The Eleventh Doctor || Doctor Who (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
makeherblue) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trans_92011-01-15 01:09 am
makeherblue) wrote in trans_92011-01-15 01:09 am
Entry tags:
Reflection [Open]
It doesn’t make sense. Or, rather, to be entirely truthful, it makes just enough to bother him and that basically amounts to the same thing.
The Doctor paces in front of the blast shield in the Observation Deck. Right now, he thinks he needs a good pace, something to help him think. No sign of Amy or Rory yet, which is surprising, in its own way. Amy has a habit of managing things all on her own, whether it’s saving him from that stint with the Time Vortex and the Entity or the whole of reality. Rory couldn’t be in better hands. If she is on the ship, he would have expected her to come dragging Rory after her by now. So no, it’s not really like Amy there. As for Rory…actually, the Doctor can see him getting lost here; between forgetting to check for gills, the plant-suits and meeting a load of aliens in a huge living ship, a human like Rory might feel slightly overwhelmed. Probably a bit distracting, yeah…
The howling nothing is still out there, the Doctor turning to look past the shield at it. It’s pretty, in the making-you-feel-slightly-nauseous kind of way.
Or maybe that’s just him.
Vaguely disturbing to look at or not, the Doctor glances out at the void outside of Stacy. It’s hardly the first time worlds, plural, have been destroyed or just generally threatened or in a peril-like sort of state. It's actually quite common. But there are signs or it’s meant to happen (history) except he knows as a fact that this isn’t one of those times. Amy and Rory's Earth has a very specific date of death and "death by Ohm" isn't right. This isn’t just a rogue black hole swallowing a dynasty’s system of planets or a quasar misbehaving. It’s…different. The Doctor turns away from the window, holding up the omnicomm in one hand. By now he’s stopped calling it a Thingie, even if it’s a much better name in his opinion. Useful thing, this omnicomm. Helps to keep in touch. He’s been trying to hack into it and get a direct line to Stacy but so far, no luck. Deadlocked, he supposes. Or maybe the new new sonic is still adjusting. Working out the bugs.
The sonic buzzes green in the Observation Deck as the Doctor continues to pace without looking before the blast shield. Occasionally he stops to twiddle around with the omnicomm, long fingers blurring, before he reads another setting on the sonic and then the cycle starts over. Every now and then he might make a full circle of the room, by some miracle not tripping over the fleshy seats, and might try listening to the walls or poking at where they meet the floor. Or what stands for a floor in a techno-organic ship.
[The Doctor is either poking around or looking serious business at the view, whatever works for you]
The Doctor paces in front of the blast shield in the Observation Deck. Right now, he thinks he needs a good pace, something to help him think. No sign of Amy or Rory yet, which is surprising, in its own way. Amy has a habit of managing things all on her own, whether it’s saving him from that stint with the Time Vortex and the Entity or the whole of reality. Rory couldn’t be in better hands. If she is on the ship, he would have expected her to come dragging Rory after her by now. So no, it’s not really like Amy there. As for Rory…actually, the Doctor can see him getting lost here; between forgetting to check for gills, the plant-suits and meeting a load of aliens in a huge living ship, a human like Rory might feel slightly overwhelmed. Probably a bit distracting, yeah…
The howling nothing is still out there, the Doctor turning to look past the shield at it. It’s pretty, in the making-you-feel-slightly-nauseous kind of way.
Or maybe that’s just him.
Vaguely disturbing to look at or not, the Doctor glances out at the void outside of Stacy. It’s hardly the first time worlds, plural, have been destroyed or just generally threatened or in a peril-like sort of state. It's actually quite common. But there are signs or it’s meant to happen (history) except he knows as a fact that this isn’t one of those times. Amy and Rory's Earth has a very specific date of death and "death by Ohm" isn't right. This isn’t just a rogue black hole swallowing a dynasty’s system of planets or a quasar misbehaving. It’s…different. The Doctor turns away from the window, holding up the omnicomm in one hand. By now he’s stopped calling it a Thingie, even if it’s a much better name in his opinion. Useful thing, this omnicomm. Helps to keep in touch. He’s been trying to hack into it and get a direct line to Stacy but so far, no luck. Deadlocked, he supposes. Or maybe the new new sonic is still adjusting. Working out the bugs.
