"This is all really very nice President Flavia, but we still have a companion floating round out with ... going spare."

"Then allow me to send a troop of Chancellery Guards back with you Doctor," Flavia offered.

The Doctor looked at the few remaining, still standing, Guardsmen.

Even Commander Maxil had been wounded by the invaders, and was being tended to by the Surgeon General, Lord Gomer.

The Doctor shook his head. "Thank you, President Flavia, but your Guards are needed here on Gallifrey." He screwed up the features of his face. "What a mess! So if you'll forgive us ..."

The bemused President wanted to argue further, but the Doctor and his companions were already out of the High Council chamber, and headed on a run towards the TARDIS.

Wistfully the wearer of Gold Usher slowly shook her head. "Do take care, Renegade," Flavia whispered. "Good-luck."

Clenching his fist, he looked up at the only working monitor, and saw the Doctor leaving the Council chamber. "Meddling Doctor! Always the interfering fool! But you won't cheat me of this! Not this time!"

The Master turned, staggering down the corridor to his Console Room.

Throwing the switch on the panel insert, in the chair's arm, the Master engaged the device. His body jerked convulsively as it reacted to the in surge of the hyperon energies.

A thin ribbon of blood streamed from one ear, slowly trickling down the side of her face.

She sighed deeply. "And now I know, his mental powers are superior to mine."

However, the logical center of her brain rejected that conclusion.

"But if that is so, why am I still alive?"

Tilting her head back against the frame of the gaming scaffolding, the little Doctor closed her eyes.

"Maybe the Master just crawled off to die. Maybe I'm dying."

Her eyes popped open. "Oh, what a disconcerting thought that is, Doctor."

Her eyes, watery and cloudy, slowly closed once again. She was tired ... so very tired.

"Gosh ... I don't feel well."

The Master whole and recovered, entered the gymnasium fuming in his grandiose way. "Interference, always his blasted interference!"

"Wha ... who?" said the little Doctor murkily.

"The Doctor," seethed the Master.

"Here," she halfheartedly lifted up the index finger of her left hand.

"No, not you, the other you," the Master seethed. Suddenly his entire countenance changed.

Standing akimbo above her the Master began to chuckle. "It appears my dear, your other self has deserted you."

"Not without ... reason," the little Doctor mumbled, her words, slightly slurring.

The Master grinned widely, obviously enjoying the disorientation, and pain she was feeling.

Looking up at the Master the little Doctor tried to focus her eyes.

She was able to noticed he'd changed into clean garments, and was brimming with health and vibrant energy.

"But you're not supposed to win. You don't own a white hat. The guys in the white hats always win."

She felt reality clouding. "Gallifrey ... What have you done to Gallifrey?"

She struggled to stand.

The Master looked at her with a puzzled grin on his face.

Falling back her voice became a whisper. "Gallifrey." Then, the word was spoken so softly even the Master, standing so close to her, couldn't hear her cry, one last time: "Gallifrey!"

Closing her eyes the little Doctor entered the protective state of self induced unconsciousness.

The Master watched all, well pleased. "So, you choose to retreat within, Doctor? Good, very good. One nearly down. One to go."

The Master smiled, grinning sinisterly, contemplated his next move.

Bending down to the little Doctor, his back towards the doorway of the gymnasium, his hands encircled her throat. "Oh Doctor, I'm so going to enjoy this."

"Let her go," the voice commanded. Turning his head, the Master was startled by a tattered, heaving hulk standing in the doorway.

The Doctor had a rifle in his hands, aimed directly at the Master.

The Master's face broke out into a grin, as he slowly released the little Doctor. "Hate Doctor?" he asked, slowly standing, turning to face him. "Do I see hatred, in those insufferably compassionate eyes of yours?"

"Get away from her," the Doctor panted, trying to see past the Master.

The Master obliged with a wide, sweeping flourish, and stepped aside, revealing the little Doctor, slumped on the floor like so much rubbish.

The Doctor was startled by the little Doctor's disheveled appearance, just long enough for the Master to casually remove his T. C. E. and aim it directly at her.

The Master began to softly chuckle, inching closer and closer to the little Doctor.

He was so intent on enjoying the Doctor's pain, he failed to see the little Doctor warily open an eye.

The Master stepped even closer, and placed the T. C. E. directly against the side of the little Doctor's face.

