The Doctor would hesitate to call Callie weak, though that's not an objection to raise at the moment. It's debatable, at the very least. Is adopting compassion against the nature of your species a weakness? Is it? With the knowledge of the consequences, it never is, but did she have that? Sometimes he does and sometimes not, but he's relieved to know that he usually chooses the same, whether ignorant of the outcome or spitefully aware. Callie, would she have gone forward with her 'weakness' and her friendships? He knows very little about her actual downfall, but he sees enough of himself in it. She gave out enough second chances that she deserves one or two herself. Was she weak? This ghost is altogether wrong; sometimes futility is the only comfort there is.
Still, he can see enough of the Callie he knows in this ghost to break his hearts. She understands more than her native love of rules would suggest. Just a little, just around the edges. That feeling of injustice, he could probably do a lot with, given a thousand years. Maybe it's for the best he won't be teaching her anything about justice on a less cosmic scale. He grieves anyway. Once again, any of his help is just too little and long past too late. Callie deserved and got better, so why doesn't she? Nothing could make Callie's resurrection meaningless, but how much comfort can that be, to this sad creature? He shouldn't have asked. He stares back at her, looking hurt, almost accused, before he breaks away, takes a tired seat with his back to the dais. It's as much running as he feels capable of, at the moment, though he wouldn't mind escaping entirely, if it were an option. "No," he says, with all the finality he can dredge up. "She isn't lonely anymore. She has friends. She's very well looked after." He scrubs at his face with his hands like that might break up these words enough to make them less potentially hurtful. "Safe, alive. No shackles. No murder. She's happy and free," moreso than this Calliope will ever be, can she even understand, or does she just feel an incomprehensible lack? "And I mean for her to stay that way."
no subject
Still, he can see enough of the Callie he knows in this ghost to break his hearts. She understands more than her native love of rules would suggest. Just a little, just around the edges. That feeling of injustice, he could probably do a lot with, given a thousand years. Maybe it's for the best he won't be teaching her anything about justice on a less cosmic scale. He grieves anyway. Once again, any of his help is just too little and long past too late. Callie deserved and got better, so why doesn't she? Nothing could make Callie's resurrection meaningless, but how much comfort can that be, to this sad creature? He shouldn't have asked. He stares back at her, looking hurt, almost accused, before he breaks away, takes a tired seat with his back to the dais. It's as much running as he feels capable of, at the moment, though he wouldn't mind escaping entirely, if it were an option. "No," he says, with all the finality he can dredge up. "She isn't lonely anymore. She has friends. She's very well looked after." He scrubs at his face with his hands like that might break up these words enough to make them less potentially hurtful. "Safe, alive. No shackles. No murder. She's happy and free," moreso than this Calliope will ever be, can she even understand, or does she just feel an incomprehensible lack? "And I mean for her to stay that way."