I'm baaack! And I wrote this one stone cold sober, although it was two a.m., so who knows how mentally capable I was. ANYWAYS! I was in the shower the other day and thinking about eleven and this series of drabbles, when I imagined him saying something along the lines of "I can remember thinking what I thought, but I don't always understand the logic of the thinking." The original line didn't end up making it into the story and I've since forgotten the exact wording, but this is the result, and I'm okay with it.

As always, I don't claim any ownership or right to the Doctor Who franchise.

And as always, I love you.

This is "Agree", title suggestions welcome (as always).

Love, Me.

"But Doctor, I don't understand. If he became him," Amy gestured first to the big-eared leather wearing Doctor, then to the pinstriped-suit-and-chucks Doctor, "and then he became you, then why are the three of you fighting all the time?"

She, Rory and the Doctor were perched on the edge of the upper walkway in the TARDIS control room, legs hanging over the edge. The Doctor, sitting on the other side of Rory, answered in the distracted way that told her he was probably playing with his sonic screwdriver, or taking apart another toaster. "Well Amy, it's simple…well, kind of simple… a little. We're the same man – same Time Lord, I mean – but three different men."

Amy nodded along, waiting for the Doctor to continue. Except he didn't. She looked over to see him scanning something with the sonic, something that looked suspiciously like the lever of a toaster, not noticing Rory's incredulous stare. "Really?" Rory said, "That's it?"

"Yes, Rory, of course that's it. Simple, just like I said." The Doctor didn't look up.

"Doctor!"

"Right! Yes, sorry." At Amy's sharp reprimand he tossed the toaster lever over his shoulder, ignored the way it clattered as it bounced down the steps to the lower level, and turned to them. "Say you have a man, any man, or any woman, and that man or woman is dying. Only, say that that man or woman doesn't want to die, or holds some type of infinite wisdom – possibly the knowledge of all time and space – that makes it so the man or woman shouldn't die. With me so far?"

Rory muttered something but Amy said "I suppose so, yeah."

"Great! Now, pretend you have another person, Person Two, and Person Two is a perfectly healthy person with just one problem. Person Two has all the makings of a personality, those little quirks and habits and favorite foods that make a person a person, but no memories. Just a great big empty shell who likes spaghetti with meatballs and watching football on the telly. Still getting this?"

Amy nodded.

"Fantastic. So, instead of letting the first man or woman die, you wait until they're almost dead – death bed dying, final breath and all. Then, at the exact moment they die, you rip their brain right out of their head, memories and all, and plop," he flicked his hands out as if he were dropping something "drop it right into Person Two's head. Now Person Two has memories, all the memories of Person One, to fill up their brain. But Person One wasn't just all memories, you see, Person One had a personality. Maybe Person One didn't like pasta at all, or watched professional ping pong on Saturday nights instead of football. Now Person Two has to take all of Person One's personality and mesh it around with their own. It's like one big mixing bowl of personality in there. And when it's all over – can take a couple days, mind you – but when it's all over maybe Person Two still likes spaghetti, but hates meatballs. Or maybe he watches football on Saturday nights, but likes to watch professional ping-pong on Fridays now. Just little hold overs from Person One that got sucked into Person Two's personality. That's regeneration. Same Time Lord, same memories. Different man, different personality.

"See?" He said. "Simple." Amy and Rory stared at him.

"So you're saying Leather-Man is Person One, and Suit and Tie Man is person two?"

"Right."

"And you're Person Three, then?"

"Exactly."

"So Person One likes spaghetti and meatballs, Person Two likes spaghetti with no meatballs, and Person Three likes –"

"Fish fingers and custard, of course." Rory spluttered at the interruption but Amy rolled her eyes.

"Oh, of course."

"Right."

They grew silent, each watching the younger two Doctor's trade insults while lying under opposite sides of the TARDIS console. The youngest of the three, Mr. Leather as Amy called him, seemed to disagree with the way Pinstripes was rewiring something ("Has old age made you forget everything I learned on Nexus 12?" "Oh, no, I haven't forgotten anything! I just grew up a little, decided to check out Nexus 13. Must've been too lazy in my youth, never made it that far before this body!"). The Doctor sitting on the walkway with Amy and Rory leaned back and muttered something about Nexus 17.

"So is there anything that you all agree on?" Rory asked. Amy looked back over, curious about the Doctor's answer.

Their raggedy friend shrugged. "Sure, a few things, I suppose. Bananas for one, I've always liked a good banana. Did I ever tell you I once replaced a weapons factory with a banana grove?"

"Nothing else, though?" Amy asked.

"Oh, there may be more. Nothing very important. Maybe pears? Pretty sure I've always hated pears. Used to love bacon though, eugh."

Just then the blond girl, Rose, came into the room from the door below them, followed closely by her friend Mickey. They were laughing at something, probably some story or joke about old times, judging by the way Rose was saying "Oh my God, I forgot about that!" Amy saw the two Doctor's on the lower level, who had each climbed out from under the TARDIS at some point and were now walking around the console arguing over the function of different buttons, pause and turn their heads to the door. Or, more specifically, they both stopped, turned to look at Rose, and smiled.

To her right, and she wouldn't have seen it if Rory hadn't chosen that exact moment to drop back and lay on the floor behind them, Amy saw the floppy-haired head of her Doctor turn toward the same door. More specifically, her Doctor's head turned toward Rose, and then he smiled too. Amy smirked.

"Right." She said, sarcasm evident to anyone who actually bothered to listen, which right now was no one. "Nothing important, eh?" Because there was obviously one important thing that all three Doctor's agreed on; they were all in love with Rose Tyler.