"Matter condensation, Doctor. A little parlor trick I picked up on Eriddnus-Cursa. A particularly nasty little death. Even prevents one from regenerating." He pondered. "Must somehow interfere with the nexus glands functions." The Master continued his ostentatious tautology. "Cold metal against warm skin, Doctor. A sizzle, and a smell of ozone, before her world explodes into a million fragments of light."

The Doctor still had his rifle aimed directly at the Master.

And the last thing you will do is ... die," he said very calmly.

The Master obligingly backed away from the little Doctor, but still had the T. C. E. leveled at her. "Perhaps I was being a bit overzealous, Doctor, but it isn't everyday a Time Lord reinstates a whole new cycle for himself. Surely I am entitled to a small celebration?"

"So that's what you did with the, hyperon energies you stole from the Matrix?" the Doctor said, glaring. "But how can you be sure your theft worked?"

"Because, dear Doctor, a few minutes ago I was worse off than even this Doctor. And look at me now." The jackanapes Master gestured expansively.

"So you extended a stolen regeneration a while longer," the Doctor said flatly, shrugging. "What makes you think you possess an entire new cycle now?"

"Only time will tell that for certain, Doctor," the Master said. "For the present, this is .."

Having heard enough, and summoning the last vestige of her strength, the little Doctor reached out and disarmed the Master, knocking the weapon from his hand. "Didn't your mother tell you it was rude to point?" she admonished, interrupting him. Then she collapsed.

Munchkin rushed to her side.

The Master was caught totally unawares by the little Doctor's words and her deft action.

The Doctor used the moment wisely, hurling himself at the Master, pinning him to the deck.

Knocking the Master out with a well placed punch to the jaw, the Doctor nodded his head victoriously.

Grabbing hold of the Master's lapels the Doctor drug him over to the little Doctor's side.

Slowly she was coming round.

Carefully sitting her up, Munchkin smiled at the Doctor.

The little Doctor's eyes journeyed to him, and she slowly exhaled a whole mouthful of air.

Turning to the little Doctor the Doctor grinned widely. "You know, mucking in spud," he said, as he began to tightly bound the unconscious Master. "Even with that slow leak of yours, we four make a very formidable and unstoppable team."

The little Doctor bobbed her head, smiling weakly. "Oh, quite," she said softly.

Concerned by her lack of enthusiasm, and her mobility the Doctor walked over to her.

Kneeling down beside her, taking her head gently in his hands, he turned the side of her face towards him.

The tiny ribbon of blood trickling from her ear, told the Doctor all he needed to know.

"You are definitely not all right."

"Yes I am Doctor," the little Doctor said, trying to appear unconcerned, wiping away the blood on the back of her sleeve. "A bit fuzzy headed perhaps, but I've been that way since I regenerated. Not to mention my propensity for coming unbuttoned."

The Doctor snorted in disgust, eyeing her keenly. "In more than one way too," he grunted, gently buttoning two of the buttons on her white shirt, taking a very close notice of the pale gold camisole underneath.

The Doctor's face quickly soured, as his eyes met hers. "But we're not taking any chances," he griped, deciding. "To Sick Bay!"

As the Doctor took her up into his arms the little Doctor put her head against him. "Agreed," she whispered.

Realizing the little Doctor was far too weak to argue or debate, the Doctor's concern for her deepened.

Was it truly just an unconscious action, as he drew her closer to him, or was it perhaps, something more?

"No!" the Doctor sniffed. "Concussions and brain hemorrhages are not to be taken lightly. Be grateful you are still about to shadow me Time Lady."

"So much for the cheerful bedside manner," she chided.

"Madame, I am the Doctor, not a doctor!" he snorted.

"So why can't I just go to the Zero Room?" the little Doctor pouted.

"Because I need you here so I can monitor you. Later, when all you need do is recover, I'll escort you to the Zero Room, personally." For good measure the Doctor added. "My little Sontaran."

The little Doctor smiled at that, realizing it had to be her pair of blackened eyes he was so unkindly(?) alluding to.

"President Flavia, the hyperon fields have been stable for one cycle now, and are on a slow, even build. The Matrix reads clear."

"Thank you, Technician Torbis," Flavia said, looking at the larger, overhead display of the Matrix. "So we see."

Turning to herself her words became softer, less formal. "Well Renegade, it appears you not only located your misplaced alter ego, but you have successfully plugged our drain. Thank you Doctor, ah, Doctors from all Gallifrey; wherever in the cosmos you may be."

The President sighed deeply. "Looks like Coordinator Engin has his bio data updating cut out for him this evening."

