"College," Chapter Twenty-Six -- Commentary, Part 3
Part Two can be found here.
“I’ve got a gift for you,” he said.
Brem blinked, surprised. “You do?”
He nodded. “Follow me.”
Curious, Brem followed his father down the hallway, to a door he’d never seen before, that opened into a large, blindingly bright garden. Brem squinted through the brightness.
The last twenty or so pages of this fic were largely a surprise to Kristin. I knew this fic would end with the Doctor giving Brem a TARDIS, but I didn’t tell her that, because I wanted her to have one surprise. When she first read this over, she hit this part and immediately said, “OMG HE’S GROWING TARDISES!!!!!!”
“Sorry,” his father said. “They need these growing conditions. This way.”
In the center of the garden stood three separate tables, each of them with a piece of lovely coral suspended in a jar. Brem stopped short and stared.
“I thought…” he began. “But I thought…”
“Wow,” said his father.
“What?”
“I don’t know, I’m just wondering if it’s possible that you could have been…wrong? Is that actually possible?”
Brem laughed. “But how did you…?”
“When your mother told me she was pregnant with you, I sliced a sliver of coral out of the console. I read every book I could about how we grew them, and I attempted to do it. And we’ve made real progress from that sliver. There’s one for each of you, you see.”
Brem studied them. “Two of them are pink.”
“Yes. Welllll. This TARDIS spoils you lot.”
Brem chuckled.
“So, Bremsstrahlung,” his father said. “Do you want to hold your TARDIS?”
Brem looked at his father and then at the non-pink piece of coral and nodded.
“Well, go on,” his father said. “She’s your TARDIS, you should be the first Time Lord to touch her. It’s a lovely moment, you know, the first time you bond with your TARDIS.”
Brem reached forward, slowly, and picked up the jar as carefully as possible, cradling it in his hand. It glowed golden for a long, shimmering moment, with just the faintest of songs, a new little hum in his head. He stared in amazed delight, studying the contours of her small piece of coral. His TARDIS. He had never even allowed himself the possibility, and now it washed over him in a wave of jubilation.
“D’you like her?” his father asked.
“Oh, I love her,” he breathed. “She’s…she’s brilliant.”
I’m not sure I ever got across here how incredibly touched Brem is by this gift. His entire life just opened up for him in a way he had not ever dared to hope.
“Good,” he said. “I’m glad. I can’t give you Gallifrey, and I’m rubbish at knowing anything about the rest of our heritage, really. But a Time Lord should have a TARDIS. And that TARDIS there is very lucky, considering I’ve never seen such a brilliant pilot as you.”
I…Okay, so by now, I think it’s pretty clear, the Doctor and I had reached a truce. And I find him very touching here. I think he’s aware of the ways in which he feels he had to raise his kids in a vacuum, and he’s just so desperate to make sure that they know he’s done the best he feels he could have.
“But I learned everything from you,” Brem told him, honestly.
“Then isn’t it funny how much better than me you turned out?” his father commented.
This gets to be kind of a Brem lovefest here at the end here. But Brem is…I have a difficult time imagining how the Doctor would have turned out without Brem. Well, I guess I can imagine it, it’s the Doctor we have on the show, and he’s fine, really, we’ve made our peace. But I like to think, in my own conceited little brain, that Brem makes the Doctor *better.* All the kids do, of course, but there’s something about Brem and the way he endlessly challenges his father that forces the Doctor to be *better.* I think having children probably makes everyone better--less selfish, more giving--and, for the Doctor, it's even more than that because it gives a life that had somewhat devolved into only having an abstract, greater-good sort of meaning a more concrete meaning. The Doctor is the most important being in the universe, as he is well aware, but to see it every day in his children drives it home more. And to see it every day in a child as naturally critical as Brem was a Very Good Thing for a Doctor with a tendency toward emo self-indulgence (imho; ymmv).
Brem felt himself blush, looked back to the TARDIS in his hands, and then abruptly hugged his father tightly. “Thank you,” he said. “Really. Thank you so much.”
“Thank you,” his father responded. “For everything.” Brem felt him brush a kiss over the top of his hand, and then slowly extract himself from the hug. “Now then,” he said, jovially. “Be careful with her. In another eighty years or so, she’ll be ready for you to pilot.”
Brem looked up at him, startled, and said, “Eighty years?"
