At first, the Doctor had not heard him, his loud voice muffled by the sound of the rain beating in his ears. Sigma had been trying to hide within his memories, still vivid due to his gift, in a warm bed some fifty years ago where Diana stroked his hair. He was taken from this hallucination by the sensation of real warmth on his shoulder; Sigma twitched, opening his eyes. His muscles spasmed in an involuntary fear response and he dug his nails into the dirt to ease it - had it been anyone else, he would no longer be alive.

"Initia-" he had barely spoken the title before he coughed again, one that rattled in his chest, made his vision swim. He could barely speak through his swollen throat once he retrieved the strength to. Despite his condition, the Doctor was visibly concerned for Initiate Fraysong's injuries, and considers his own well being secondary. "...Are you alright?" He cleared his throat. "Forgive my weakness. I am very ill. I am unlikely to survive," he said simply, factually. Behind muddy green eyes it was clear he was suffering.

He lifted a soaked arm to wipe rain from his brow. He did not know how much the other's injuries affected his ability to fight, and by staying here he risked death. "You may go, if you wish," he admitted wearily. "There is hardly a point, now." Blood was pounding in his head and the rain had drenched his clothes through. Sigma was a big man, and it was certainly humbling to be frail, now, even helpless. But with all of his pride intact, he would not beg. And now that the cameras were surely on him, he was determined to live - Sigma dug through the hard earth with robotic hands that whirred under the stress, lifting himself enough to balance himself on his knees, and began to stand.