The sonic buzzes green in the Observation Deck as the Doctor continues to pace without looking before the blast shield. Occasionally he stops to twiddle around with the omnicomm, long fingers blurring, before he reads another setting on the sonic and then the cycle starts over. Every now and then he might make a full circle of the room, by some miracle not tripping over the fleshy seats, and might try listening to the walls or poking at where they meet the floor. Or what stands for a floor in a techno-organic ship.
[The Doctor is either poking around or looking serious business at the view, whatever works for you]
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He still startled a little, half turning his head to look at the man suddenly standing next to him. "...I'm sorry? Why?"
He loved the view from the windows, loved the mad swirl of stars and the view of far away places. As small as it made him feel, the far away view of stars still gave him the smallest glimpse of the potential of the universe. As close as he could ever come to grasping that potential with his fingertips.
He glanced at the device in the other human's hand. "Message? Should you take that?"
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Served it right for being so -- so stubborn about those deadlocks. The Doctor really had no sympathy for the thing, making it more difficult for the both of them.
He pocketed the omnicomm, had to remind himself that human pockets were still as small as the last time he checked (when you couldn't even fit your arm up to the elbow in these pockets, you knew they were indecently small), and gave it a pat. He could continue poking and prodding at it later, he supposed. The Doctor glanced at the human's ghostly reflection in the blast shield. Didn't seem like much of a cheery fellow and he almost imagined he could see frown lines in the reflection. Very frowny.
Then again, there's been a lot recently to be frowny about, so he couldn't exactly fault him for it. Staring at the howling nothing out there though? Odd choice to cope. Seemed to him like it wouldn't do much to cheer one up, being reminded how tiny someone was.
The Doctor steadily ignored the omicomm still beeping indignantly in his pocket. "So, void-gazing as a hobby. I was about to say that's the kind of thing you should take a break from, know what I mean?"
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His lips twitched into a tiny smile, leaning his cheek against the view-port to study the man. "It's a reminder for me. My little brother and I, when we were kids, used to watch like...Star Wars and Star Trek and all that stuff. And it all seemed so big when I was a kid, like anything was possible if I could just find a way to get into space." He sighed, still smiling. "And then, when everything went wrong, I got to see Earth from space. See how tiny it was, and in perspective, how tiny I was. And I knew, they were tiny too. All those heroes I had admired growing up, the universe was even bigger for them. And if they could be strong enough to fight back, surely I could be strong enough to endure. Temrash called me space mad. But...it was almost liberating. No matter how big my problems seemed, in perspective they were tiny and easier to deal with. Just...remembering how small it all is. It's beautiful. There's the potential for so much out there. Good, bad, and just plain different. Like...like the first time you go on a plane as a kid, and how you can't help but press your nose to the window and watch everything that seemed so large moments ago shrink to the size of toys. Does that make sense?"
He smiled, turning out to stare into space again, something entirely innocent and yet infinitely old gleaming in his eyes. "So long as I could see the stars, even just a glimpse. I knew there was a chance."
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If he'd been expecting an answer about the void, he hadn't been expecting that. It was a really very good answer, the sort that had a habit of sneaking up on someone.
The Doctor looked at his friend thoughtfully, not saying anything at first, instead studying him and maybe he misjudged him. The look he gave him now was one of surprised respect.
