A/N: I'm not gonna lie, I was so shocked with what happened last episode, but I also got to say that it gave another dimension to his story, and it was both a challenge and a delight for me to write this chapter. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did.
"Sometimes, home can be another person." – David Jones
The Doctor stumbled inside a building. He had no idea where he was, he didn't know what he led inside the first door the ran into, neither were that door led to. He just followed his instincts, trusting them better than the darkness that surrounded him.
He walked slowly around the cozy ambient, trying to middle in, to stay off radar, at the same time he tried to learn where he had ended up. He doubted anyone could tell about his recent disability, he looked as ordinary as the next human being. That is, until he crashed into what he assumed was a table and a loud noise was spread around the place.
He damned himself, praying that he hadn't gotten anyone's attention. He was sure someone had overheard him, he just hoped it hadn't been enough to cause a fuss. The last thing he needed was people worrying over him – he already paid Nardole for that.
Unfortunately, his wished had not been granted, as he heard a sweet soft voice calling for him, "You okay there?"
He looked at the general source of the sound, offering an almost unnoticeable smile, "Yeah, I'm fine."
His reassuring words didn't appear to be enough to set them off, however, "Can I help you? Get you anything?"
At first, he seemed reluctantly, until he decided to use their eyes for some insight, "Actually, yeah. Can you tell me where we are?"
Surprisingly, the answer took a while to come. He assumed them to be just as lost as he was. "London...?"
The Doctor laughed, almost ironically. "Yeah, I was hoping for something more specific then that."
He heard steps approaching. They were light, like they didn't have to hold too much weight onto them, they were hesitant, there was a great time difference between one and other, they were there. "You're in a diner. My diner."
He licked the corner of his lips, their low tone feeding his hearing as he nodded his head, "Have you ever stopped to think how possessive people are nowadays? I blame capitalism. It's always about what they own. It's your diner, not just a diner. Really, bums me up."
He felt the air tensing up, and he knew it was entirely his fault. Stupid Doctor, never knew when to stay quiet, "Are you telling me that those aren't your clothes, your shoes, your shades?"
The Doctor was surprised with the comeback – he hadn't expected them to say anything more. "No, those are indeed my things. I never said capitalism hadn't gotten to me as well."
He listened to their laugh, unsure how he had ended up being amusing, as those weren't his intentions. "Fair enough. Don't you want to grab a seat?"
He looked around himself, deciding what he should do next. Of course, he could cross his fingers and wonder in whatever direction, hoping it would lead him to a table, or he could just walk back the way he came in. Instinctively, he did none. "How good are you at keeping secrets?"
He could only assume they were looking at him funnily. "Even if I'm not, I don't think we know anyone in common to tell them your secret, now do we?"
His lips cracked a grin, "Do you want to know my secret?" he made sure to emphasize his pronoun, indirectly making remarks of the capitalism system they both trapped in.
"Sure, why not?"
He gestured with his finger, telling them to come closer. He waited until he could feel their breath next to him, and was surprised when their exhalation barely reached it up his shoulder. He bended his back, until he guessed they were almost at the same height, "I can't see anything."
He wished he could have seen the look on their face – human's expression was great in showing everything they were feeling. "What… What do you mean?"
The Doctor heard their voice coming right into his hears, "I mean that I'm blind."
He was sure he had heard the shock in her upcoming breaths, but he didn't – couldn't – understand why. Blindness wasn't such a rare defect, it was almost impossible to walk around London and have never seen a blind person passing by, then why were they feeling so affected by his allegation?
"You..." they cleared their throat, "You don't really look like you're blind."
He laughed to himself, "I fool people for a living, fooling you only means I'm still on the top of my game."
They sniffed, backing away a couple of steps, "You seem to have settled with your condition."
He shot his shoulders up and down, indifferently, "Am I or am I not, what difference would it make? I can't change what has happened to me."
There was a long pause. "I assume you haven't been blind your whole life, then."
