Notes: The characters aren't mine, and the story is! This was a little something I came up with for Jon's birthday today; it references Season 6B and my Jamie drabble collection, "Those Who Help Us Most to Grow." This does take place after Spearhead From Space, and deals with after-the-fact character death.

The Doctor couldn't blame the Brigadier for being insatiably curious as to what had happened to him. The Brigadier probably wasn't entirely convinced that he was the same man—and, in some ways, the Doctor felt too different… too detached from his previous self.

And the Doctor knew that part of that reason was due to the absence of an "Oh, aye," punctuating his explanations. The first few days after matching wits with the Nestene were the most difficult since the days after his trial. Both he and his past self had kept instinctively looking over their shoulders to talk to Jamie, only to see no one standing there. There was no wide-eyed Highlander with a grin on his face, ready to follow wherever the Doctor had to go. His past self had had it much better; at least Jamie had been alive after their initial separation. And, sure enough, after fifty years of pandering to the Celestial Intervention Agency, he had been joyously reunited with the piper, memories and all.

Years and years and years had gone by; his past self had reached his 550th year, and Jamie his 75th. It had been no secret to the both of them that the piper, being only human, had been slowing down considerably over the last few years; already, Jamie had far exceeded the life expectancy of his era.

The piper had been long aware of his own mortality; one of their picnics together had been near the ruins of an old abbey from medieval times. The Doctor could still recall Jamie glancing at the old ruins, absently running a hand over the lines on his face—

"Nothing lasts fore'er, does it?" he had asked.

"No," the Doctor's previous self had replied, with a sigh. "Nothing does. Not even Time Lords, with all our longevity—someday, we run out of regenerations, and our time ends. Even individual regenerations reach their end. I… I know I'm nearing the end of this one. Goth has been looking for an excuse to enact the planned sentence of exile and forced regeneration. I've seen my future self, and so it must happen."

"Ye're just waiting," Jamie had realized. "Waiting for me to go first."

"Well… I know how much traveling with me means to you, Jamie. I was going to wait before giving them a reason to end this regeneration."

"Couldn't we run?" Jamie had asked. "Find a way to escape them?"

"That doesn't help you, I'm afraid, Jamie," the previous Doctor had said.

"I know… I'm just sorry I cannae stay with ye." The normally stalwart Scot had trembled slightly at this point, and it had been evident that he was not looking forward to his own end, either.

They had clung to each other at that point, as they always did, but the comfort they usually drew had been diminished by the inevitable parting that lay ahead for both of them…

"Doctor?"

The Brigadier's voice brought him back to the present.

"Sorry?"

"I had just asked you what had happened to McCrimmon. I always thought that you two were inseparable, the way you carried on. Was your… change too much for him?"

The Doctor scoffed; as if his regeneration would have pushed Jamie away! The piper had long since asserted that it would take more than regeneration for him to leave the Doctor's side. Had he lived to see it, the Doctor would've been sure that Jamie would've kept his word.

"No," he said, abruptly.

The Brigadier now realized that this was, perhaps, a topic that he should not press. However, it was the Doctor who decided to continue speaking.

"Brigadier, I am now 563 years old," he stated. "When I first met you, I was 450."

"Good Lord…" the soldier realized. "Then McCrimmon must be…"

"Yes," the Doctor said, retreating to his now-immobile TARDIS; he ignored the Brigadier's attempts to talk to him, closing the doors behind him.

The combination of post-regeneration trauma and the mess with the Nestene had succeeded in temporarily driving the anguishing memories from his mind. But now, they were back; though Jamie's end had been peaceful, that hadn't made it hurt any less.

The Doctor clutched at his head, trying to banish the image of his second self cradling the dying piper in his arms. His past self's forehead had been pressed against Jamie's, allowing him to read his last coherent thoughts—

Thank ye for e'erything, Doctor.

The Doctor now snarled in frustration, glaring with contempt at the folded frock coat, shirt, and checked trousers that were resting on the TARDIS console since the hospital staff had returned them to him. How dare his past self be so selfish!? How dare he not insist that Jamie return home to Scotland once it was clear that his adventuring days were behind him!? How dare he not do something that could've given Jamie any amount of extra time!?

The console suddenly sparked to life, projecting an all-too-familiar image of a young Highlander in a kilt.

"TARDIS Voice Interface activated," the image said.

"Why are you doing this to me…?" the Doctor murmured to the TARDIS. "Why now?"

