, twenty years or we could, er, die."

Nardole was not impressed. "How stupid do you think I am?"

"Do you want me to put a number on it?"

Nardole grabbed the Doctor by the arm and led him out of the TARDIS. "Right, you get to your class before I use that authorization River gave me."

"What authorization is that?"

Nardole stood in the TARDIS doorway as the Doctor tripped over himself into his office, eyeing him curiously. Nardole took the door handle firmly in his clenched hand. "She said if I need to, I can kick your arse."

Nardole slammed the door shut and locked it instantly. The Doctor tried to pick it for a moment, but the TARDIS zapped his hand as soon as it made contact with the lock. And so, instead of travelling to the moon, the Doctor wearily picked up his supply bag and sauntered out of his office to get to double physics before the bell rang.

The sun was just beginning to set as Nardole trekked up the steps toward the office, ready for the usual tea and scone session with the Doctor. Maybe the stubborn Timelord would finally tell him what happened earlier, and why he had been so hell bent on running away.

As Nardole came to the top of the staircase, he heard a groaning, wheezing sound that made his heart drop into his stomach. "Oh no, you bloody…"

He opened the door and found the last remnants of the TARDIS fading from the air. With a frown, Nardole found a note on the Doctor's desk scribbled in messy handwriting on a ripped piece of parchment, which read:

Back in five minutes.

Definitely before 18:00.

- The Doctor

But 18:00 came and went without any sign of the Doctor or the TARDIS. In fact, four more hours passed without any hint of the Doctor's whereabouts. Nardole couldn't help feeling a little worried, cross as he was, as he paced back and forth. Every now and then he'd sit and try reading or watching telly, but he couldn't focus on anything.

As night began to really encroach and the university went silent, everyone fast asleep, Nardole became truly anxious. Unable to stop fidgeting and biting his nails, he considered going down to the vault and seeing if Missy could help him find her. He'd been there earlier in the day, to make sure the Doctor hadn't just jaunted down there for a quick trip.

But before he could start the long journey across campus to their secret little hideaway, he heard the groaning of the TARDIS again, this time stunted. If Nardole didn't know better, he'd say it sounded ill. The box began appearing in the corner, slowly fading into existence, and Nardole instantly knew it looked worse for wear. The blue that had been merely dusty earlier was now covered in a layer of ash. Some of the wood was splintered off, and the light on top was flickering on and off, its bulb dying.

One of the doors opened, and heavy smoke filtered out, filling the office quickly with soot. Nardole covered his mouth and thanked the gods the Doctor had taken out the fire detector a long time ago, after some experiment gone wrong. This would've been a hell of a thing to explain to the university.

The Doctor practically fell out of the TARDIS, a ragged cloth held tightly to his face as he coughed into it. Nardole's anger dissipated with one look at the man. He was covered in almost as much ash and dust as the TARDIS, his hair sticking up in places and matted in others. Worst was the wheezing breaths coming out of his choking lungs. He sounded almost the same as his ship.

Nardole shut the TARDIS door and helped the Doctor to his chair, easing him down slowly. "What happened?"

The Doctor lowered the cloth and tried to respond, but he could hardly find his voice. "Ship...exploded," he gasped. "Couldn't get out before-"

A coughing fit seized him and Nardole touched a hand to his arm until it was over. When it was, the Doctor looked up at Nardole with red, watery eyes. "'M sorry Nardole," he coughed again, and breathed in a short gasp of air.

Nardole made a choice then, one he knew he wouldn't live to regret, unlike most of his past choices.

"Stay here. I'll be right back, alright?"

The Doctor nodded limply, still struggling to breath properly, and Nardole ran out the door and down the hall. Silently, he picked the lock of the infirmary, grabbed a few things he swore into the dark air that he'd return, maybe. Then he returned just as quickly with it all hugged in his arms. The Doctor looked as impressed as an oxygen deprived Timelord with ash and messy hair can look.

Nardole first wrapped a blanket around the Doctor, who furrowed his eyebrows at him. Then, he set two thermoses on the desk and handed the Doctor an oxygen mask. "Hold it to your face and you should be able to breath better. I think. It's what the package said, anyway. Worth a try."

The Doctor followed his instructions, too tired to argue, and breathed in pure oxygen for the first time in what felt like days. Air never tasted so sweet. Nardole sat opposite him and took a long swig from his thermos. Then they simply sat, for a long time, in complete silence. Every now and then, the Doctor would set the mask down and take a sip of his tea, then take in some more of the clean air. Nardole watched him carefully, unsure of what to say or what, even, he himself was thinking.

Deep into the night, when the Doctor had recovered enough to breathe easily on his own but not enough to be too proud to hug the blanket around his shoulders, he spoke again.

"I should've listened. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize." The Doctor's eyes widened and Nardole couldn't remember why he'd even been so angry with him. "I'm just glad you're alright. It could've been much worse."

The Doctor looked down at himself, wrapped in a blanket and still covered in soot from the head down. Nardole muttered something, but the Doctor was too lost in thought to hear. He perked his head up at the younger man. "What did you say?"

Nardole turned pink. "I was just saying," Nardole stammered, "that's probably why I was so cross. I didn't want you to get stuck somewhere or hurt and I wouldn't know what happened."

The Doctor scratched his head awkwardly. "You can always come with me."

Nardole chuckled. "Not my cup of tea, thanks." He looked the Doctor up and down again. "Just stay safe, alright? Not just for your oath. For me. And Missy. And everyone else here. You have students and a job."

"I know."

"You matter to people. You can't take that for granted."

"I know."

"Do you?" Nardole looked at the Doctor pointedly.

"I won't go anywhere. Definitely not alone; that was stupid, it always is. I'll be good."

Nardole smiled. "Good. Glad we're clear. I don't want to spend another night worrying you won't come back."

Nardole's face fell, pink cheeks turning red. The Doctor smiled coyly. "You were up all night worrying?"

"Well, you know, not...I was cross. And I still am. And I can still kick your arse, so watch it!"

The Doctor put his hands up in surrender, and Nardole stormed out with one last embarrassed glare. The Doctor looked down at the pictures of River and Susan on his desk and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. "I won't leave again." He closed his eyes. "I promise."