Hello again, here's Chapter Seven of Fear Within The Trenches! I hope you enjoy, I'm trying to get in tune with how to write the characters but I think dialogue is my weakest point. Anyway, please read and review if you like, and review even more so if you don't! =P Although I think I did pretty well to get a Brookside reference in a Doctor Who story...

Chapter Seven

The Conflict of a Time Lord

Fixed points in time were a problem for any Time Lord, but for none more so than The Doctor. His Tenth incarnation's mind was racing as he and his past and future counterparts made their way through the filthy, hopeless trenches which tomorrow would serve as a graveyard for the soldiers he was passing by.

He could hear them whispering, curious as to who these three unlikely allies were inside their own territory. His converses covered in muck and his hair slowly flattening due to the mild rain, Ten slipped his hand into his pockets, deep in thought. Eleven's words ran through his head again.

"Even if we save them tonight, they're going to die at sunrise anyway."

He knew that the future Doctor was right. He should have known by now that disobeying fixed points in time could only cause one of two things: a snap in the timeline, in which the past, present and future force themselves back into place violently, regardless of any casualties, no matter the cost; or it unravels like a ball of string, panicking and throwing the most important points in history into a big, confusing bundle. It freezes, like a computer struggling to keep up with itself.

The conflict inside his head raged. These people, these men with families and children and houses and mothers and fathers - all of them would needlessly be dead tomorrow. And yet, the possibility of what could happen if they didn't might be even more consequential not just for those involved but for the entire universe.

Just this once, couldn't he just get what he wanted? On the whole journey from Mars to Earth in the TARDIS with the remaining crew, his thoughts had turned to Rose Tyler. He could go back. He could go back to Torchwood on that day in 2006, he could stop the entire battle from happening. And Rose would never leave him. Never.

Ten shook his head softly as he passed a small young man scribbling a letter to a loved one with tears in his eyes. He knew that time was sentient, but he didn't realise it could be so cruel. He let Nine walk on ahead of him and stooped down to speak to the soldier.

"Hello," he smiled. "What's your name? I'm The Doctor."

The boy removed his helmet and wiped his eyes nervously.

"Private Carson, sir," he saluted. The accent was easily identifiable.

"Are you from Liverpool, Private Carson?" Ten grinned. Carson nodded silently. "Ah, I love Liverpool! All you scousers watching Brookside, eating your fish 'n' chips!" Carson looked blank.

"Watching what, sir?" Ten's smile faded and he cleared his throat.

"Er, nothing, nothing. Who are you writing to?"

"My mother, sir. She broke her hip last month but I can't go home to see her. They won't let me. The Sergeant won't even try. He says we're all essential for his plan." Carson sighed. "I'm her only child. She's worried sick."

"Then what brought you out here in the first place, Private Carson? Conscript? Another family member perhaps?" Ten nodded in encouragement. Carson shrugged.

"It all looked so magnificent on the posters," he mumbled. "Fighting for glory, saving our country. But…" he lowered his head. "I guess they lied." Lifting his hands, he tried to shake the mud off them. "Tomorrow, they want us to face down the Germans properly. They say we're going to beat them. Wipe them out once and for all."

Ten did nothing. Suddenly he wished he'd never started this conversation. Instead, he clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder and smiled.

"Good luck. Can I ask you your first name?"

"What does it matter?"

"I just want to know."

"Gregory. Named after my grandfather."

"Good luck, Gregory," Ten smiled widely. "It was lovely to meet you. Really. A pleasure." He shook Gregory's hand hard, his eyes full of fake hope for a boy who needed it.

"Th - thank you, sir. Glad to make your acquaintance too, sir."

Standing up, his bottom lip trembling, Ten placed his hands pack into his pockets and bowed his head, catching up with Nine and Eleven. Tomorrow, Gregory was going to die brutally and painfully, assuming this apparent monster roaming the trenches didn't kill him first.

Eleven was right - they needed to have a word with The Sergeant.

Nine and Eleven themselves were slowly making their way towards The Sergeant's bunker under the moonlight. The torches on the walls were slowly fading out, and Eleven was finding it hard to converse with his Ninth incarnation.

"So…"

"Look," Nine was cutting him off in his rough Northern accent. "I just want to get my TARDIS working and get out of here. Whatever happens between the other two of you…me…whatever, I don't care."

Eleven, still walking swiftly, grew more solemn.

