At first all the Doctor felt was pain, in every bone in his body. What happened? He thought. He could swear he heard creaking, grinding noises in the machinery of his own mind. What happened?

He tried to roll to his side. He groaned. Then he remembered.

The Ood. Wilfred. The Master. Everything hurts. And that means... That means...

"I'm alive. I've..."

Hard to believe, huh? My aching bones a proof, he thought. Doleo, ergo sum.

"I'm still alive" he laughed weakly. He felt so battered, such a wonderful, delightful feeling! What would Aristippus say, he giggled inwardly, maybe I'll go and see him? Have a chat over an amphora. Finally an occasion to talk properly. Or maybe...

Four knocks. Simple rhythm. Four knocks on the glass. No. Impossible. But... four knocks again, the rhythm of his hearts. The Doctor hung his head.

As if to mock him, Wilfred tapped his rhythm out again. One, two, three, four. Thanks for the warning, Carmen, the Doctor thought bitterly. Thanks, universe. Nice to know you're grateful.

"They've gone, then?" asked Wilfred hesitantly. "Good-oh. If you could let me out?"

"Yeah."

Wilfred said "Only, this thing seems to be making a bit of a noise."

Mechanically, completely without thinking, the Doctor pulled himself up. The ache in his bones dulled. Maybe just slid from the foreground.

"The Master" of course, the unthinking idiot "left the nuclear bolt running. It's gone into overload."

"And that's bad, is it?"

"No", obviously, "cause all the excess radiation gets vented through here. Vinvocci glass contains it. All five hundred thousand rads, about to flood this thing."

"Oh!" chuckled Wilf. Something clenched, painfully, behind the Doctor's sternum. "Well, you'd better let me out, then."

Yeah, I'd better.

"Except it's gone critical. Touch one control and it floods."

He reached for his screwdriver. "Even this would set it off."

"I'm sorry" Wilf whispered.

"Sure" the Doctor whispered back, blankly.

"Look, just leave me."

What?

"OK. Right then, I will. Cause you had to go in there, hadn't you? You had to go and get stuck, oh yes! Cause that's what you are, Wilfred. You were always this. Waiting for me the whole time!"

"No, really, just leave me" Wilf insisted. "I'm an old man, Doctor. I've had my time."

The thing behind his sternum burned like a star. Old? I'll show you "old".

"Well, exactly" he growled. "Look at you. Not remotely important. But me? I could do so much more!"

Rasillon!

"So much more!"

Rasillon. The one who thinks he's more important than the universe. What would Adelaide say?

"But that is what I get. My reward. And it's not fair!"

His wrists hurt. What am I doing, he thought, looking at the papers he pushed off a desk. Taking Rasillon's road. Poetically speaking. Or, in other words, prattling. And I know I don't want to take this road, so why am I prattling. Trying to buy time, that's what.

"Ooh... lived too long."

"No... No, no, please, please don't, don't..." But the Doctor only glanced at Wilfred.

I could do so much, he thought. See so much. Save so many people.

And none of these things is worth paying the price of this one, old man's life. None. It's not about virtue, theory of courage or however they call this now. It's not about liking him, though I really do. He's smart, brave. And I guess he likes me, too, since he's yelling so much.

"Wilfred" you're worth more than the sum of your merits "it's my honour. Better be quick. Three, two, one."

For a moment the fire in his chest died out. Death gives us meaning, the Doctor remembered with an inward smile. No, not death. I've been so childish just a year ago. Not death. He pressed the button.

Before the pain drowned out all thought, the Doctor saw Wilfred face to face.