If Cass wasn't absolutely certain otherwise, she would have said that the monk was the oldest man in Hampton Court. He wore a weathered grey-brown robe that hung loosely off his bony, frail body. His skin was the color of raw chicken and was devoid of hair, even on his head. Every movement he made was deliberate, as if he was somehow running out of them. The way he smiled at her was unnerving. Still, there was something about him. She couldn't place it, but it was something…familiar.

"Have you met Sir Francis before, good sir?" she pried.

"Oh, I know your master quite well," the man replied calmly. "You might say I know him like a brother."

Cass had been afraid of that. They had been so good at avoiding Drake's family and acquaintances. It was too late for one to appear on their doorstep. Or rather, the Queen's doorstep.

"I'm afraid Sir Francis is engaged with some business with the Queen and cannot see anyone at the moment. If you would like to wait, then I'd advise you to find someone else out there worth waiting for."

The old man wheezed and chuckled. "I never knew you said that," he sighed and continued, "Well, I don't think I have to tell you that your master is worth waiting for. And I also don't have to tell you that he isn't with the Queen at this moment. But I do have to tell you that he is expecting me, though he does not yet know it."

Cass looked him over and decided that she wasn't going to be able to get rid of him. The only thing to do was go through this as quietly as possible. It was bound to happen eventually. "I'll show you to his room. You may speak with him there."

The man bowed his head in thanks and followed her as she marched nervously to the place where Sir Francis Drake was staying in Hampton Court. When she reached the door, she knocked three times, twice in rapid succession with a pause before the third. This was the signal that she wasn't alone. The door opened to the man who in Hampton Court was called Francis Drake. He was still wearing one of his suits. He doesn't even try anymore, thought Cass. Then she saw the look on his face. He looked as if he was looking at a ghost.

"Doctor," the old man hailed him, to Cass' shock.

The Doctor remained silent momentarily before returning the man's hail. "Doctor."

"Doctor?" Cass asked The Doctor incredulously. "Like doctor doctor or… Doctor Doctor? Doctor?" The Doctor just stared at the old man.

"Doctor Doctor, Cass," The Doctor finally replied. "He's me. Well, he will be. Might be. Might will be."

"Yes," confirmed the Old Doctor, "And I am he. Or at least I was."

"What?" asked Cass. She would have thought she would have gotten the hang of this sort of thing by now. "What's he doing here?"

"Looking back, Cassandra," the Old Doctor said quietly.

It was the way he said her name. Her whole name. Only her mom did that. Her mom and The Doctor when he was moody. Cass met the old man's gaze and then she knew it. "You! Why didn't you just say so?"

"Would you have believed me?" the old man asked with a tired grin.

"I saw you get your mind transferred into a porpoise once," she reminded him, "I'll believe anything."

The Old Doctor chuckled. "Ah yes, I suppose you would have. Still, let an old man have some fun."

Cass rolled her eyes. "That's what I do every day."

"Oh please," The Old Doctor waved his hand at his tenth incarnation dismissively, "He's not old."

"He thinks so." Cass tilted her head at The Doctor. "Keeps going on about it. 'I'm an old man, Cassandra.' 'I've lived too long, Cassandra.' 'My joints predict the weather, Cassandra."

"I never said that!" The Doctor's complaint went unheard.

"Pfff. A mid-life crisis."

"Excuse me!" The Doctor spoke up, for once in his lifetimes unable to get a word in edgewise. "Cass, can you not talk to me like I'm not here?"

"Sorry, Doctor."

"It's alright," replied the both of him.

Cass looked at them both. She knew that he could change, but only had ever seen the one, the tall, skinny man with tall, skinny suits and tall, skinny hair. It was suddenly very unnerving to see a version of him so small. "So is this what you do, eventually?" she asked. "Do you finally get bored with everything else and start visiting yourself?" She gave her Doctor a look. "The ego on you!"

"Well-" The Doctor began but was interrupted by his counterpart.

"I'm dying," the Old Doctor told Cass before turning to the Tenth. "It makes one…reflective."

The idea hit Cass like an anvil.

"You didn't have to tell her," her Doctor said to the old one.

"She had a right to know," he replied calmly, "And it's what I remember happening when I was you."

"But you don't die," she told her Doctor accusingly. "You said. You said you just regenerate."

The Doctor was grim now. "I can. He can't. He's gone on too long. The Time Lord body was only meant to regenerate 12 times. And he's…"

"Number 22," offered the Old Doctor.

"…number 22. Even Time Lord bodies break down eventually. It's why he looks like he does. He's running on residual regeneration energy. Didn't quite do the job."

Cass was shocked at this. Shocked and angry. She should have been told. She should have known. "How do you even know this? Have you met him before?"

"9 times before this," the Old Doctor told her.

"Each one of me meets him," her Doctor explained. "I never know when, but I always do."

"Why?"

The Old Doctor took that one. "Taking stock, I suppose." He kept on speaking to her, but the old man was looking at the young one. "When you're approaching the end, you get an urge to revisit your past. A farewell tour, you might say."

The Doctor tried to be glib. "Well, I wouldn't know about that." He turned to her. "Cass, you might want to look out for Bess. She's gone a bit crazy about 'Prince Francis.'"

Cass just stared.

"Oh, did I not tell you? I married the Queen!" He gave her a big, goofy grin. "I know I said "Keep a low profile" but she asked and how many times do you get to marry a queen? Well, I've done a couple times, but not one of the Elizabeths."

