The old man behind the counter smiled kindly as he rang up Clara's rather large assortment of sweets. "You'll rot your teeth on this lot," he scolded good naturedly.
"I'm not planning to eat them all at once!" Clara laughed. "I…travel, and you can only get these here at home."
"Get a bit homesick, do you?"
"Sometimes," Clara admitted.
"Here you go then," he said, adding a small tin of toffees to her parcel. "On me. A little bit of home that fits in your bag."
Clara smiled at the thoughtful gesture - it was one of those tourist things - the tin was shaped like Big Ben.
"All right, Clara?" the Doctor asked, stepping up beside her. "How many Cadburys are in there?" he added, seeing the contents of her bag.
"And how many packets of Jammie Dodgers have you got there?" Clara asked pointedly.
"Well, you can't get these when you're…er…abroad," he finished lamely, recalling that they weren't alone.
"Travel together, do you?" the old man asked conversationally.
"Yes -" The Doctor's voice broke off as he finally got a good look at the man behind the counter. "Wilfred? Wilfred Mott!" he exclaimed with genuine pleasure. "I'd have thought you'd be retired by now."
"I'm sorry, mate. Have we met?"
The Doctor silently cursed his runaway mouth, and tried to salvage the situation. "Oh, er…that is, I recall hearing about you. Aren't you the bloke whose granddaughter won the lottery that time? Wedding gift or some such?"
Wilfred stared suspiciously into the Doctor's eyes. "How'd you know about that? It weren't one of them enormous jackpots…enough to keep her happy and comfortable, but not enough to attract a lot of attention. How'd you know it was a wedding present? Unless…it was you who gave it to her? Is that you? Is that really you, Doctor?"
"Yes, Wilfred. It's me."
The old man stepped around the counter to clasp the Doctor's hands warmly. "God bless ya, lad! How is this possible? The last time I saw you, I thought, well…I thought you was dyin'?"
"I was, Wilfred. My body…well, it healed itself…changed. It's a gift my people have."
"Blimey. Donna was right. She said that sometimes she'd forget almost…you looked so much like a regular bloke, and then somethin'…somethin' would happen to remind her right proper that you was an alien. 'Course, you're the only alien I've ever had any use for."
"Thank you…I think."
Clara looked curiously from one man to the other. "Doctor?" she asked meaningfully.
"Oh, er, right - Clara, Wilfred. Wilfred, Clara."
"So you're travelin' with him now?"
"Yes."
"Save many worlds lately?"
Clara glanced sidewise at the Doctor, not positive how to answer.
"It's all right Clara. Wilfred knows who I am. His granddaughter used to travel with me."
"Do you still think of her, sometimes?" the old man asked wistfully.
"Often," the Doctor replied, "and with great affection."
"You won't never forget her, will you, Doctor?"
"No, I won't, and more to the point, the universe won't ever forget Donna. Far out across the galaxy, millions of miles away, there's a race called the Ood, and they sing songs of remembrance. They sing songs of Donna Noble, so her name will live forever."
"Thank you, Doctor," Wilfred replied. "I just wish…"
"I know. So do I." The Doctor cast about desperately to change to topic to something less painful than Donna's vanished memories. "This is very posh," he remarked, glancing about the sweet shop. "A far cry from your old newsstand."
"Well, it's just a couple days a week. I'm not the sort to just hang about all day doing nothing…especially not all day in the house with Sylvia, but she and Donna insisted that I give up the newsstand. Someplace safer, they said. Less fetching and carrying."
"Quite right, too." the Doctor agreed. "And do you still go out with your telescope?"
"They'll have to pry that out of my cold dead hands, they will."
"Take care of yourself, Wilfred," the Doctor said warmly, shaking hands with him once more.
Wilfred turned to Clara. "And you, sweetheart…you go off with him, and you see all the wonderful, amazing things he can show you. Don't waste a single moment."
"I won't," Clara promised. Impulsively, she kissed his cheek and hugged him tight for a moment. The Doctor reached out and enveloped them both in his arms. He sensed with a sudden strong clarity that Wilfred would be gone the next time he chanced to pass this way again.
"Off with you now," Wilfred said, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "And remember, just you remember this: every night, when the stars come out, I'm looking up at 'em and thinking of you both, and wishing you well."