"And so, we're having drinks, right? And then she asks me what I'm studying, and I totally blanked. Like, totally blanked. That's when it hit me. I have absolutely no clue."
The Doctor was seated at his desk across from Bill as she recounted the tale of her previous evening. He noted the confusion evident on her face but was oblivious to the underlying pleading.
"What do you even teach? Like, what subject is the course actually supposed to be in?" she asked, wishing she hadn't accidentally tossed away the syllabus at the start of term.
The Doctor considered for a moment. His hands were clasped and resting against his chin.
"Linguistics."
Bill narrowed her eyes, not believing him.
"Seriously?"
"How should I know?"
The answer earned him an eye roll.
"I mean, like… what course is it listed as on the syllabus? What did you write?" Bill clarified. "I mean you had to put something."
The Doctor seemed to consider for another moment.
"I didn't write the syllabus."
The sound of knocking drowned out Bill's small huff. He rose, pushing piles of marking together in some sort of effort to tidy up his desk before making his way towards the door.
"I guess I'm studying space. Can I say that?" Bill thought aloud. "Can I say I study space? I mean, I guess I could say I study astronomy."
"Astronomy is the study of space. I'm teaching you about the entire Universe."
Bill paused.
"What's the difference?"
The Doctor had had his hand on the door handle, ready to pull, but the question made him spin on his heel.
"'What's the difference?' That's it. No more trips in the TARDIS until you write 5,000 words on the difference between space and the Universe," he snapped, before turning back to the door.
He yanked it open, but not before muttering "species who've yet to invent interstellar travel are so frustrating".
Outside the door was a young woman the Doctor vaguely remembered seeing in his lectures.
"What do you want?"
"Uh, hello, sir," she greeted tentatively. "I'm here for… office hours?"
The Doctor frowned.
"I don't have office hours."
The young woman looked confused. She glanced down to the phone in her hand, before holding it up to point at
screen.
"It says right here on the syllabus. Office hours on Mondays from 1.00 pm to 4.00 pm in the afternoon."
"No, that's not right," the Doctor said, shaking his head.
"But you just wrote it at the beginning of term…"
"No, I wrote it in 1983."
The young woman raised a confused eyebrow, but her need to speak with the professor outweighed the pressure of her many, many questions.
She opened her mouth to speak but was distracted by the presence of Bill sitting in front of the Doctor's desk.
"Oh. I see," she said, her tone suddenly dripping with derision. "She's here."
The Doctor didn't understand the sudden change of attitude. He turned to look back at Bill for a moment before looking back to the young woman, confused.
"Yes. So?
"Sir, some of other students and I have noticed that you spend a lot of time tutoring her and you never have any time for the rest of us," the young woman explained. She's not even a student
here."
"Yes, she is."
"She works in the canteen."
"She can hear you," Bill said indignantly from across the room.
There was not even the smallest flash of remorse across woman's face. Not that Bill would have noticed if there was, as both she and the visitor were watching the Doctor closely for his
comment.
"Of course, she gets more time," he stated simply after a moment's pause. "She's family."
The woman's brow furrowed slightly.
"She's… family?"
"Yes. She's my granddaughter," the Doctor stated, waving a hand in Bill's direction. "Can't you see the family resemblance?"
Whether or not the woman saw any resemblance or not, she didn't say.
"Oh. Sorry," she muttered before raising her voice and looking at Bill. "Sorry."
Bill nodded, but her expression didn't change.
"But please sir," the student said, turning her attention back to the Doctor. "Please. We have questions and we need time to come ask you."
The Doctor was ready to close the door in the student's face, but he couldn't bring himself to. Instead, he rolled his eyes.
"Fine. 11.00 to 3.00 on Thursday."
The young woman sighed in relief and gave him a small smile.
"Thank you, sir."
"I should say, that's 11.00 pm to 3.00 am."
"...Sir?"
"I'll be awake."
For a moment, it seemed as if the student was content to take what she could get. But she pulled herself up to full height and looked him in the eye.
"Please, sir."
"Fine," the Doctor conceded with the air of someone who really couldn't be bothered. "2.00 to 5.00 pm Friday. And you better be on time. I'm very particular about time."
The young woman lit up. She nodded, thanking him profusely before turning on her heel to leave, her mission
accomplished.
The Doctor shut the door behind her. He leaned against it for a moment, muttering something unintelligible under his breath before turning back to Bill. She was waiting, an eyebrow
raised in his direction.
"Sorry about that," he mumbled.
