"You - You're a - But How?" the Doctor babbled, grinning insanely. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"What the bloody hell are you going on about?" I demanded. His smile wasn't appreciated. Not when I was dying. I made a grab for his tie, not expecting to be able to even lift my arm, and easily got a handful of fabric.

The Doctor jumped back, but I maintained an iron grip, slowly rising to my feet. Despite what should have been a fatal injury, I felt fine.

"What just happened?" I continued the interrogation, yanking the Doctor closer so that his face with inches from mine. This had the added benefit of causing him some discomfort - and giving me some satisfaction. "Who do you work for?"

"Well, we've suddenly gotten a bit violent, haven't we?" I noted his smile had turned nervous.

"Answer the question."

The Doctor's face went hard. "I am not your enemy," he told me, surprisingly stern.

"That's not what I asked."

"Let me go, and I'll answer."

Narrowing my eyes, I shoved the Doctor away. He stumbled back a pace before focusing his attention on smoothing out his tie.

"I'll have you know, this was a personal gift from Sanjuanita Giallo," he sniffed.

"Who?"

He was lost in thought a moment. "Right. Twenty-sixth century. Probably never heard of her. Nevermind."

"Stop playing games," I glowered. "What's going on?"

"Ah," the Doctor nodded. "Yes. Well, that indefinable blackness out there is - was - the Neocaltra of Mintrinell, and she was all set to send out a sonic aurora powerful enough to resonate throughout the entire planet. And it just so happened she was broadcasting at just the right frequency to turn every human who heard it into her slave. Of course, it just so happened that I intercepted the Argovian Lexidiamond she needed in order to activate her machine."

"I see," I replied. I really didn't. Maybe MI6's interrogators would be able to glean some information from this strange man's ramblings. "And what did you do to me?"

"You?" The Doctor raised his eyebrows almost to his hairline. "What do you think I did to you?"

"A few minutes ago I was bleeding to death on the floor," I snarled. "And now I'm fine. We both know this wasn't some miracle. So what did you do to me?"

"You don't… You really don't know?"

"Know what?"

The Doctor looked at me as if I'd grown an extra head at the same time I'd somehow healed. "You regenerated."

"How?"

"Well it's - It's what we do. When we're injured," he said, before adding, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Instead of dying."

"What who does?"

"What… Species," the Doctor started, picking his words carefully, "Do you think you are?"

Now I was the one to look at him as if he'd gone mad. "Human."

"Ah." The expression on the Doctor's face was a complex mix - sadness, pity, disappointment, clouded with curiosity and confusion.

"And I suppose you're going to tell me you're not?" I raised an eyebrow.

"No, I'm a Timelord," the Doctor responded. "And only Timelords should be able to regenerate."

"So you're telling me I'm what?" I asked. "An alien?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Right." In a smooth movement honed by years of practice, I grabbed my gun from its holster and levelled it at the Doctor. "I don't know whether you're crazy or just acting. Honestly, I don't care. I'll leave that to someone else to figure out. You are coming with me though." Keeping the gun trained on the Doctor, I slid my hand into my breast pocket and retrieved the transmitter Q had given me, activating it.

"What's that then?" the Doctor asked.

"A signal that I'm ready for extraction."

"Just one problem," he told me. "It won't transmit from inside the TARDIS. Or, it will, it's just that the signal will be blocked. Tell you what though," the Doctor strode over to the circular console in the centre of the massive room. "I've got a few questions of my own for your bosses. You tell me where they are, and we can be there in no time."

"Yes, because I'm just going to tell you where the nerve centre of British intelligence is."

"Nevermind, got it," the Doctor nearly sang as he fiddled with a few controls. He pushed up on what appeared to be some sort of throttle, and a repeated screech like a key being dragged across piano strings rasped through the air.

"Not another move," I warned him.

"See, the TARDIS can trace the exact source of the signal," he continued blithely, "Bringing us right to it." The pulsing sound dissipated as he lowered the throttle. "We're here," he grinned.

