For philosophy_20: Lack of God
It’s not fair.
It’s never been fair, it’s never been kind, it’s never been moral, but it’s been right. Everything’s back in order, the timelines are straight, and truly, that’s all that should matter. He should move on, leave this place, this time, leave everything he’s had to do to make it all right.
He should run away, as he always does. He should just walk away.
They would believe the Gods had abandoned them. Those people outside the TARDIS doors, those people he tries his hardest not to think about. They would believe the Gods had brought this down on them, on some sort of cruel, divine whim. It happened like dark magic, one minute the world is calm, the next it’s buried in ash. They would never know what really happened, the science and the logic behind the true circumstances of their death, to them, it would remain a great and terrible mystery.
He finds it best to give up his emotions, and focus on that undeniable logic. He’s experienced at this, death and murder. Twenty thousand people are dead because of him and his logic, him and the burden he can’t seem to shake. It’s nothing new to him. He doesn’t feel it anymore. He can’t feel it anymore.
Everything’s been set right. Why should he need to feel?
She doesn’t understand.
He is not a good person. He is right. He does the right thing and runs away, always, never failing. He is bound to do what must be done simply because of who he is. Sometimes the right thing isn’t good, sometimes the switch has to be pulled, and people have to burn, cities and villages, continents and planets. Everything has its time and everything dies. There is no divine action that decides this, it is often, far too often, purely left for him to finish.
And it’s not fair. It’s never, ever fair.
Can’t she understand?
“Please,” she says, desperately, “Just someone. Not the whole town. Just save someone.”
People tell him that he saves lives. They thank him, they are grateful to him, and consider themselves forever in his debt. He is capable of heroic actions, yet he does not think of himself as a hero. He likes to think he has saved more lives than he’s taken, played savior more often than killer, but often, he wonders. He can’t quite keep it straight, and will occasionally find it difficult to keep track. Should he know the names of those he’s saved or killed? Should he save those that he knows? Does he truly have that authority?
Today, he does.
Playing with so many people’s lives - you might as well be God.
He shifts the coordinates, and silently pilots the TARDIS back to the center of the villa. He can save someone, at least, just a few. Donna stands to the side as he walks to the doors. He hesitates for a moment, just a moment, then slowly opens them, and steps out into the chaos. The ash and the dust are nearly impossible to see through, yet he manages to find them anyway. He holds out a hand.
“Come with me.”
And you’re right, Doctor, you’re absolutely right.
Their hands meet, as he pulls first the father, then the mother, then finally the children into the safety of the TARDIS. He’s saved someone. Not the whole town. Just someone.
Sometimes you let one go.
Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 581 (Including quotes from Boom Town)
It’s never been fair, it’s never been kind, it’s never been moral, but it’s been right. Everything’s back in order, the timelines are straight, and truly, that’s all that should matter. He should move on, leave this place, this time, leave everything he’s had to do to make it all right.
He should run away, as he always does. He should just walk away.
They would believe the Gods had abandoned them. Those people outside the TARDIS doors, those people he tries his hardest not to think about. They would believe the Gods had brought this down on them, on some sort of cruel, divine whim. It happened like dark magic, one minute the world is calm, the next it’s buried in ash. They would never know what really happened, the science and the logic behind the true circumstances of their death, to them, it would remain a great and terrible mystery.
He finds it best to give up his emotions, and focus on that undeniable logic. He’s experienced at this, death and murder. Twenty thousand people are dead because of him and his logic, him and the burden he can’t seem to shake. It’s nothing new to him. He doesn’t feel it anymore. He can’t feel it anymore.
Everything’s been set right. Why should he need to feel?
She doesn’t understand.
He is not a good person. He is right. He does the right thing and runs away, always, never failing. He is bound to do what must be done simply because of who he is. Sometimes the right thing isn’t good, sometimes the switch has to be pulled, and people have to burn, cities and villages, continents and planets. Everything has its time and everything dies. There is no divine action that decides this, it is often, far too often, purely left for him to finish.
And it’s not fair. It’s never, ever fair.
Can’t she understand?
“Please,” she says, desperately, “Just someone. Not the whole town. Just save someone.”
People tell him that he saves lives. They thank him, they are grateful to him, and consider themselves forever in his debt. He is capable of heroic actions, yet he does not think of himself as a hero. He likes to think he has saved more lives than he’s taken, played savior more often than killer, but often, he wonders. He can’t quite keep it straight, and will occasionally find it difficult to keep track. Should he know the names of those he’s saved or killed? Should he save those that he knows? Does he truly have that authority?
Today, he does.
Playing with so many people’s lives - you might as well be God.
He shifts the coordinates, and silently pilots the TARDIS back to the center of the villa. He can save someone, at least, just a few. Donna stands to the side as he walks to the doors. He hesitates for a moment, just a moment, then slowly opens them, and steps out into the chaos. The ash and the dust are nearly impossible to see through, yet he manages to find them anyway. He holds out a hand.
“Come with me.”
And you’re right, Doctor, you’re absolutely right.
Their hands meet, as he pulls first the father, then the mother, then finally the children into the safety of the TARDIS. He’s saved someone. Not the whole town. Just someone.
Sometimes you let one go.
Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 581 (Including quotes from Boom Town)