He never raised his voice. That was the worst thing. The fury of the Time Lord. And then we discovered why. Why this Doctor, who had fought with gods and demons, why he’d run away from us and hidden—he was being kind.
He wrapped my father in unbreakable chains, forged in the heart of a dwarf star. He tricked my mother into the event horizon of a collapsing galaxy to be imprisoned there…forever. He still visits my little sister once a year every year. I wonder if one day he might forgive her, but there she is—can you see? He trapped her inside a mirror, every mirror. If ever you look at your reflection and see something move behind you, just for a second, that’s her. That’s always her. As for me, I was suspended in time. And the Doctor put me to work……standing over the fields of England…as their protector.
We wanted to live forever, so the Doctor made sure that we did.
You can test the Doctor’s strength. You can test his wit, or his resolve. You can even test his fashion sense.
But you absolutely do not test his humanity.
Very old, very kind, and the very, very last. That’s what they say. Defending the universe, preserving life, issuing justice. Protecting humans.
Every day of his life is an adventure beyond normal comprehension. He’s lived so long, and seen so much. Loved and hated, laughed and cried, hurt and healed, so much more than we can imagine. Yet we are the ones he admires; the beautiful, terrible, brilliant, ridiculous humans. Simple and complex and stubborn and defiant, persevering in the face of our own mortality.
For a little while, he was one of us. For the briefest of moments, he had what he’d always wanted. He had the life and love, the ups an downs, the little things.
And you took that away from him.