It was bloody hot in there. Imagine a sauna turned up to where you imagine you're cooking there, like a Christmas goose. I felt dizzy. Bloody toga. But still, I could hear him talking about choices. I wanted to believe that I was imagining this, that he really didn't have to choose between the deaths of over twenty thousand people, including us, versus the end of the world.

He made it all sound so simple. So bloody rational.

Of course, keep in mind that this is the same man who fought a fifteen foot fire monster alien back with a child's water pistol.

Rationality is relative, after all.

How many times had he been forced to make a choice like this? How many times had this one man been forced to play judge, jury and executioner of men, women and children who did nothing to deserve the fate that was coming? He didn't create this. He never asked for it. But he didn't flinch from it, either. How could he go on, for hundreds of years, with the echo of their screams and pleas for a mercy he couldn't give ringing in his ears?

Twenty thousand. Twenty thousand innocent humans. Babies. Young girls looking forward to love. Young boys looking forward to lust. Twenty thousand souls handed to a God who had ceded all authority to a Time Lord in a bad suit with a bloody water pistol and a blue box.

How many times did he decide all alone?

Oh, I know that if I had said no, he would have done it anyway. It was the only thing he could do. It's like asking a child if they want broccoli or brussel sprouts. Neither choice is acceptable, but it's a sick mindgame when all you've got is broccoli in the fridge. I knew what he would do. I knew he would do it because it was not just the right thing to do, but the only thing that could be done. It was just fortunate that we were there to make it.

I couldn't give him absolution, any more than I could give it to myself, in that moment I knew I would die. Bloody hell, first trip, death by volcano. Why did I pack so much? However, that wasn't the most important thing. The most important thing was the look in his eyes, the sorrow of hundreds of death choices he had made. They would burn, just as his people had, every innocent one of them.

I laid my hand over his, and gave him the only thing I could in the impossible situation. I didn't think about how bloody sweaty his skinny hand was. I just thought about the fact that this time, this one time, he didn't have to bear the guilt alone. I gave him support, solidarity, though my choice was symbolic. It was all I could do for him, for all the thousands that would die with us.

Of course, we didn't die. We even managed to save just a few. One family. Of course, I had to bloody well badger him to get that. He seemed pleased, or at least not annoyed. The balance of four lives, out of twenty thousand, I know what you're thinking, it's not enough.
But that's just it, isn't it? When you are choosing death, nothing, then anything can be enough to keep it from being hopeless. Humans have to have that...that little bit of something to hold onto. We cling to our religion, our politics, our security blankets and all sorts of other things that we hold when nothing else makes sense. It binds us, as we stumble through choice after choice after bloody choice that can mean disaster at any turn. He has to do it alone, too much, so I'm here to give him solidarity, even if it's only a small bit of humanity for the humans that he fights to save as he kills. Illusion? Perhaps. Or perhaps I'm child's water pistol, just enough to temper the fire that a Time Lord is forced to unleash even when it pains him to do so.

Of course, I'm much smarter than a bloody water pistol. But you get the idea, right?

He doesn't have to do it all alone. I want to help him, and he's letting me.

We all need solidarity. Can't bloody fight the whole universe alone with a sonic screwdriver and bloody water pistol, now can you?