Okay. So. This chapter is waaaaay longer than any of the rest of them and could probably be its own standalone AU, but I'm gonna put it here anyways. It's a little different in tone than the rest of them, but I still think it's good. I'll be interested to hear what you think.

Enjoy!

Bill knocked on the door to the Doctor's office.

It had been several days since she had seen him, and she was starting to get a little anxious about it. Typically, if she went any longer than a day without either checking in or checking on, he would send Nardole out to make sure she was okay.

For someone who gave off a grumpy "I-don't-care-about-anything" demeanor, he was pretty overprotective.

There was no answer, so she knocked again.

Still nothing,

She turned the handle and stepped inside the office.

The Doctor was at his desk, his head buried in his arms. Had Bill known the Doctor to sleep, she would have thought he was napping. But as she stepped closer, she could see headphone wires connecting him to the open laptop next to him.

She knocked once more, this time on the desk.

Immediately, the Doctor sat up. He grimaced as the headphones were yanked from his ears. His sonic sunglasses fell off and onto the desk in front of him.

"Whoever you are, how dare you come into my office without permission. I'll have you thrown out of this sch-"

"Doctor, it's me," she said quickly. "Bill."

She was a bit hurt that his face didn't soften the way it usually did when she came in.

"Bill. Right," he grumbled. "What are you doing here? It's… It's Saturday, isn't it? No tutoring today."

"Yeah. I know," Bill replied. "I'm not here for tutoring. I'm here to fetch you. We're going on a trip."

"You know the rules," the Doctor snapped, his hand tentatively feeling the desk for his glasses. "I have to be here to guard the Vault. No leaving Earth. No more TARDIS trips. No more."

"I didn't mean in the TARDIS. I borrowed my mate Shireen's car for the day so we could, you know, get out of town," Bill explained. "And they're about a foot in front of you. Straight ahead."

The Doctor said nothing to the offer nor the assistance, but did shift directions. He located his glasses and slid them back onto his nose.

"I'm not much in the mood for traveling."

"Well, I am," Bill insisted. "Come on. It'll be fun. Just you and me getting off campus. And we'll leave Nardole here. No doubt he's been bothering you lately."

"No more than usual," the Doctor muttered.

Bill took a seat in her usual chair across from the Doctor's desk. She watched him for a moment. His chin was in his hand, his face pointing just past her left elbow.

"What were you listening to?"

"Essays," the Doctor said bitterly. "Marking. It's terrible. It's like can hear the spelling errors, but I can't correct them. It's almost worse than reading them."

Bill chuckled. The Doctor did not, but Bill was pleased to see his face soften at least a little at his own sarcasm.

She leaned forward and set her hand gently atop his hand on the desk. He flinched at the unexpected touch, but didn't pull his hand away.

"Please, Doctor," Bill said quietly. "I think a bit of traveling is exactly what you need right now. Traveling that doesn't involve the possibility of any injury or death."

"I'd avoid certain parts of Scotland then," the Doctor muttered. "America too."

Bill smiled and squeezed his hand. He sighed and squeezed it back.

They made their way from the office down to where Bill had parked the car nearby.

Whatever the Doctor had done to his sonic sunglasses to help him get around seemed to work, but it wasn't quite enough. Bill noticed a certain hesitance in his steps, especially when students crossed their path. As if he knew they were there but couldn't tell how far they were from him.

"It's just ahead," Bill said as they got close. "About twenty feet."

The Doctor nodded. He didn't have the same hesitation in finding the car as he did crossing the campus, but he did still feel for the handle.

Once they were both settled into their seats, Bill shifted into gear and backed out of the lot.

"Bill?"

"Yeah?"

"Where exactly is it we're going?"

"Uh… Cardiff."

"Cardiff?" the Doctor said with something like disgust in his voice. "Why on Earth are we going to Cardiff?"

"Because I've never been and I wanted to go," Bill explained. She shrugged. "I figured it could be fun. What have you got against Cardiff?"

