It was all that he had said. All and far more and still, it was nothing of the like. All of his starkness, his greyness and bitterness of heart had been consumed within the flames, and in their place, a tranquil and wide-eyed wonder. She might almost have called him serene.

Then, upon rising, and as she had been told to expect, the new man had lapsed into a profound-and unexpectedly quiescent-confusion. He neither rushed about, nor ranted but merely wandered idly, softly calling out to the ghosts of his past.

Finally, and with an uncharacteristic deliberation, he descended into a cross-legged posture, his back pressed against the wall. Balling his hands to fists and lifting them, his eyes again widened, this time with distress and alarm.

"Doctor?"

It was first time she had spoken, and at first, he seemed not to know her. Then, his gaze seemed to soften, his expression one of an entreatment such as she had never seen upon it.

"Angela?"

Suddenly, he grasped at her hands and her own eyes widened in astonishment. He had never touched her before.

"Angela, have I changed?"

All and far more. His hair was long and golden, his face fresh and unlined but in his eyes..

"Angela, are you afraid? Do you still like me?"

He was nothing of the like.