He remembers the moment the transduction barrier was ripped from the sky and the Daleks came screaming through, the horrified disbelief of it; one colonist in particular sticks in his mind, a wild-eyed waif of a man who looked equally horrified of everything, the Kraxil and the Daleks and the Doctor alike, who had seized long grasping fingers at the Doctor's coat and babbled something to him as the barrier went down, how it would all end in flames.
And I still didn't expect this:
The Doctor stares at himself with choked breath, two heartbeats, four, and the sky tears open.
Too late.
The Dalek Emperor knows what the Cruciform does now, and the warships are screaming down through the sky and the Kraxil are cheering and pouring up and over their own energy fences. He's too late. It's much worse than Fjemir, a thousand times worse and real. He watches the pain and horror and comprehension on his other face, and with a whirling outside sense of déjà vu he understands, even as he catches in terror at his younger self's coat. The blue eyes focus on him then, and he can't not say it because he always has, because he remembers, and he babbles in despair, "I'm sorry, I didn't -- there wasn't time and it's still going to end now, it's all going to burn -- ashes and I can't stop it --"
That, and the description of how Donna and Jenny saved the day before they even existed, makes up for all the despair, somehow. And the Master! Obviously it's not as much fun to run out of the universe twice, knowing that the Doctor is left behind to die.
He remembers the moment the transduction barrier was ripped from the sky and the Daleks came screaming through, the horrified disbelief of it; one colonist in particular sticks in his mind, a wild-eyed waif of a man who looked equally horrified of everything, the Kraxil and the Daleks and the Doctor alike, who had seized long grasping fingers at the Doctor's coat and babbled something to him as the barrier went down, how it would all end in flames.
And I still didn't expect this:
The Doctor stares at himself with choked breath, two heartbeats, four, and the sky tears open.
Too late.
The Dalek Emperor knows what the Cruciform does now, and the warships are screaming down through the sky and the Kraxil are cheering and pouring up and over their own energy fences. He's too late. It's much worse than Fjemir, a thousand times worse and real. He watches the pain and horror and comprehension on his other face, and with a whirling outside sense of déjà vu he understands, even as he catches in terror at his younger self's coat. The blue eyes focus on him then, and he can't not say it because he always has, because he remembers, and he babbles in despair, "I'm sorry, I didn't -- there wasn't time and it's still going to end now, it's all going to burn -- ashes and I can't stop it --"
That, and the description of how Donna and Jenny saved the day before they even existed, makes up for all the despair, somehow. And the Master! Obviously it's not as much fun to run out of the universe twice, knowing that the Doctor is left behind to die.
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