"What are you talking about?"

The Doctor gestured behind me. "Open the door."

My eyes narrowed. "You."

"Alright, fine, me," he held up his hands in mock surrender. The tip of my Walther PPK followed him as he jogged across the room and the slid the door open, presenting what was outside as if it were a magic trick.

It might as well have been. Behind the door were the bustling offices of MI6, one of the lowest, most secure sublevels, in fact. I let my weapon fall to my side as I stepped forward, in a daze. We had been halfway across the world a second ago, and now, here I was. Stepping out of a police box, of all things, into the room full of people who had been monitoring much of my actions over the past few weeks, feeding me information.

"Drop the weapon!" came a scream from the other side of the room. "On the ground," someone else yelled at almost the same time. A red light flashed and alarms blared. Of course. The police box was an unexpected intrusion.

I did what they said, dropping my gun and going down on my knees.

"Identify yourself!"

"I am agent James Bond, code name double-o-seven," I called over the din.

Despite my protest, I was quickly hustled into an interrogation room. The Doctor had been brought to the same one I was in, against all protocol, apparently on his own request. I only had a few moments to gape at my reflection in the one-way mirror before M hurried in, a file in hand.

"M!" I stood to attention, my chair skidding back behind me. "I don't know what's going on, but I swear to you, I am James Bond."

"I know, James," M replied with a nod, gesturing for me to sit. I waited for her to seat herself across from me before I did. "I understand this is very confusing to you, and I would prefer to have a chance to explain things without our…" she shot an icy look at the Doctor, "Guest."

The Doctor glared, all signs of levity gone. "And hello to you too, Mar-" he hastily cleared his throat. "M."

"M stands for something?" I asked. "I assumed it was just a codename."

"It is," M glared back at the Doctor. "It's just a coincidence."

""And why, may I ask," I began, "Is the Doctor being allowed to sit in?"

"Out of respect for my predecessors," M explained. "And Winston Churchill. Practically gave him free reign over British Secret Services after he prevented an invasion during World War II," she harrumphed.

This seemed like news to the Doctor. "I did?" He shrugged. "Well that's something to look forward to, at least. Plus I apparently get to meet Winston Churchill."

"Wait, him?" I demanded. "He prevented Nazi Germany from invading Britain?"

"I didn't say Nazi Germany," M replied. "On to business." She slid the file in front of her, turning it so it was right side up from my perspective, and flipped it open.

"Always wondered what my file says," I mused, drawing a page closer to myself for inspection.

"This is just the tip of the iceberg," M told me. "Your entire record takes up an entire room several levels below us. And not a small room either."

"I knew MI6 had a fetish for paperwork, but really, a room?" I raised an eyebrow. "I've only been in service for, what, eleven years?"

"Closer to fifty."

I let out a short laugh. M apparently did not share my amusement at her statement.

"In the early sixties, MI6 detected a downed craft a short distance from Edinburgh. We had a team there in time to recover the pilot before he… succumbed to a fatal injury."

Sixties. Downed craft. There was only one thing that would require MI6's intervention for that time and place. "Soviet?"

"No, but that was our first thought as well," M said. "The technology looked like nothing we'd ever seen, and when the pilot performed a miraculous recovery, we feared the Russians had somehow advanced far beyond our understanding."

I let out another laugh. "You're not going to tell me this was a spaceship, are you?" I asked. "And I suppose the pilot was an alien?"

"The pilot was you, James."

If it weren't for M's grave expression, I would have laughed again. She slid a photograph out from the bottom of the file. It wasn't low quality, but it had the graininess of age, and I estimated it was at least a few decades old - dating it back to the era of the downed craft. The man in the photograph appeared unremarkable, but there was a steeliness in his eyes.

