It's funny, I thought this chapter was longer than 3 pages in word. Oh well. Thanks to the one reviewer thus far. This chapter, find out their fantasies.

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Chapter 2

When he came to, Rory was surprised to find himself back in the TARDIS.

"Ergh."

Benedict was only a bit right; it was more than "slight discomfort". He felt nauseated and couldn't figure out why. He decided to remain on his back for the moment.

"Hit your head again?"

He started. "Amy?"

She was leaning over him, an eyebrow raised. "Yeah, that's my name."

He pressed his hands to his forehead. "Why is everything spinning?"

"Yeah, you hit your head," she said, rolling her eyes. "That's kinda what happens when you do, everything gets a little blurry. Just rest, you'll be back to working on the TARDIS in no time."

She left the console room.

And then it sank in what she said.

"Working on the…only the Doctor works on the TARDIS."

Finally, he got to his feet and chanced a look in a mirror device he remembered being on the console. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming.

The Doctor's face was reflected back at him.

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"Amelia? Amelia? Ameeelia!"

"I'm fine, Doctor, really. Stop shouting."

Amy sat up, feeling like a herd of elephants was tap dancing in her head. At least her stomach was settling down. Beside her, the Doctor gazed at her worryingly.

"I thought maybe we passed a little too close to that cosmic storm," he said, offering a cup of water. She took it gratefully. She looked around. Everything still looked the same.

"I'm ok, Doctor, I really am," she reassured him.

"All right, Amelia."

"Why do you keep calling me that?

"What?"

"Amelia. You know I prefer Amy."

He had a look of utter confusion on his face. "Since when?"

"Since I was a teenager."

He chuckled. "I think I'd know if sometime during your teenage years you'd decided to change to Amy."

A rock sank into her gut.

"Doctor, how long have I been travelling with you?"

Now he really was confused. "You really don't remember?

She shrugged.

"Amelia, I promised you I'd only be five minutes and I was. You've been travelling with me since you were seven years old."

Once, that would have been the most joyful words she could ever hear. Now, as she looked at her ringless finger, she wondered how that ever could have occurred to her.

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"Do you mind? That light is really bright."

There was someone shining a light in first one eye, then another. Once his vision cleared, he got a good view of who had been doing that.

He blinked. Closed his eyes, shook his head. Opened his eyes again.

"Master?"

The man in question tilted his head. "Really, Theta?"

"Doctor," he corrected. "I haven't been called Theta in centuries."

The Master snorted. "Where have I been, then? Hmm?"

And he walked off, muttering to himself. The Doctor sat up and looked around. He was in a highly advanced medical bay, from the look of things. Overhead, a full body scan was showing perfectly fine vitals. He sat up, groaning.

"Now then," said the Master, causing him to jump. "I wish you'd listen to me more. I told you not to wear the heavy robe, but no, Mr. 'I'm Lord President, if I want to wear the fancy one I will.' And what happens? You tripped and hit your head. You're lucky that didn't cause another regeneration. Once was plenty enough, you said."

The Doctor stared at the Master, who continued to ramble on. It then occurred to him that this was the same face he'd last seen the Master wearing, just before his own regeneration. It also occurred to him that the Master was wearing orange Time Lord formal robes and holding a similar set in his arms, though this one had swirls of Gallifreyan writing listing very important titles.

"What?" snapped the Master. "Am I not supposed to show concern or something?" He held out the robes. "Now this is the lighter set I recommended you wear in the first place. So wear them."

And with a pointed look, he was out the door. A second later, he poked his head back in.

"And no trying to figure out how to add a bowtie to it!"

"Bowties are cool," the Doctor muttered, pulling the light-weight robe over the white shift-like under-robe he was wearing. He tried to push his hair under the hat, but the flop was determined to stick out from underneath, causing it to balance awkwardly on his head. A glance in the mirror had him sticking his tongue out at his reflection as he waltzed out.

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So, did you guess right? Or did I throw a timey-wimey ball at you?