The Time of Change

Need To Know

With silence surrounding the cell like a woolen blanket, the Eleventh Doctor continues scratching his message into the wall and hoping that Kate and Annalise will find it.

"In theory," says the Warrior to nobody in particular, "I can trigger an isolated sonic shift among the molecules, and the door should disintegrate."

The Tenth Doctor stops pacing and gives him an incredulous look. "We'd have to calculate the exact harmonic resonance of the entire structure down to a subatomic level. Even the sonic would take years."

"No, no, the sonic would take centuries," the Warrior agrees, discouraged. "Oh, we might as well get started. Help to pass the timey-wimey." He makes his voice rise in tone to sound childish, glancing crossly at his future selves. "Do you have to talk like children? What is it that makes you so ashamed of being a grown up?"

The Eleventh Doctor's scarce eyebrows rise very high into his hair. He straightens up from the pillar as the Tenth stands perfectly still, and the two exchange a look. Then they cast their stony gazes upon the Warrior, their eyes darker than usual. The old man notices. "Oh, the way you both look at me," he comments. "What is that? I'm trying to think of a better word than 'dread.'"

"It must be really recent for you," the Tenth says.

"Recent?"

"The Time War," adds the Eleventh. "The last day. The day you killed them all."

"The day we killed them all," the Tenth corrects him.

"Same thing," shoots back the Eleventh.

"It's history for them," a woman's soft voice interjects. The Warrior looks over to the pillar again, and there stands the Moment, her arms crossed and a crease between her brows. She looks pained. "All decided. They think their future is real. They don't know it's still up to you."

"I don't talk about it," the Warrior tells his future selves, ignoring her best he can.

"You're not talking about it," says the Tenth as he begins pacing yet again; the Eleventh picks back up scratching the code into the wall. "There's no one else here."

"Go on. Ask them," the Moment urges. "Ask them what you need to know."

Inexplicably, the Warrior finds himself feeling uncomfortable and nervous. When his hardened gray eyes meet the Moment's clear blues, he sees the answer to a question he did not ask. He carefully inquires of his future selves, "Did you ever... count?"

Neither of the them pay him much attention. "Count what?" asks the Eleventh with his back turned.

"How many children were on Gallifrey that day."

The metal nail the Eleventh was holding slips from his hand and loudly clangs to the floor. It rolls away from him as if possessed. He blinks, stunned, as his eyes meet the Tenth's for a millisecond. The shock is not lost on the Warrior, but it is gone in an instant. "I have absolutely no idea," the Eleventh replies shortly.

A tense beat passes. "How old are you now?" the Warrior asks him.

"Ah... I don't know. I lose track. Two thousand and something, unless I'm lying. I can't remember if I'm lying about my age, that's how old I am."

"Over a thousand years older than me," the elderly-looking man observes, "and in all that time, you've never wondered how many there were? You never once counted?"

"Tell me," the Eleventh responds sharply, his eyes glinting. "What would be the point?"

"Two-point-four-seven billion," the Tenth says lowly.