One Day, Three Hours.
--
Prepare to die. He had never had so much time before the end, now he thought about it. A few hours for Five was the longest, unless the knowledge that One was going to go around a week before the event, but no certainty.
He deserved to die.
In a selfish attempt to live, he had let a little girl die, in the belief that she would not.
He closed his eyes.
What was it he was looking for? There would be no redemption. He knew that guilt was to be the hallmark of Nine, this he knew, he remembered from when Seven knew everything about the future.
He knew how his own death was to be achieved.
He knew that Nine would be guilt ridden, Ten would be alone.
He knew that Eight would embrace the adventure. If he had known that Eight would die like this, he had never said.
What was it Seven had told him?
You will see if you only look.
The Eighth Doctor closed his eyes. And he looked.
And he found something…
Hello, little girl.
--
Samara had expected to die, here. Alone, unloved, forgotten by everyone except the Doctor, who she knew was doomed to die – at her hand.
"Hello, little girl," the shadow said. And suddenly, there was a light in the well, and shadowy eyes, blue and haunted, shone at her.
"Remember me?" he said. "Man, hat, window?"
"Yes," she said, hands open, nails broken.
"You've been trying to escape for a while, now, haven't you?" he said. "A long while. Why don't you sleep?"
"I don't sleep," she said.
"You should," the man smiled. "I'm a Doctor. I know these things. Let me help you."
And suddenly, the blue eyes grabbed her. Grabbed her and didn't let go. She didn't breath – didn't need to. There was nothing but the blue eyes. Nothing but the blue eyes. Nothing… nothing… nothing…
But her mind reached out anyway…
--
And she stayed there, eyes wide open, even as his closed. He had a long wait ahead. He looked up, at the empty well. Behind it was the TARDIS. He smiled.
And then he let out a long wail, and was still.
It would be a long wait. But in the end, if the price for inaction was his soul – and his future's soul – then it was worth it, wasn't it?
Besides, it would only ruin this jumper. Had to be a good thing.
--
Eight's eyes snapped open.
"What?!" he yelled. "No!"
He stood up, and flicked a switch, searching through the list of time travellers that his beloved ship kept. Ace, Hex, Benny… and there she was – right before Sam. Miss Samara Morgan. Six relative years travel.
"What does this mean?" the Doctor wondered. He felt sure that if he only thought about it, it would make sense.
D&M had done some mad things in his life, but this took the biscuit. What had he done.
The Doctor checked the time. He had been meditating now for hours. It was the seventh day. Only a few hours to go.
Time to face the music.