"It's too… Welsh."

Bill rolled her eyes. The light ahead turned red and once they were stopped, she took the opportunity to plug her phone into the speakers.

"I figured you probably didn't want to talk the entire time," Bill explained as she tapped the screen to shuffle the Spotify playlist she had pulled up. "So, I made sure to have some music to listen to."

Acoustic guitar music began playing from the car radio. Out of the corner of her eye, Bill could see the Doctor stiffen as he listened to the track.

Then, to her surprise, he scoffed.

"What?" Bill asked. "You don't like Bowie?"

"No. I didn't- I just… I just told him not to use this take, but he didn't listen, did he?"

It took all of Bill's willpower not to turn and stare at him, mouth agape.

"You mean…" she said slowly. "You knew David Bowie?"

"Of course I do," the Doctor replied. "He's on my pub trivia team."

Bill blinked.

"I told him not to use this take because I thought I was out of tune. Didn't think it sounded good," the Doctor continued. He motioning slightly in the direction of the radio where "Starman" warbled from the speakers. "But he insisted this was the version he wanted to use."

"So," Bill narrowed her eyes. "Not only did you know David Bowie, but you played with David Bowie."

"Yes," the Doctor confirmed.

"No," Bill said, shaking her head. "No. I think you're lying."

"Bill, who do you think the 'Starman' is? There's a starman waiting in the sky/ He'd like to come and meet us/ But he thinks he'd blow our minds," the Doctor sang along with the song before his face broke out into a large grin. "Do I not blow your mind?"

Bill mouthed wordlessly for a moment.

"O-Okay," she admitted as she followed a sign towards the M32. "So, you knew David Bowie. Any other world-changing musicians you're friends with that I should know about?"

There was silence for a moment as the Doctor considered this.

"Have you ever heard of the Beatles?"

Despite his initial criticism, the Doctor seemed to really enjoy the playlist. More than once, Bill noticed his hands raised as if he was strumming his guitar along to the music.

"This is a really good playlist," he said about halfway into their drive. "But this isn't your usual taste in music. Did you make this for me?"

"Uh… No," Bill replied. "Just found it on Spotify."

"Hmm. What's it called?"

"Dunno," Bill shrugged. "I'll have to look when we stop."

This was a lie.

She had not just found the playlist on Spotify. It was a carefully selected mix of mostly 60s, 70s, and 80s classic rock, with an emphasis on British bands and songs that featured a lot of electric guitar. And Bill knew exactly what the playlist was called because she had named it just for him: the Space Granddad playlist.

Whether or not he knew she was lying, he didn't say anything else. He just continued to listen, enjoying even some of the more (comparatively) recent songs on the playlist like The Killers' "Mr. Brightside".

During Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide" (which Bill always considered in her head as Stevie Nicks' "Landslide"), the Doctor's head turned in her direction.

"Are you singing?"

"What?" she asked, caught off guard. "Uh, no. I wasn't. Why?"

"I heard sort of an echo," he explained. "It sounded like it was coming from you. Was it singing?"

"Yes," Bill admitted, glad he could not see the color rising in her cheeks. "I'll stop."

"No, no. It was fine. Sounded on tune. Just couldn't hear you," the Doctor said quickly, before adding, "you should singer louder."

"I don't really sing out loud," Bill muttered. "Not even in the shower."

"But you should. One should always sing out loud. Especially in the shower or in the car."

"So is that what you do then?" Bill asked, amused. "When you're alone in the TARDIS? Sing?"

The Doctor inhaled deeply, shrugging.

"Sometimes. She has to be in the mood," he sighed. "But she prefers showtunes and I do not like showtunes. Except for Hamilton. I like Hamilton. I even told him that, the last time I saw him. I told him 'Alex, they wrote a musical about you. In the future'."

"Yeah? And what did he say to that?"

"'What's a musical?'? The Doctor answered, smirking. "Couldn't answer him though because there was a lizard. A very large, humanoid lizard that we were running from. Put a damper on the conversation."

