Sahara swore.
Why would he... How could he be such an…
Sahara stared at the screen again, determined not to think about Shard lying in the isolation ward, seven floors down, strapped down, a mask misting a light anesthetic into her lungs, her eyelids twitching feverishly, as if her unconscious mind was waiting to die, waiting to erupt into a thousand pieces.
That was the one little bit of information that Sahara had gleaned from the Imogene reports; when the 'infection' first surfaced, apparently brought into a hospital by an old caver, there was another patient in the emergency room for an appendectomy. The anesthetic seemed to slow the contagion. UNIT's medical staff was working flat out searching for a way to counter it, but the infection had already gone global. The Yellowstone Event wasn't helping any, disrupting transmission signals, obliterating flight paths and tying up the emergency services for the whole continent. But people in Australia and Russia had already started dying, disintegrating into little puddles as the Doctor's little friends gave birth….
How could he not help them… how could he let this happen? How could he let her die? How could he…
"Stop."
The voice behind her was only a whisper, but the Doctor's single word held the sadness and power of a million dead worlds.
Sahara turned and stared at him, defiant. Could he read her mind? Fine. Read this, you little creep.
Sahara could almost feel the air between them boil with the obscenities she unleashed at him.
"Who are you?" He asked her.
Sahara looked at him blankly. She wasn't ready for it. It was exactly the question she was going to ask him.
She swiveled back to the computer. "I am who I am," she muttered, but what she really wanted to say was 'I'm not a heartless bastard who's letting billions of people die.' But she didn't.
"Really. And who is that?" The Doctor asked sweetly. "Does your mother know you? Know the things you've done, the people you've been with?"
Sahara rolled her eyes.
"What about your teachers? Or your lovers? Your friends? Your children and coworkers? Do you treat them all the same, speak to them in the same way, confide in all of them equally? When they think of you, do they all think of you in exactly the same way?"
Sahara turned back to face him. She noticed that her arms were folded tightly across her chest; her body language bold and classic. She didn't want to listen, she wasn't going to listen.
"Are you really the person you think you are, or are you really hundreds of different people, different faces that you switch on and off at will?"
Sahara was almost too tired to raise an eyebrow at him.
"Now imagine that you're actually given a multitude of bodies, actual faces that change from one day to the next… imagine how difficult it is to know who you really are…" The Doctor's expression seemed almost pained. "I'm the same person, Sahara Shaw, to you, to your mother, to UNIT, to Daleks and Sontarans, I am constant, I give the same face to all, regardless of what body I'm in. And believe it or not, I do care. Deeply. So stop being angry with me because I'm not the man your mother made you believe I was. If there was any way to stop this I would. Your race has to solve this one on your own. I can't interfere."
Sahara wasn't buying it. "Why did you save her? Shard. Why did you save her only to let her die like this?"
The Doctor flinched. "Reflex. I saw someone in trouble; I grabbed her. I didn't know this would happen this way."
"Bullshit." Sahara turned her back on him. "You're a lord of time, I know my mother's stories. Something this big and you didn't know? All you do is interfere." Sahara began typing viciously, trying to lose herself in the documents, wishing he'd just go away and let them struggle, let them die in peace.
"Teach a man to fish…" The Doctor began, but trailed off, the quotation seemed flippant, even cruel as he gave it voice.
Sahara turned to attack him again, to spit in his face at the platitude but she paused, as his words trickled into her head even as her lips pursed, saliva ready to fly… but instead she said. "My children? What children? I don't have any kids."
The Doctor frowned and pulled a fob watch from his vest pocket and snapped it shut.
When he looked up at her, his eyes were sad, blue and terrified.
"Oh dear."