"Nope," he shook his head, "Barely been blind a whole day."
"Then why are you wandering off London when you have no sense on how to act like a blind man?" their voice suddenly became high pitched, "You could end up injured, you fool!"
If he didn't know better – part of him thought he didn't – he would say they were lecturing him. "Fate tends to be on my side."
They tapped their foot against the floor, angrily, "Fate also tends to let us down."
"It didn't," he was quick to say, "It led me perfectly well to you, didn't it."
Their voice suddenly betrayed them, "Still, you shouldn't be so reckless…"
The Doctor was suspicious on why they cared so much, but he judged better to let it pass. "Do you want to know how I lost my sight?"
"If you want to tell me."
"I do," he agreed, "Under one condition."
"What is it?"
"You let me touch you."
He regretted his words the moment he heard them. He could only conclude they would think he was some sort of perv, would kick them out or worse, call the police. Those hadn't been his intentions, not at all.
"I'm sorry?" they squealed, within reason, distancing themselves even further away from him.
"Your face. Let me touch your face," he clarified, hoping he hadn't just scared the poor soul away. "I want to know the person to whom I'm telling the story. My story."
The silence prolonged for an even longer time. "Alright."
He was surprised when they agreed, but relieved. He felt their approach, and when he assumed they were close enough, he rose his hands in the air, trying to find their features.
Seeing his struggle while palping the air, they grabbed his hands on their own, leading him to their face. The Doctor appreciated their gesture as his fingertips felt the soft skin of their face. He smiled.
Careful not to disturb them anymore than he already was, his movements were slow and uncertain. His thumbs studied their forehead, tracing lines along it. He traced their eyebrows, analyzing how good of an arch they forced. His hands traveled to their apple cheeks, before finding their way to his nose. He almost laughed when he felt it bend into a pointy point. He studied their mouth – he was sure there was a smile hidden on it – touching their wet and delicate lips. He cupped their jawline, their very defined jawline, feeling their long hair touch the back of his hands. The Doctor didn't doubt no more, he was then certain he was talking to a girl.
His grin opened wide, "I like the way you feel."
His ears were delighted by the sound of her laugh, "Thank you?"
"You're very welcome," he joined her chuckle, "Why don't you lead me to a table and I'll tell you my story?"
He only knew she had agreed when he felt her tiny little hands wrap around his arms, guiding him towards the seat. He loved the way she felt, he loved how comforting that simple gesture was. He heard her pull a seat before helping him sit down. Although he hated being treated like a disabled person, he didn't mind how she was taking care of him.
He listened as she took a seat in front of him, "Okay then, I'm all ears."
The Doctor leaned closer to her, resting his elbows against the wooden table. He could feel her warm breath reaching his face, but he didn't mind. "Do you have any idea how beautiful space is?"
"I can imagine, yeah," she agreed.
His head made its way up and down, "Trust me, it's more beautiful than that. But what people tend to forget is how dangerous space is. Space wants to kill us, extinguish us. You might be wondering, why? And the answer is very simple: the universe doesn't care."
"Reasonable," she mumbled.
"I missed it. Space. Space is great, I was longing to go there. I wasn't supposed to, I hired a pal to prevent me from going there, but you know how you can never leave a candy in front of a child and not expect them to eat it."
She chuckled, "So you're comparing yourself to a child?"
"I'm over 2000 years old," he shrugged, "So what if I still sleep with a teddy bear?"
The girl simply giggled, ignoring how he had just confessed his absurd age.
"I went to space. With Nardole, my pal, and Bill, my companion. She was thrilled, had never been to space before. We landed at a space station, only problem is, there was no oxygen. You might be thinking, of course there isn't oxygen, we're in space, but the future is full of technology. They build anti-gravity and air bubbles gadget. A suit with an air shield around it!"
"I wasn't thinking that," she reassured him.