Bill laughed at the image of Alexander Hamilton (who definitely looked like Lin-Manuel Miranda in her mind) running from some kind of humanoid lizard with the Doctor by his side.

"Oh!"

The Doctor sat up straighter in his seat.

"What? What is it?"

"Oh… oh, nothing," she reassured. "I can just see it. Cardiff. In the distance. We're nearly there."

The Doctor grumbled something under his breath that sounded vaguely like a description of a man. Bill distinctly heard "long coat" and "cleft chin" and something like "turn around and walk in the other direction".

She felt it best not to ask any questions about that.

They drove for a little while longer before Bill found a good place to park not far from some shops in downtown Cardiff.

"Doctor?"

"Hmm?"

He stopped, his hand on the door as he felt for the handle.

"I have to admit something," Bill said, avoiding eye contact even though he couldn't see her. "I did have ulterior motives behind this trip."

"I knew it," the Doctor muttered, slumping back against the seat. "No one goes to Cardiff for fun."

"No, that's not-" Bill stopped herself. She sighed. "I still do want to see Cardiff, and I want to spend the day with you, but this trip is also supposed to be an opportunity for you to practice."

"Practice what?"

"To practice being blind."

The Doctor heaved a heavy sigh. His hand rose to his forehead and he rubbed it back and forth, shaking his head.

"Bill, I told you. It's only temp-"

"I know what you said," she said, cutting him off. "You said that when we were on the space station. You said you'd fix it when we got to the TARDIS, but whatever that was didn't work, right? And I know you've said that you could probably fix it if you regenerated, but doesn't that mean you'd change? Isn't that what you said regeneration does?"

The Doctor did not reply but his silence was enough of an answer.

"I get why you wouldn't want to practice near campus. Questions and running into people and stuff," Bill continued. "But we're far away from campus now and there's a very low chance we're going to run into anyone we know. So just… humor me, okay? One day. Pretend it's not going away, or at least not any time soon. And just… practice."

Bill sighed and relaxed back against the seat of the car.

The Doctor said nothing. His face was completely blank, which Bill suspected was intentional.

"Fine," he sighed after a good five minutes of silence. "If it's that important to you."

They climbed out of the car, but as soon as they did, the Doctor cleared his throat. Bill turned to see him with a small almost triumphant smirk on his face.

"I just realized," he said, trying (and failing) not to sound smug. "I don't even have the stick to use."

"Right front pocket."

The Doctor's brow furrowed. He slipped his hand into his pocket.

"How- how did you know it was there?"

"Because that's where I told Nardole to put it," Bill said with a smile.

"But how did you know I was going to wear this coat? You couldn't have known-"

"You've got a pattern," Bill explained. She went around the car until she was next to him. "You wear your coats in a certain cycle, usually for about three days. That one was next in line."

"I… I didn't know I did that," he said quietly, unmistakably impressed with her perceptiveness of something he had never noticed.

Anyone who happened to be watching as the Doctor put his hand farther into is pocket and pulled out a long, straight white cane from his pocket would have been sure they were witnessing some sort of magic trick (and not just because of the illusion).

"I know I've seen you do that stuff before," Bill grinned. "But I don't think I'm ever going to get tired of the whole 'bigger-on-the-inside' thing."

The Doctor hummed his acknowledgement as he set the cane down against the ground.

"You know," he muttered as he fiddled with the handle. "With the sunglasses on, I don't need this."

"Ooookay…" Bill said, lengthening the vowel as she thought of what to say next. "Then…. Take the glasses off."

"Why would I do that?"

"You might not always have them," Bill said with a shrug. "They could break or get lost or you could be kidnapped and they're forcibly taken from you. So, you should be able to get around without them."

The Doctor said nothing, but it was clear by his frown that she had had a good point. But just as she was ready to sigh and move on, she was struck with an idea.

