"Nyssa..."

Vaguely, Nyssa of Traken heard the voice of the Doctor as she stumbled through the white - suddenly so BLINDINGLY white - corridors of the TARDIS, everything lurching around her insanely and painfully. There was the door to her room, she rushed through, then into the adjacent bathroom. She saw the toilet, got to her knees, and cried as she emptied the contents of her stomach.

Nyssa was still wretching when she felt the Doctor's hands on her shoulders, heard his oh-so-gentle voice: "It's alright, Nyssa...don't fight it...you just have a bug." Through her sickly delirium, Nyssa was aware of being carried in the Doctor's strong arms, being laid on her bed, shivering and sweating. Like when she was a little girl, and her father would help her to bed; would watch over her, soothing her, as the Doctor did now. Her father...before his face was torn from him by an evil monster, who wore that face even now as he wreaked unimaginable horrors. Before Traken was gone forever...

"Doctor," she gasped, her throat raw, "I love you..."

The Doctor, holding her hand, smiled.