Hello! Quick Author's Note:

This is a series of one-shots featuring Twelve and Bill. I just rewatched all of New Who and was disappointed that I grew tired of Doctor Who after Eleven regenerated and didn't watch Twelve and Bill's series live. They had a great relationship and really deserved more time togther (in my opinion), so I figured I'd give them that time through stories. They're mostly missing scenes and conversations, but who knows. Maybe there will be more adventures later on.

I'm aiming for them to be in chronological order of the series, but it's Doctor Who, so time is relative. There will be some spoilers for Series 10 though, and if you haven't watched it, I really recommend it. As I write this (in December 2018), it's on Amazon Prime. Check it out.

This will be cross-listed on AO3 and should update at the same time. I've only ever had stories on one or the other, so it might require a short adjustment period.

Anyways, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!


Bill stood in front of the TARDIS, her hand raised to knock.

What if he wasn't here? What if he had locked it and gone off to do something else?

The box looked nearly navy in the shadows. The only light in the room was from the bright moon shining in through the windows. She shivered, both from her hesitation and also from the fact that she was in her pyjamas and bathrobe.

It was this chilliness that made her knuckles connect with wood.

Bill rapped gently on the door. As if it was waiting for her, the door opened just a crack. The light from inside illuminated her face.

She pushed it open and stepped inside. But whereas the TARDIS had opened silently the first time, pushing the door all the way open resulted in a loud creak.

"I TOLD you," a gruff Scottish voice snapped from the other side of the TARDIS console. "You are not allowed back in here until the morning."

Bill froze, eyes wide, as the Doctor rushed around the console towards the door. But as soon as he recognized his guest, his features immediately softened.

"Oh. Bill," he said, in a quieter, almost surprised tone. "Come in, come in."

He waved her in, but she didn't move. Instead, she continued to eye him suspiciously.

"You sure?" she asked slowly. "Because a second ago you definitely sounded like you wanted to be alone."

"Oh, no, no," he said, shaking his head. "That was just for Nardole. We're having a bit of a disagreement. He thinks he should have a bedroom in the TARDIS. I told him to get a flat. We've argued about it for a while. Should fade eventually."

"How long have you been at it?" Bill asked as she stepped in further.

"About four years."

"You've been rowing for four years?"

"Bill, I'm over two thousand years old," the Doctor sighed. "In my book, four years is barely fifteen minutes."

He picked up a strange looking machine from the console and began fiddling with it. By now, she knew better than to ask about it. Not necessarily because she stopped being curious, but because the longer she spent with him, the lengthier and more complicated the explanations seemed to get. And she definitely understood a lot more now than she did when she started, but that did not mean she understood that much.

"Does the TARDIS have bedrooms?"

"Of course it has bedrooms," the Doctor said flatly. "One hundred and six at the last count."

"One hundred and six?" Bill nodded appreciatively. "You could rent it out. Like a really posh space hotel or something."

The Doctor continued to fiddle with his machine, but a look of something resembling impressed confusion definitely passed over his face and Bill was very certain that she heard him mumble "I never thought of that" under his breath.

"Now," the Doctor began, holding the machine up to eye level to squint at it. "I'm not entirely sure about human sleep patterns, but aren't you supposed to be asleep right now?"

Bill pulled her robe tighter around her and shrugged. He lifted his gaze from the gadget to look at her.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just…" Bill sighed and shook her head. "It's just silly. It's nothing."

He lowered the gadget to give her his full attention. His expression was still one of intense focus, but the shift in topic had shifted it closer to concern.

"What's wrong with silly?"

Bill was a bit taken aback by this statement. But it was clear that he was not going to let her get away with not telling him.

"It's just… I've moved back in with Moira, right? And I'm back in my old room that I've been in for years and years, but…" Bill let out another sigh. "But now whenever it creaks or whatever, whenever it settles, I can't help but see Shireen getting sucked into the floor or Pavel disappearing into the wall. And then I can't sleep."

The Doctor let out a small hum, an acknowledgment that he had heard her. He seemed to be thinking, which only served to make her feel small.

"You can sleep in your room here," the Doctor offered. "I can make sure the TARDIS doesn't creak."

"I have… a bedroom? Here?"

"Of course," he answered with a shrug, as if it was the most obvious thing in the universe. "Good for long journeys. And, well, times when we don't quite get us where we're supposed to be."

Bill's eyes narrowed.

"How come I get a bedroom and Nardole doesn't?"

"Because," the Doctor said. "You aren't annoying me today."

"Or for the past four years."

"Yes or for the past four years," the Doctor acknowledged. "Second left, third right, then down the stairs, up the stairs - that's a different set of stairs- and then either the first or second door down the hall. Just check them all. You'll find yours."

The Doctor's attention returned to his task at hand.

He pulled his screwdriver out of his pocket and pointed it at the contraption in his hand. It sparked for a moment and then the faint light emitting from it promptly went out.

"Well, that's not supposed to happen," he muttered before turning his attention back to Bill. "You. Off to bed. I'll make sure the TARDIS is nice.'

"Yes, sir," Bill replied, pretending to salute.

She could hear him murmuring to the console as she made her way up the stairs. But as she reached the top, something held her back from continuing on down the hall.

She spun on her heel, her hands gripping the rails.

