@anywherexwhen (Cont. from here)
The Doctor looked at Liam, but said nothing. He wasn’t in the habit of telling people things would turn out completely fine when he didn’t have the usual sliver of reassurance that it would.
He ran a hand through his hair, his expression grim. “Liam, you interrupted them in the middle of a religious ceremony with-...” The Doctor waved his hand helplessly, unwilling to say the word, ‘magic,’ “-whatever that was! Their rites and passages might seem inhumane by our standards, but it means something to them. You’ve gone and shown off powers unlike anything they’ve ever seen before. People react to power in two ways; they respect it, or they fear it. Either way, people are going to be looking to you now for answers about things far beyond their petty day to day squabbles, and you’ve just gone and told them their religion, the basis for their entire society, is wrong!”
His hair was standing on end because of the number of times he’d frantically run his fingers through it.
“And I don’t know what they’ll do to you if we out you as a liar,” he fretted, his distress palpable. “I need more information,” he decided. “We need to find out who these people are... who they become. If we can do that... You’re safe so long as they think you could smite them at any moment, but we’re going to have to keep this up until I can figure out what to do next.”
He finally looked up, seeing the look on Liam’s face, and his expression softened. He reached out, affectionately stroking the younger man’s cheek. “It’s-... I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he promised. It wasn’t what Liam wanted to hear, he knew. But it was the only promise he could securely make.
“It was just a party trick,” Liam offered his alternative term for ‘magic’ - the word the Doctor seemed to avoid, and Liam, too, if only because his own terminology made his mishap seem less severe. “Fuck, I’d given this holier-than-thou wanker a blinding dose of this stupid ‘cleansing light blah blah’ bullshit he seemed so fond of... if only ye’d let me.” The bitterness in his voice, some underlying, poorly hidden grudge seeping into his words, stood in stark contrast to his reddened eyes.
“I know that specific flavour of tosser; talks ye into believing emotion is sin and guilt trips ye for not being their perfect unfeeling robot.” He was trying his best to justify himself, even though the evidence was crushing: he was in the wrong. With all the best intentions, but an execution akin to launching a nuclear bomb when all you needed was to dig over your garden patch.
At least the Doctor’s voice was somehow soothing his inner turmoil, albeit a sense of regret and fear prevailed. “No? But ye expect me to go back out there, don’t ye?” He took a deep breath and exhaled with a trembling jaw. “Their expectations... All I can do is disappoint. It’s the shitty battle of the bands contest all over again. Got royally pissed to calm me nerves. Didn’t wake up in time for the concert. Stage fright’s a bitch. If anything... I’d rather not go back. Least of it all pretending to be a god.”
