"Van Gogh, you coming to the party tonight?"
He rolled his eyes at the use of the nickname he had inherited thanks to the light auburn colour of his hair and his passion for anything that was Earth-related, famous painters included. Not that he minded much, as he rather liked the name and it actually was an improvement from the usual hamster cheeks and carrot heads he had gotten used to. He turned on his feet to face the committee of classmates that was standing against the wall of the classroom, waiting for the same lesson he wanted to attend. He hated geography and he most definitely hated the professor - who, by an ironic twist of fate, appeared to have taken a liking to him. He would have been glad to skip the lesson and study more in depth the strange animal humans called a unicorn, as he had decided that this particular animal would remain his favourite until he could find anything better than a steed with a magical horn stuck on its forehead. But skipping the lesson also meant he wouldn't get the result for the paper he had spent a whole week working on, a full day of which he had consecrated to the drawing of a planisphere, cursing profusely against the stupidity of human for representing a sphere on a plane surface all the while.
A throat cleared and he finally understood the question. He had no idea why they would invite him to such a thing as a party. After so long, they should know he always declined any kind of invitation that had nothing to do with academic conferences and seminars. Sometimes, people would mistake him as the weird excluded boy who couldn't get any friends because of his odd behaviour. They didn't understand that he was the one excluding others. Oh, very few liked him, and should he want to make any friends, he would probably need a single hand to count them. But he could have gotten a few. He simply didn't want to. He didn't have the time nor the desire to follow them in their useless errands they could waste precious hours on. When they went out for drinks, he stayed in his shack to work some more on his papers. When they ambled the streets in search of gifts for their soulmates, he stayed in bed to study his own soulmark under the light of the candle, trying to find clues about the whereabouts of his own. When they played stupid ball games in the Temporal Gardens, he played the dangerous game of sneaking into the Eternal Library to steal books he couldn't afford to buy.
He believed he had been forced to grow too fast ever since his parents' death, and while he was still an immature two hundred year-old boy at heart, his clever little brain was already fuller than most of his professors'. Advantage, or disadvantage, he couldn't make the difference. But he knew the difference between what was good for his future, and what was not. And he hoped that would be enough to guide his steps to the soulmate he was desperate to meet.
"I'm not going," he shrugged, his fingers unconsciously finding the locket he kept securely fastened around his neck - locket in which he had concealed the very first moment he had connected with his soulmate. "There's this thing I… Need to work on."
"Oh, come on Vincent, we're celebrating! Two hundred years spent in this prison, halfway through graduation, you can't miss it!"
"I… Alright," he sighed in defeat, though he managed to offer a small smile. "I suppose I can make a quick appearance."
"Main Hall after dinner. And please don't bring any homework."
The last word was swallowed by the ringing bell and he hurried towards his preferred seat before anyone could steal it from him - namely, the seat that was far enough from the professor's desk, close enough to the door should he decide the lesson wasn't worth spending a minute more in the stifling oven the classroom was on a sunny day such as this one. He waited patiently until the usul cacophony of students sitting down and taking out their material with merry chatters about the oncoming party died down, and he shifted a tad less patiently for the professor to start handing out the results of their latest test. That professor had the odd habit to deliver the results from the worst to the best, and he always dreaded to be the first to receive his result - though it had never happened, at least not until now. He drummed his fingers anxiously on the edge of the desk, watching as the old man cloaked in green picked up the pile of parchments from his desk and started to walk up the stairs towards the back of the room. Much too close to his desk to his liking. A lump grew in his throat, so heavy he couldn't swallow it down, and his hearts free-fell in his chest when the very first paper was carefully laid down in front of him. He didn't hear the soft and surprised murmurs that rose in the classroom, the staccato heartbeat pulsing in his ears much too loud and shrilling. A wave of heat inflamed his cheeks and he could have sworn the volume of his carotide tripled when the professor splayed his long fingers over his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, boy," the elder apologized with a light pat. "That's the third time in a row you've written about that small planet. And before you ask, no, focusing on the climatic specificities of Eurape doesn't make it less irrelevant to the subject. Why not try something about… Gullipso? It's close enough to Earth, and it'd be a nice change."
