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"Shhh, it's okay Doc,'" Jack says, pressing the cold flannel against the Doctor's flushed face. He only gets a small whimper in response with a shiver.
Jack looks up to see Donna walking as fast as she can back into the Doctor's room with a large bowl of water. Several ice cubes clink together as the water threatens to spill over the edge and onto the floor. "Bloody ice machine thing wouldn't work for me, took a couple of tries," She says.
Her hair is a mess with her ponytail falling out. She and Jack had been up for hours now trying to get his fever down.
She wants to ask if there's any change, even if it has only been a few minutes. But she doesn't, she can see there hasn't. In fact it almost seems as if he's gotten even worse.
"This should help," Jack says. Donna isn't sure if it's directed to her or him.
Jack dips the flannel he'd been dabbing the Doctors face with into the icy water. He barely squeezes it out before he's mopping his brow again with it. The Doctor jolts for a second as it touches his skin, feeling like tiny needles until the heat of his fever dulls the cold.
He blearily looks up at the golden outlined wrong but not wrong blob that he knows is Jack. He thinks Donna is somewhere nearby too, heard her cursing out his ice machine. He knows he's probably scaring them. Maybe. He can't really tell anymore between the constant shivers and battle of fire and ice under his skin. So much burning. Just like on the Pentallion. Like Gallifrey. Like regenerat- oh Rassilon it hurt.
Jack looks up again at Donna, lowering his voice as much as he can, "I think its time we get Martha. This fever's really out of control."
Her heart drops into her stomach. She rushes from his room. The TARDIS had thankfully moved his room as close to the console room as she could. She stumbles over her own feet on the way. When she approaches the console, she hits a purple button off to the side. The doctor had designed it specifically for situations like these, right after he'd taken a Glutuxian bite and collapsed 4 months ago.
The TARDIS churns to life, albeit a bit roughly and knocking her onto her backside. On the monitor she sees the automatic messaging system he'd programmed to send a heads up text to Martha. With another jolt Donna knows they've landed.
Just a few minutes later and the door opens from Martha using her key. She wastes no time in asking, "What's he gotten himself into this time?"
Her voice shakes, "he was fine one minute, and then he was burning up. Oh Martha it's bad."
"Show me."
Donna leads her to the hallway, and the first door on the left. She doesn't need to knock and opens it.
Martha walks in ahead of her to assess the situation.
The Doctor is laid on his bed, eyes shut and brow furrowed. His cheeks are flushed crimson red. He's panting softly while Jack presses a flannel to his brow. He's shivering hard. His suit jacket and overshirt are tossed on the floor, leaving him in just his t-shirt. She'd never seen him this ill before. Donna was right. It was bad.
She moves to his side and cups his cheek, "Doctor, hey."
He struggles to open his eyes but when he does they're half cracked, dull and glassy.
"There you are," she says.
"Wh…" Is all he manages to get out.
"Jack asked Donna to get me. Remember the purple button you programmed into the TARDIS before?"
It takes him several moments to answer her with a small nod.
"It did its job and got me. Don't you worry now, we'll get you sorted," she says.