F*CK F*CK F*CK SOMEONE PHOTOSHOP THIS TO MAKE REICHEWHOLOCK
we can’t help, Donna. it’s a fixed point in time.
They stood there for god knows how long.
“Can he hear us?” Donna asked softly.
The Doctor shook his head. “He can’t see us either.”
“Please? Can’t you do anything?” Donna asked, the desperation in her voice growing with each word. “Anything. You can save him. You can—”
The Doctor shook his head stiffly. “I can’t. It’s a fixed point in time. I’m sorry, Donna, but this time we can’t save him.”
“But he’s so important! He’s—”
“Everyone is important,” the Doctor said, his voice far more brusque than he had intended it to be. He took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “This has to happen, Donna. Everything has its end and everything, everything, must die.”
“It can’t be his time to go,” Donna said, stamping her foot. “It just can’t. He’s helped so many people. The only one of his kind. You should understand—”
“And I do. Believe me, I do.”
“Then why won’t you help him?”
He let go of her hand. “It would rip apart time and space. This moment has to happen. If I interfere with a fixed point in time, it would cause time to disintegrate. The very fibers of reality would collapse and there would be nothing left.”
“You talk as if you’ve done it before,” Donna said.
“What’ll happen to John? He’s my cousin, and you know how much he—”
“He’s a soldier,” the Doctor said. “He’ll be fine. If he’s anything like you, he’ll pull through.”
“And you’re sure there’s nothing…nothing…that we can do about what’s going to happen right now?”
“Positive,” the Doctor sighed, letting go of her hand and turning back to the TARDIS. “I’m sorry, but I can’t fix everything.”