"Europe," he seethed between his teeth, fighting the urge he suddenly felt to swap his hand off and run out the room.
"I beg your pardon?"
"The continent is called Europe," he kept going, unaware that tears had started to rain down his cheeks. "Greek mythology, Queen Europa, means wide-gazing. Something you definitely should try, wide-gazing. Broaden your perspective and your knowledge a bit, hm? Just because a planet is small doesn't mean it's not important or relevant."
He took a deep breath and slammed his book closed over the parchment he planned on burning as soon as he got back to his shack. He shoved the book back in his shoulder bag and slipped the strap around his neck before standing from his chair. He looked up to the ancient teacher, his fists clenching and unclenching on his sides as he pondered for a moment if he ought to readjust the half-moon shaped glasses perched in the tip of his nose with a punch, but he decided against it. Better to hit where it really hurt.
"And, for the record, the planet Gullipso changed its name into Luntana precisely eight hundred and seventy-three years ago, and that name was still in use fairly recently. Until the whole planet was sucked into the black hole of Hueb, that is," he managed to smile despite the heavy tears sill hanging to his eyelashes. "See you later, sir. Or better yet, never see you again. I quit."
He shoved the professor away with a heavy nudge of his shoulder and fled the room under the electric whispers of his classmates, some unable to believe he had gotten the worst grade when he never failed to be the first at everything he did, some awed by the fact that he had dared talk in such a way to one of the most eminent teachers of the whole Academy.
He closed the heavy door behind and let his back fall against it with a weary sigh. He didn't know if he should be proud for having stood up for his convictions and his passion, or if he should feel guilty for giving way to his anger and disappointment. It was the first time in two centuries of intensive study and meticulous work that he got a grade that wasn't perfect, and the first time he got to appreciate the bitter taste of failure. The wisdom he had acquired over the years whispered in his mind that it didn't matter, because he knew his paper deserved the perfect grade no matter what the rubbish professor might say about it. But the childish pride in his hearts made his stomach churn at the thought that his final grade would be tarnished because of that humiliating single mark.
He shook his head with a dejected grimace and pushed his body away from the door. No need to linger around when he had just gained two hours he could use to study. A quick look at the miniature Gallifreyan hourglass tied to a chain around his wrist informed him that the biggest sun would soon reach its zenith - an important piece of information when it came to choosing the best aisle of the library. He started to walk down the short flight of stairs that led to the Temporal Gardens he had to cross to reach his favorite place in the Academy. Somehow, the hot breeze that made the bright orange leaves twinkle in the trees managed to soothe his resentment, and the third sun slowly setting beyond the horizon, outside the glass dome that protected the capital of Gallifrey, had him realize that a part of darkness didn't necessarily meant impenetrable obscurity. A zero wasn't a failure. It was a lesson. He understood that no matter how bright he thought he shone, he should never forget that light couldn't exist without its shadows.
That was a lesson he tried to learn throughout the day, even as he daydreamed in the Library, scribbling without much enthusiasm nor conscientiousness the few English expressions he had learned in his manual, at the bottom of the verso of the paper he ended up stuffing in his pocket when he realized all of it was useless.
He looked up through the window, to the single star that shone during the day above the tower bell of the Cathedral. He knew the planet Earth was close to that star - which happened to already be dead to the eyes of humans, given the distance of hundreds of thousands light years that separated it from Gallifrey when Earth was just a few dozens light years away. He found himself wondering if his soulmate was like this star. Alive, in a distant galaxy he could have reached in an instant with a TARDIS. Already dead, maybe not born yet. That was the thing with outworlders. Gallifreyans were the only species he knew of who could travel time and space faster that the snap of a finger. The only species he knew possessed a virtually unlimited lifespan, when all the others found their death, eventually. He had been terrified to find out humans merely lived a hundred years. Nothing could be done in so little time. Life couldn't possibly offer everything it had to give in one short, fleeting century. He pitied them. Knowing they were born only to work and fight and get bored and pretend they could love. It wasn't living. Barely existing. But what terrified him the most was that it was possible his soulmate would be one of them. A tiny human he would have to watch whither and die.
