"Dimatis 7," the Doctor replied, smiling softly at the memory. He remembered laying there, his hand inches from the Master's, wanting to hold it and held back by the knowledge that such contact wasn't approved.

If only the Valeyard would remember the way things were. If only the Doctor hadn't become so disillusioned to want to forget all of the things that made him who he was. The Valeyard, the Doctor remembered, wasn't just the enemy. He was the Doctor's fault.

"Remember when I destroyed that project of yours? You were so furious---"