DOCTOR: Oh, and be sure to cover your throat. That's very important when going from a warmer clime to a cooler one.

FITZ: Did you get that from some ancient source of Time Lord wisdom?

DOCTOR: No, from David Niven, but it's still good advice.

DOCTOR: Making things Right is my profession. Cheating Death's just a sort of hobby... But I seem to be rather talented at it.

GARCIA: The problem with cheating Death is that he's a sore loser at the best of times.

DOCTOR: Yes, she is.

SAM: That's enough. Too many bad memories. Take me back. Back down to human levels.

GALASTEL: You're sure? You would turn your back on these powers. You would be... human?

SAM: It's who I am. Who I know. It's who I want to be.

SAM: You said that sometimes we all had to make choices. That's what makes us ourselves, doesn't it? The choices we make? I am... I'm myself, who I ought to be. Might be the best thing I've learned from you.

'Hello Sarah Jane,' he said.

He wondered if Sarah looked surprised. It was hard to tell, since he could see only her knees from here. Her body was crouched down by his side.

'You,' she said. 'It's you, isn't it?'

DOCTOR: I'm just a Time Lord dreaming he's a man. Or is it the other way around?

Sarah had been banking on the dog being wrong about that. Who was going to be here? Friends of Sam's? Family even?

Surely not. The Doctor wouldn't have chosen her as a companion if she'd had family. Close family, anyway. He didn't work like that, did he? Even Batman only hired orphans as sidekicks.

Sam was going to leave. Sam wanted to leave. Sam had decided to leave. Not one of those slow, creeping realisations, but an actual big, hard no-backing-out decision. She'd drawn the line in the sand, she'd made up her mind, she'd written it in her diary, and yes, the diary in question contained only one entry and that was it, but it was the thought that counted.

Going. Definitely going. Going going going.

DOCTOR: I could take you forward -

SAM: No. We've figured it out. I'm going to be staying here. Sarah's got a couple of big projects lined up in the next year or so. She's going to need help. And there's a spare room here, so I won't get in the way of... you know. Her private life.

SARAH: I'm hoping there'll be a Nobel Prize in this somewhere.

SAM: Either that or we'll end up bringing down Western civilisation.

What was madness, anyway, and who was Fitz to make definitions? She had some idea that there was a history of mental illness, as the humans called it, in Fit's past, but Compassion had never cared enough to bother finding out the details. She doubted anything about Fitz could be too interesting. He came from a culture that had only just discovered television, so how smart could he be?

COMPASSION: Doctor, you're babbling at me.

DOCTOR: I am?

COMPASSION: It happens when you get nervous or overexcited. It's very distracting.

DOCTOR: Babbling? No one else has ever complained.

FITZ: You know, Iris. When I said being with you was the same as being with the Doctor, I was wrong.

IRIS: Oh yes, dear?

FITZ: Being with you is like being in a sodding B movie.

Then she nudged the rumpled Fitz fully awake with the toe of her stacked-heeled boot.

'Get up, Fitz We've been left on the Planet of the bloody Apes.'

Fitz groaned and feigned losing consciousness again. She took his arm and heaved him up onto his shaking legs.

'Let me die,' he groaned. 'Just let me die.'

FITZ: Do you know? Knocking around with you is absolutely no different from hanging around with the Doctor.

IRIS: Well, we both have fantastic adventures. But he's a bit of a wuss, compared to me.

I remember being in San Francisco and it was New Year. I kissed a woman in a park. She was dressed in some satiny stuff and the trees were strung with fairy lights. I kissed her. Quite impulsive for me, jamming my face right into hers, feeling her relax into me. I hardly knew the woman.

I kissed her because she'd just given me back part of my memory. She had restored it to me with just an inadvertent word. I wonder if I could somehow find her again and she could tell me more?

Grace, Grace, Grace, she was called.

He let his eyes open, and touched his palm against the TARDIS with relief.

'This, old girl,' he told it, 'has been one hell of a day.'

'I thought you said it wasn't a person?' muttered Holsred petulantly.

'It isn't,' said Fitz firmly. 'But I tend to go all sentimental when I've just spent most of the day being chased and tortured. I'm odd like that.'

'That isn't very inconspicuous. What sort of TARDIS doesn't even have a working chameleon circuit?'

'A crap one,' snapped Fitz.

'I suppose that fit communicated itself to his colleague who was, er, working on you. Nigh-identical cortical structures you see - almost bound to cause psychic feedback in a confined space.'

'Obvious really,' Fitz said, ironically.

'Oh, was it? I thought it was rather clever!' The Doctor looked downhearted, and Fitz felt he had kicked a puppy before the Doctor winked at him to show it was all a joke.

COMPASSION: Maybe you're a Great Old One on your mother's side. Either that or a lucky guess.

DOCTOR: No, I think it's what I was warning you against. The power of the scenario: It's trying to turn me into an expert narrative voice.

COMPASSION: Obviously, Doctor. I was employing irony.

DOCTOR: We should go and investigate. Identify what's disturbing your concentration, Compassion. Prevent you walking into the furniture. Then we can all stop worrying about you.

COMPASSION: I don't care whether or not you worry about me.

DOCTOR: Good. So you won't care if we do something about it.

The Doctor grinned even wider, and noticed that the rubber lips around the robot's speech loudspeaker were doing the same. 'Fascinating. I suppose that's to reduce the common fear that people have of robots, the lack of empathy and expression. You're able to imitate people!'

The robot stood facing him, arms akimbo, its face a picture of mechanical amazement. 'Am I?' it said with a wide-eyed grin. It slapped its forehead again with a tinny clank.

'Yes,' said the Doctor. 'But don't overdo it.'

FITZ: You don't really need me. Why are you waiting for me?

COMPASSION: It's the right thing to do.

FITZ: You're starting to sound like the Doctor.

COMPASSION: You make that sound like an insult.

FITZ: What's the bloody point? You can knock it off with the concerned-friend routine, too. You don't need me. You can find the Doctor without me. Leave me here to rot with Ellis. I can find out if he smells better once he's been dead for a while.

COMPASSION: Of course we need you, Fitz. You don't think the Doctor would leave you here anyway, do you? The Doctor trusts you, he doesn't trust me.