The battlefield was muddy and cold and the wind cut across him like a knife.

He should be used to the sight of bodies strewn across the ground like gruesome poppies; but he never did.

He had always managed to view death with a cold detachment...well he did.

Until he met her, the girl with the yellow hair. Her compassion had warmed his hearts.

He used to walk the battlefield and ignore the cries of the wounded...not anymore. He'd met a doctor in training and her kind heart had melted his icy soul.

He would never interfere, letting them destroy themselves...not now. He'd met a fiery-haired friend, who made him see.

He stood amongst the dead and the dying and all the pain and anger of meeting and losing them welled up inside him.

"Enough!" the Doctor roared and his voice carried like thunder to the two armies that faced each other.

He would fight now.

Fight the good fight...in their names.