Taking Comfort (fic/commentary)
I had a nice discussion with Ignescent recently about fanfic writers. My idea was that fanfic writers are the fairy godmothers of fandom, taking canon bits that can sometimes be quite awful and mollifying them, sometimes completely negating them, just as the fairies in "Sleeping Beauty," took a death curse and transformed it into mere sleeping, thus giving true love a chance to triumph at last.
In that vein, I was inspired to write this little bit in answer to the Doctor Who episode "Journey's End." It's what I hope all of us would like to say to the Doctor, if we only had the chance.
There are spoilers in the story. Don't read it if you haven't seen the episode.
Taking Comfort
The Doctor stared into space, rain dripping from his hair. Physically, he was still, but his mind was racing with too many thoughts and feelings for even a Time Lord to control. Against this pain, the chilly discomfort of his head, shoulders, and feet barely registered...until it started to dissipate.
He stood straighter, feeling a warm breeze blow gently around him. The air...that SMELL...He automatically catalogued it as a meadow he used to play in as a child. The scents were unmistakable: the trees, grass, and wild flowers of lost Gallifrey. His hearts raced, one with fear and one with longing, as he turned slowly to face the breeze, a quote from Dorothy Parker on his lips.
"What fresh hell is this?"
A figure stood a few feet from him, tall and thin as he himself was (currently, in any case), but there the resemblance ended. It appeared human--bipedal, upright, bilateral symmetry--but its elegant features were androgynous. The being also lacked primary and secondary sexual characteristics, an aspect easily determined since it wore no clothes. Nor did it appear to need them, wrapped as it was in a radiant golden glow. For all the world, it reminded the Doctor of a statuette he had once seen at Clark Gable's house. What had the the thing been called...an Oswald? Osgood?
The being smiled gently at the Doctor.
"According to the script, I'm supposed to say 'Fear not, for I bring you tidings of great joy.' Under the circumstances, however, I'll begin by asking if you would like a towel?"
And sure enough, it held out a fluffy white towel, despite the fact that its hands had been empty a moment before.
The Doctor reached forward slowly, his eyes wary. He took the towel and brought it to his face, sniffing as he did so. It felt, smelled, and looked like what it was: a large warm towel. He ran it over his face and hair, then draped it around his wet shoulders, one hand clasped around each end of it.
"Thank you. Now...who are you and how did you get here?"
The being spread its hands with another gentle smile. "The question of who I am is not as easy to answer as what I am.
"I am a construct, shaped from the Time Vortex by the hearts, minds, and wills of countless beings spread throughout this universe and many others. As to how I got here, the TARDIS let me in. She shares the Time Vortex with me and is allowing me to share this space with you." The being stroked the wall behind it with a glowing hand. "She is more wonderful than my creators ever dreamed." As it stroked the TARDIS, the glow spread from its hand and disappeared into the wall. It might have been his imagination, the Doctor thought, but it seemed as if the TARDIS hummed softly in response.
The being turned back to the Doctor. "To make conversation less awkward, you may call me Comfort."
"'Comfort,'" the Doctor echoed bitterly.
"It is not meant to be ironic, I assure you. It is my sole purpose, my reason for existence. My creators sent me here to bring you comfort."
The Doctor stared at Comfort for a moment, then raced up, took it by the shoulders, and shook it.
"An entire race has just been destroyed. People who trusted me and cared for me, I turned into killers. My most loyal companion died to save me, and a woman who loved me is trapped in another universe with my genocidal clone. I'm the last of my kind and that by my own hand. How do you propose to comfort me? I ask you, how can you do that?"
Comfort stood unfazed by the Doctor's outburst, looking into his eyes with calm serenity. "By asking you three questions.
"One: Is it genocide when a doctor kills millions of cells to save a patient from cancer?"
The Doctor spun on his heel and strode angrily across the room. "Aw, there's no comparison!" he spat. "The Daleks were sentient beings! They were..."
"They were going to destroy reality itself, Doctor. Yes, in a perfect universe there would have been a way for you to have changed Davros' mind, convinced him that there was a better way. Then he could have convinced the Daleks and everyone would have moved forward in peace.
