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‘Hello!’ the Doctor called out. There was no answer. ‘Fine,’ he mumbled, fed up with lying about in the cave-like room and being dragged into a past he did not remember. He closed his eyes, and prepared himself for some pain. With considerable effort the Doctor lifted his back off the table and threw his legs over the side. Pain did not come. He looked down at his leg and saw the scar tissue through his ripped trousers. His regenerative powers had taken their time to work. He glanced around the room. The pattern on the wall before him caught his eye. Unsteadily he walked over to it and reached out a hand. ‘Gold,’ he said. The Doctor took a step back and titled his head. The pattern was lop-sided but he knew it only too well. ‘The sign of their Gods,’ a voice said. The Doctor glanced around the room, but still there was no one else with him. Just him and the voice from his dreams. ‘Nonsense, that is the Seal of Rassilon.’ ‘Yes. Also known as the Seal of the High Council.’ ‘You know something of Gallifrey and the Time Lords?’ ‘A little,’ the voice said in a tone that implied that it knew a lot more than a little. ‘You still do not know me?’ The Doctor shook his head. ‘No, although I do recognise your voice. Maybe if you showed yourself?’ The only response was silence. The Doctor shrugged. If the voice did not wish to play then neither would he. With great effort he walked over to the door and pulled at it. It did not move. He let out a groan and turned back to the room. ‘Well?’ he snapped at the voice, finding a focus for his frustration. ‘Are you going to show yourself or not?’ A sigh echoed around the room. ‘Things have changed, and manifesting a body is no longer easy for me.’ The Doctor huffed. ‘A flimsy excuse.’ ‘I have not heard you this moody in a long while, Doctor.’ The Doctor folded his arms, refusing to be drawn further in. ‘Very well,’ the voice said in a resigned tone. ‘I will do my best. Just remember that you insisted.’ The Doctor smiled and waited. The air before him shimmered as a body began to form. At first all that could be made out was an outline. ‘Is that the best you can do?’ The Doctor had to smirk, quite sure that the outline appeared to express frustration. Features came into focus, first the clothes - the robes of a Time Lord, complete with oversized ceremonial collar and skullcap. The robes were a mix of red and gold, the colours of a Prydonian - the Time Lord chapter to which the Doctor belonged. Finally the rest of the body formed, and the Doctor nodded in acknowledgment. Standing before him in the Prydonian robes was a dark skinned man, with a tightly clipped goatee beard. The Doctor knew him as the Figure, a mysterious person who had appeared to the Doctor several times during his enforced stay in the Galactic Federation. ‘Well, now I know why your voice sounded familiar.’ The Doctor stepped forward and poked the Figure. ‘I didn’t know you were a Time Lord.’ The Figure shook his head. ‘Oh, I’m not. But I chose these robes to remind you of what you have lost.’ ‘Very nice of you, I’m sure.’ ‘And what you are going to lose.’ ‘What?’ The Figure turned away. ‘Later, Doctor. Trust me, the time for explanations is fast approaching. But not just yet.’ He pointed at the Seal of Rassilon. ‘The people of this planet worship our people as Gods. An irony, really.’ He glanced back at the Doctor. ‘If only they knew.’ ‘Knew what?’ The Figure did not answer, so the Doctor tried another tact. ‘Okey dokey, so you say you are not a Time Lord, yet you call them “our” people. How does that work?’ ‘How is your body now? Still in pain?’ The Doctor was fully aware that his questions were being deflected, but he also realised that the Figure had asked a valid question. The pain in his body had gone - as soon as the Figure had manifested! ‘Best it has been since I arrived on this rock,’ the Doctor said, quite pleased at that. ‘A shame.’ The Doctor raised a questioning eyebrow, and the Figure let out a sigh. ‘It is a shame, Doctor, because the lack of pain is the calm before an impending storm.’ He reached out and placed a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. ‘You, my friend, are dying.’
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