"You're a special breed of human to keep that in mind," the Doctor said quietly. That was exactly it. The void was scary, that first trip away from home was scary. Stealing the TARDIS had been doubly scary (although honestly, more fun and just exhilarating than scary: so the math ended up as Quadruple Fun/Exhilarating and Double Scary). Most lifeforms saw the void as he knew it as hell, as a terrible screaming nothing with no voice, no life. Even a black hole was less terrifying. Maybe even he too sometimes saw it that way, more often than not these days. Age sometimes did that to you. The Doctor found it refreshing to find a human who tried to see past that. It was moments like this that reminded him why he liked the human race, despite all their faults, from scrapping the rotary dial phones to being so downright bloodthirsty and ignorant at times.
Although they should've kept the rotary dials, in all honesty. Hardly one of the smartest life choices in humanity’s history.
The Doctor followed the human’s gaze out those blast shields, trying to see it the way he did. He blinked slowly, almost deceptively lazily. Planets were still gone. He couldn’t even see Time the way he used to, couldn’t see those threads spinning off. All those possibilities. 200, maybe 300 saved; a depressingly small number in context. And yet the void was swirling past the shield, turning all sorts of colors, and here was the human, letting the nothing and the colors wash over him. Letting it help his sense of perspective instead of caving in and letting it own him. He didn’t seem to treat it as an enemy. The Doctor laced his fingers in front of him, choosing instead to be uncharacteristically silent for a few minutes before he spoke up again.
He smiled at the young man. “You’re right, by the way. What you said, about there being a chance. Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a good head on your shoulders? Extraordinary head, I’d even say.”
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He smiled very faintly at the compliment, inclining his head. "I've had a lot of time and nothing to do but think and watch. It makes it easier to put things in perspective, I guess. Space...for me, it was never scary. Like being afraid of the dark as a kid, you shouldn't be afraid of it. You should be afraid of what might come out of it. The dark on it's own is harmless."
There had been a lot of time to think. And the Yeerks had provided challenges that had forced him to think things through and play speed chess in his head to defend his points. He'd been limited to his mind and his eyes alone, seeing what other people missed was almost automatic. He just needed to find the right piece of the puzzle, fit it together and find the answer.
He laughed softly, certain his new companion was joking or at the very least making fun of him. "No. No one ever has. Why would you think that? But...this is just another chance. I guess, it's easier to think about it like that. It's not lost, not yet. Just gotta take it a moment at a time. It's just hard sometimes, to know which step you need to take to make it all come out alright in the end."
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"Oh, that's just a matter of time. I'll let it stew first," the Doctor said. A good whack sometimes did the trick, so it wasn't necessarily a bad suggestion, just…more of a second resort. Which he’d get around to. Once he was done letting the omnicomm have a good stew. Seriously, he had this under control.
Half-and-half under control. That counted as under control in some societies.
And actually, that wasn’t what was interesting right this second. The Doctor could have pointed out that actually, the dark was one of the few things you should really be careful with, especially with those swarms out there, but he thought he got what the human here meant. Just like at the Library, not every shadow had something swarming inside waiting to strip you to the bone. There was a difference between being cautious and being paralyzed with it. Surprising how many lifeforms didn’t get the key difference there, even if there were perfectly appropriate times to be good and scared (he should know). The Doctor looked over when the human gave one of those small laughs. The little ones people did when they didn't quite believe you. This time the look he gave him was slightly scolding.
Really? He thought it’d been so painfully obvious why he thought the human had a good head on him. Well, the Doctor thought, trying to be gracious, he couldn’t expect the human to be surprisingly receptive on everything. Otherwise he wouldn’t be a human being.
“There’re plenty of worlds and dimensions out there that haven’t been attacked. Perfectly good mentality,” the Doctor turned away from the blasts shield, running his hands through his hair. All it did was make it even more floppy, that hair determined to keep right on doing what it was doing and flop back into his eyes. The Doctor gave up, “Sorry, I’ve been going with 'You' and 'The Human' the whole time. I’m the Doctor. Unless you like 'You the Human', which is a bit of a mouthful, don’t you think?”
He held out his hand. Don’t make him have to shake it for you, Tom. Because he would. And he’d even like it.