"Think of it as a challenge," she said slowly, her growing grin evident in her voice. "You're always down for a challenge, right? You love being better than everyone else at stuff. It's kind of your MO. "

"A… challenge?" the Doctor repeated. He raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Who… who would I be challenging?"

"I dunno. Yourself? Time? Your past selves or… your future selves?" Bill suggested. "You said you've had like a dozen faces, right? And I bet they're all really good at being, well, the Doctor. But how many of them can be the Doctor while blind?

"Like you saved us and yourself and the others on the space station without being able to see. So, just keep building on that. Get better at being blind, so you can still save the world and your friends and yourself. Glasses or no glasses."

His eyebrows rose as he considered her offer. He still had yet to give her an answer, but Bill had a feeling she knew what she was thinking.

"Plus, you really don't know how long this is going to last. And I since can't really convince you to learn this stuff to like… survive," Bill continued as an aside. "I'll take whatever gets you motivated."

The Doctor didn't seem to hear this (or perhaps chose to ignore her). But, nevertheless, he straightened up and redoubled his grip on the cane. Right as Bill opened her mouth to speak, he raised his hand towards the glasses.

For a moment, it seemed like he was going to take them off, but his hand hesitated midair. It hung for a moment and then dropped.

"Actually, I'm going to keep them on for now," he said, more to himself than to her. "Just until I get used to it."

Bill smiled and gently touched the back of his right arm to let him know where she was. He flinched slightly, but allowed her to loop her elbow into his.

"Where are we going first?"

"Well, I'm starving, so, I say we start with lunch," Bill stated. She scanned the shops around them. "There's a café that looks pretty good. About forty-five degrees to our right then about forty metres ahead."

The Doctor paused for a moment, orienting himself, and then allowed her to lead them in the direction of the café.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" the Doctor asked, holding up the cane. "What do I do with it?"

"Well, according to a bunch of stuff I read on the internet and watched on YouTube," Bill began. "You can either tap it back and forth or slide it. Whichever feels more comfortable to you. More natural, I guess."

The Doctor had to bit his tongue to stop himself from saying that neither felt natural to him. Though this was not what he wanted to be doing, nor did he necessarily feel that it was important, Bill clearly cared that he do it. As they walked towards the café, he considered whether or not any of his other companions would have insisted on this or if it was just Bill.

He concluded that many would have fussed and worried over him the way he had been trying to avoid, but that some would have done what Bill was doing. Yet, even as he thought about those companions and friends who would have cared more than worried, Bill's level of care and foresight still stood out.

It was times like this where he almost forgot they had only met last year and he wasn't actually her grandfather.

"There's a slight step up to go in," Bill said in a low voice as they reached the door to the café.

The Doctor found it with his cane and, though he still wasn't quite ready to admit it to Bill, he wouldn't have seen it noticed it through the sunglasses.

"Good afternoon," a young white man with curly blonde hair greeted as they stepped forward to the host's stand. "How many?"

"Two please," Bill replied brightly.

"This way," he directed.

Bill led them both forward into the café. The waiter seated them at a table on the far side of the room. The smell of something being sauteed in oil and garlic made Bill's mouth water.

"Our special today are the turkey sandwich on ciabatta with our housemade red pepper aioli," the waiter said, his tone rehearsed. "And the soup of the day is broccoli and cheddar. Uh, sir… is there a problem with your menu?"

The Doctor had been running a finger around the edges of the menu, focusing on the shape and textures. Upon the young man's statement, he cleared his throat.

"Uh, yes," the Doctor nodded. "I can't see it."

It took the waiter a moment to connect the statement with the cane, now resting against a nearby wall, but as soon as he did so, the color drained from his face.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry, sir. Let me- just give me a moment."

The young man excused himself and practically ran back to the host's stand. He stumbled back to their table a second later and set a Braille menu on the table in front of the Doctor.

"I'm so sorry, sir," he apologized. "Please let me know if you need me to, uh, read anything out for you or-"

"I can't exactly tell you that until I've had the chance to read it myself, can I?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

The waiter muttered a few more apologies and excused himself again, seemingly to take a moment and stop himself from freaking out.

