They were sat in his office together, a David Bowie record crackling away on his player. She had her laptop resting on her thighs, lazily resting back against the arm of her large, plush chair. The Doctor was reading something, wearing that face of his — the face when he didn't quite understand something but was desperately trying to change that fact.
Bill cast her eyes in the direction of her mentor, noting the title of the novel: The Recovery of Unconscious Memories: Hypermnesia and Reminiscence. At least it was good to see him reading again since he'd gained his sight back. She shuddered at the memories. Sighing, her brows rose and she asked, "What's that for? Did you forget something?"
His head popped up, eyebrows less attacky in his current state of confusion. As he began to understand what she asked, he frowned. "No," he said slowly, wondering he should and shouldn't say on the matter. "I haven't forgotten anything. On the contrary, I've just remembered something. Or, someone, I should say."
He turned away again, deciding not to divulge any more information on the matter.
It wasn't until later on in the evening, as they wandered into a restaurant together for some Japanese, that she dared broach the subject again. "I know you're all… mysterious, right, but I can't stop thinking about what you said earlier. Can you give me a hint?"
It took the Doctor a long moment to realize just what she was referring to. And when he did, he chuckled. There was no stopping Bill. Not now, not ever. But he loved that unquenchable curiosity and thirst for knowledge from her, though. It was one of the things that made her so uniquely her.
"She was… the first face this face saw," he began, not at all ready for the look of sheer curiosity and adoration on Bill's features as she stared across the table at him. Wide wonder, really. He knew that look. He knew it well from this young lass. But the awe, the love in her eyes — that took him by surprise. Somewhere along the way, their relationship had lost a bit of its fatherly touch and they had become equals. Close friends, even. She made life interesting.
"So," she said, "regeneration, yeah? You weren't kidding. You really do change faces." He cast a pair of eyes in her direction, chuckling again. "I thought you were kidding," she added softly.
"Everyone always does," he replied back without missing a beat, his eyebrow arched.
Their conversation was briefly cut short as a waiter came by and they ordered. Lo mein for her, orange chicken and noodles for the Doctor, two bowls of Miso soup for them as well. He was the first to speak, too, after the waiter wandered off.
"I did something, far off in the future, although it was a long time ago for me now, to save someone I cared very much for," he began, "and that someone stopped me. And I was thankful for it. And she erased my memories so that I wouldn't have to live with the pain of seeing her face again."
Bill sobered instantly. "Your wife, you mean? Or someone else?"
Again, his eyebrow flew upwards. She remembered River? Of course she did. She remembered every little thing that he told her. Brilliant woman.
"No," he said softly, "not my wife. Her name was Clara. And someone… Someone wandered past me, months ago now, before the Monks came, wearing the same perfume. Only I was blind then, and I couldn't see her. But I know it was her. Now, I know that probably sounds mad, but it couldn't have been a normal, every day sort of thing because I bought her that perfume on Kuscarth, in the Slarth 6S9 Sector. It isn't exactly something Humans have easy access to."
Bill smiled. She smiled so broadly, her eyes lazily resting on his features and taking in his brief, mild embarrassment. "And you remember the smell of her perfume? She must be some woman, Doctor."
For a moment, if only a moment, he smiled softly. It felt too vulnerable, though, even talking about this. Before he could stop himself, a few words slipped out. "She wasn't just some woman. She wasmy impossible girl…"
Bill patted his hand gently, a sympathetic look on her face. "Let me help you find her."
That shocked him. Clearly. He drew away with a pair of raised brows. "You would do that? For me?" She could have smacked him then. He could he not think she'd help him?
"Don't be daft," she teased him. "You're my bezzie mate now. I'd do anything for you. If you need help finding a woman that you're in love with, which you clearly are, then I'll be here to help you, alright? You must love her. Your memories were wiped, you said, and she's important enough that your big Time Lord brain won't let you completely forget her. So yeah, I'll help you. Without question. 'Cause I know you'd do the same for me."
In that moment, well — he felt like the luckiest being in the entire Universe. He even sent a smile her way, despite how warm his cheeks had become. Is this what friendship felt like? He was in good hands.