[He almost pulls away from the touch, a reflex falling somewhere between the defensive rejection of a teenager trying to maintain his cool in the eyes of his peers and the habitual contact-avoidance of a leper, fearful of infecting others.]
[It wasn't wrong. He'd make the same choices again. Even without the drums. He thinks.]
[He can't be sure.]
[What if there were other options, and he just couldn't feel them, through the pressure of the sound? What if he's on the road to making other choices that feel right but wipe out more millions of lives? And he can't see that, can't hear the voice, his voice, the one that tells him to stop?]
[The voice talking to him right now. His other's voice.]
[So he looks back at the other Doctor, his eyes sheened over with the tears he's holding in check.]
Right. You—[He runs a hand down his face—don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry]—you'll help. I have some...some theories. You'll need to see my notes, that may take—[And, dammit, a tear gets away from him, and he stops talking abruptly.]
no subject
[It wasn't wrong. He'd make the same choices again. Even without the drums. He thinks.]
[He can't be sure.]
[What if there were other options, and he just couldn't feel them, through the pressure of the sound? What if he's on the road to making other choices that feel right but wipe out more millions of lives? And he can't see that, can't hear the voice, his voice, the one that tells him to stop?]
[The voice talking to him right now. His other's voice.]
[So he looks back at the other Doctor, his eyes sheened over with the tears he's holding in check.]
Right. You—[He runs a hand down his face—don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry]—you'll help. I have some...some theories. You'll need to see my notes, that may take—[And, dammit, a tear gets away from him, and he stops talking abruptly.]