Clara woke to the soft patter of rain against her bedroom window. As muzzy memories began to creep back into her consciousness, she remembered awakening and falling back asleep in a comfortable tangle of arms and legs.

She smiled sleepily and stretched, wondering why the bed felt so cold and empty with no one curled around her, head pressed against her back. Then she gasped and sat up quickly, clutching the blanket to her chest, remembering who had been beside her.

She stumbled from the bed and snagged her dressing gown from the back of a chair, snugging it tightly around her waist before she dared peek her head out of the room. She blew out a sigh of relief when she saw him sitting on the edge of the couch, idly turning a book in his hands, opening it, riffling the pages, then letting it snap shut again.

He was always complaining about her eyes, how huge they were, but she had nothing on him right now as he sat and stared blankly at nothing. She recognized the little wrinkle between his brows that only appeared when he was puzzled or concerned. She cleared her throat and he snapped out of his daze and looked over at her.

"You're awake," she said.

He tried to answer but the only sound he made was a harsh croak that caused him to wince in pain. His eyes followed her as she crossed the room and took a seat next to him.

"Not feeling so well today, huh?" She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead but he quickly brushed it away.

"You're right," she said. "Sorry. The whole 'trying to tell if you're running a fever' thing is kind of a reflex for me now."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, then she heard a sharp intake of breath and saw him scrabble in the pocket of his jacket, withdrawing a crumpled tissue just as a harsh sneeze bent him at the waist.

"Bless," she said. He growled in response, scrubbing at his nose in a irritable manner.

"So grumpy," she said. "You're not a very good patient, are you?" She laughed at his expression. "I wish you could see your face. I can just imagine what you'd be telling me right now if you could talk."

He coughed, and although his voice was hoarse and thin-sounding, he did manage to speak.

"Clara, are you okay?"

"Yes, of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I woke up this morning, or maybe it was this afternoon, it's all running together now, and I was sleeping on you." He swallowed painfully before continuing. "I don't know how you even got into the bed, but I must have mistaken you for one of your pillows." The concern on his face deepened as he turned to look at her. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, of course you didn't."

"Why were we in the same bed, Clara? Did you get lost on the way to the sitting room?"

She stopped and waited when he sneezed again and took quite a long time blowing his nose.

"You were very ill last night," she said when he'd finished and flopped his head against the back of the couch. "And I didn't want to leave you alone. You don't remember?"

"I remember visiting a planet that was completely transparent," he said. "It was marvelous, Clara. You could stand in one spot and see straight through the core of the world to the other side. And all the inhabitants were clear, like they were made of glass; the trees and the plants and the humanoid-sized insects and the six-headed birds." He gave a small smile that quickly disappeared.

"You sure you didn't dream that?'

"I hope not. I'd love to see it again."

"Well, never mind about that now," she said, relief flooding through her at all the things he probably didn't remember of the previous night. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

She stood from the couch and grabbed one of his hands, helping him to his feet.

He straightened slowly, digging one hand into his lower back and groaning. "Don't pull so hard," he complained.

"Come on, let's poke around and see if we can find something," she said, leading the way to the kitchen.

"I'm really not hungry," he said, stumbling after her.

Clara opened her little refrigerator and surveyed the contents. "There's yogurt," she said.

"Yep, saw that. Don't want it."

"But you love yogurt." She looked over her shoulder at him where he stood, arms folded, leaning wearily against the counter. "It's strawberry, your favorite."

He gave a single shake of his head.

"Okay." She closed the door and stood thinking. "Toast? Might not go down so well if your throat is sore, but I could make toast and tea. Does that sound good?"

"I don't want anything."

"You need to eat something, keep your strength up." She bent and rummaged through a lower cabinet. "A bagel? A piece of fruit?"

"I said I don't want anything, Clara, stop plaguing me." He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Why did I shout? You shouldn't make me shout, it gives me a headache and..."

He trailed off in the middle of his sentence, body sagging. With a shuddering inhalation, something caught in his chest and he began to cough. He folded forward, bracing his hands on his legs, giving himself over to it. Clara moved close to him, her hand hovering over his back. He seemed to be back to his usual prickly, untouchable self and she had no wish to startle or annoy him with unwanted contact.

"That's still a nasty cough you've got," she said when he'd recovered.

