Author's Notes:

I own nothing. I write simply to satisfy an itch or two of a 'what if?' This story begins in medias res - and is meant to be a single moment in time and a Lady or the Tiger scenario. :) The final choice is left to the eye of the beholder.

"You have to choose," the Jestine smiled tightly. It's fingers curled in on each other as they rested along the arms of the ruby throne. The Doctor's horrified glare met that of the half-human God-King and found nothing but malevolent anticipation in return.

"No," the doctor shouted, voice floating across the spire. "I won't do it. You can't make me."

"Of course I can. And if you do nothing, you've chosen to let them both die." The Jestine laughed. The sound echoed out into eternity and was underscored by the piercing dual entreaties for help.

About forty feet to the left...

"Doctor! Help me!" she was screaming, fingers bloodless as she held on for her life. She couldn't see him, but she knew, she believed, he was there. Her feet were dangling, poised above the abyss and the stone shards over a thousand feet below. Desperation was the sole medium of her communication. Her life was now measured in centimeters and each breath that left her lips. Counted in the ache of muscles reaching their breaking point and the relentless draw of gravity. She couldn't hold on for much longer...

If he began running to her, just now, he could grab her outstretched hand. Pull her to safety. Grab her close and listen to that nervous half laugh that she usually gave when death was averted, yet again, by the skin of their teeth. Hold her tight, even if only for a moment.

About forty feet to the doctor's right, just behind the blind corner...

"...oh, god...they're coming! Doctor! Doctor! What do I do?" She didn't scream. She shouted. Her voice was hoarser, bearing an implicit demand. He'd left her there. Told her to wait. She expected him to answer her. She was still thinking. Still searching for a way out. Never mind that only the sonic screwdriver he had in his pocket had any chance of deactivating the Spartian Soldiers before they tore her limb from limb.

If he ran? If he ran he would reach her just in time. Pull her from the clatter of the deactivated husks, fingers entwined in fingers and watch her, no... feel her, look up at him with that half-awed half-adoration on her face as she grinned.

"Doctor!"

"Doctor!"

No win scenario. His mind ran through a thousand scenario but not a single one led to him saving both Rose and Martha.

He couldn't even answer them. The Jestine had made sure that his voice would not reach either one as long as he stood here. There'd be no comfort. No explanations. No goodbyes. He would not be able to even send his voice to the one he would need to leave to die...

"Only one, Doctor." The Jestine taunted. "Better act quickly."

His jaw tightened, his teeth aching against each other as he clenched them. Just a moment. Just a breath. "...this isn't over." He swore to the being on the throne.

Then he turned, jacket flailing out behind him as he ran. Ran not only to save her but ran as if from himself. Ran from the failure.

Katarina. Sarah. Adric...

And now...?

Rose.

Or Martha.

Martha.

Or Rose.

But he'd made his choice.

She's never know why he abandoned her. She'd die and never know...

"Doctor!" Terrified now.

"I'm coming! You'll be fine! I'm coming."

And he steeled himself against the oncoming screams...