The nacre pattern of his soulmark itched at that thought, and he stared at the one circle he had deciphered only three years after taking up those botany lessons he was so fond of. Hulis. It was a flower that grew in the desert continent on the other side of Gallifrey. White petals that faded to a pastel pink towards their center, soft and everlastingly covered by a dew they gathered from the atmosphere to protect themselves from the scorching suns. Long, sharp-edged leaves coated with a thin layer of the most venomous substance known to Gallifreyans, to fend off the insects and survive predators - which he had always considered weird for a plant that could spread faster than grass and grow more effectively than Gallifreyan babies loomed in the Orgue.
He couldn't figure out what linked that plant to his soulmate, and that wasn't for lack of trying. He could only guess the mysterious meaning would be unveiled the moment he would finally meet them. He shook his head as he dejectedly pulled on his sleeve to hide the mark that so often made his brain hurt with the torrent of questions it brought. Two more centuries to go, he'd finally turn four hundred years old, and all of these questions would find answers. Hopefully.
He had hesitated a long time, pacing anxiously around his shack for almost as long as it took the sand of his hourglass to trickle down into the lower bulb, but he ended up making his decision. The Main Hall was already buzzing with excited prattling, some about how they could now chuck half of their papers in a dark pit of oblivion, some about the trepidation they felt at the prospect of finally starting their Tardis flying lessons. He stepped into the large Hall in search of the acquaintance who had invited him to the party - he had to admit, he wasn't feeling much comfortable snaking through the dozens of grapes of students, gathered around the gigantic golden Hourglass standing in the middle of the Hall, on his own.
"Hey, Van Gogh!" a reedy voice called out behind him before he could disappear into the sea of people. "Wait!"
"What is it, Kip?" he asked with measured sympathy, hoping they wouldn't engage in a night-long conversation about that stupid card game he could blabber about for days without breathing.
"The geography instructor, he asked me to tell you, you won't get a void for your paper if you can write him another one before next lesson."
"Nah, I give up on geography, anyway," he shrugged, scratching the side of his cheek with a finger. "I'm taking up nuclear physics instead."
"Oh, Vince! For the love of Rassilon, please get me a perfect on that geography paper!"
"Why, what does this have to do with you?"
"I, hu, kinda bet all my credits that you were going to be the first student ever to get the Kronos medal."
"Ah, of course you would… Sorry, Kip, no Kronos medal for me," he apologized with a sad smile.
"But… I… Look, I'll buy you that rare book you wanted. What was it, the Naturalis Historia or some other human stuff again? Get that perfect and that book is yours, yeah?"
"Er… Listen, Kip," he started, a hesitant sigh flowing past his lips - after all, he had wanted that book for aeons, and it would be an insult to his intelligence to refuse such an offer. "I… I'll see what I can do. No promises, alright?"
"Next lesson is four moons and two sols away. Don't let me down, Van Gogh."
He could only nod as short and stubby fingers patted him on the shoulder, before the short boy disappeared in the crowd. He took a moment to look around and finally spotted the crown of long blond hair that belonged to Tinker. He grabbed a glass of juice on the way to him and the group of friends that sat in a circle near the pond, but the closer he got, the better he could hear their conversation - a mention of his name, a laugh, a groan. He approached slowly, careful to remain hidden behind the bushy plant that had the courtesy of throning at a reasonable distance so he could eavesdrop on them without being seen. His throat tied in a tight knot and he had to spit his first sip of Guandi nectar back into his glass.
"... But really, we should tell him," the blond boy shrugged as he stuffed biscuits into his mouth.