"Your song is ending, Doctor," the Old Man declared, suddenly and sternly.

"What?" Cass demanded. The phrase sounded familiar.

"You're one to talk," rebutted Ten, "Looked in a mirror lately?"

"What's he talking about, Doctor?"

The Doctors ignored her. "You have an appointment, Doctor," the elder said, "An appointment with an Ood."

"What's an Ood?" inquired Cass.

"Alien race. Look a bit like a Munch painting eating calamari. Talk with a glowy ball thing," he told Cass. The last part jogged something in Cass' memory.

Ten addressed the elder. "I've got a time machine, or have you forgotten? My song ends when I say it does."

"There's traveling and there's avoiding," went on the Old Doctor, "Look at you, hiding out. Pretending to be someone you aren't."

"This wasn't by choice!" The Doctor rebutted. "The real Drake got stung by an interdimensional jellyfish. Someone had to defeat the Spanish Armada!"

"And where is Sir Francis now?"

"Recuperating."

"He's in an inn in Leicester playing Angry Birds!" the 22nd Doctor accused.

"Well…" the Tenth offered as a counterpoint.

"Don't try to fool yourself," the Old Doctor chastised. "You're only fooling…your…self- You know what I mean. The real Drake could have returned ages ago."

Cass cut in. "Is that true? Could we have left by now?"

The Doctor avoided her gaze.

"Doctor," she said gravely, "Is it true?"

"Maybe, but why would you want to leave here? There's so much to see! Shakespeare puts on Hamlet in a few weeks! The first one with the songs still in! And did I mention I married the Queen?"

Cass wasn't having it. "We've been here for months! I miss planets, Doctor! I want to see another world again! I want to see aliens again! I want to see an Ood!"

The Doctor waved this off. "No you don't. They seem nice but they go evil at the drop of a hat. Now there's a thought. An Ood with a hat."

"You've already seen an Ood, Cassandra," the Old Doctor told her. "Remember? At the oxygen mine on Qarto 7?"

Suddenly it all came back to her. They had just saved the miners from a collapse when a strange alien had appeared to them. It had told the Doctor "Your song is ending" and disappeared. "That was right before we came here."

"He's hiding," The Old Doctor explained. "He's afraid of what he knows has to happen. But take it from one who knows, Doctor, there's a price for going on too long. For putting off the inevitable."

"Doctor," Cass looked her Doctor right in the eye, "He isn't right, is he? If I ask you if we can leave this place, you'll say yes, won't you? Is this a detour? Or is it exile?"

The Doctor said nothing and it seemed for a moment as if the entire world had stopped. Finally he spoke. "We can go, Cassandra."

Cassandra dashed over and hugged him. "Where will you take me first?" she asked mid-hug.

"Home," she heard him say. She looked him in the eye. He wasn't smiling. "What do you mean?" she asked him.

"He's right. There's something I have to do. And you can't come with me."

"Why not?" Cass asked defensively, fighting back tears.

"Because this is how I want you to remember this man, this version of me."

"You want me to remember you ditching me?" Cass asked enraged.

"Cass, I don't know what's going to happen to me. But I don't think you're going to want to see it."

"I see a coward," Cass replied venomously.

"There are worse things to see," The Doctor replied.

"Then let's stay," Cass implored. "I've changed my mind. Let's go see Hamlet! I'll throw the queen a bachelorette party! Something!"

"No, he's right, Cassandra. I have to face this."

Cass turned to face the Old Doctor, staring him down menacingly. "This is your fault! I'll never see a planet again!"

"Oh, I don't know," the Old Doctor replied. "I believe I've just had the thought that I have time for one more planet. Isn't that right?" he asked Ten.

Cass turned to The Doctor. "Yeah, we could probably squeeze one more in," he said, his smile returning.

Cass brightened, but only slightly. "Really?"

"I do know of a planet where the ice is made of helium. You can buy a drink on the rocks and talk like a chipmunk." The Doctor smiled and clicked his tongue like he so often did. Cass suddenly realized it would probably be the last time she would see him do that. She didn't want to be angry about it anymore. There wasn't time.

"Sounds good," she told him.

The Doctor pulled a device out of his pocket and the TARDIS shimmered into existence. He took Cass by the hand and opened the door. "One more for the road?"

"Sure thing!" Cass replied.

"Allons-y!" The Tenth Doctor exclaimed as he pulled her into the police box and shut the door.

The Old Doctor smiled as he watched the time machine dissolve out of its current time and space. He pulled a crystal bulb out of his pocket. It glowed a golden yellow. His smile faded. He lost himself in a thought which was only interrupted by the heavy creaking of the door.

"Ohhh Prince Francis," he heard a voice say behind him. He turned to see a very startled Queen Elizabeth. "Who are you?" she demanded of him. "Where is Francis?"

"Oh, he had to leave."

"Leave? When will he be back?"

"Oh, not for quite a while. It's okay. You're better off without him. He wasn't really Sir Francis Drake anyway."

"What?" The Queen's question was a shout.

"I'm sorry to say you've been duped. He was just a con man playing for time."

"What?" The Queen repeated angrily, the interrogative taking on the sound of a curse.

"He wasn't even human."

The Queen's voice dropped an octave. "What?"

He tossed his glowing bulb in the air and caught it before walking past the dumbstruck ruler. "I'll see myself out. Places to go. Me's to meet."