"But you cannot change a closed mind, any more than a doctor can change cancer cells into normal ones. The concensus of my creators is that, given the circumstances and with the cosmos in the balance, neither you nor your double need carry this tragedy on your conscience."
"How very kind of them," the Doctor snapped sarcastically. "But it changes nothing."
Comfort shrugged, its face unperturbed by the Doctor's reaction. "Perhaps not. Then allow me to continue to Question Two: Both Davros and your companions were willing to kill billions, but there was a difference between them. What was this crucial difference?"
The Doctor sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I know...I told Davros. They were only trying to help."
"Incorrect. Davros was also trying to help. In this he and your companions were the same."
"What are you talking about?" the Doctor exclaimed. "Davros is nothing like them! He wasn't trying to help! He was trying to..."
"Make the universe safe for himself and his creations."
A light kindled behind the Doctor's eyes. "For himself," he repeated. "Whereas Martha and Jack and Sarah Jane..."
"Were trying to make the universe safe so that trillions might live, even if they themselves and a billion others perished in the process. This is how your soul stands revealed: There is no price too high to pay if it allows others to live in freedom and peace. This is what you taught your companions, Doctor. They are not killers; they are protectors. They will kill if they are forced to, but they always, always, offer a choice first."
"Yeah, they did, didn't they," the Doctor said, rubbing his jaw.
"Indeed," Comfort nodded.
"Alright, alright, I see where you're going with this. What's Question Number Three?"
"What makes you so sure you are the last Time Lord?"
The Doctor turned away in disgust. "Now that is just ridiculous. You seem to know so much--why don't you know the answer to that? I can't remember how many people I've told! If there were any Time Lords left, I'd FEEL them, HERE." He pointed to his skull.
"As you felt the Master?" Comfort asked.
"Doesn't count," the Doctor growled. "He was disguised as a human."
"And no other Time Lord was bright enough to think of that escape?" Comfort asked. "So that when it came to surviving the Time War, the Daleks truly did prove themselves superior to the ancient and majestic race of Gallifrey?"
The Doctor looked at Comfort, a wealth of emotions warring in his face. "What are you saying? Are you telling me that there are other Time Lords out there?"
"I can tell you with certainty that another descendant of Gallifrey is living in your universe. I am not omniscent, so I cannot tell you if there are more, but the rules of probability suggest that if two exist where there ought to be none, there should be more than two."
"You said you knew of another Time Lord?" the Doctor. "Who? Where? WHEN?"
Comfort shook its head sadly. "I cannot tell you more except that my creators believe there is a high probability that you will meet again in your personal future."
The Doctor sighed, but nodded. "Spoilers, I suppose."
"They do have a message I may give you, if you will allow." Comfort stepped forward. "May I take your hands, Doctor?"
The Doctor's head tipped to one side and his eyes narrowed. "A mental message, then? Don't know if I like that."
"I promise I will be as gentle as I can," Comfort replied, holding out its hands.
"Oh, that fills me with confidence, thanks very much" the Doctor said, but he put out his hands with a resigned expression.
Comfort took the Doctor's hands; the Doctor gasped and closed his eyes as the glow spread from Comfort to himself, then to the room around them and on to the whole of the TARDIS.
Calling it a "message" was an understatement. It was a gestalt, a tsunami of emotions and thoughts and words that flooded through the Doctor until his blood pulsed with it. In sheer self-defense he tried to capture it, contain it, but he could only grasp the merest fragments of it.
Don't be sad, Doctor. Things will get better.
You had no choice; it wasn't your fault.
I don't know what it's like to lose a planet, but I know what its like to lose a family. I'm so sorry, Doctor.
What you did for Rose and well, the other you...that was the noblest thing I ever saw.
Do you still like jelly babies? 'Cause you can have some of mine if you do.
You helped me when I lost my husband; now I wish I could help you.
You're the best friend I never met.
Spider says shared pain is halved; shared joy is doubled. Doctor, I wish you joy!
You gave him the chance to live the life you could never have. I love you for that.
I became a doctor/engineer/scientist/teacher/writer/poet/artist/parent because of you...thank you!
You're right--the Doctor/Donna will never be forgotten, even if Donna never remembers.
I saw Gallifrey once; it was beautiful beyond words. I'm so sorry.