Bill chuckled slightly.

"Did you enjoy that?" she asked quietly, smirking. "He looked almost as if he was going to piss himself."

The Doctor smirked in reply. His hand slid forward to locate the menu. As he started sliding his fingers over it, Bill raised an eyebrow.

"Can you read that? Because like ten minutes ago, you wouldn't even admit you couldn't see out loud."

"I learned," he muttered. "Just in case."

"When?"

"Last night."

Bill rested her chin in her hand.

"You learned an entire language in one night?" she asked, her eyes narrowed slightly in disbelief.

"Sure," the Doctor shrugged. "Would have done faster if Nardole hadn't been distracting me."

"What was he doing?"

"He was there."

Bill rolled her eyes and picked up her own menu. As she began to scan the items listed, she could see the Doctor remove his sunglasses and slide them into his coat pocket.

As his fingers moved across the raised letters, his typical frown was supplemented with a scoff.

"What's wrong?"

"The menu is spelled wrong."

"You sure you're not just reading it wrong?" she asked, peering at him over her own menu. "I mean you did say you just learned how to read it last night."

"I'm not reading it wrong," he hissed. "It's spelled wrong. It says 'legs' instead of 'eggs'. I mean, why would a restaurant sell chicken legs? It's just wr- wait."

Bill let out a peal of laughter as the Doctor cursed under his breath.

"I think we need to work on your reading comprehension," Bull chuckled.

"Shut up," he muttered.

They managed to order their lunch without further issues from either of their menus. Once the waiter had taken their orders and disappeared into the kitchen to deliver them, the Doctor and Bill sat in silence.

Bill's fingers tapped against the table as she looked around the small café. She inhaled sharply, which immediately made the Doctor sit up straighter, ears listening intently for any danger.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Huh?" Bill said as she turned back to him, frowning. "Nothing's wrong. It's just… there's a really pretty woman over there. That's all."

The Doctor nodded and relaxed back against his seat.

"Describe her."

"Just… Uh, well, she's white. Has blonde, curly hair-"

"Does she look like she could kill and/or seduce anyone in this room?"

Bill snorted.

"No? She looks like a mum. Why? Do you know someone like that?" Bill asked, intrigued. "Because I'll be honest, whoever that is sounds pretty cool."

"You'd've liked the wife."

Bill tensed at the word "wife".

She knew the Doctor had been married. He still wore a wedding ring on his left hand and Nardole had made comments that indicated this. But, aside from the random comment here or there, the Doctor himself had never brought it up on his own.

"That's the photo on your desk, right?" Bill asked before she could stop herself. "The pretty blonde lady? With the, oh I get it, the really curly hair?"

There was silence for a moment.

"Yes. That's her."

"What was her name?"

Again, the Doctor took a moment before answering.

"River."

Bill nodded, wondering how far she could take this conversation. The Doctor was now tapping his fingers against the table, but his face was blank. She had no idea what he was thinking.

"She… she died, yeah?" Bill asked hesitantly. "That's- that's why you don't talk about her?"

The Doctor stopped tapping the table. His hand squeezed into a fist for a moment, before he set his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. The action made it so his face was turned away from her. Bill couldn't tell if he knew that or not, but either way it made him even harder to read.

"Yes," he said finally. "She died a long time ago."

"Ah. Gotcha."

Bill resigned herself to the fact that this was the end of this particular conversation, but that was okay. She'd learned what she felt she needed to, and she figured that if her own wife had died and she didn't ever bring it up, she wouldn't want to be pushed into talking either. And the Doctor certainly wasn't continuing the discussion.

He remained silent until their food came out and continued not to say anything until Bill had paid for their food, handed him the cane, and had taken his arm once again.

She led him out of the café and past a few more shops. He hadn't put his sunglasses back on after lunch, and figured his silence was as much concentration on using the cane as it was bitterness for her having brought up his late wife.

