You hear him sometimes, screaming in his sleep, words that you recognise as Galifreyan (or more or less) It's only when your daughter's not there; River helps him through it. It's always the same words though; Koschei, Mothe, Romana, please, please help us, help them, they're my family, Susan, Leela! Then you can hear his heavy breathing echoing through long corridors, as he cries. You want to comfort him, but you can't. You can't possibly understand. No. You never mention it. But sometimes, sometimes, you touch his shoulder, and the wave of thanks echoes in the darkness.