He started back to his desk, keenly aware of Bill's eyes on him. As he took his seat, he finally met her gaze.
"So," she said with a smirk. "I'm your granddaughter now, am I?"
"It's just a thing I've told people," he said, not looking at her. "She's not the first who has noticed I spend a lot of time with you. You told your friends that I was your grandfather and they bought it, so I've been telling others that too."
Bill's smirk grew the longer he avoided eye contact.
"Though, I don't know why they believe it," he continued "As I don't think I'm old enough be your grandfather."
"You told me you're like 2,000 years old."
"I mean I don't look old enough."
Bill's eyes narrowed.
"See, every time you say that, I can't tell if you're trying to take the mick or not."
"If you don't want me to call you my granddaughter, I won't," the Doctor shrugged. "It's up to you."
Had she not suspected differently, the way he discussed the matter would have led her to believe he really didn't care about it that much. But there was a slight nervousness to him that indicated he cared more than he let on.
Bill smiled.
"No. I like it," she said happily. "You're like my... space grandad."
The Doctor's shoulders drooped as he sighed. He leaned forwards, his elbows on his desk, and ran his hands over his face. For a moment, Bill was sure he had changed his mind about the whole thing.
"I told you," he mumbled, pulling his hands away from his face. "I'm not from space. I'm from a planet."
"Yeah," Bill chuckled. "But not this one."
The Doctor acknowledged this with a small tilt of his head. Then he leaned back and kicked his feet up on the desk, observing her.
"Where were we?" The Doctor thought aloud. "Oh right. Ten thousand words on the difference between space and the Universe."
"Ten thousand?" Bill asked, taken aback. "It was just five…"
"Yes, and now it's ten," the Doctor informed her.
He waited for her to push back against this with a raised eyebrow and was amused when her look of shock transformed into a smirk.
"Mmmm, I don't think you can do that, Granddad."
"Oh, I see," the Doctor smiled. "So, you think being my granddaughter means I'm going to easier
on you? No, no. It means I'm going to go much harder on you."
"You're already requiring me to get nothing less than a first," Bill pointed out. "How much harder can you push me?"
The Doctor shrugged, a smug smile on his face.
"I guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?"
"You better be careful," Bill warned playfully. "Or I'll tell Gran."
As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she had said something wrong.
The Doctor's face fell almost immediately. His eyes snapped to the photo of a curly-haired blonde woman that sat on his desk. Bill didn't know who this woman nor the young woman in a
striped shirt in a black-and-white photo opposite were but given that the Doctor had never brought them up, she had the feeling that the subject was off-limits.
"Sorry," she apologized quietly. "I shouldn't have… Is that- That's a sensitive topic, right? I shouldn't have said anything. Sorry."
The Doctor said nothing. He just stared at the photo for a moment.
But then he gave a half-smile and turned back to Bill. There was still sadness in his eyes.
"No, no," he said, shaking his head. "I was… I was just imagining what she would have said if someone ever called her 'Gran'. She'd probably shoot them. Well, no. She'd be find with whoever said it, but she'd shoot me for letting them call her that."
He gave the photo one more sad and longing glance.
"So," he said, clapping as he changed the subject. "Ten thousand words. Difference between space and the Universe."
"How about instead I go get us coffee and nick some chips from the canteen?"
"That'll do…" the Doctor said after a moment to consider her proposition. "...To reduce it back down to five thousand words."
Bill rolled her eyes but slung her bag over her shoulder and stood up nonetheless.
"Oh my God," she muttered under her breath as she turned for the door.
"Be careful young lady," the Doctor smirked. "Or I'll ground you."
"I'm grounded as long as you are," she called over her shoulder.
"That's it. Fifteen thousand. On my desk by tomorrow."
The Doctor enjoyed the sound of Bill's grumblings as she left his office. He considered shouting "extra foam or it's twenty" but thought better of it.
As silence fell again, he looked at the photograph of Susan on his desk.
It had been so long since he had seen her. His first companion, his granddaughter, who had left him long ago. He told himself that it was the Time War that had made him lose track of her, but
if he was honest with himself, he had lost her long before that.
"Don't worry. I'm not replacing you," he said to the photo in a low murmur. "No one could replace you."
He looked back at the door. The grumblings had disappeared as Bill had stormed down the hall, but he could only imagine they would return in force when she returned. Especially if he
continued to joke about lengthening her essay (which made him want to all the
more).
"She could never replace you, Susan," he said quietly, his attention still on the door. He grinned. "But she's still pretty damn good, eh?"