Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. This takes place while the Doctor has had his voice 'stolen' during Midnight.
Author's Note: If you haven't seen the episode 'Midnight', I highly recommend it. (Not to mention you might not understand this.) The episode is a great, very chilling story. This is the Doctor point of view. I hope you enjoy it!
Why are they doing this? Humans are smarter than this!
I have no idea what's been attacking us and I hate to admit that. These people, though, they seem to be upset that I know anything at all. Since when was it a crime to be clever? Now look where all the fighting's got me. That thing—it has my voice! It's saying things that it shouldn't be saying and trying to make out like I'm the danger here. I wish these people would have listened to me earlier. Then we might not be in this mess.
Now she's saying something. Everyone else is arguing. My voice may be gone and I may be forced to repeat whatever that thing is saying, but my mind is perfectly clear. If my body wasn't paralyzed I would be doing something. Anything. All I can do is sit here staring stupidly ahead and wait for the humans to get it right.
Or, I could wait for death. Whichever comes first.
No, I can't think like that. I don't want to, but these people are desperate. Whatever that thing is, it's scaring them to death. That is one thing about humans that I never liked; they are afraid of what's different. And right now I'm the most different thing in the room. They know I'm not like the rest of them and this is one of the few times it isn't working to my advantage.
I wish Donna were here. She would knock some sense into these people. She's always been good for that.
Someone is dragging me now. They're going to kill me. They're going to kill me.
I can't believe it. That thing is talking, using my words and my voice. Allons-y, it says, and I hate to think that my favorite word is being marred by such a terrible experience. Yet I want to say it again, say it of my own volition, not from being forced to move my mouth by something else.
These humans are very insistent, but my foot has caught onto something now. And—wait—they've got it unstuck.
I'm going to die. I'm never going to say allons-y again.
I'll never say anything again.
I want to scream at them. Death is not the answer! You'll never get anywhere killing people out of fear! No one's listening to me. No one can hear me. It doesn't matter. I tried to tell them before and they didn't understand me, and now no one ever will.
The Doctor has been destroyed by humans. I wonder what the rest of the universe would think of that.
I'm so close to the door. I can feel death at the hands of these people who think that by getting rid of me, they're getting rid of the problem, when in fact I am their solution. But I am different and they don't want to understand me, they don't want to save me, so they'll throw me out.
Wait—the flight attendant has dragged the woman possessed by that creature from my sight. No, no. She can't do this! I won't let her! She's going to—
A bright flash of light and the strangest sensation I've ever felt in my life.
I feel as though I've been attached to strings which are suddenly cut, causing me to fall and I smack into the ground, panting, finally able to breathe on my own and not quite sure how that happened. I can move my mouth, I can talk. I am alive, but two others are dead.
These deaths could have been prevented.
Everyone, all of these people are looking at me as I drag myself into a sitting position. My body is weak, though I think more from my emotions than from anything physical. I almost just…died. These humans, they almost killed me.
I can't believe it.
They did not care for one second that they were going to kill another human being, just as long as it wasn't them. I have been disappointed by many things over the years, but this…
And all because they didn't understand me. They feared me. They wouldn't listen.
They're all staring at me, these people, and I can't think of a single thing to say. For once I'm speechless because there isn't anything to say. Oh, I can see it in their faces now, the guilt and the fear and, ironically, the understanding. I want to laugh but all sounds die in my throat. Now they see what they've done—condemned innocent people to death.
I'm a very lucky man. The flight attendant—she is—was—a good person.
It never fails to amaze me, this duality that human beings have. They can be the worst of people condemning others to death where they have no right to decide, doling out the worst of punishments to anyone who gets in their way.
They can be the best, too. That woman saved my life. Many humans have a wonderful ability to care for others and to ensure not only their own survival, but that of the whole human race. They are curious and always trying to know more. They are inventive. Brilliant is a great word to describe it. Humans are brilliant.
Yet, when humans are at their worst they are like black holes, taking others down with them into dark nothingness. I have seen many things, but I hope never to see the terrible things humans are capable of, never again. This one time was too much.
The ship has landed. I thought this would be a grand adventure, but now the only thing I want to do is leave this place forever and forget that any of this ever happened.
Some things are just too painful to remember.