"There's a park not too far," Bill offered as they paused so she could scan an announcement board with a map of the neighbourhood. "Fancy a walk? It's a nice day."

She felt him shrug slightly and forced herself not to sigh.

Bill made a mental note of the map and started them forward in the direction of the park.

She did her best to enjoy the sun peaking out from behind the clouds and the breeze on her skin, but even that couldn't melt the icy tension that had seemed to erupt between them.

"I want to sit down. There's a bench just up the path a little ways. On the left hand side," she said aloud. "So you know."

Still the Doctor said nothing. He did allow her, however, to lead him on and even guide his hand to the back of the bench once they had arrived.

Bill laid her head back and closed her eyes, focusing on the sound of the children laughing and the birds singing.

"It didn't make it any easier."

Bill sat up, and looked at the Doctor.

He was seating forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His fingers fidgeted absently with the cane, which he held upright just in front of his right shoulder.

"What 'didn't make it any easier'?"

"Knowing," the Doctor replied softly.

Bill waited for him to go on of his own accord. It took a few minutes, but eventually he ran a hand over his forehead and sighed.

"I knew that she was going to die," the Doctor explained. "She died the first day I met her. a long, long time ago. She knew everything about me. Even my name. And I didn't know a thing about her. It… I think it destroyed her a bit. Looking back."

"If she died the day you met her, how could she… I mean how did you…"

"She was a time traveler too," the Doctor added. "We went in different directions, her and I. When I met her for the first time, it was the last time she met me. As I learned more about her, she knew less about me. Our wedding was somewhere in the middle."

Bill wasn't sure why she expected the Doctor's wife to be, well, normal, but given her confused surprise, she had been banking on that more than she thought.

"Eventually, she met me," the Doctor continued. "Me, as in, this face. And she didn't know who I was. It… hurt. I assume she felt the same the day I met her.

"She had told me, right before she died, that the last time she saw me, I had worn a new suti and gotten a haircut and took her to dinner at the Singing Towers of Darillium. So I knew, all that time, every time I saw her again that that was where we were headed. That eventually, the two of us would end up spending our last night together on Darillium."

"And that last night," Bill said slowly. "Was with you? In- in this regeneration?"

The Doctor nodded.

"And when you said 'it didn't make it any easier', you meant that you figured spending that night with her would be easier because you already knew what was coming. That you'd had time to accept it?"

The Doctor didn't nod nor answer, but he didn't need to to let her know she was right.

"A night on Darillium, the night as it were, lasted for twenty-four years," the Doctor sighed. "We spent much longer together when you count all those times we went off in the TARDIS and came back a second after we left. And all that time I knew what came next. And she did too I'm sure, clever as she was. And I thought that knowing that would make it easier to let her go, to move on…. But in all that time, I just… fell…"

The Doctor coughed a couple times to clear his throat and mask the shakiness in his voice.

Talking about River like this… his hearts could barely take it. He had thought- he still thought that he was getting through it. That the grief was getting easier. And yet….

"I bet she appreciated it," Bill said after a long pause in which to let him grieve. "The time you spent with her. Even if she knew what came next, I bet she appreciated that you were there with her for so long."

The Doctor heaved a sigh. He raised his head, his eyes closed against the wind. For the first time so far, both in the conversation and in the day overall, he looked content. Peaceful, even.

"I think she did."

The longer Bill and the Doctor were out together, the more the Doctor seemed to enjoy himself.

Bill took him to several shops to fawn over things she couldn't afford. When she ran across particularly frilly or feathery outfits, she handed them to the Doctor to feel and tried to convince him that they were things she actually wanted to buy. The looks of concern and possible disgust on his face delighted her.

In a bookshop, Bill stole glances at the girl working the till in between reading passages of history books out loud to the Doctor, who would inevitably scoff and fill her in on the inaccuracies. More than once he would describe how he personally had impacted such event to which she would either chuckle or sush him as passers by gave them confused looks.

As the sun began to set to the west, she and the Doctor stepped out onto the pavement.

