"Inevitably, you'll have questions."
Bill blinked to clear the fog. She was lying down in the TARDIS medical bay.
The lights were low but she could see the Doctor nearby, carefully arranging some instruments on a trolley.
"Twenty questions", he said.
"What?"
Bill sat up stiffly and swung her legs over the side. She gripped the edge of the bed as a wave of dizziness hit her.
The Doctor suddenly appeared, waving the sonic an inch from her temple.
"Twenty. That's all you're getting. By the way, that one counts."
"Which one?"
"That too."
He frowned at the reading and pulled the trolley closer.
"You're down to eighteen. Choose wisely."
"Why only twenty?"
The Doctor gave a weary sigh.
"Because, Bill, I have spent the day running from Daleks. I'm tired and would very much like a cup of tea. Seventeen left."
He pulled an overhead lamp down and angled it towards the cut on Bill's forehead.
"My head is killing me. What happened?"
She went to touch it but the Doctor batted her hand away. He examined the cut more closely under the light.
"For an advanced alien war race, Daleks are notoriously bad shots," he said. "Unfortunately for you, they hit the bulkhead as we ran past and.."
He took a handful of Bill's hair, gently twisted it and secured it back with a hair clip.
"And?" she prompted.
"And some debris fell on you."
There was a whirring sound as the dermal regenerator began to do its work.
"That would explain the state of my clothes." She tried to brush the grey dust from her jeans but only made it worse.
"Hold still," he said.
The Doctor angled the instrument over Bill's temple as he sealed the cut.
"Then what happened?"
"I did a thing and.. here we are." The whirring stopped and he pushed the lamp away.
"You really don't like explaining things do you?"
The Doctor gave a shrug and turned his attention to the abrasion on Bill's knee.
"Thirteen," he said as he peeled back the ripped jeans to get a better look.
"Thirteen already! But I've hardly asked anything!"
"Not very good at counting are you?"
"My counting is fine. My knee, not so much."
It was a bloody mess and stinging fiercely with the sudden exposure to cool air.
"I think you left half your skin behind on that ship," said the Doctor. He winced as he took a closer look. "Hopefully they won't extract your DNA and breed some kind of super-hybrid-Dalek-Bill-warrior."
Her eyes widened. "They can do that?"
"It was a joke."
Bill looked relieved.
"Or was it?" He grinned madly then motioned for her to lie down again.
"This may take a while. You might want to put on a film or something. Nineteen ninety-three was a good year. Start with that."
The Doctor was already halfway out the door when Bill called out.
"Hang on. I still have questions left."
He stopped and turned slowly, a smile playing at his lips. "So you have."
"Twelve," she said. "I still have twelve questions."
The Doctor fidgeted as if he were deciding on whether he would make good on his promise.
"Go make your tea," Bill said kindly. "And while you're doing that I'll decide on my twelve questions. Deal?"
"Deal."
Bill gave him a smile and sank into the pillow.
The Doctor called out from the hallway.
"Eleven!"