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He blinked, bowing his head automatically at the look of disapproval. What had he done wrong? Had he offended the guy somehow? He quickly backtracked over the conversation, playing the words he'd said with the words the man had said....maybe he hadn't been making fun of him. But why would anyone think that? He'd just said the truth, there was no reason to praise him for it.
There had been far too little genuine praise in his life for him to know exactly how to handle it.
"Yeah. And...if we work it out, we may be able to bring back our own. There are real heroes on this ship, people who can make a difference."
His stomach twisted unpleasantly, thinking of Iniss and how the Yeerk could make a difference. Even if he couldn't.
He couldn't make much of a difference in whatever Merlin was keeping him in, could he?
"The Doctor?" And the moment of hesitation before he took the hand wasn't really directed at the gesture, but the uncertainty of preforming it himself. "I'm Tom."
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Maybe it wasn't and that was why the omnicomm was being so difficult. Was that it? The Doctor's look of disapproval faded as he continued to watch the human. Tom. Short name, Tom. Actually, it was a little disappointing, a name like that, and really, it was hardly unique. Or even a little smidgeon of special. It was probably one of the most boring names he'd run into in a while, which only made that attitude of his all the more interesting. Still, Tom? He'd been expecting...
Well, anything better than Tom. Anything at all. Maybe “You the Human” might’ve been more of a mouthful, but it was also infinitely better than Tom.
The Doctor pumped Tom the Human’s hand enthusiastically, all smiles.
“Pleasure. Tom’s good,” he lied, because telling him he should consider changing his name would make him probably want an explanation or a critique or something. There wasn’t much you could do to salvage a name like Tom, in the Doctor’s opinion. “Technology like this, it could be possible. It’s incredible! But you already knew that. Like I said, credit to your species.”
That time he wasn’t lying. He didn’t need to. The Doctor gave Tom’s hand an encouraging clap, peering into his face, before he suddenly let go, still smiling with the same friendly look as before. Good man. Well, boy. Man. Boy. Human: at this age, the Doctor didn’t see much of a difference, and he tended to treat them about the same, what with a human’s lifespan.
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He smiled a little at the enthusiastic handshake. "It's plain. But I like it. I guess it'd be more exciting to be Barnabas or Alexander or Winston, but Tom isn't a name I have to live up to. It's a name I can grow for myself. No one expects anything from you, I guess it makes things more surprising when you do something. I guess some people go looking for adventure, they want to be great. I don't. I think I'd be perfectly happy staying at home with my parents and my brother and going to med school once I graduate high school."
That was a strange dream to have, a strange thing to wish for. But he had survived so much, going home seemed like the greatest reward he could possibly receive. "You're an alien?" He blinked, eyes flicking unconsciously to his ear before going back to his face. He didn't look like an alien, but...Yeerks didn't look like aliens in the right host. There was nothing saying that somewhere out there, there wasn't another race that looked like humans. "Yeah, it's incredible. I never get tired of it, and the fact that the ship is alive...it's just, it's like a dream, sometimes. Only I don't think my brain is this creative."
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It was only a matter of time and from the way Tom the Human here was talking, he probably hadn't tinkered around with it just because he was bored or curious or just because. "Just because" was one of his personal favorites. Loads of things someone could find out from a few "just becauses". Anyway, he didn't believe Tom when he said he wasn't very creative: he'd just given three good reasons why he was creative with those names. All three of those names were far better than boring old Tom (he especially liked Barnabas. Barnabas was the antithesis of Tom in that it was cool. And Winston wasn't too shabby either). Barnabas the Human. Excellent name right there, one for the books.
Except Tom seemed downright determined to aim for a boringly normal life, kicking and screaming. It occurred to the Doctor that he would probably be good friends with Rory, if they ever met. They could talk about how fantastically normal their life was today. Or...something to that effect. Tom's wish for a normal, adventureless life made his coping with the void outside even more unusual, the Doctor's interest rising.