You're a noble one, Doctor. May the gods bless you for it!
Sarah Jane is more right that she knows...you have the biggest family in the Universe and we all love you!
Next time Jack asks you to...well...SAY YES!
I would have given up if it weren't for you. Keep fighting, Doctor!
We love you, Doctor.
I cry with you, my friend.
Every night I, too, will look up at the stars and think of you...and Donna.
You taught me how to be brave.
You taught me to fight for what's right.
Don't give up, Doctor. Please don't give up!
We love you, Doctor.
Hang in there, Doc!
We're here for you, Doctor!
I believe in you, Doctor.
Thank you, Doctor.
I love you, Doctor.
We love you, Doctor.
We love you, Doctor.
We love you, Doctor.
The closest comparison the Doctor could make was of that shining moment on Earth when billions of humans thought and spoke and sang his name, filling him with the power of their minds. There was the same transcendent feeling of hope that burned through pain and conquered fear.
The Doctor broke away, tears streaming down his face. "After everything I've done..."
Comfort wrapped its arms around him. "Yes...after everything you've done. You'll just have to face it, Doctor. You are loved monumentally by trillions of beings in this universe and countless others."
The Doctor looked up into its golden eyes. "How? How did they...you...find me?"
Comfort stepped back and smiled. "An Earth writer said, 'If our friendship depends on things like space and time, then when we finally overcome space and time, we've destroyed our own brotherhood! But overcome space, and all we have left is Here. Overcome time, and all we have left is Now. And in the middle of Here and Now, don't you think that we might see each other once or twice?'"
The Doctor stared, then barked a short laugh. "Sounds like an answer I might give." Then he sobered. "But why THIS now? Why not..." His voice trailed away and his face looked haunted, remembering his home.
Comfort shrugged helplessly. "As I said, I am not omniscient, nor are my creators. Doctor...my dearest Doctor...We did not come then because we did not know. By the time we did, the event was in your personal past and we dared not interfere. What if in comforting you then, we set in motion a course of events that kept you from meeting Rose? And if you hadn't met Rose, you might never have met Jack, or Martha, or Donna. You understand better than anyone that we could not take the risk."
The Doctor scrubbed his face with his hands. "Oh, I understand that all right."
"Doctor, I believe my time is coming to an end. Before I go, however, I have a message of my own. It occurred to me in the midst of my creation, as my mind was filled with information about you and your friends." Then, in an apparent non sequitor it said, "Ms. Smith's son, Luke. He is an extraordinary human being."
The ghost of a smile tugged at the Doctor's lips. "He'd have to be, to have my Sarah Jane for his mother. Lucky one, too."
"I agree. What struck me, though, was his singular name. Sarah Jane told the boy that if she had ever had a son, she had wanted to name him Luke. Having no name of his own, the boy agreed to take that name."
"Fourteen years old and no name of his own? How did that happen?" the Doctor asked.
Comfort smiled, "That is not my story to tell. But this is what occurred to me: On Earth, St. Luke is the patron saint of..." Comfort looked at the Doctor and waited. The Doctor's ghost of a smile passed into full glorious life.
"Let me guess. Doctors?"
Comfort bowed. "Just so. And I do not believe this is a coincidence. It may even mean more than Ms. Smith realizes at her current time."
"Interesting! I'll keep that in mind then."
The glow around Comfort intensified, tendrils of bright sparks beginning to extend from its body. "My task is done," it said softly. "My form is returning to the Vortex. Dear lady," it said, speaking to the TARDIS console, "would you allow me the honor of joining with you?"
After everything he had seen and heard, the Doctor was not surprised to see a panel open in the console. He looked away from the bright heart of the TARDIS toward Comfort. The tendrils had become rivers of fire, flowing from Comfort to the open console. Its shape became fuzzy, then transparent.
"Go in peace, dearest Doctor," it said. "When all is dark, remember that you are loved and you are not alone."
"I will...thank you."
Comfort smiled and dissolved away. When the change in light indicated the TARDIS panel was closed, the Doctor turned and placed his hands on the console reverently.
"It's a funny old universe, isn't it, love?" he whispered. Then he laughed. "And on top of everything else, we now possess a truly excellent towel," he added, whirling it off his shoulders and around his head like a flag.
