He could enter her mind and attempt to determine for certain if she were telling the truth. But it's not a thing he does lightly or without asking. And ultimately, it would settle nothing. If she refused, it could be from hiding the truth or because the power she controls would be too strong for him to tame. If she accepted, it could be from honesty or because the power she controls would be strong enough to cloud the truth.
It comes down, finally, to whether or not he trusts her. He did not trust the White Rider of the Dark. He trusted Angie North. The woman standing before him is both, and neither, and new. That she desires vengeance is certain. That she has her own agenda is clear. That one day their aims may again be at odds is certainly possible.
But today... today she's a soul in pain. He sees that in her eyes -- in her real eyes, not the seeming that she's painted over them. She's as alone in the universe as he is, trying to find a way out of the few paltry shreds of possibilities presented to her. She has no allies defending her, no great destiny buffeting her, no true friends to stand beside her... Well, maybe that last part isn't entirely true.
The Doctor reaches out, touches her lightly on the shoulders. He isn't surprised when the touch doesn't match the appearance, as he already knows this form is mostly illusion. What surprises him is the slight tremble he can feel from her, just a faint betrayal of emotion -- anger, fear, regret, and more -- locked away behind the mask she presents to the world.
His voice is soft now, the fury pushed back down until it is called upon again. "I believe you," he says gently, knowing in that moment that he truly does.
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It comes down, finally, to whether or not he trusts her. He did not trust the White Rider of the Dark. He trusted Angie North. The woman standing before him is both, and neither, and new. That she desires vengeance is certain. That she has her own agenda is clear. That one day their aims may again be at odds is certainly possible.
But today... today she's a soul in pain. He sees that in her eyes -- in her real eyes, not the seeming that she's painted over them. She's as alone in the universe as he is, trying to find a way out of the few paltry shreds of possibilities presented to her. She has no allies defending her, no great destiny buffeting her, no true friends to stand beside her... Well, maybe that last part isn't entirely true.
The Doctor reaches out, touches her lightly on the shoulders. He isn't surprised when the touch doesn't match the appearance, as he already knows this form is mostly illusion. What surprises him is the slight tremble he can feel from her, just a faint betrayal of emotion -- anger, fear, regret, and more -- locked away behind the mask she presents to the world.
His voice is soft now, the fury pushed back down until it is called upon again. "I believe you," he says gently, knowing in that moment that he truly does.