As she turned and headed towards her private quarters, Flavia placed her fingertips together, a wry smile coming to her face. The most powerful and central figure among the Time Lords began to blush slightly. "Oh, and Doctor, don't forget to bring the little Doctor back to us. She will know when it is time to come home, for she is a female now, and will on occasion require a certain number of Fosters and Servitors , to assist her." Flavia chuckled softly. She couldn't help but wonder just how the little Doctor would react, the very first time she was exposed to the overwhelming powerful drives of Estrus. In the very least, an awkward position for one so long a male. Flavia smiled. If she could but be a mouse in the corner of the TARDIS when those particular glandular rhythms converged. Flavia's head cocked to the side in puzzlement. What was that expression the Doctor had used once that was so fitting? Ah, yes. A horse of a different colour. Assuredly!

True, eventually they were going to have to return the imprisoned Master; but for the present, getting to know each other better was infinitely more fun.

Between the Doctor's Sick Bay ministering, and the Zero Room's therapeutics, the little Doctor was now completely healed of the injuries sustained by the Master.

Wearing their two piece, non-revealing swim suits, they were enjoying the water immensely. Even in public waters, Gallifreyans were by their natures very shy, and the two were almost completely covered up.

The Doctor slowly walked out of the pool, beginning to dry himself.

K9 (with his water wings) and Munchkin were still in the water.

His orange bathing drawers, connected to a polo neck, scarlet leotard, had scarlet stripes on them, and looked very much like a pair of boxing shorts. Underneath them were a pair of scarlet tights (without feet), the second part of his bathing suit.

The Doctor came to his alter-ego's side.

Her bathing costume was also shades of scarlet and orange. It too, a layered, two piece affair, much like the Doctor's. However, instead of an attached pair of shorts, her orange leotard held a short, pleated, scarlet skirt. Also connected to the leotard, was a wide bib front. It too, scarlet in color. Underneath the one piece bathing dress was a pair of orange tights.

"You all right, Doctor?" the little Doctor asked, at bit concerned at his silence, beginning to fluff her hair with a towel.

"Yes, just a wee tired," the Doctor said, quietly suspiring. I guess we really ought to be on our way back to Rassilon now."

She nodded, beginning to rub his neck and shoulders. "I agree. I don't like the idea of us providing the Master free room and board."

The Doctor chuckled. That was exactly what he was thinking! "Oh that feels marvelous, Doctor," he expounded.

"Would you like me to walk on your back?" she offered, removing her hands from his neck.

"What do you know about Gallifreyan back walking?" he chided, crinkling his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Aup! I am Gallifreyan, Doctor," she bawled. "But if I'm going to be insulted," she began, curling her upper lip. "Just, forget it, and all its numerous therapeutical benefits."

"Oh, all right," he said sighing exaggeratedly, laying down on one of his towels. "If you must. Walk on!"

Momentarily he turned back over on his side, looking up at the little Doctor. The Doctor grinned toothily. "By the way, how much do you weigh now?"

"One hundredweight three stones," she said, very casually.

"I'll be crushed to a Singularity!" he screamed, laying back down, resolved to his fate.

The little Doctor shook her head, carefully stepping up onto the Doctor's waist, and slowly padded towards his wide shoulders.

"Three hundredweight two stones, wimpy, pantywaist," she chided, balancing herself. "If our roles were reversed, you wouldn't hear me whining and grumbling so. I'd be enjoying it."

"Oh, quite," the Doctor said, forcing a coughing fit. "Sturdy lot, you females of Gallifrey."

The little Doctor smiled, nodding; carefully continuing the firm kneading of the Doctor's back with her tiny feet.

"No! No! No!" he screamed. "That isn't you! Stop wearing everybody else's clothing!"

"But the old stuff's comfortable," the little Doctor snorted. It's familiar. Besides, the earrings are mine," she said, bending towards him, showing him the shiny orbs with their slender silver question marks, attached to her ears. "So are the toe socks," she replied, wiggling her brightly bedecked toes through the rainbow colored thongs. "And, not to forget, my flutterwing perfume!"

The Doctor was not appeased by what he thought were minor concessions. He pointed menacingly towards the door leading to the interior of the TARDIS. "And don't come back until you look like you!"

"But," the little Doctor continued to argue.

"No buts about it ... let yourself go," he gestured animatedly. "Use that fertile, creative, imagination for something more than a hat stand."

