To be remembered. Of course, of course it would be that. What does she remember of her previous lives? Nothing, it had seemed to him at least. Does she recall that refrain, run you clever boy and remember? But then he thinks back to their conversation shortly after she’d arrived in Serthica, how it seemed to her that he simply forgets people and moves on, when the opposite is true. She’d seemed to come to an understanding of that at the time, but it still haunts her, that she might be forgotten. Something to talk about later, perhaps.

But then her next answer comes and his emotions take a swift and sharp pivot. He tenses, jaw clenching again, eyes holding a barely contained fury. Not at her, but for her.

Whatever it takes…to save him? Why? Why must it always be this? Everyone’s life ruined because of him and for him and he’s never wanted or asked for it. But he damages them regardless and it makes his hearts ache with sadness and rage, mostly at himself.

“Well,” the Doctor turns his fury to the man in white. “You have your answers. More than enough, in fact. Take us back! Now.” His voice raises, anger about to boil over, his hands threaded together tensely, all the while staring at the man with daggers in his eyes.