"Doctor?"

"Mmm?"

"Why are there one hundred and six bedrooms if there's only like one or two people who ever travel with you? And like… you, who never seems to sleep?"

The sound of the screwdriver in the Doctor's hand, which had again been pointing at the strange gadget in an effort to get it to work, ceased. His back was to her, but she could still tell that the question was a bit heavier than she had meant it.

"Uh, well…" he began, trying to brighten his tone as he turned towards her. "They're… decommissioned."

"What, the bedrooms?"

"Yes, the bedrooms," the Doctor confirmed. "They're from my friends. Who used to travel with me. When they leave, however they leave… I keep their rooms. Just how they left them. In… honour of them."

Bill nodded.

"I see. I just wondered," she said quietly. "Uh… goodnight."

The Doctor immediately became more chipper, though his smile did seem forced.

"Yes, yes. Goodnight," he bade her, before adding, "Oh, and if you get lost, just ask the TARDIS to help you."

"Right. I'll… definitely do that. Goodnight, Doctor."

"Goodnight, Bill."


Bill stumbled out of the TARDIS, half-dressed in things she grabbed out of the wardrobe in her rush out.

She had slept for far too long and was most definitely going to be late for her morning shift. But, as would make more sense later on when she wasn't in such a state, there were no clocks on the TARDIS.

The Doctor was sitting at his desk, his feet propped up as he continued to mess with his machine. He hadn't seemed to have made much headway with it. In fact, it looked as if he had broken it more, as it was now emitting a high-pitched squeal amidst puffs of smoke.

"I'm so late," she groaned, tugging her shoe on while simultaneously pulling a jumper over her head. "Oi. You."

The Doctor started at the sound which caused him to drop the gadget. It crashed to the floor and broke into several pieces. But instead of immediately attendng to the pieces, he whipped off his sunglasses to look at Bill.

"What did I do?"

"You didn't wake me up. I'm going to be so late," Bill demanded as she tugged her other shoe on. "What time is it?"

"6:17 am, Greenwich Standard Time," he answered automatically. "Give or take two minutes."

Bill stopped, mouth agape, and straightened up.

"6:17. In the morning."

"Yes?"

"How can it only be 6:17 in the morning?" she asked, approaching his desk. "I slept for like twelve hours. How can it only be 6:17 in the morning?"

"You fell asleep in a time machine," the Doctor said slowly, still a bit stunned by her sudden (and loud) appearance. "Time doesn't work the same way in the TARDIS that it does out here. Toast?"

He held up a plate of buttered toast towards her. But she just stared.

"So… I slept for a ridiculously long time and… I'm not late for work?"

"Unless you're supposed to start work at 6:00 am, in which case you're very late."

Bill let out a sigh of relief. Her shift didn't start until 7:00 am and she was already dressed (well, mostly dressed) and at the University.

She took a seat in her normal chair across from the Doctor.

"Sorry," she said with a breathy chuckle. "I got a bit scared. Don't want to lose my job."

"Course. So, I take it you slept well?"

"Really well," Bill said, nodding. "Like I haven't slept in years. How did it… I mean, when you said to find my room, I thought you were telling me to go find an empty room to claim as my own. But I actually found my room. Like the one I grew up in."

"The TARDIS is slightly telepathic and it's stronger the farther in you go," the Doctor explained. He bent over from his chair and began sweeping the broken machine pieces into a pile. "It's programmed to create a room where you will feel most comfortable."

Bill couldn't help but smile. She knew learning something like that the TARDIS could basically read her memories should freak her out, but it did very much the opposite. Like it was taking care of her. Or, perhaps, its owner was.

"Did you… move it back in time or does it really not work the same way?" she asked before she could help herself.

The Doctor's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. Perhaps he thought she knew, or perhaps he was letting her come to her own conclusions.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she wondered aloud. "Letting me sleep in the TARDIS, making sure I'm not late, making me toast. Why?"

The Doctor shrugged, doing his best to seem nonchalant.

"It's just part of the deal. I teach you. You travel with me. I take care of you."

"But I'm a grown up," Bill stated, challenging him slightly. "I can take care of myself."

"Of course you can."

"So, why do it then? Why go to the trouble?"

"Well," the Doctor paused, considering. "I have a duty of care."

"A duty of what?" Bill asked, unable to prevent herself from chuckling.

"A duty of care," the Doctor repeated.

He was completely serious, which sobered Bill up at once.

"This friend of mine once," he continued. "She was a teacher I think. I don't really remember much about her. But I think, yes, I think she was a teacher. And she said that she had a 'duty of care' to protect her students. And I think have a duty of care to protect mine. From aliens or robots or running late in the morning."

The Doctor sat back at his chair.

This woman, Bill figured, was whoever, or whatever, the reason was that she was still sitting here in front of the Doctor. The reason she had traveled to another planet and back in time. The reason she still remembered Heather.

Whoever that woman was, Bill wished she could thank her. But as she couldn't, at least there was someone else she could thank.

"Thank you, Doctor," she said with a smile. "For your… duty of care, or whatever."

He waved a hand as if to say "it was nothing", but the way his eyes lit up a bit when she took a piece of toast from the plate as she got up to leave let her know that it clearly wasn't nothing at all.