"It's nothing." He swallowed audibly, eyes widening. "Okay, maybe a little more than nothing."

He began to inch slowly from the room, one hand steadying himself against the counter. "No, no, no, that wasn't good," he moaned. "Not good. My stomach didn't care for that at all. Really don't want to be around food at the moment."

"Let's get you back to bed," she said. "You've gone a terrible color all of a sudden."

He stopped and planted his hands against the doorway of the kitchen. "Why are things moving again, they weren't moving earlier."

"Nothing is moving, Doctor. You're feeling dizzy because you're still ill and you need to rest."

"I'm not going to lie down again," he said. "I'll die of boredom in here."

"Well then, watch some telly or...or read a book.:"

"I've read all of your books."

"You've read all…? How much time have you spent here anyway? Never mind, don't answer that," she said, hoping to change the subject. There were certain titles she fervently hoped he'd skipped.

"Anyway, I'll be fine," he said, attempting an encouraging smile that fell completely flat. "There's a special room in the TARDIS, it's like a healing room. I'll do the whole lying-still thing in there and I'll be fine."

Clara kept one hand near him as he made his way unsteadily toward the sitting room. She winced in sympathy as he misjudged the distance and his body made contact with the corner of the TARDIS.

"You promise you won't try and leave or anything?" she said.

"Of course I won't." He rubbed his arm, fumbling the handle several times before finally managing to open the door. "You go have a wash or whatever it is you do to make yourself presentable."

You're out of kippers. Back soon...ish. The Doctor

Clara removed the note pinned to the corridor wall outside the bathroom and crumpled it. "What the hell?" she asked into the silence, giving the wall a kick. "What do you mean 'out of kippers?' I didn't even know I had kippers to be out of! Is this some kind of Time Lordy secret code or something?"

She pounded on the TARDIS door. It opened at her touch, a blast of chill air rushing out and making her shiver.

"You promised me you wouldn't try to leave," she said, stalking toward him, shaking the balled-up note in her fist. "But you were going to scarper without even saying goodbye, weren't you?"

The Doctor circled the console, keeping a wary eye on her, trying to stay on the opposite side from where she was standing.

"I often do," he said.

"That much is true," she said. Curiosity overcame her anger. "What exactly did you mean, 'I'm out of kippers?'"

"I meant you're out of kippers. Maxwell showed up to collect his fee and I didn't have anything to give him. Quite embarrassing, really."

"Well, give Maxwell my sincere apologies." Clara leaned close to the console controls, trying to decipher the settings. "Where were you really going?"

"Not sure, somewhere warm. I was hoping to find a place with six or seven suns...maybe a supernova." She saw a violent shiver chase itself along his back as he pulled down on the double handles.

Clara and the Doctor both looked up expecting the whir and movement of the time rotor but it remained still. Muttering something under his breath and muffling a cough into his sleeve, he made a few more adjustments.

"The TARDIS is almost completely offline," he said. "Translation circuits are working again but the data banks and navigation are still inoperable. I've been trying to bring everything up manually but she's being stubborn."

"Maybe she thinks you should stay here."

He tucked his hands deeply into his pockets as he shuddered again. "Maybe you both need to mind your own business."

Clara blew out an exasperated sigh. "You have a lot in common with your TARDIS, did you know that? You are ill. Stop being so stubborn and come back to my flat and let me take care of you."

"I don't need anyone to take care of me," he said, although his slumped posture suggested otherwise.

"Well, obviously you do. You're running a fever again and you won't even sit down."

He gave an impatient huff and stomped down the stairs to the tiny study under the console room. Clara leaned over the railing and peered down at him.

"What are you doing now?"

"Trying to find my sonic screwdriver," he called up to her. "Will you check my chair on the upper level? I seem to remember having it up there."

"Fine." Clara kneeled by the chair, using her fingers to gingerly dig around between the frame and the cushion. "Ugh, I think I found a used handkerchief," she said, mouth twisting in a grimace. Then her fingers closed on the sonic. "Got it!"

He moved to the bottom of the risers. "Do you know how to change the settings?"

"Yep, think so."

"Use setting 28," he said. "No, wait, that's for a Silurian." He thought for a moment. "It's setting 27a, a head to toe scan, starting at the head. Understand?"

She nodded and wrapped both hands around the sonic, carefully directing the beam over his body. The scan took seconds to complete.