"Onward, old friend. You choose the destination," he told the TARDIS.
The TARDIS hummed happily in answer.
In that vein, I was inspired to write this little bit in answer to the Doctor Who episode "Journey's End." It's what I hope all of us would like to say to the Doctor, if we only had the chance.
There are spoilers in the story. Don't read it if you haven't seen the episode.
Taking Comfort
The Doctor stared into space, rain dripping from his hair. Physically, he was still, but his mind was racing with too many thoughts and feelings for even a Time Lord to control. Against this pain, the chilly discomfort of his head, shoulders, and feet barely registered...until it started to dissipate.
He stood straighter, feeling a warm breeze blow gently around him. The air...that SMELL...He automatically catalogued it as a meadow he used to play in as a child. The scents were unmistakable: the trees, grass, and wild flowers of lost Gallifrey. His hearts raced, one with fear and one with longing, as he turned slowly to face the breeze, a quote from Dorothy Parker on his lips.
"What fresh hell is this?"
A figure stood a few feet from him, tall and thin as he himself was (currently, in any case), but there the resemblance ended. It appeared human--bipedal, upright, bilateral symmetry--but its elegant features were androgynous. The being also lacked primary and secondary sexual characteristics, an aspect easily determined since it wore no clothes. Nor did it appear to need them, wrapped as it was in a radiant golden glow. For all the world, it reminded the Doctor of a statuette he had once seen at Clark Gable's house. What had the the thing been called...an Oswald? Osgood?
The being smiled gently at the Doctor.
"According to the script, I'm supposed to say 'Fear not, for I bring you tidings of great joy.' Under the circumstances, however, I'll begin by asking if you would like a towel?"
And sure enough, it held out a fluffy white towel, despite the fact that its hands had been empty a moment before.
The Doctor reached forward slowly, his eyes wary. He took the towel and brought it to his face, sniffing as he did so. It felt, smelled, and looked like what it was: a large warm towel. He ran it over his face and hair, then draped it around his wet shoulders, one hand clasped around each end of it.
"Thank you. Now...who are you and how did you get here?"
The being spread its hands with another gentle smile. "The question of who I am is not as easy to answer as what I am.
"I am a construct, shaped from the Time Vortex by the hearts, minds, and wills of countless beings spread throughout this universe and many others. As to how I got here, the TARDIS let me in. She shares the Time Vortex with me and is allowing me to share this space with you." The being stroked the wall behind it with a glowing hand. "She is more wonderful than my creators ever dreamed." As it stroked the TARDIS, the glow spread from its hand and disappeared into the wall. It might have been his imagination, the Doctor thought, but it seemed as if the TARDIS hummed softly in response.
The being turned back to the Doctor. "To make conversation less awkward, you may call me Comfort."
"'Comfort,'" the Doctor echoed bitterly.
"It is not meant to be ironic, I assure you. It is my sole purpose, my reason for existence. My creators sent me here to bring you comfort."
The Doctor stared at Comfort for a moment, then raced up, took it by the shoulders, and shook it.
"An entire race has just been destroyed. People who trusted me and cared for me, I turned into killers. My most loyal companion died to save me, and a woman who loved me is trapped in another universe with my genocidal clone. I'm the last of my kind and that by my own hand. How do you propose to comfort me? I ask you, how can you do that?"
Comfort stood unfazed by the Doctor's outburst, looking into his eyes with calm serenity. "By asking you three questions.
"One: Is it genocide when a doctor kills millions of cells to save a patient from cancer?"
The Doctor spun on his heel and strode angrily across the room. "Aw, there's no comparison!" he spat. "The Daleks were sentient beings! They were..."
"They were going to destroy reality itself, Doctor. Yes, in a perfect universe there would have been a way for you to have changed Davros' mind, convinced him that there was a better way. Then he could have convinced the Daleks and everyone would have moved forward in peace.
"But you cannot change a closed mind, any more than a doctor can change cancer cells into normal ones. The concensus of my creators is that, given the circumstances and with the cosmos in the balance, neither you nor your double need carry this tragedy on your conscience."
