Cry to me Always
Summary: Novice Hame considers her role in the Sisterhood. Pre-New Earth
Disclaimer: If ever I come to own Doctor Who, you'll know. Until then...
New Earth was weeping.
Its tears cascaded into the bereft doldrums of the ruined city of New New York, washing away the mesh of pollution and poverty from the convoluted streets. It cried with remembrance.
She would be twenty one in three days. Required at that age, a recognised adult, to offer her services to the hospital, a profession for which she'd been training for seventeen of those years. It was, Hame had been informed, her purpose.
Yet, she questioned it. Why, with all their knowledge of medical science, did the human race require the aid of the Sisters? She was always given the same. Have faith in the Sisterhood.
It was a mantra of sorts. Those five deceptively innocent words. A phrase that held so little meaning, so little sense but was still, lacking rhyme or reason, the motivation of their existence.
It was an intense, brilliant light; how she imagined the sun of the original Earth millions of years ago as it expanded and destroyed the very solar system it had given life to. The Sisters were the sun. She was the Earth.
She was blinded.
A/N: Dedicated to Esir, a friend and an inspiration. Happy Birthday!