"I understand. Trust me, I do -"

"Don't tell me to trust you," Nine interjected again. "I don't want anything to do with this. As far as I'm concerned, you're just another stupid ape ready to get in my way. I'm done saving this planet, and I'm done risking my own skin for it. Why should I?"

Eleven smiled sadly, and looked up at Nine. They stopped walking and, just for a second, the moonlight exposed them like a streetlamp.

"Because someone on this planet is going to save you," he smiled. "It's like I said back there in the bunker. It gets better. I promise." His smile widened wistfully. "And I was so proud of you. Of me when I was you, I mean. Everything you did, you did it for her."

Nine opened his mouth in confusion for a flicker of a moment, but before the conversation could go any further, footsteps echoed behind them.

"Sorry," Ten mumbled. "Got a little sidetracked. C'mon, let's go. We need to have a word with The Sergeant."

Eleven raised a finger and followed in his wake. "I already said that - didn't I already say that?" he implored to Nine, who did little more than shrug.

The three Doctors approached The Sergeant's bunker. Two soldiers stood guard outside it, but when they saw the Time Lord approach, they lowered the guard.

"He said you'd be coming," said the taller man on the right, before turning and knocking on the flimsy door three times. Ten sighed.

"Getting sick of hearing three knocks."

"Yes?" came the gruff voice of The Sergeant inside.

"It's Mr. Smith, sir, and the other gentleman with the screwdriver, sir. And there's another man with -"

"Just let them in."

Eleven barged in front, stepping into The Sergeant's bunker.

"Well, hello there Mr. Sergeant man!" he said, grinning as the very dodgy makeshift door slammed shut behind them. "I must say it's a privilege to meet a soldier whose bunker has a door. How very up market."

The Sergeant was sitting at a desk, poring over maps and letters. "Hello, Mr. Smith. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Eleven's eyes darted to the gun in The Sergeant's hand.

"Oh, just fancied a chat," he replied. "Figured we could have a little chin wag, although I suppose in my case it would be more of a chin wobble!"

"Mr. Smith, I don't have time for -"

"Of course you have time," Ten cut in. "It's not like you'll be busy for long tomorrow. What's the point?"

Silence fell within the bunker, and Eleven turned round to glare at Ten. The Sergeant, still with his back to the trio, stood up straight.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning," Nine replied, " nothing. He's talking nonsense. Don't mind him."

The Sergeant spun round at this new voice. "Ah, and who do we have here? Yet another stranger in our encampment." Nine gave an exaggerated smile.

"Hello, yes, it's me! The stranger! I came for the banter but I stayed for the bullets."

"And you are?"

"The Doctor."

"The Doctor?"

"Is there an echo in here? Yes, The Doctor."

"Interesting…" said The Sergeant, a dark grin creeping across his lips. The hair on the back of Ten's head stood on end, but he powered through.

"We need to know what you know about the beast," he said. "Anything you can tell us about how to stop it."

"Stop it?" The Sergeant half-laughed. "Why would you want to do that? If we're all as doomed as you say, why bother?"

"Because each and every one of your men will be killed if we don't do something," said Eleven. "That creature injured you, it nearly killed me. Anything you know will be…" he trailed off, his voice growing quieter. "Welcome to World War I."

"What?" Ten squinted and scratched his head, staring at Eleven.

"That's what you said to me," Eleven ignored him and stared at The Sergeant, whose face was impassive. "When I landed here last night."

Eleven stepped forward, and Nine unfolded his arms. "Impossible," he whispered. "But that…how…"

"It was known as The Great War," said Ten, realization hitting him. "Of course nobody knew there was going to be a Second, then a Third, then a Fourth. Not World War I. How could you possibly…why would…"

The Sergeant's lips grew into a cold, dark smile. "I'm surprised it took you this long, Doctor," he whispered. "Or should I say Doctors? Oh, three of you. Three! I could never have hoped for such an outcome."

"How do you know that there will be another war?" Eleven, his face full of fury and confusion, strolled towards The Sergeant and looked him dead in the eyes. The Sergeant was laughing now. "Who are you? What are you? And why are you here?"

"Oh Doctor, you know me as much as I know you! So many lives, so many names! The killer of his own kind," he glared at Nine; "The destroyer of worlds," his eyes met Eleven's; "The Time Lord victorious." Clocking on to Ten, his grin reached his ears and he opened his arms wide.

"The Valeyard."

Ooh! Getting a bit deep on Who mythology now but I hope you all still enjoy :)