"How very kind of them," the Doctor snapped sarcastically. "But it changes nothing."
Comfort shrugged, its face unperturbed by the Doctor's reaction. "Perhaps not. Then allow me to continue to Question Two: Both Davros and your companions were willing to kill billions, but there was a difference between them. What was this crucial difference?"
The Doctor sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I know...I told Davros. They were only trying to help."
"Incorrect. Davros was also trying to help. In this he and your companions were the same."
"What are you talking about?" the Doctor exclaimed. "Davros is nothing like them! He wasn't trying to help! He was trying to..."
"Make the universe safe for himself and his creations."
A light kindled behind the Doctor's eyes. "For himself," he repeated. "Whereas Martha and Jack and Sarah Jane..."
"Were trying to make the universe safe so that trillions might live, even if they themselves and a billion others perished in the process. This is how your soul stands revealed: There is no price too high to pay if it allows others to live in freedom and peace. This is what you taught your companions, Doctor. They are not killers; they are protectors. They will kill if they are forced to, but they always, always, offer a choice first."
"Yeah, they did, didn't they," the Doctor said, rubbing his jaw.
"Indeed," Comfort nodded.
"Alright, alright, I see where you're going with this. What's Question Number Three?"
"What makes you so sure you are the last Time Lord?"
The Doctor turned away in disgust. "Now that is just ridiculous. You seem to know so much--why don't you know the answer to that? I can't remember how many people I've told! If there were any Time Lords left, I'd FEEL them, HERE." He pointed to his skull.
"As you felt the Master?" Comfort asked.
"Doesn't count," the Doctor growled. "He was disguised as a human."
"And no other Time Lord was bright enough to think of that escape?" Comfort asked. "So that when it came to surviving the Time War, the Daleks truly did prove themselves superior to the ancient and majestic race of Gallifrey?"
The Doctor looked at Comfort, a wealth of emotions warring in his face. "What are you saying? Are you telling me that there are other Time Lords out there?"
"I can tell you with certainty that another descendant of Gallifrey is living in your universe. I am not omniscent, so I cannot tell you if there are more, but the rules of probability suggest that if two exist where there ought to be none, there should be more than two."
"You said you knew of another Time Lord?" the Doctor. "Who? Where? WHEN?"
Comfort shook its head sadly. "I cannot tell you more except that my creators believe there is a high probability that you will meet again in your personal future."
The Doctor sighed, but nodded. "Spoilers, I suppose."
"They do have a message I may give you, if you will allow." Comfort stepped forward. "May I take your hands, Doctor?"
The Doctor's head tipped to one side and his eyes narrowed. "A mental message, then? Don't know if I like that."
"I promise I will be as gentle as I can," Comfort replied, holding out its hands.
"Oh, that fills me with confidence, thanks very much" the Doctor said, but he put out his hands with a resigned expression.
Comfort took the Doctor's hands; the Doctor gasped and closed his eyes as the glow spread from Comfort to himself, then to the room around them and on to the whole of the TARDIS.
Calling it a "message" was an understatement. It was a gestalt, a tsunami of emotions and thoughts and words that flooded through the Doctor until his blood pulsed with it. In sheer self-defense he tried to capture it, contain it, but he could only grasp the merest fragments of it.
Don't be sad, Doctor. Things will get better.
You had no choice; it wasn't your fault.
I don't know what it's like to lose a planet, but I know what its like to lose a family. I'm so sorry, Doctor.
What you did for Rose and well, the other you...that was the noblest thing I ever saw.
Do you still like jelly babies? 'Cause you can have some of mine if you do.
You helped me when I lost my husband; now I wish I could help you.
You're the best friend I never met.
Spider says shared pain is halved; shared joy is doubled. Doctor, I wish you joy!
You gave him the chance to live the life you could never have. I love you for that.
I became a doctor/engineer/scientist/teacher/writer/poet/artist/parent because of you...thank you!
You're right--the Doctor/Donna will never be forgotten, even if Donna never remembers.
I saw Gallifrey once; it was beautiful beyond words. I'm so sorry.
You're a noble one, Doctor. May the gods bless you for it!
Sarah Jane is more right that she knows...you have the biggest family in the Universe and we all love you!