The Doctor grinned at Tom's question, "Something of an alien. To you, not me. So, Tom; normal life, no adventure (even if adventure's good for you), low expectations. Except you think flying in a big ship and the void are a dream and you're not going mad, so..."
He tilted his head, gazing at Tom. The Doctor's smile was encouraging. No, he didn't think Tom was as set for Normal as he said. He'd met normal humans. They didn't want to leave. They didn't dream about it either. All in all, they were incredibly boring and perfectly happy being that way. Considering their relative insignificance in an almost infinite universe? Not exactly his mental picture of what a normal human did. Maybe Tom was one of those humans who thought he wanted normal. It wasn't like there weren't plenty of those along with the boringly normal ones. The Doctor cleared his throat.
"Was there something on my back?" The Doctor suddenly asked, "Not that there's anything on yours, but it can't hurt to check."
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"Something of an alien? Well, yeah, to you I'm an alien, if you are an alien. It goes both ways. Not like saying you're from the States or anything, because no matter who you meet you will always be from the States. Alien is multi-directional, if you meet one you are one. I think, anyway, that probably didn't make any sense." The smile faded, just a little bit, quiet regret lining his face and making him look older. "Going mad wasn't an option. I had people to protect, so I had to hold it together. It's still not an option. But...yeah, I wanna go home. I'm just here to be a meat suit for someone far more useful than I am."
He blew out a breathe. "Have you ever have a nightmare? A horrible one, one you couldn't wake from, no matter how hard you fought and tangled the sheets around your legs, and all you wanted to do was scream, but you couldn't, so you had to stay in the nightmare. But in the nightmare, there was this one thing. This one amazing, wonderful, beautiful thing that filled you with such a sense of wonder that sometimes the reason you couldn't scream was because you were breathless? I wanted to go to space as a kid. But to get there, I had to go through hell first. That doesn't make it any less amazing. In fact, in some ways, it made it more. When everything is dark, the light of a single star seems awfully bright, don't you think?"
He grinned a bit ruefully, apologetic. "Well, you meet aliens all the time, don't you look for tells? The ones I've met have a bad habit of wearing others around. You can't really tell unless you see them feed, but the inclination to look is still there. Like maybe someday someone will install a neon sign or something."
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Nightmares. Oh, he had plenty of those; centuries of them, in fact, and some still fresher than he would have liked. But there were plenty of amazing things, too, just like Tom said, and it surprised him how perceptive the human was (even with a name handicap like Tom; certainly wasn’t slowing him down, was it?). Except there was something else. Something aside from humans who should be Barnabas instead of Tom who were surprisingly eloquent and yet seemed to be a in hurry to get back to Earth for a boring, normal life. And something about a meat suit. Weird. Humans didn't generally make it a habit to call themselves meat suits, did they? The Doctor was more than fairly sure -- make that three quarters plus some -- sure they didn't.
Meat suit. Aliens wearing others. Human with a poor attitude (except it wasn't as poor as he'd thought), which --
He snapped his fingers as it dawned on him, everything slotting into place neatly. A mental click.
"Oh!" the Doctor blurted and he was suddenly back in Tom's face, "We've already met! Slugs? Space slugs? I promised you proper ones; actually, I was going to promise you some, I didn't get around to the actual promising bit. You're a lot more cheery in person than I thought you'd be."
Not that he missed the faint lines in his face.
Tom was young for a human, he thought, but those lines weren't from premature aging and judging from what he knew of Tom, it wasn't just from the unfortunate boring name, either. The Doctor's expression softened slightly, despite the glare from the blast shield.
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He leaned back, a flinch reaction he couldn't hide when the other man, spark of interest fading from his eyes like a snuffed candle.