"Excellent, Clara. Bring it here, let me see it." He pressed a button on the side, brow furrowing as he studied the readings. "Scan within normal parameters, well done," he muttered.

"And?" She craned her neck to try to decipher the information.

"And the numbers are completely off." The Doctor stuffed the sonic in his pocket and sank into the chair. "Never let a human near advanced technology. They'll always mess it up."

"Wait a minute," she said. "Didn't you just tell me the scan fell within normal parameters? So I didn't mess it up."

"But it couldn't be right," he insisted. "My core temperature shouldn't be that high. And it shows I have a viral infection, influenza type..." He took the sonic out again, fingers tracing the case. "...Type B, with an expected course of four days."

"None of this is news, Doctor."

He sighed. "If it's true, it's a little disappointing."

Clara laughed at his woebegone expression. "Don't tell me you're sorry you don't have a more exotic illness?"

"Human flu virus with single-stranded RNA? That's not much of a challenge. Normally that would be child's play for my immune system."

"Yeah, should've thought of that before you went deep cover in a school. It's inevitable, you hang around kids long enough. They're walking Petri dishes." She rested one hand on his shoulder. "Now will you please come back to my flat? It's freezing in here."

"You're going to sit right here and you're going to rest and watch a bunch of crap telly," Clara said, guiding him toward the couch. "And if you try to move, you'll answer to me, got it?"

"But you're a young woman," he said. "Weekend on your own, you could meet up with your friends, go out for drinks, catch a show. You don't need me hanging around here and getting in your way."

If Clara didn't know better, she would have thought she saw a brief wistful look cross his face before the grumpy expression returned.

"Are you kidding?" she said. "It's raining outside. I have marking to finish and for some reason, I feel completely exhausted." She shook out the blankets that lay tangled on the floor. "I'm not going anywhere. Now sit."

She didn't know why she was doing this, making him comfortable on her couch, trying to convince him to stay, except she liked having him in her flat, liked the solid presence of the TARDIS in her sitting room and his cantankerous but oddly enjoyable company.

"Clara," he said. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Tell me then," she said, tucking the blankets snugly around him.

"After I tell you, you may not want me to stay." He was clearly uncomfortable, unwilling to look at her, hands fidgeting with the ties of her favorite quilt. His expression was so grave, Clara felt her heart pick up speed in response.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense."

"I ran a scan on you, too." He still refused to meet her eyes.

"And?"

"It's nothing to worry about," he said. "But there's a slight possibility you may have contracted this flu somehow."

"Somehow?" She gave a bitter laugh. "I don't see how I could have possibly avoided it with you coughing and sneezing all over everything." She sank to the couch next to him and held her hand out. "Show me."

He sheepishly handed over the sonic. Clara gaped at it for a moment before speaking.

"This is not a 'slight possibility,' Doctor. It says I have a 99.998% probablility of infection." She tossed the sonic back into his lap. "Well, that's brilliant. Can't thank you enough. Really."

"Incubation period is three days, give or take a day," he said, sounding hopeful. "You'll have time to prepare. "

"Yeah, but I can't really call out of work pre-emptively, can I?" She ran a hand across her forehead. No wonder she was feeling so weary.

"I'm sorry, Clara," he said. "I should have stayed away but I was sick and confused and all I could think of was getting to you." His voice caught slightly and she turned her head to look at him. "I knew you'd help me."

"Oi, c'mere you," she said, turning toward him and ducking her head under his chin. "It's okay."

She rested her hands against his chest, smiling as she felt him relax under her touch. He might be cranky and feverish and out of sorts but the rapid double-time beat of both hearts reassured her. They sat in comfortable silence for a while until a thought struck her.

"Three days, did you say?"

She felt the rumble of his voice against her cheek. "Give or take a day," he said.

"Well then, while I still feel like eating," she said, "I'm going to go buy the most disgustingly decadent cup of coffee I can find, with syrup and whipped cream and sprinkles. Maybe I'll live dangerously and get a pastry, too." She stood up and slung her purse over her shoulder. "You'll be here when I get back?"

He nodded sleepily, eyes already beginning to drift shut. She bent and placed a gentle kiss on top of his head.

"You better be."

A/N Yes, I know Dark Water and Death in Heaven happened but I'm going to keep pretending they're in Clara's flat being all domestic and snuggly. Don't look at me.