"How about a bite to eat and then home? We'll still have an hour's drive back, so we probably don't want to stay out too late," Bill suggested, looking around. "There's a sign over in front of that pub for an acoustic open mic night. What do you think? You up for it?"

"I assume there's going to be singing?"

"Uh… yeah? It's an open mic night. Why? Don't like singing?"

"No, it's fine. I just have to prepare myself for other people's screeching."

Bill rolled her eyes and started them in the direction of the pub.

They found seats near the bar, close enough to the small stage in the corner that Bill could see, but not too close that the speakers overwhelmed them.

Overall, the musicians weren't that bad. They had come in a little late and hadn't seen the first few, but most were actually halfway decent. There was one mousy girl with a ukulele that Bill could tell might have some of that screechiness the Doctor had mentioned, at which she took the opportunity to excuse herself to the loo.

"Did I miss anything good?" she asked the Doctor as she returned to her seat.

"Just another cover of something I don't care about."

"Thank you so much, Evan," a young black woman with a thick Welsh accent said into the mic as the crowd applauded the previous musician off-stage. "Up next we have... uh, well… it just says 'the Doctor'? I hope someone knows what that means?"

Bill turned wide-eyed to the Doctor next to her. He finished the last of his whiskey and stood up.

"Be back in a moment," he smiled in Bill's direction before making his way up to the stage.

"Okay, everyone," the host said cautiously. "I guess… give it up for the Doctor?"

The crowd applauded as the host walked off stage and the Doctor walked on. One of the pub goers closest to the stage helped him locate the acoustic guitar sitting on a stand next to the wall. He leaned the cane against the wall and allowed the man to turn him back towards the stool center stage.

He sat down, slipping the guitar strap over his shoulder as he did so. One hand tentatively reached out and found the microphone, which he began adjusting to the correct height.

"Uh, thank you for having me," he said softly, allowing him to judge how loud the microphone was. "And thank you for letting me, uh, borrow this. I'd have brought my own, but I didn't know I'd be coming to an open mic tonight. In fact, I didn't even know I'd be coming to Cardiff today but my granddaughter insisted. She's… out there somewhere."

Bill smiled broadly as some in the audience, including the host, looked around to locate this mysterious man's granddaughter. She gave them a tiny little wave.

"Uh, anyways. I'm the Doctor and I have to say I usually play electric. This song I'm about to play is the only one, well one of the only ones, I really know for acoustic. It was written by a friend of mine a while ago. You might know it and you might enjoy it. It may be a bit cliché for an open mic, but I don't care. Honestly, you can just get over yourselves."

A few in the audience picked up that the Doctor was being sarcastic and chuckled. Others just exchanged glances.

He pulled a guitar pick out of his pocket and began to strum.

He was correct; they did know the song. But whether or not any of them considered it cliché, no one seemed to care as his fingers deftly plucked out the tune.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night," he sang. "Take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life. You were only waiting for this moment to arise."

Bill couldn't help but grin as he played. She knew he could play, but she hadn't known that he could sing.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these sunken eyes and learn to see. All your life. You were only waiting for this moment to be free."

"Your granddad is really good."

Bill turned in the direction of the voice and found the host standing next to her.

"Thanks," Bill managed to get out. "Uh… I'm Bill."

"Jessa," the host said. "Nice to meet you Bill. I take it you're not from around here? Seeing as your granddad said it was a road trip and all."

"I mean… it's just Bristol," Bill shrugged. "Not… too far."

"Maybe I'll see you around here again then. We do this every fourth Saturday night," Jessa suggested, smiling. "You can bring him too if you like. But you don't have to."

"You were only waiting for this moment to arise. You were only waiting for this moment to arise. You were only waiting for this moment to arise."

The Doctor strummed the final chords of the song, letting the sound hang in the air. Once the last note had faded, there was a moment of silence before the crowd erupted into their loudest applause yet.

"How'd I do?" he asked Bill as he returned to where they sat. "Not bad for an old man."