"Oh, alright, I'll try. Come on Munchie, I need another female mind in on this."

"Right, Doctor," the little elfin female agreed.

"Mistress?" K9 offered.

"No, K9, this is woman's work ... you will only be in the way," Munchkin scolded. "Go play chess with your Master."

As the Doctor stood alone in the cream colored Console Room, he slowly shook his head. It was strange in a way. The sixth persona had reacted to his particular regeneration by switching personalities every five minutes or so: running the gauntlet from the Boston Strangler, to Sherlock Holmes, to Hern the Hunter. The seventh persona, by constantly switching to the different costumes of her former selves. And he? Why the fourth persona had, had no trouble at all. His eyes began to twinkle mischievously. In a pig's eye!

She cleared her throat, loudly.

Sliding out from under the console the Doctor looked up at her, holding a component in his hands. Standing, he proceeded to walk round her in precise determined steps, studying her intently.

"Well?" the little Doctor asked, anxious for the Doctor's approval of the brown jump suit with wide bell bottoms she was presently wearing.

Across the top left hand pocket of the coveralls were the words: "K9 TESH". The white shirt worn under the dark suit was festooned with slender brown question marks. A brown & white checked neck cloth was tied in a knot round her neck. A brown, Russian cap perched atop her head. Over the jump suit was a tan leather coat trimmed in sheepskin. The coat's collar held two small silver enamel pins that looked like miniature K9s. A ten foot white scarf, and a sliver chain with her TARDIS key, hung from her neck.

The newest Doctor had 'arrived' and was waiting.

"Well, have I dropped another clinger, or no?"

Finally the Doctor's long scrutiny stopped. So too his pacing. "Well?" the little Doctor asked a third time.

Without a word, the Doctor handed her the component. Turning he briskly exited the Console Room.

"Oh, that man!" she snorted, shaking a tiny fist towards the interior door. "I swear by the ebony Rod of Rassilon ..." she promised, glaring towards the ceiling. "One day!"

"What!" the little Doctor screamed.

"I liked your outfit, so I duplicated it," he explained.

"But ... but ... but ..." she stammered. "Why?"

"Madame, I have known for centuries who I am. You needed to discover your own self. Now that you have," he conceded. "Dress anyway you please."

"Well ..." the little Doctor began sheepishly. "I like the way I look."

The Doctor's face broke out into its wide toothy grin. "So do I. Especially the enamel pins."

The bound Master between them, glaring hatefully.

Rassilon's Time Ring returning the trio, as planned.

The larger than life holographic projection suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

"This is the Game of Rassilon!"

The two Doctors, holding firmly to the Master's arms, bowed their heads humbly.

"We have brought you the Master, as requested, Lord Rassilon," said the Doctor.

"Alive, undamaged, bound and gagged, Lord Rassilon," added the little Doctor.

The projection nodded.

The bound form of the Master slowly faded from between the two.

"Well, Doctors? Why are you standing here?" Rassilon's eyes narrowed. "Awaiting further orders? Then have them." The projection looked at the little Doctor. "Your TARDIS is ready, Doctor. Do not keep her waiting." The Projection turned his head. "As for you Doctor, return to your cubicle."

The Doctor rubbed his face. "Ah, Lord Rassilon, the Doctor and I have discussed this contingency at length and we think ..." the Doctor began.

"I do not pay you to think, Doctor," Rassilon interrupted. "I have no further need of you, nor does the Doctor, so do as I command! "

The Doctor looked at the little Doctor, then turned his head towards Rassilon's projection. He cleared his throat. "But she does need me, Lord Rassilon."

"For what purpose?" Rassilon scowled.

"Protection," he grinned. "You wouldn't believe the intensity of the little black cloud that eternally dogs her footsteps."

"Then I'll supply her with a Raston Robot."

"But I would prefer the Doctor, Lord Rassilon," the little Doctor implored.

"Why? He is but a redundancy, Renegade."

"Perhaps, that is the reason, Lord Rassilon," she said winsomely.

Gazing at her, the Doctor reacted to the little Doctor's answer with a crooked smile.

"Besides, I find him, an interesting challenge." The little Doctor's soft hazel eyes began to sparkle impishly.

The Doctor's expression quickly dissolved to a puzzled affront. Perhaps suspended animation wasn't all that bad. At least it wouldn't be exasperating!

"You are suggesting, Renegade, I release two Doctors to run amok in the same time stream together? Is it not enough that there are already twelve others of you scattered throughout Time and Space?"