"This was what you looked like when we first found you," M explained. "You called yourself the Saboteur and said you were part of a race called the Timelords." She cleared her throat a little. "I get the impression from my predecessor's notes that you could have resisted us, but chose to come back to MI6 in our custody out of some sort of curiosity or sense of amusement. Either way, there was apparently no means by which you could fix your craft."

"And why can't I remember any of this?"

"One of the devices you had with you was capable of erasing your memory and implanting new ones," M said. "Those of a normal human who was devoted to Queen and country. Unfortunately, much of the rest of the technology was destroyed."

"So you wiped his mind and put him to work," the Doctor said. His voice was calm but the undercurrent of disgust was easy to detect. "Charming."

"I assume you're familiar with the technology we used, Doctor," M replied, matching his cold tone. "Tell me, how long would it take scientists - even our best scientists - to be able to decipher Timelord technology?"

"Years," the Doctor frowned. "Decades. If ever, really. No offense."

M's smile was tight. "None taken. So then, how were we able to so efficiently put this device to use?"

The Doctor's expression was blank for a long second. And then he blinked in surprise. "You had help."

"Indeed. You showed us how to use some of your technology, what you didn't destroy," M said, turning back to me. "You asked us to make you think you were human and, as the Doctor said, put you to work. Apparently you were convinced it was the only way you'd have the lifestyle you were accustomed to, at least while you were stranded on Earth."

"I see." I paused. "I'm still not seeing any proof of this."

"Oh, James," M shook her head. "Isn't the fact that this is coming from me, of all people, proof enough?"

There wasn't a response for that. "What happens now?"

"The same thing that always happens. You go back to thinking you're a normal human - relatively normal, anyway - who has just been promoted to double-o status."

"And the Doctor?"

"As I said, he has credentials that allow him to go about his merry way."

"Hold on a minute," the Doctor interjected. "You're just going to wipe his memories again, just like that? Doesn't he get a choice in all this?" He stared at me intently, and for a moment he didn't seem as young as he looked anymore. The weight of years was reflected in his eyes. "You're not stranded anymore. You can come see all of time and space, like you're meant to. Like a Timelord."

M swallowed. "Of course he can choose, but - "

"You're asking me to go with you?"

The Doctor apparently failed to note the disbelief in my tone. "For years, I thought I was the only one left," he effused. "Imagine what we could do together."

Raising an eyebrow, I asked, "Why would you be the only one?"

"Ah," the Doctor's good mood evaporated. "I suppose you crashed before the Time War. Well, not really before, since the war didn't really happen at a specific time, but your personal timeline never intersected the war, so - "

"A war?" I interrupted. "Every other Timelord was killed?"

"Well, not killed," the Doctor backtracked. "The war was sealed into its own bubble of time to prevent it from destroying all of space and time."

"A bubble of time which you sealed," I stated.

"W- Yes, but - How?"

"It seemed like a safe assumption," I shrugged. "How else would you know exactly what had happened and, at the same time, be the only one left outside?" I turned back to M. "I'm ready," I told her.

She merely nodded. She wasn't in the habit of showing much emotion, but as used to her mannerisms as I was, I could tell she was relieved.

"But - " the Doctor started to protest, "I did what had to be done. There was no other way."

"I know," I replied. "That's why I'm staying. As far as I can recall, I've saved Britain - and the rest of the world - quite a few times already. They need me here. And M's right," I added with a self-effacing grin, "I am devoted to Queen and country."

The Doctor's mouth opened to voice another protest but it caught in his throat. His shoulders slumped. "I understand," he finally said and stood. I did the same, facing him.

"Doctor," I nodded my farewell.

He gave the same nod back. "Saboteur," he replied.

Hey everyone, thanks for reading! This has been a super common (and obvious) fan theory for ages, and I always wanted to present my own idea of how it would work, so here it is. Agree/disagree? Love it/hate it? Leave a review and let me know, or you can find me on twitter, under the handle SeaLenz. Catch ya on the flipsssssss!