Day one.

The Doctor worked furiously, delving into all the records they had on hand. On fire with determination from his fresh wound, he felt unstoppable. The answer lay somewhere within the documents he had spread about on the wooden table before him, and he was going to find it. He was. He had to. Too much depended on him for him to fail again.

"Doctor."

He barely glanced up from the paper he was reading to see the Captain standing nearby. "Yes?" The phrase came out more as a statement than a question. As silly as he knew it was, he blamed the Captain partially for what had happened to Gabriel. It wasn't the man's fault, truly, and he knew it, but knowing this didn't wake up his little boy.

"I'm truly sorry about your son," The captain held his eyes to the ground, but stood as a proper soldier should. "He seemed like a bright boy…"

"He is." The Doctor interjected.

"And I hope you can save him," Jacob finished. "He and my men."

"I will."

"I am not the best with consolation," Jacob admitted, holding his hands behind his back, "however there is one here in our camp who is. I've yet to see him fail at bringing a smile."

The Doctor tried not to scoff. The man meant well, but nothing could soothe a father's vengeance. Nothing.

The Captain whistled, and a small, shaggy brown dog raced into the room, leaping up on the Time Lord's lap, panting and begging for attention. The Doctor looked at it, and it back to the Doctor with large, near black eyes.

Well, this hadn't been what he was expecting.

"Where…" The Doctor started to ask, but the blonde was shaking his head.

"I don't know where he came from. He just wandered into one of the bunks one day, and he's stayed with us ever since." The man sighed and crossed his arms. "I don't know why. There's not much food here, and it gets awfully cold."

As if understanding, the Doctor stared into the mutt's eyes before slowly lifting a hand and scratching it's floppy ear gently. "Perhaps he's realized that loneliness is truly the worst feeling of all. There's attention here. There's love here."

The dog panted happily, leaning into the attention.

"He stays because it's better then being on his own, travelling from place to place, never knowing where he might end up."

Jacob watched the dark haired man with a sombre curiosity. "Were you alone long, Doctor?"

The Time Lord nodded. "It's terrible," he whispered, and cleared his throat. "Sure, I had a companion, usually human, with me from time to time… but no one stayed long. No one could stay." He sighed, as though thinking of something long ago.

"Gabriel changed that." The Captain observed, beginning to understand more.

The Doctor nodded, and the dog on his lap curled up to sleep. Unknowingly, a tiny smile flittered across his face as he looked down to the sleeping mutt.

"He never fails to make even the most heartbroken smile," The Captain smiled, turning to leave. "That's why the men have taken to calling him Lucky. Holding him for a while apparently makes them feel lucky… if only for a moment."

"He doesn't for you?" The Doctor asked, and the Captain looked back and shook his head.

"I can't touch him. I have an allergy to dogs. They make my eyes burn," he explained, "but I'll be honest; I wish he could make me feel lucky."

"If only for a moment," the Doctor murmured.

The soft humming of his sonic screwdriver filled the still, empty air. Outside the room, there were yells, and distant gunfire, but inside the room was different. Eight people in the room, yet no one made a sound. The only movement was the Doctor, slowly running the tool along each one in turn.

When he finished one man, he moved on to the next.

His mind was a blaze. Perhaps there was something he had missed on those affected. Maybe there was a trace on one of them - more if he was lucky - about who had caused this. All he knew for sure is that it was someone all of them trusted. If the man hadn't been lying a few feet away, the Doctor would have suspected their medical officer.

But no. He looked over his shoulder to the tiny body not far away. This man had to be someone they all trusted, including his son. Who would Gabriel have trusted?

Moving on to the next man, the Doctor started his screwdriver, but turned it off with a heavy sigh. The body before him was the first man to be infected. Taking the sheet that was covering him, the Doctor pulled it up over the man's face. The first to be infected, and the first to die.

Walking over to the littlest one of the victims, the Doctor leaned down and looked at him sadly. The vibrant colours the boy wore only contrasted against the lack of life within him. The day this happened, Gabriel had chosen to be really colourful; blue suit, orange shirt, neon green tie. Even his little socks were bright red.

The Doctor ran his hand through the boy's hair, keeping it away from his eyes. Funny, even when the boy was near lifeless, his hair still had a way of going everywhere. Yet, the urge to cut it for him was gone. Somehow, the wild hair just made the tiny Time Lord who he was.

He missed him so. Everything within him ached to see the boy's eyes flutter open, to see a smile too big for his small face break out, to hear him laugh, to hear him talk. Just to hear him breathe.

Raising his own hand, the Doctor looked at it sadly, but with a mix of expectancy. It was beginning to tingle, as though falling asleep, which, he supposed, was exactly what it was doing. It would take longer to take effect on him then on a human.

But now, the time he had to find it grew even shorter.