"You're the man from the comms. The one with the glow in the dark slugs who leave people with tabs. Hi." He couldn't manage guarded, it didn't sit right on his face, for so long he had been able to hide nothing, and he still didn't know how, but his face could manage defeat quiet well, sliding into the expression almost unconsciously. "Cheery? I don't think anyone has ever called me cheery."
If anything, the lines were more obvious now. Stress had made him old, and if his face settled into the patterns of a trapped animal, that was only training. His lips twitched, trying hesitantly to repay the gentle look with a smile.
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Maybe that wasn’t the more reassuring thing he could’ve said.
Now Tom got it. All of it, not just the little bits. The Doctor beamed at Tom the Human as he came to the same conclusion. Right, yeah. Hi, hello, he’d ask how Tom was, but he was looking almost ill at the moment. The sort of face when someone was trying to keep on and act like everything was perfect; even had that weak smile down perfectly, the one the Doctor always thought looked queasy. Considering what he’d learned about the human’s history, the Doctor couldn’t say he blamed him. Bad first encounter with aliens. Extremely bad. Really, of all the luck he could have on this alternate Earth, he had to have colossally bad luck.
Which really made his attitude toward the void and his place in the universe stand out that much more.
“Always time for a first,” the Doctor said, eyes on his companion, “Human with a name like Tom -- you’re not letting that stop you -- on a big interdimensional ship. Sorry, interdimensional ex-prison ship. No fear of the void. Survived Yeerks. Surprisingly positive, I’d say.”
Shame he hadn’t had a different first contact. Those glow in the dark slugs would have been much less…invasiony. The tabs would’ve been horrendous and they would have probably eaten Tom out of house and home easily, but they would have repaid the favor. Helped humanity to the stars, even suffered through their baby steps. Not take Tom over like he was just another body.
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He shifted uncomfortably, looking away. He wasn't sure how he felt about the look, or about anything that was being said.
"Always time....what's my name got to do with anything? I just survived. That's not in any way positive."
It didn't matter that he'd watched adults he'd known and trusted through his entire life break and shatter as the years rolled on. It didn't matter that most of the hosts that had broken had been adults, not children. All he had done was survive.
That was in no way admirable. "I've just done my best. It wasn't like I chose to do any of those things." He paused, looking back out the window, unable to hide the untarnished wonder in his eyes. "Who would be afraid of that? It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
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The Doctor frowned at the human. “And clever isn’t something to be proud of? Because of one alien species, you think that’s all you’re good for, prey or tools?” He glanced back at the void, then sidelong at Tom. “You’re right. Maybe you lot just happen to be only selectively clever. Surely that gives other species automatic rights to keep invading you.”
Right now he wasn’t interested in explaining to Tom in no uncertain terms that his name had to go. Barnabas was the way of the future…although that could be for later. Maybe. The Doctor waved his hand dismissively, not even thinking it worth his time to explain about names when Tom still seemed to be acting like there was a slug in his head. Unhealthy, that was what. Surviving in itself was plenty positive. Actually, he thought it was a fine thing to aim for. Well, that, and making it fun, entertaining, anything but boring or…well, dead. Left a lot of room there to go with. So Tom the Human seemed to be (selectively) clever, (selectively) creative with names but not with what to do with surviving, and he was stubborn about sticking with what he knew. The Doctor blew out an exasperated breath, his hair flopping back into his eyes. Really. Humans!
“You chose to keep sane and keep going,” the Doctor still gave Tom that look as if he was disappointed in him somehow. “There’s so much more out there, I know,” he nodded toward the window, “but I think somewhere here you’re missing something obvious, which is rather surprising considering how perceptive you are.”
The Doctor regarded him, mouth pursed, as if daring him to make him spell it out. No, he expected Tom to figure it out on his own and he was willing to leave him to his own devices. Clever boy like that, he should get it in the end.