"All the humans that have passed through those doors… Ye chose to take them in," the interface said. "Jamie was only the most recent one; it started with Ian and Barbara. Ye di'n care two hoots aboot humans before they came along."

"I never planned to get so… attached."

"Do ye regret that?"

"What…?"

The Doctor stared at the interface; the warm eyes looked at him with the same mix of curiosity and admiration that the real Jamie always did.

"If I took ye back to Totter's Lane and let ye speak with yer first self… would ye tell him nae to get involved with humans?"

"You don't even have a working dematerialization circuit! There's no point to this question!"

The interface tilted its head slightly.

"But would ye? Ye knew of humans' shorter lifespans. Ye knew that e'en after reuniting with Jamie after the trial, that his own biological limitations would number the years he could travel with ye. Would ye have changed getting attached?"

The Doctor exhaled.

Why had he let himself get attached? Well, there was no question about it; being surrounded by humans had humanized him, and that had meant dealing with emotional attachment—love, as they called it—what many of the other Time Lords had constantly warned against, but for different reasons. They had claimed that love and concern were weaknesses that could be exploited; the Doctor had never seen them as such. But love did mean one thing—the pain that followed after losing a loved one, and it was this pain that was sending him reeling now. He had loved Susan—of course he had! But he had also attached himself to ones he knew couldn't stay with him forever—Ian, Barbara, Vicki, Steven, Katarina, Sara, Dodo, Ben, Polly, Jamie, Victoria, Zoe… even the Brigadier, who had brought him some amount of sanity during his initial fifty years without Jamie—though he would never let him know that.

Losing Jamie had hurt so much due to how long they had spent together. But there were others to meet, he realized. And he would eventually have to part with them, as well. But, in the meantime, he realized that he ought to be grateful that if the other Time Lords had to exile him, that he end up with someone he could call a friend—albeit begrudgingly.

The Brigadier had, unknowingly, helped him cope with losing Jamie once before. Perhaps he could do so again. And this scientist, Liz Shaw… Well, she did remind him of Zoe, to be honest.

They weren't replacements—of course not! He would always miss Jamie—and Zoe, though he would have chances of seeing her again should his exile ever be lifted. He would need time to mourn Jamie; the piper still took up a place in his hearts, and always would. But that was no reason for him not to open his hearts to others. Jamie wouldn't have stood for it.

The Doctor looked back at the interface, which was still staring back at him intently with Jamie's face.

"No," he said. "I wouldn't change anything."

The interface smiled and vanished. The Doctor gave the console a good-natured pat before gathering his previous self's clothes and taking them to the TARDIS wardrobe.

He paused, involuntarily, seeing Jamie's kilt right where he had left it, but then hung up his old clothes beside it.

Ye should wear it sometime, he heard a familiar voice say. Ye're family, as far as I'm concerned; the tartan of the McCrimmons suits ye.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you…?" the Doctor began, but trailed off as he realized that he was nowhere near the console—and that this couldn't be the voice of the interface. He turned around to face an empty space—but a space that had a definite presence. "Jamie…?"

Ye daft old man, did ye really think ye'd be rid of me? I said I wouldnae leave ye; ye won' always see me or hear me, but I'll be here. I promise. And like ye once said, a Highlander's word is his bond.

The corners of the Doctor's mouth turned upwards into a vestige of a smile.

And ye'll see me again, ye know. The younger me—with yer past self. All those times we met yer other selves… ye've got that to look forward to.

"I do indeed, Jamie," the Doctor assured him. "And I assure you, I will. Now, if you'll excuse me, I did leave my conversation with the Brigadier rather abruptly."

Oh, aye.

The Doctor's smile threatened to break through, but he kept it in check as he made his way back to the console room and out the TARDIS doors. He cleared his throat, prompting the Brigadier to look in his direction.

"Are you alright, Doctor?" the soldier asked.

"I shall be," the Doctor assured him. "Er… I don't suppose you can procure some tea?"

"I daresay it's within the realms of possibility."

"Oh, good. I can… tell you more about Jamie, if you like."

"Are you quite sure?"

The Doctor considered this for a moment. When they first started traveling together, Jamie would always talk about the family he had lost. The release was something he had needed. Perhaps the Doctor could use such a release now.

"Yes, Brigadier, I'm quite sure."

And so, over tea, the Doctor shared the exploits of a piper whom he was proud to call his friend—and family.