[ The Doctor says it to Raleigh and Mako both, because the worst is yet to come for the both of them. He knows, at length, the strength of their neural connection, the way it keeps them bound together, heart and mind and soul. He knows how it makes them one, when they're quiet and they speak in mutual glances, thoughts conveying a richer gamut of emotion and sentiment. The Doctor knows it all, when they make each other whole and happy, introducing a brand new frontier of intimacy never before achieved by humanity.
Not like this, not like them.
The Doctor knows, too, the pain of their inevitable separation -- when he finally must disconnect the signal encoded from an unknown sender, when he discovers that it's their connection, the inscrutable power of their unified desire to be with each other that boosts the signal that maintains Mako's flesh avatar, a perfect carbon copy of her, complete with her own mind, her own heart; the consciousness that is Mako Mori keeping the avatar alive and strong, spying on the Doctor in plain sight.
With enough will, you can move a mountain. He has to be impressed at the enterprising nature of his unseen enemies, savvy enough to use the one thing more resilient than hope, stronger than faith: love.
He doesn't tell Raleigh that the woman he holds in his arms is not quite Mako, even if it is, in all essence, her. He doesn't tell Raleigh that even through the infinite reaches of all of space and time, they could still be so impossibly intertwined, and breaking it would introduce a pain unlike any other, an aching, yawning loss; a hole punched into the fabric of their very selves.
"I'm sorry," the Doctor says when takes this gamble, severs the connection with the unwavering glow of his sonic screwdriver, and he kills something that day to save them both. The flesh (a living, breathing organism with Mako's face, her personality, her nature, who deserved also to live), and now Mako is nothing where she used to be, vanished from Raleigh's stubborn grip and, very temporarily, from his mind and heart and soul.
They will find her again, and soon; they'll find out where she's been and take her back from the grasp of his adversaries. Mako is strong, and so is Raleigh, and the silence will only be temporary. Even the Doctor cannot, after all, permanently compromise their neural link, only buy enough time to slip in under the radar of their perpetrators and take her back from them. "Bear with it, Raleigh. What you're feeling right now -- it's only temporary. " The Doctor doesn't think twice when he makes this call (he doesn't think about how she screams Raleigh's name in her prison, hundreds and hundreds of light years away because they've never once been separated, not for anything, not even in the most dire of times -- no, they faced those times and fought, together), when he makes the choice for them because he can, and he must. ]
She's still out there, fighting her way back to us. We just have to find her first.
dr. who au
I'm sorry.
[ The Doctor says it to Raleigh and Mako both, because the worst is yet to come for the both of them. He knows, at length, the strength of their neural connection, the way it keeps them bound together, heart and mind and soul. He knows how it makes them one, when they're quiet and they speak in mutual glances, thoughts conveying a richer gamut of emotion and sentiment. The Doctor knows it all, when they make each other whole and happy, introducing a brand new frontier of intimacy never before achieved by humanity.
Not like this, not like them.
The Doctor knows, too, the pain of their inevitable separation -- when he finally must disconnect the signal encoded from an unknown sender, when he discovers that it's their connection, the inscrutable power of their unified desire to be with each other that boosts the signal that maintains Mako's flesh avatar, a perfect carbon copy of her, complete with her own mind, her own heart; the consciousness that is Mako Mori keeping the avatar alive and strong, spying on the Doctor in plain sight.
With enough will, you can move a mountain. He has to be impressed at the enterprising nature of his unseen enemies, savvy enough to use the one thing more resilient than hope, stronger than faith: love.
He doesn't tell Raleigh that the woman he holds in his arms is not quite Mako, even if it is, in all essence, her. He doesn't tell Raleigh that even through the infinite reaches of all of space and time, they could still be so impossibly intertwined, and breaking it would introduce a pain unlike any other, an aching, yawning loss; a hole punched into the fabric of their very selves.
"I'm sorry," the Doctor says when takes this gamble, severs the connection with the unwavering glow of his sonic screwdriver, and he kills something that day to save them both. The flesh (a living, breathing organism with Mako's face, her personality, her nature, who deserved also to live), and now Mako is nothing where she used to be, vanished from Raleigh's stubborn grip and, very temporarily, from his mind and heart and soul.
They will find her again, and soon; they'll find out where she's been and take her back from the grasp of his adversaries. Mako is strong, and so is Raleigh, and the silence will only be temporary. Even the Doctor cannot, after all, permanently compromise their neural link, only buy enough time to slip in under the radar of their perpetrators and take her back from them. "Bear with it, Raleigh. What you're feeling right now -- it's only temporary. " The Doctor doesn't think twice when he makes this call (he doesn't think about how she screams Raleigh's name in her prison, hundreds and hundreds of light years away because they've never once been separated, not for anything, not even in the most dire of times -- no, they faced those times and fought, together), when he makes the choice for them because he can, and he must. ]
She's still out there, fighting her way back to us. We just have to find her first.