#*remembers

“I am an old man, Benjamin”, he answers. His hands are stained with asteroid dust. “I won the right to wear whatever I want from here to the death of the universe - and beyond, I think. Been there a few weeks ago, actually.”

“Still being invited to the big events, I see.“

“A side effect of shaping most of them.” He leans back on the TARDIS’ door, careful not to open it. “And look who’s talking”, he retorts, eyeing the striped slacks, a little too large for Ben’s frame, and the red shirt with long sleeves.

Ben rolls a pebble under his foot, kicks it. They watch it roll, roll, roll, under influence of the low gravity. “I’m in the middle of two big crises”, he says. “The pajamas seemed appropriate.”

“Alfie?”

Ben nods, staring at the black sky.

The Doctor studies the boy’s pensive brow. He looks ready to rip open an entire galaxy. Such a fantastic Time Lord he would have made, the Doctor thinks, for the hundredth time. A female voice in his mind, which he doesn’t quite recognize (but one he is sure he would have known, once upon a time), replies with a sarcastic “wow, bitter much?”.

“An accident with the equipment during his last expedition”, Ben starts. “One moment, everything is fine; next thing you know it’s all gone. Tools, machinery. Scientists.” He keeps looking straight ahead as he speaks. “I’ve stumbled upon a future where I find him. And, of course, it’s one where he doesn’t even acknowledge I exist.” A bitter laugh.

The Doctor doesn’t feel the usual inclination to warn against tampering with one’s future - he’s travelled with Ben long enough to know he wouldn’t listen to him if he said anything, anyway. Instead, he says:

“He’s probably doing that - will do that - to protect you.”

Ben turns his head and blinks at him. He goes on:

“Whatever swallowed him and his crew must be threatening your safety as well. So he is - he will cut all contact as a way of protecting you.” He scratches his nose. “You two always had a propensity for getting mixed up with terrible romance tropes. I’m surprised this one took that long to show up.”

Ben wears the unimpressed look on his face better now, but the Doctor knows he’s considering the possibility. Some people seemed to have their lives guided by storybook rules - Amy was one of them. So were Benjamin and Alfie.

“Speaking of terrible romances”, Ben diverts. “How’s River?”

The Doctor twirls the sonic screwdriver once, twice, then points it to the ground and turns it on. The chosen setting opens a small hole between the rocks and the dust.

“Left for the Library hours ago.” Another hole, right beside the first one.

“Ah”, Ben says. There isn’t much else to add.

Around them, the asteroid insists on being silent and gray. The sky looks endless, with small stars shining white and orange and blue against a black backdrop, and the Doctor wants to say out loud it isn’t - he’s been there, in all the points where the sky ends and Nothing takes it place. He wants to list every single spot he’s ever been and every single fact he’s learned until he can unearth what he’s been made to forget - the one whose face is painted on the TARDIS’ door, whose voice remains in his head, the person standing just out of reach.

Around them, the asteroid insists on being silent and gray, and the Doctor says nothing.

A moment later, he feels a bony hand on his shoulder. He looks at it, and then to its owner.

“You know”, Ben says. “How about you give me a lift?”

“I thought you had a time vortex.”

“Doctor.” Ben’s expression tells the Doctor he’s beginning to have fun with this. “I am a man in the middle of two big crises. Don’t you think I deserve to be comfortable while travelling, at least?”

The Doctor side-eyes him, more for the principle of the thing than out of real annoyance. He dusts his hands off, but makes no effort to do the same for his feet. The TARDIS will have to deal with asteroid dust for a while.

“You’re not touching the console”, he says. “River did something to the keyboards and I haven’t rewired them back yet.”

Benjamin’s only answer is an “I wouldn’t dream of it” that sounds far too innocent.

He’s typing as he enters the TARDIS. The Doctor doesn’t make much of it.

-

Clara has a small smile on her face as she leans over the console, cellphone in hand. Me could try to snoop over her shoulder and find out why, but Clara would start dancing around the cabin to block her view of the screen and Me can’t be distracted right now. Besides, she has a good idea of what could have made her glow like that.

“Is he fine?”, she asks, turning a knob.

“He’ll get there, in time. An old friend found him again.“

“Good”, Me says. “Can we go now?”

“Can’t leave Jane waiting”, Clara smiles. It’s a bit strained, and Me doesn’t comment on it.