"Why, though?" the girl leaning back against the edge of the pond raised an eyebrow. "I mean, with a brain like his, surely he knows that Overseer fairytale is just that. A fairytale."
"Yeah, he's not the first to have a dead mark. Plenty of others before him never got a soulmate and they ended up fine."
"Sure, but I still think it's sad," another girl lamented, pensively running a finger along the edge of her glass. "That poor Vince is convinced he's got a soulmate out there, and he's living for that dream. I've never seen someone so committed to their studies for their soulmate."
"Do you think this has anything to do with all that Earth stuff he keeps talking about? Does he believe his soulmate is a human?"
"Don't know," the blond boy shook his head, pinching a crumb of biscuit off his robe, " but what we all know is that you can't get a soulmate from outside Gallifrey. There's a reason our marks are all written in Gallifreyan and have a Time signature. He might fall in love with a human, there's no denying that and I'll even be happy for him, but they'll never be his soulmate. He doesn't have one. Period."
Slowly, he spilled the content of his glass in the pot of the plant, dropped it among the white pebbles that covered the humid earth, and he started to step back. He turned on his feet, quite unable to see where he was going, unable to think about where his feet were taking him. He just knew he had to get away from them, get away from the thunder of those words he struggled to put a meaning on. He simply walked, down the stairs, up the main corridor, so much tears in his eyes he felt he was seeing the world through a lense covered in fresh dew. The only thing he could vaguely recognize was the huge engraving on an ancient wooden door that led to the one classroom everyone loved. It was always locked and only a few eminent professors possessed the key. But this night, it was slightly ajar, a tiny ray of yellow light filtering into the otherwise dark corridor. He looked back to the party, hearing the dulled chatters in the distance, looking at the soft glow that emanated from the reflection on the Hourglass. No one would come this way. And even if they did, he wasn't sure he would care much. Whatever happened, nothing could be worse that finding out he had built his whole life on a lie he'd been stupid enough to believe in.
He pushed the door open, closed it behind him with careful manoeuvres not to make the latch click into a locked position. The sound of conversation was replaced by a soft, comforting hum that came from the Tardis they used for the lessons. He should have been awed to finally see the ship, to finally get a proper look at the most magnificent piece of technology Gallifreyans had ever come up with. But in that moment, the flame of passion and the burning desire to always discover more were dead. Just like his hopes and dreams. It was just a ship. And no matter how far it could go, no matter when, it wouldn't take him anywhere near the place he wanted to be. Because where he wanted to be didn't exist.
A sad chuckle escaped his lips when he tried to read the few lines of painted letters covering the front of the blue box. He got closer to door and brushed his fingertips against the English words he hadn't learnt yet.
"You think that's funny?" his trembling voice asked, a somber smile ghosting over his lips. "That's the idea of a joke for a Tardis, then?"
He jumped back with a gasp when the ship answered, its door opening with a creaking sound that almost echoed into a laugh in his ears. He took a peek inside the ship, and he saw the time rotor in the middle of the console room pulse with a pale blue glow, as if it were inviting him inside. He knew the ship was a sentient being capable of thought and feelings, but it was only when he felt the tendrils of its consciousness envelop his that he fully understood the implications of such powers. If he focused enough, he could almost understand the words it was whispering to him, come inside, follow me, come closer. He knew he shouldn't do as it said, that he wasn't even supposed to be there, that if he was found out he would get into more trouble than his perfect grades could excuse. He could risk being forbidden to fly a Tardis for the rest of his days and losing the only thing that could help him reach his soulmate. And then, he remembered that he had no soulmate to go to.
So, he stepped on the metal grating of the ship, the thin soles of his sandals squeaking at each tiny step he took towards the center of the room. His eyes went to the hundreds of buttons and levers on the console, to the long coral struts running up towards a round golden ceiling and the dozen of corridors running from the sides, forking into many other corridors melting into an endless maze. He had almost reached the other side of the main room when the door slammed shut behind him and the time rotor was spurred into motion. His horrified shriek was drowned by the regular wheezing and groaning of the ship as he threw himself towards the door, his crooked knees wailing in protest at the sudden effort.