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The truth was very simple, when Tom was fourteen his brain had been invaded by a sadist who mocked every hope and dream he could have hoped to have, taken apart his every shame, every nightmare he'd ever had and forced him to relive them until all he could do was scream in the back of his mind. 'No' and 'don't' had long ago ceased to have meaning. Even now, part of him was expecting someone to walk up and demand he take the Yeerk back. He'd been free on this ship twice before, and twice before people had asked him to take the Yeerk back. Even when people knew, they still wanted Iniss.
He was still just a body, in his own mind, waiting for its master to return.
"That wasn't a choice either." His voice was soft, lip caught between his teeth. "My brother. My parents. I had a deal with Iniss, so long as I didn't make trouble for him, he wouldn't infest them. But I couldn't break, if I did, if I became one of the crazy ones, it would put them at risk. I couldn't allow that." He sighed, wanting to go back to the view, and thinking about everything and nothing. "I don't know what you think I'm missing, guess I missed that day at school."
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He didn’t say anything at first, simply taking it in and giving Tom a bit of time to enjoy his view of the void beyond the blast shields. It sounded…complicated with this parasite. Well. Complicated was an understatement, not that understatement didn’t have its place. Form a pattern with creativity. Yeah, that sounded about right for humanity, even if they got it wrong as often as they got it right: creating patterns sometimes when there weren’t any or even changing perfectly good ones into plain wrong ones. But they always bounced back and that…that was what the Doctor also loved about their species. They didn’t need claws or sharp teeth. At least, the Doctor didn’t think so. Not that humans wouldn’t try those on for size in the future.
His future. He wasn’t so sure about Tom’s.
The Doctor leaned up against the side of the blast shield, taking those two seconds to make sure he wasn’t going to hit any fleshy switches with his elbow. “What I think is that’s less of a deal and more general, old fashioned threatening. Maybe you did miss that day at school. But you’re Yeerk-free right now. Time to catch up.”
Still, coated threats or not, the Doctor was still interested in a chat with their missing slug. He was inclined to trust Tom the Human here, but he did also want Iniss’s side of the story. Considering Earth’s INVADE ME signs they were practically broadcasting, he did believe there was an alien invasion. Earth was simply too tempting of a target.
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He looked back at the Doctor, grimacing faintly, lips still twisted in a smile. "There's a difference? He kept the deal, or whatever it was. I'm not. That makes me less honest than Parasitic brain slugs from space." He pressed his hands against the window, bowing his head and looking away.
Like a believer come to confession, right? Being free meant he alone was responsible for his choices, for what happened. Things could go wrong and there was no one to blame but himself. Things could go right, and there was no one to interfere if he wanted to indulge in them.
Was that selfish? To want that. Even if he failed, he wanted to try. He had the chance to try, if he didn't give it back.
For once, since this entire stupid thing had started, he just wanted to live. "I'm selfish."
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Surprising one, though. So this brother knew too. Odd thing to do, have the brother make a decision like that for Tom. The Doctor stood by, watching Tom’s face in the light from the void outside.
“Not much of a deal to keep, I’d say,” the Doctor said quietly. Seemed like Tom was still determined to be selectively clever; not that the Doctor could blame him. Human, right. Yeah. Usually a trait of the species, for everything else that was beautiful about them. “What else could you say, ‘sure, infect my family and then infect me while you’re at it’? If everyone had your attitude, they wouldn’t have needed to invade quietly.”
All they had to do was just walk right in -- not that a space slug could walk -– and make a few threats. Watch humanity throw themselves at their nonexistent feet. Maybe there were some species out there that were like that, but he’d expected better from humans.
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He swallowed, turning and smiling, though it looked more like he was trying not to be sick. "Jake made a deal. At the end of six months, Iniss moves out. I-he-there was this girl-she-they...were...are...friends." He swallowed, feeling like his mouth was full of glass, hardly able to force the words out. "She wanted to protect him. It didn't seem like a big deal. I should keep it. It's just a little longer, right? Then I can come back to my friends."
He should keep Jake's deal, and Dani's deal, and everything that came between. Not run off and be reckless and stupid and selfish.