"Not bad? You were great," Bill praised. "And… you got me a girl's phone number."

"Did I? Well, that's good then. I guess that means we're coming back."

"It means I'm coming back," Bill stated. "I don't know if you get to come with me."

"Aw," the Doctor sighed, feigning disappointment. "And Cardiff was just starting to grow on me."

Bill let go of the Doctor's arm as they entered his office.

"The TARDIS is to your right and your desk is straight ahead."

"Wonderful."

Bill hovered near the door as he made his way back to his desk. Once seated in his chair, she expected him to put the cane back in his pocket and put his sunglasses back on. But instead, he just leaned the cane up against his desk and leaned back in his chair.

"Thanks for coming with me. I know the whole thing was not really what you wanted to do, but I'm still glad you came with me. And had fun," Bill said. "You did have fun, right?"

"Yes, I think I did," he agreed. "That doesn't usually happen when I'm taken somewhere against my will or when I go to Wales, and yet…"

He smiled gently, which let Bill relax some.

"Good. The way it started off… Wasn't sure it was going to be worth it. But it worked out, yeah?" she asked rhetorically. Then she let out a sigh. "Definitely one of my better birthdays."

The Doctor frowned and sat up in his chair.

"Birthday? It's your birthday?"

"Yeah."

"All day?"

"That's typically how it goes, yeah," Bill pointed out. "I'd say that's obvious, but you're you, so I can't exactly say that, can I?"

The Doctor's brow furrowed.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice almost hurt.

"Because," Bill shrugged. "I wanted you to have fun and do the practice and stuff without feeling like you had to. Or feeling guilty about it."

"But I didn't get you anything," he stated. "Isn't that what humans normally do for birthdays?"

"Getting to spend the day with you was the present, you idiot," Bill chuckled, rolling her eyes.

The warmth that grew inside him at the statement lingered even after she bade him goodnight and past his nightly row with Nardole.

The next morning when Bill to visit, he was ready.

She found him in the TARDIS alone, setting the controls. He wore a different coat (which Bill identified as the next in his cycle) and had his sunglasses on again.

"I've got a surprise for you. To make up for not getting you anything yesterday."

"Doctor, I told you you don't have to do anything. I got my present already," Bill pressed. "Seriously. I mean it."

"Fine, fine," the Doctor said, waving her away as the grin on his face widened. "Then consider it payback. You kidnapped me for a trip, so I'm kidnapping you."

He threw the lever and the TARDIS engines began to wheeze as they dematerialized.

"You're going to be in so much trouble when Nardole hears about this," Bill jokingly scolded as she circled the console to where the Doctor stood.

She'd been hoping for a glance of the scanner when they felt the TARDIS land.

"The rule is that we're not allowed to leave Earth," the Doctor pointed out. He motioned towards the door. "August 15, 1969. Bethel, New York."

Bill ran to the TARDIS doors and peeked outside.

They were in the far back of a huge field packed with people of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Many had long hair or large afros. They could barely hear the music over the sound of the people, but that hardly seemed to matter.

"Woodstock," Bill breathed.

"Woodstock. Three days of peace and music. Which, as I recall, is on Earth," the Doctor grinned. "At least, I hope we're at Earth Woodstock and not the planet Woodstock because I'm not allowed back there. Personally, I think is a bit harsh of a punishment. I mean, the tentacles grew back, didn't they?"

Bill rushed back to the wardrobe and changed into something more era appropriate. Together, she and the Doctor stepped out onto the field. But before they could really start forward, the Doctor stopped. He seemed to consider something for a moment, before sliding the sunglasses off of his nose and looping his arm around hers.

"Bit overwhelming these," he muttered as he slid the glasses into his pocket. "And a bit too crowded for the stick, I think."

"You mean you have it?"

"Right front pocket."

Bill smiled and started them forward in the direction of the music and the crowds.

"Bet you five quid you can't find a way to get up onstage and perform."

The Doctor chuckled.

"You're on."