Next time Jack asks you to...well...SAY YES!
I would have given up if it weren't for you. Keep fighting, Doctor!
We love you, Doctor.
I cry with you, my friend.
Every night I, too, will look up at the stars and think of you...and Donna.
You taught me how to be brave.
You taught me to fight for what's right.
Don't give up, Doctor. Please don't give up!
We love you, Doctor.
Hang in there, Doc!
We're here for you, Doctor!
I believe in you, Doctor.
Thank you, Doctor.
I love you, Doctor.
We love you, Doctor.
We love you, Doctor.
We love you, Doctor.
The closest comparison the Doctor could make was of that shining moment on Earth when billions of humans thought and spoke and sang his name, filling him with the power of their minds. There was the same transcendent feeling of hope that burned through pain and conquered fear.
The Doctor broke away, tears streaming down his face. "After everything I've done..."
Comfort wrapped its arms around him. "Yes...after everything you've done. You'll just have to face it, Doctor. You are loved monumentally by trillions of beings in this universe and countless others."
The Doctor looked up into its golden eyes. "How? How did they...you...find me?"
Comfort stepped back and smiled. "An Earth writer said, 'If our friendship depends on things like space and time, then when we finally overcome space and time, we've destroyed our own brotherhood! But overcome space, and all we have left is Here. Overcome time, and all we have left is Now. And in the middle of Here and Now, don't you think that we might see each other once or twice?'"
The Doctor stared, then barked a short laugh. "Sounds like an answer I might give." Then he sobered. "But why THIS now? Why not..." His voice trailed away and his face looked haunted, remembering his home.
Comfort shrugged helplessly. "As I said, I am not omniscient, nor are my creators. Doctor...my dearest Doctor...We did not come then because we did not know. By the time we did, the event was in your personal past and we dared not interfere. What if in comforting you then, we set in motion a course of events that kept you from meeting Rose? And if you hadn't met Rose, you might never have met Jack, or Martha, or Donna. You understand better than anyone that we could not take the risk."
The Doctor scrubbed his face with his hands. "Oh, I understand that all right."
"Doctor, I believe my time is coming to an end. Before I go, however, I have a message of my own. It occurred to me in the midst of my creation, as my mind was filled with information about you and your friends." Then, in an apparent non sequitor it said, "Ms. Smith's son, Luke. He is an extraordinary human being."
The ghost of a smile tugged at the Doctor's lips. "He'd have to be, to have my Sarah Jane for his mother. Lucky one, too."
"I agree. What struck me, though, was his singular name. Sarah Jane told the boy that if she had ever had a son, she had wanted to name him Luke. Having no name of his own, the boy agreed to take that name."
"Fourteen years old and no name of his own? How did that happen?" the Doctor asked.
Comfort smiled, "That is not my story to tell. But this is what occurred to me: On Earth, St. Luke is the patron saint of..." Comfort looked at the Doctor and waited. The Doctor's ghost of a smile passed into full glorious life.
"Let me guess. Doctors?"
Comfort bowed. "Just so. And I do not believe this is a coincidence. It may even mean more than Ms. Smith realizes at her current time."
"Interesting! I'll keep that in mind then."
The glow around Comfort intensified, tendrils of bright sparks beginning to extend from its body. "My task is done," it said softly. "My form is returning to the Vortex. Dear lady," it said, speaking to the TARDIS console, "would you allow me the honor of joining with you?"
After everything he had seen and heard, the Doctor was not surprised to see a panel open in the console. He looked away from the bright heart of the TARDIS toward Comfort. The tendrils had become rivers of fire, flowing from Comfort to the open console. Its shape became fuzzy, then transparent.
"Go in peace, dearest Doctor," it said. "When all is dark, remember that you are loved and you are not alone."
"I will...thank you."
Comfort smiled and dissolved away. When the change in light indicated the TARDIS panel was closed, the Doctor turned and placed his hands on the console reverently.
"It's a funny old universe, isn't it, love?" he whispered. Then he laughed. "And on top of everything else, we now possess a truly excellent towel," he added, whirling it off his shoulders and around his head like a flag.
"Onward, old friend. You choose the destination," he told the TARDIS.
The TARDIS hummed happily in answer.