"Are - are you okay?" I stammered. "I'm sorry."

He undid his bowtie in a few swift motions, wiped his face quickly with the scrap of cloth, and tugged it around his neck again. "Absolutely fine. Go on."

I always thought I could talk about Augustus forever, but I suddenly found that I didn't have any more to say. "That's all."

"Hazel Grace," the Doctor started. "Don't you ever say that your friend didn't do anything in this world."

"I mean, he did things. He - he played basketball. But he didn't leave his mark, and that killed him."

"Football's better," the Doctor mumbled. "Soccer, I believe you would say. But now, listen here, Hazel. Everyone leaves their mark, and I believe your friend Augustus left his mark right here." He reached across the table and tapped my forearm.

I stared up at him, willing the tears not to spill from my eyes.

"But," I whispered. "I haven't got long to live, either. Phalanxifor - that's the drug I'm on - it's going to stop working one of these days. And then - then I'll fade into oblivion too. Where will his mark be then, Doctor?"

The Doctor drew in a deep sigh. "I lost a friend, too, Hazel Grace. I lost two friends, actually. And that was just recently. I've lost many, many more."

I waited. He was speaking to his hands now, fisted up on the handle of the mug.

"I like what you said, Hazel Grace. It was a privilege to love them."

"Tell me about them," I whispered.

His hands quivered, but he shook his bowed head.

"Why not?"
The Doctor paused, still concentrating on his half-full mug of tea, steam wafting from the surface in dancing, gossamer ringlets.

"She chose him," he whispered.

"What do you mean?"
"I don't know if I can do what I used to do anymore." And then his hands were smothering his face, hiding, I was sure, fresh tears. "Not without them."

I could feel something inside me tearing up; I wanted to comfort him, help him, like the night Augustus was at the gas station, trying to buy cigarettes, drowning in his own vomit.

"Tell me," the Doctor said quietly, "you favorite memory of Augustus."

I pondered for a moment. "I dunno if this is the best one," I replied. "But the one that comes to mind is when we were in Amsterdam. We were at the Anne Frank house, and I had to climb so many stairs, and I couldn't breathe very well," I tapped Philip the oxygen tank for emphasis. "I thought everyone was getting annoyed with me. But before we left, Augustus and I - we had our first kiss there, in Anne Frank's house, and I thought everyone was going to be furious, but everyone there clapped. And it was pretty much amazing, because I'm sure that Anne would have wanted something like that to happen in her house. You know?"

The Doctor looked me right in the eye now, and I could make out the dried tear trails gleaming on his face. He nodded, slowly.

"Can I ask you something?" I spoke up tentatively.

He nodded a bit more vigorously. "Go on."

"Sorry, but - how did you end in my backyard?"
"Accident."

"Accident? Where are you from? England?" I asked, noting his accent.

He shook his head. "No, no, somewhere much further away."

I raised my eyebrows. "That phone box-"

"Police box, for starters."

"Police box, then. Is that yours?"

"Why, yes, it's mine. And I should be getting back."

"But you never told me about your friends."

He took a long drag of his tea, and when he looked back up, shadows flickered across his face, giving him the impression of being twenty years older. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but his eyes looked darker, sunken in like caverns into his face.

"And I'm not going to. Well, I'd best be off. Thank you, Hazel Grace. It's been a pleasure." He brought his cup to the sink, patted my shoulder, and made for the door.

"Wait - no!" I bolted up, giving a bit of a shock to my system, but I grabbed Philip and half-dazed, hurried after him in the wavering darkness of my backyard.

He wasn't running, though. Panting heavily, I caught up with him at the door of the police box. He gave me a serious gaze, and then began, "Look. Amelia Pond." He spit out the name like it was physically painful to say. "Feisty Scottish ginger. And her husband, Rory. I thought he was a bit of a dunderhead at first but he was a great guy. They were both brilliant, lovely people. Just like you, Hazel Grace."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, still trying to catch my breath.

"They stepped into this TARDIS with me, and we went on never-ending adventures together-" he smiled his first genuine smile at this point, a bit goofy like Augustus's, one side of his mouth cutting into his cheek, but it quickly vanished, "-at least, I thought they were never going to end. I knew they would, but I let myself forget that fact. And you know where they are now? Gone.I can never see them again. No one else is ever stepping in here but me from now on. Off you go, Hazel Grace. Thank you for the tea."

I shook my head. "No, Doctor. Don't go alone. You can't deal with it. I don't know what happened, but you're not going to make it alone. That much is obvious."

My lungs were still knocked out from the brief jog, trying to suck in as much air as possible, when all of a sudden I felt a twisting, searing pain in my chest. I collapsed onto the damp grass, sputtering, gasping, probably screaming.

I felt the Doctor scoop me up into his arms and heard the creak of the door of the police box opening. I barely registered that it was bigger on the inside - icy and teal and alien-looking - before a new color, black, began to blanket my eyesight, and I fell out of consciousness.