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Why the Earth? This is something he often muses about. In the whole wide universe, with all it's times and places, why, nine times out of ten, does he end up saving the Earth?

This small blue-green planet seems to attract so much danger, so much trouble, so many people determined to destroy it or derail it's established history.


Deep in the back of his mind, there was a tiny voice telling him that the fault was his, that all the times he'd saved the Earth, he'd somehow caused the problem in the first place.

Back home, on that beautiful planet with the burnt orange sky he'd chosen to study the Earth. And nothing in the archives had ever suggested that quite so many disasters had happened during it's history. Nothing.

Until, running from home with the young child he doted on at his side, he'd chosen a place for them to hide. Earth. Chosen on a whim.

Tell me, if the Doctor had never come here, had never chosen this place. On a whim. Then would anyone have died?

He had had no answer. Not for her. And not for himself.

His companions maintained that he saved people. That he was not to be blamed. But they were human. Wonderful bright humans.

How many of their lives had he destroyed?

This is me. Getting out.

But. . .

If they were right. . .

If they were right, then why did the Earth attract so much trouble. And why did he always land in the right place to stop it. The Tardis was alive he knew. But not that alive. She couldn't be.

Someone controlling things. Someone was playing a game. Sending monsters, trying to destroy the Earth, the Solar System, the Universe.

Someone on the opposite side? Sending him to stop it. . .


His life was his own. No one controlled him. No one would ever control him or cage him.

He would continue to run. Always. Never stopping. No.

He ran. Always. Even as a child. Looking into the. . . thing that should not be. . . running then. Running now.

Running from the dark. Running to Earth.

Why Earth? If there was a grand game. . . why? What was so important about Earth.

Was someone that powerful so afraid of Earth, afraid of humanity. Why?

Someone else, just as powerful. Fighting back. Using him. Why him?

Humans. Something feared them. He knew they were capable of atrocities. But that couldn't be it. That capability was common to every other species under the myriad suns. What did humans have that terrified something so powerful. What?

They were his favourite species. Was it him? Was he so powerful, would he always side with humans? No.

But. . .

He opened the doors with a snap of his fingers. Armies would flee before him.

No. No.

It wasn't him, it was something about them. Whatever was out there, humans frightened it. Why?

Review please, the chibis will steal my shoes if you don't.