"I hear no Universal grumbling at the suggestion, Lord Rassilon," the little Doctor replied softly.

"Not even the sound of a Q-star collapsing," the Doctor added.

Rassilon gave their words long pause for reflection. "Perhaps. Perhaps it would be an interesting ..."

"Experiment?" the little Doctor offered.

"Oh yes, Lord Rassilon. Much more interesting than watching someone's nonexistence in a 7 X 3 foot cubicle," argued the Doctor.

"I shall ignore that last comment, Doctor," snorted the projection. The hologram continued to meditate in silence. A silence that proved almost unbearable to the two.

"Very well, I have decided. I will allow this particular empirical operation to continue for a time. Go then Lord of Time, you are freed."

Together they bowed, and together they spoke. "Yes Lord Rassilon. Thank you Lord Rassilon."

The projection's eyes narrowed. "New costumes, Renegade?"

The little Doctor smiled, nodding her head.

"Your idea?"

"Yes, Lord Rassilon," she said softly.

"And the concept of you dressing the same?"

"His, Lord Rassilon, but I agree with it," the little Doctor said, smiling.

"Then I approve," the projection said. "Now, stop all this bowing and scrapping. Leave! Before I think better of it!"

Once again, they spoke and moved as one. "Yes, Lord Rassilon!"

"Now where did Rassilon park our TARDIS?" the Doctor began to gripe. "That's the trouble with Time Rings, the TARDIS has to catch up." Looking up, the Doctor found further reason to complain. Stopping in his tracks he grumbled. "Why are you dawdling, ol' girl?"

"Not dawdling, short legs, ol' boy!" the little Doctor panted, finally closing the gap between them.

The Doctor grinned down at her, about to retort, when a small band of CyberMen rounded a corner in front of them.

"Oh no, not them again!" the Doctor exclaimed, looking at the little Doctor in alarm, breaking into a run.

"I thought you got rid of the CyberMen?" she chided, running along beside him.

"So did I!" the Doctor puzzled.

"Well, one thing, old chap," she said, ever looking for the bright side. "We must admire their determination."

"Oh ... must we, ol' bean?" he grimaced, running along side her.

The little Doctor shrugged. "Sure ... just as long as we remember to be more determined."

"Good plan SV-7," the Doctor agreed.

"Got gooder plan," she said.

"Yes? "

"Keep low, and keep zigging and zagging," she instructed.

"Easy for you to say, you're already hugging the ground!" he said zestfully. "But I think you mean something like this?" the Doctor chided, as he demonstrated, successfully dodging yet another Cyberblast.

Not wholly unexpected, the Doctor was suddenly struck by a bolt from one of the CyberMan's weapons!

"Doctor!" the little Doctor screamed, as he fell beside her.

Scooping the Doctor up, the little Doctor started to run for both their lives.

Turning down an adjoining corridor, she found a cubby hole just big enough to adequately conceal the two of them in.

Leaning against the back wall, flattening herself as much as possible, the little Doctor disappeared deep into the shadows, holding tight to her unconscious companion.

She carefully moved to the front of the Doctor, propping him up against the back wall.

The Doctor slowly came round.

"Where are we?" he whispered, shivering slightly.

"The constellation Kasterborus, on Gallifrey, near the Outer Wilderness, in The Dead Zone, beneath Rassilon's tomb; hiding," the little Doctor whispered, carefully unbuttoning his coat.

The Doctor crinkled his nose. "Hiding would have been sufficient, Renegadette."

The Doctor watched in silence as the little Doctor unwound him from his scarf, rolled it up, and tenderly placed it behind his head.

Her fingers returned to the task of loosening the rest of his garments, her hands moving to his jump suit's slender sash.

"You really are ... an impetuous ... little ducky Doc now ... aren't you?" he teased, between labored gasps.

The little Doctor chuckled, wrapping his cloth belt round her hand, slipping it into a fleece trimmed pocket of his coat; marveling at how the Doctor could make light of the present situation. But then, if he could, she could at least try.

"I'm only trying to make you more comfortable," the little Doctor chided, untying his brown & white checkered tie, unbuttoning the top button on his shirt.

"That's what I said," the Doctor retorted, continuing his gripe. Slipping me into something more comfortable. I know all about you females of Gallifrey."

The little Doctor shook her head in disapproval, taking off her tan coat. Carefully she wrapped it round him.

