It was difficult to explain, especially as this involved another version of himself. How would it affect him to know of what his other self felt and suffered? Would he believe himself capable of something similar. The matter was complicated and confusing, especially to the woman unschooled in time travel.
“He…he has a particular condition. They call it bipolar.” She said, staring down at her hands. “He suffered a depressive episode and has gone to recover at the hospital.”
The Gallifreyan bit into the inside of his cheek as the Frenchwoman explained TC’s illness, and for the life of him, he couldn’t fight back the confusion which manifested itself within the rumpling of his brow. “Bipolar? Well, parallel universes do have their differences…” He couldn’t imagine that he’d ever be diagnosed with the same ailment, because there had always been a catalyst for his own changes in mood, none of which would be grounds for commitment.
“Oh, Im just saying hi.” He smirked. “Dont get your trousers in a twist.”
“But bowing your head? Come on, you’d almost think I was Henry the eighth! It’s a good thing I’m not, mind you.” And there he went, rambling about the past at length yet again, which wasn’t out of the ordinary if one considered the source.
Her smile fell slightly at the mention of her Doctor. The similar face of the man standing before her evoked feelings of nostalgia and tenderness. It was impossible to lie to him in such a state or to brush aside her thoughts. He could always see through her. It didn’t matter who the Doctor was or where he came from, he would always know her better than she knew herself.
“No, not of late.” She said, looking at her hands. “He has been unwell and is away recovering. I remain firmly in one place, looking after the children and the house.”
Clever eyes took notice of her fallen smile, but their keeper would refrain from mentioning it, as the Time Lord had no right to draw attention to her sorrow when she had spared him only moments before. “Recovering?” The elder sniffed softly, and cast those optics toward the nearest wall, then raised his lanky pinstriped arms to cross over his chest in a manner which verged on defensive. “What on earth does he have to recover from?”
“Doctor.” The metacrisis bows his head.
“No no no; don’t.. don’t do that.. I’d almost prefer having a salute.”
“The Doctor?” John looked at him, slightly shocked. “Captain John Hart.”
“The only one I know of.. well, so long as parallel universes an medical staff aren’t accounted for.”
“Nice to meet you, John.”
*She smiled back at him, not fully believing him, but choosing not to quibble. He would keep his secrets in the end.* You could be a courtier at Versailles. *She took his hand, placing a small kiss on his knuckles, something to put him at ease* How are you, my dearest Doctor? It has been so long since last we spoke. I imagine travels keep you occupied.
An immense feeling of relief washed over the elder as the Frenchwoman spared him, because not only did she have the opportunity to shed light on his lie, she could have reprimanded him for it just as easily. He was fortunate that Reinette was a kind and gentle soul. “Oh.. I’m fine; I’ve just been taking my time traveling through the eighties again.. strange place that is… What about you? Still on an adventure with your Doctor?”