The Doctor nodded. "The suit, anyway, is a pretty clever idea. It tells you how many breaths you've got left until you're out of oxygen. What we really did not expect, however, was the suit to have life of its own, to have a conscience, and to kill you whenever it wanted."
"Then how could anyone wear it?" she pondered, her voice full of curiosity.
"They couldn't. Or they'd have to cross their fingers and hope the suit didn't come after them; that's what we did. We had to leave where we had first landed and meet the rest of the crew, who just happened to be very away. He put on the suits. Did I say that we were being chased by the now dead people's suits? Because we were."
"Sounds to me you guys were trapped," she concluded.
"We were," he concurred, "But that wasn't our main problem."
"What was?"
He seemed to think for a while, "Have you ever thought to yourself, how good fear is? When I was a child, a voice in my sleep told me that fear is a superpower. And it's true. When we're afraid, our minds work faster, we run quicker, we get cleverer, we become stronger, all due to the adrenaline running in our veins. Fear makes companion of us all."
"Then why was it a problem?" her voice was stuck in her throat, like she had suddenly been taken aback by his words.
"Because fear makes us breath faster, and the more we breathed, the less time we had to live. So we had to stay calm, let the fear pass right past us," he explained, "Surprisingly, we all managed to keep ourselves together until we reached the rest of the crew."
She was silent, most likely just waiting for more.
"We traded a few words, got chased by more dead people in orange suits. The only way we concluded to escape them, was to go out space, and that's what we did. We put on our helmets and headed off, praying that the suits wouldn't attack us. Our prays were not heard."
"Why?" her voice was soon hit with a wave of worry.
"It attacked Bill. Locked her out of her helmet as the space doors were about to open. Prevented her from breathing. I was left with only once alternative, the only thing I could do to keep her from dying. I gave her my helmet."
"But then you'd die!" she lectured him, even if she was in no position to do so.
"I'm not human, I can hold my breath for way longer than you can, than she could," he exclaimed. "I knew I would make it out alive, what I did not expect was to lose my vision in the process."
"So you got blinded in order to save her life," her voice was stuck in her throat, saddened.
"If you were in my place, you would do too," he offered her a smile.
"No, I don't think I'm that brave," she whispered, almost ashamed of herself.
The Doctor reached out to grab her hand. He missed at first, but he managed at last, were it for her help or not. "You're braver than you think."
"You've known me for five minutes, how would you know?"
"I don't know," he gave her hand a squeeze, "I just know that you have fire on you. I feel it. I sense your kindness, and how you'd do everything to protect the ones you love."
Had he still got his eyes, he was sure he would see her blush. He wasn't surprised when she abruptly changed the subject, "How… How did you stop the killing suits?"
He leaned back on his seat, but still didn't let go of him. Somehow, her hand fitted perfectly into his, "Capitalism."
"I'm sorry?" she gasped, in disbelieve.
"I mean it!" he yelled in his very strong Scottish accent, "Everything is about capitalism today, everything will be about capitalism in hundreds of years in the future. They were killing people to save oxygen, to save money, so all I had to do was to remind them that killing us would be way more expensive than letting us peacefully breathe."
"And they stopped?" she sounded amazed.
"They did," he agreed, "Shame, isn't it? How everything will be risked falling apart just because of stupid money."
"It is," she agreed, swallowing hard, "What are you going to do next? I mean, now that you don't have your eyes anymore."
Finally, he pulled his hand back to himself, "Haven't got the slightest clue. Mope around, probably, hope people doesn't realize what's wrong with me, carry on. That's what life is about after all, isn't it? Moving on."
She took a long breath, "I don't understand, why don't you want people to know about your condition? And why have you told me?"
"I don't want them to think that I'm broken, because I am not," he answered calmly, truthfully. He was silently for a while, before he got up. He walked to where she was still seated, placing his hand on her shoulder, feeling her underneath him one last time. "I needed a friend and you, my dear, you were my friend."
A/N: Any feedback is much appreciated :)