Fic: Ille mi par esse deo videtur (He seems to me to be equal to a God)
Title: lle mi par esse deo videtur (He seems to me to be equal to a God)
Characters: Wilf
Rating: G
Word Count: 469
Summary: Set after 'The End of Time Part 2'. Wilf reflects on the Doctor and his actions. Written in the second person
Warning: Contains spoilers. Major ones!
Disclaimer: don’t own Doctor Who, I'm only playing. I'll put everything back neatly when I'm done, promise!
A/N: The title is in Latin - what is in the brackets is the translation. I stumbled across it somewhere, and don't speak Latin so I have no idea if it's grammatically correct or not - if it's wrong, feel free to correct me!
You never doubted that the lottery ticket would be a winner, not even for one second. The moment Donna had opened the envelope, as soon as she had said “triple rollover” you knew.
The whole family had cried that night: Donna and Sylvia out of happiness, but you had cried for the Doctor. You cried for the man he had been, for all he had done, for all he was still doing. You had seen him do wonderful things. He’d saved the world, saved Donna, and he’d bought out the best in her, even if he had to lock that part of her away. He’d sacrificed himself for all humanity and then again for you.
You didn’t blame him or hate him when he’d shouted and insulted you. You were shocked to hear him say such things, but you didn’t disagree. Why should such a wonderful and extraordinary man give his life for another everyday old person? You could never, in all your life, have been as inspirational as he was. You could never have cared as much, could never have sacrificed as much as he did. It was his passion and humanity that had drawn you close to him. Your admiration and love for him and all that he did was the reason you’d taken arms to try to save him, why you’d fought for his survival. But it was you who was the cause of his demise. That terrible look on his face when he’d turned around and saw you in that booth had said more than words ever could.
You didn’t blame him, not one bit. But despite his initial reaction, he’d still died to save you. And then he came back with a final farewell gift to make you and Donna happy. Sometimes you wonder it would be better if he had left you or maybe resented you for getting stuck. But you know that’s not who the Doctor is. He’s selfless, brave, honest and true; more human and caring than anyone could ever be. And though no one could ever be that good, the Doctor tries. True to his image, he gave his life for you and then came back to say farewell.
The night of the lottery draw, the whole family had cried; Donna and Sylvia out of happiness and you for the Doctor: for the man who had saved your life and expected nothing in return; the man who had fought all manner of evils for people who had never known; for the man who wouldn’t break his own principles to save his own life; for the man who had lost more than anyone could imagine but continued onward nonetheless. You toast him silently amidst the celebrations: the impossible man who, whilst clinging to his pedestal, had given you everything and more.
Characters: Wilf
Rating: G
Word Count: 469
Summary: Set after 'The End of Time Part 2'. Wilf reflects on the Doctor and his actions. Written in the second person
Warning: Contains spoilers. Major ones!
Disclaimer: don’t own Doctor Who, I'm only playing. I'll put everything back neatly when I'm done, promise!
A/N: The title is in Latin - what is in the brackets is the translation. I stumbled across it somewhere, and don't speak Latin so I have no idea if it's grammatically correct or not - if it's wrong, feel free to correct me!
You never doubted that the lottery ticket would be a winner, not even for one second. The moment Donna had opened the envelope, as soon as she had said “triple rollover” you knew.
The whole family had cried that night: Donna and Sylvia out of happiness, but you had cried for the Doctor. You cried for the man he had been, for all he had done, for all he was still doing. You had seen him do wonderful things. He’d saved the world, saved Donna, and he’d bought out the best in her, even if he had to lock that part of her away. He’d sacrificed himself for all humanity and then again for you.
You didn’t blame him or hate him when he’d shouted and insulted you. You were shocked to hear him say such things, but you didn’t disagree. Why should such a wonderful and extraordinary man give his life for another everyday old person? You could never, in all your life, have been as inspirational as he was. You could never have cared as much, could never have sacrificed as much as he did. It was his passion and humanity that had drawn you close to him. Your admiration and love for him and all that he did was the reason you’d taken arms to try to save him, why you’d fought for his survival. But it was you who was the cause of his demise. That terrible look on his face when he’d turned around and saw you in that booth had said more than words ever could.
You didn’t blame him, not one bit. But despite his initial reaction, he’d still died to save you. And then he came back with a final farewell gift to make you and Donna happy. Sometimes you wonder it would be better if he had left you or maybe resented you for getting stuck. But you know that’s not who the Doctor is. He’s selfless, brave, honest and true; more human and caring than anyone could ever be. And though no one could ever be that good, the Doctor tries. True to his image, he gave his life for you and then came back to say farewell.
The night of the lottery draw, the whole family had cried; Donna and Sylvia out of happiness and you for the Doctor: for the man who had saved your life and expected nothing in return; the man who had fought all manner of evils for people who had never known; for the man who wouldn’t break his own principles to save his own life; for the man who had lost more than anyone could imagine but continued onward nonetheless. You toast him silently amidst the celebrations: the impossible man who, whilst clinging to his pedestal, had given you everything and more.