A/N: Ok, by semi-popular demand, here's a bit more! Not really happy with it; I decided to try writing this one from the Doctor's POV, which turned out to be... well, really hard. If anyone'd care to offer suggestions, I'm all ears. :)


His first thought, when he opened his eyes, was to wonder why the control room was so dark. The second was, 'Why am I lying on the floor of the control room?' The third, fourth and fifth were rather jumbled together and consisted, respectively, of 'I must have regenerated again,' 'What's this great weight draped over my chest,' and 'Bloody hell, my head hurts.'

He lifted his head slightly – there was a pillow under it; that was thoughtful; he wondered who'd put it there – and squinted at the mess of peroxide blonde hair bundled on his chest. A moment later he made out the face behind the mane of hair, and realized with no small relief that there was someone lying on top of him; he hadn't actually grown another head out of his torso.

Small favors, he thought to himself, and tested what appendages he could find. Two arms, two legs, one head. Excellent. His left hand appeared to be entangled in the grip of his slumbering companion, but he was able to lift the right to massage his aching temples. At least, that was the idea; instead he paused with his hand halfway to his face, blinking owlishly at it as if it belonged to someone else.

The weight on his chest shifted slightly and he must have made some involuntary reflexive grunt, because a moment later the girl – pretty girl, seemed a bit familiar; he supposed she must have been his current traveling companion – sat bolt upright and wide awake, staring into his face, her grip tightening convulsively on his left hand.

"Hello," he tried. It seemed a bit safer opening than, 'Excuse me, who are you?'

"Hello," she replied softly, a bit apprehensive. Well, that was all right; at least she wasn't beating him about the head and shoulders and demanding to know who the hell he was. Which raised an interesting question, actually…

"Doctor?" she asked then, tentatively. Ah yes, that's right.

"That's me," he tried on a grin for size and found it didn't fit too badly. "Version ten, I suppose, unless I got hit on the head a lot harder than I thought."

"You fell…" she started to explain, but trailed off awkwardly, biting her lip. For a moment he thought she might be about to cry, but she took a bracing breath instead and asked matter-of-factly, "You all right?"

"All right as can be expected," he smiled in what he hoped was a comforting manner, although his head felt like it was about to burst. "You try tearing down and rebuilding your body cell by cell sometime, see how you feel."

She smiled weakly back at him. "I'll pass, thanks." She gave his left hand another squeeze, and after a moment's hesitation, he laid his right hand over them both.

"Are you all right?"He asked, softly.

"Yeah," she replied, too quickly, and stared at the jumble of interlacing fingers for some moments. He sat up slowly with a grunt of effort, keeping his hands clasped with hers; but she jerked away suddenly, letting out an apologetic, "Bit freaked out, I guess," and a nervous laugh.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"No, don't," she replied, shaking her head. "I mean… you did what you had to do." She grinned bravely. "Never doubted you a moment, you know: the Doctor versus the whole Dalek fleet? They never stood a chance, yeah?"

Daleks? Oh… yes. He frowned.

"So really Doctor, how did you beat them? I know your singing voice is to die for, but really."

He smiled uneasily, twisting the blanket between his hands. "I, ah, can't remember just now."

"Can't remember?" she asked, in a tone that suggested she was half-convinced he was having her on.

He felt a twinge of annoyance and snapped, a bit more sharply than he meant to, "Just got rebuilt from the cellular level, remember? It's a bit disorienting, all right?"

She blinked in open surprise at his tone. "Sorry," she muttered. She gripped the edge of the TARDIS console and pulled herself to her feet. At this movement, the lights returned to their normal level, and he winced briefly, shielding his eyes with one hand. "Well, look," she continued briskly, trailing her fingers over the controls and then turning back to him with an impish grin, "you remember how to work this thing at least, yeah?"

"Yeah, of course," he agreed, gathering his legs under himself and standing up carefully. She belatedly offered him a supporting hand, but he waved it off, balancing with both palms flat on the console. The sleeves of his jacket drooped from his shoulders and bunched up at his wrists. He sighed.

"You're a bit shorter," she observed, playfully drawing an imaginary line from the top of her head to the bridge of his nose. "Not by much," she added, when he glared. "Particularly when you count the hair." Which she daringly ruffled.

He smirked at her. "Did you want to go somewhere?"

All business again, she dropped her hands to her sides and nodded. "We've got to go back, look for Jack. If you don't remember what exactly happened, then there's all the more reason to find out."

He felt his brows knit together in puzzlement, and asked without thinking, "Who?"

Almost immediately he realized that this was the wrong thing to say, and swore inwardly.

The girl's eyes had gone wide. "You don't remember Jack?" she blurted in disbelief.

He grinned nervously. "Err… no. Sorry?"

This, also, was the wrong response.

"Disorienting?" she demanded. "You can remember bloody Barcelona but not Jack?" She looked like she wanted to hit him; he braced himself instinctively, but then she suddenly looked horrified instead. "…D'you remember me?" she asked, in a small voice.

"Well…"

"Doctor!"

"You're very familiar," he offered hopefully.

"What's my name, Doctor?"

"Look, just give me some time; most of my memory usually comes back in a couple of days…"

"Most of it?" she yelled.

Now we were into the hysterics. All right, stay calm. He rolled his shoulders to release some tension; which didn't help as it only served to remind him that his jacket no longer fit. He tried a winning smile; which also didn't help as it only served to remind him that his teeth no longer fit, either.

"You didn't say anything about not remembering me," she accused, keeping her voice even with an obvious effort.

He stepped forward; tried to take her hand. She withdrew, staring at him as if she'd never seen him before. He supposed, in a way, she hadn't. Sentimental little apes, so hung up on appearances. "What's my name?" she whispered.

He sighed. Shut his eyes tight. Tried to think past the last ten minutes or so, which as far as he was currently concerned, was when life had begun. The throbbing in his temples increased as he pushed and prodded for something, anything that'd keep this girl from hurting herself. Finally, a name offered itself up reluctantly from somewhere in the mess of his time brain.

"Ace?" he blurted; but he knew it was wrong. His eyes flew open just in time to see her scoot around the opposite side of the console and run for the inner door. "No, wait," he cried at her back, "I know it, I do…"

The door slammed shut behind her. He tossed a glance up at the ceiling. "Thanks," he informed the TARDIS dryly, then groaned and leaned his forehead against one of the support columns. "Bloody hell. Rose…."