Okay, guys, you should know: It doesn’t take eighty years. Come now: he’s *Brem*. ;-)
“I’ve got a gift for you,” he said.
Brem blinked, surprised. “You do?”
He nodded. “Follow me.”
Curious, Brem followed his father down the hallway, to a door he’d never seen before, that opened into a large, blindingly bright garden. Brem squinted through the brightness.
The last twenty or so pages of this fic were largely a surprise to Kristin. I knew this fic would end with the Doctor giving Brem a TARDIS, but I didn’t tell her that, because I wanted her to have one surprise. When she first read this over, she hit this part and immediately said, “OMG HE’S GROWING TARDISES!!!!!!”
“Sorry,” his father said. “They need these growing conditions. This way.”
In the center of the garden stood three separate tables, each of them with a piece of lovely coral suspended in a jar. Brem stopped short and stared.
“I thought…” he began. “But I thought…”
“Wow,” said his father.
“What?”
“I don’t know, I’m just wondering if it’s possible that you could have been…wrong? Is that actually possible?”
Brem laughed. “But how did you…?”
“When your mother told me she was pregnant with you, I sliced a sliver of coral out of the console. I read every book I could about how we grew them, and I attempted to do it. And we’ve made real progress from that sliver. There’s one for each of you, you see.”
Brem studied them. “Two of them are pink.”
“Yes. Welllll. This TARDIS spoils you lot.”
Brem chuckled.
“So, Bremsstrahlung,” his father said. “Do you want to hold your TARDIS?”
Brem looked at his father and then at the non-pink piece of coral and nodded.
“Well, go on,” his father said. “She’s your TARDIS, you should be the first Time Lord to touch her. It’s a lovely moment, you know, the first time you bond with your TARDIS.”
Brem reached forward, slowly, and picked up the jar as carefully as possible, cradling it in his hand. It glowed golden for a long, shimmering moment, with just the faintest of songs, a new little hum in his head. He stared in amazed delight, studying the contours of her small piece of coral. His TARDIS. He had never even allowed himself the possibility, and now it washed over him in a wave of jubilation.
“D’you like her?” his father asked.
“Oh, I love her,” he breathed. “She’s…she’s brilliant.”
I’m not sure I ever got across here how incredibly touched Brem is by this gift. His entire life just opened up for him in a way he had not ever dared to hope.
“Good,” he said. “I’m glad. I can’t give you Gallifrey, and I’m rubbish at knowing anything about the rest of our heritage, really. But a Time Lord should have a TARDIS. And that TARDIS there is very lucky, considering I’ve never seen such a brilliant pilot as you.”
I…Okay, so by now, I think it’s pretty clear, the Doctor and I had reached a truce. And I find him very touching here. I think he’s aware of the ways in which he feels he had to raise his kids in a vacuum, and he’s just so desperate to make sure that they know he’s done the best he feels he could have.
“But I learned everything from you,” Brem told him, honestly.
“Then isn’t it funny how much better than me you turned out?” his father commented.
This gets to be kind of a Brem lovefest here at the end here. But Brem is…I have a difficult time imagining how the Doctor would have turned out without Brem. Well, I guess I can imagine it, it’s the Doctor we have on the show, and he’s fine, really, we’ve made our peace. But I like to think, in my own conceited little brain, that Brem makes the Doctor *better.* All the kids do, of course, but there’s something about Brem and the way he endlessly challenges his father that forces the Doctor to be *better.* I think having children probably makes everyone better--less selfish, more giving--and, for the Doctor, it's even more than that because it gives a life that had somewhat devolved into only having an abstract, greater-good sort of meaning a more concrete meaning. The Doctor is the most important being in the universe, as he is well aware, but to see it every day in his children drives it home more. And to see it every day in a child as naturally critical as Brem was a Very Good Thing for a Doctor with a tendency toward emo self-indulgence (imho; ymmv).
Brem felt himself blush, looked back to the TARDIS in his hands, and then abruptly hugged his father tightly. “Thank you,” he said. “Really. Thank you so much.”
“Thank you,” his father responded. “For everything.” Brem felt him brush a kiss over the top of his hand, and then slowly extract himself from the hug. “Now then,” he said, jovially. “Be careful with her. In another eighty years or so, she’ll be ready for you to pilot.”
Brem looked up at him, startled, and said, “Eighty years?"
Okay, guys, you should know: It doesn’t take eighty years. Come now: he’s *Brem*. ;-)