"Thank you," the Doctor whispered. "I do feel better."

The little Doctor nodded, smiling.

But the Doctor's pain, too well reflected in his wide, pale eyes, was tearing at her hearts. If the actual truth be known, the little Doctor's tender ministering were probably hurting the Doctor, as much as they were helping him.

"By the way, how did we get here?" the Doctor asked conversationally.

"I carried you."

It was as simple as that, at least to the little Doctor.

"Nonsense. I'm twice your size!" The Doctor balked at the very idea, his nose twitching. "You couldn't do that!"

The Doctor smiled at the ancient earth proverb. "Or something very close to that?" he asked, not so gently stealing her thunder.

The Doctor swallowed hard. "So, where, where, do you keep, your muscles, little female?"

His tongue moved to the top row of his teeth, as yet another painful spasm tore through him.

"Under guard, in a mayonnaise jar, on Funk & Wagnalls front porch," the little Doctor said very dryly, concealing her hurt.

The Doctor slowly shook his head, rallying slightly. "Ah, Funk & Wagnalls doesn't have a front porch."

The little Doctor smiled at him. But her smile quickly faded.

"Wonder what happened to our pursuers?" she asked, listening for metallic footfalls.

"I don't know," he bawled. "CyberMen never give up. And unfortunately they never get tired."

The Doctor licked his lips. "Goodness me ... I'm sure tired though."

The little Doctor gently brushed back the lock of damp hair from the Doctor's forehead, keenly aware of his inevitably increasing discomfort.

"Oh Doctor, you feel hotter than a Solarian-3 from Mutters Spiral!"

The Doctor smiled wanly. "You ought to feel it from this side. I feel like I'm being slowly micro-waved."

The Doctor closed his eyes, sighing. This was going to be over, very soon now; and he knew it.

"Any water in those overabundant pockets?" he asked, his words reaching the little Doctor's ears in sparse gasps.

She looked, drawing forth a jelly baby.

A nod from the Doctor, placed it in his mouth.

"Can I move you somehow to make you more comfortable, Doctor?" she asked, gently touching his chest.

"No," he said offhandedly, shaking his head, chewing on the orange, sweet. "Actually, this spreading numbness, is a rather delightful change, from a few moments ago."

The Doctor patted her hand, suddenly looking very old; and sounding utterly exhausted.

Without a word the little Doctor took out her recorder, offering to play a tune for him.

"Aren't things desperate enough?" the Doctor gibed, his words beginning to break up, distort.

"Thank you. Thank you, little self, for trying, for caring." The Doctor shuttered. "It's reassuring, to know, my future is, is in such secure hands." He forced a crooked smile onto his face. "Tiny as they are."

"Easy as Pi," the little Doctor smiled in encouragement, placing her free hand against his cheek.

"Easy as pie?" he echoed, not comprehending, his eyes clouding.

"No, easy as P, I, the Greek letter Pi. You know, like in the Pi-donian renegade?"

"Oh, that is dreadful," the Doctor grimaced. "But, it does, sound like, something, I'd, come up with." He sighed deeply. "Something I'd steal, anyway."

The little Doctor agreed; the hand on his cheek, moving to envelope his other hand. "Perhaps, because we are the same?" she reminded him. "You know," she said, shrugging. "'One mind without a single thought!'" she quoted the comic team of Laurel & Hardy.

"Yes," he chuckled, shuttering once again, grasping her hands tighter. "That's perfect." His voice grew very breathy. "I do keep forgetting. We are the same."

The Doctor licked his lips, trying to pull himself up to a sitting position.

Ever so gently, the little Doctor assisted him. If that was what the Doctor wanted, that was good enough for her.

"Maybe ... maybe, if we wore matching gym vests, with the quote across the front," he suggested. "I might be able to remem ..." The Doctor cried out in agony, beginning to shake uncontrollably.

The little Doctor closed her eyes.

Oh Doctor, she thought. Please forgive me, for there is nothing more I know to do. I'm so, so very sorry.

"Still ... we are so different," the Doctor whispered, struggling to continue. "Dif ... night ... day."

The little Doctor nodded her agreement.

The Doctor fought doggedly on, gasping for each mouthful of precious air. "Same ... mind ... dif ... persona."

The Doctor slumped forward.

The little Doctor tenderly enfolded him in her arms.

From the Doctor's pale lips tumbled a string of simple words.

"Lil' Doc ... I'm ... so ... so ... very ... sorry."