"What are you doing?" he shouted, his hands pulling on the handle so hard a screw popped off. "Don't do that, stupid ship, I can't even fly you back!"
But the ship only sent a jolt of electricity through the door and hummed gleefully when he fell down on his bottom with a loud curse, his tingling hands unable to find any purchase on the smooth surface of the barrier. Out, the ship murmured in the back of his head just a moment later, making the thin hair at the back of his neck rise. It was only then that he realized the noise had died down and the grating had stopped vibrating under him. He didn't know where they had landed, but none of this bode well. He tried to swallow the hard lump that had settled low in his throat as he scrambled back to his feet, staring with scared, wide and, at the same time, expectant eyes at the small frame of light the door that had whined open let appear.
With slow, careful steps, he got closer to the light. The bubbles of excitement that rose in his stomach were enough to smother the pangs of worry and the twists of guilt, and his mouth split his face into a smile before he could stop it. He was on another planet.
He tentatively reached out with a hand, not brave enough to leave the reassuring inside of the ship, but drew it back with a gasp when something humid and cold pricked his skin. He observed the pearls of water clinging to the hairs on his forearm, and darted his tongue to give one of them an experimental lick. Water. Full of dirt and dust and bacterias, but water nonetheless.
"Rain," he murmured under his breath, looking up at the grey sky and the menacing clouds floating low above what he recognized as being concrete buildings. "Earth."
His hearts hammering against his ribcage, so fast the pause between each beat could barely be felt, he stepped outside the safety of the ship - one foot first, just to see if that dark surface was solid enough to withstand his weight. His eyes roamed avidly around the space surrounded by the kind of buildings he'd only ever seen in books, taking in the weird painted lines that drew paths on the floor, the trees that were probably about to die given their bright green colours, and all those streams of water that flowed along tiny riverbeds. He was fascinated by the leaves embarking on journeys along those rivers and spent an entire minute following one with eyes wide open in innocent amazement, until it was swallowed by some kind of gaping hole in a wall. And the rain. He has studied everything about it and knew to the most irrelevant details how it all worked, but seeing it for real was something else altogether. The steady rhythm of all those drops splashing on the ground, the tight curtain of impenetrable water they created, the violence with which they lashed at the windows, the beautiful patterns they created in the air as they submitted to the force of the wind. It couldn't compare to any picture he had stared into for hours on end.
His eyes fell on the line of windows that stretched over the building on the far left, and he saw the multitude of heads peeking out from inside what he supposed to be classrooms - the only thing he could remember from his readings about education on Earth, because it was one of the rare things Gallifreyans shared with that planet. So they must all have been humans. Tiny, fragile humans who were already wasting time learning about things they most likely wouldn't need. Oh, how he would have loved to meet all of them, talk to them, learn from them. His eyes trailed to the left, to a smaller window, and he leaned against the corner of the building where he was standing. He stopped breathing, his respiratory bypass kicking in so he wouldn't faint from the lack of oxygen, and he ferociously ignored the itching sensation that burnt from his wrist to the middle of his forearm. That lone head, behind that little window. Blond hair, the most beautiful face that had ever graced his soul, deep amber eyes he could have stared into for moons and sols without never being able to detach himself from their depth, lips that taught him for the very first time what the desire to kiss felt like. Heavy tears pearled at the corner of his eyes and his eyebrows knitted in the middle under the repressed urge he had to sob and shout and sing. There was no mistaking the heat that spread through his limbs, the way his hearts leapt against his ribcage as if they wanted to break through and reach out to her, the sudden rush of new emotions that flooded his empty soul. It was her. It was her.
And suddenly, their eyes met. The smile that had cracked his dry lips vanished and he rolled his back against the building to get out of sight. His mark was positively searing by the time he managed to shoulder the door to the Tardis open, and he well knew why. It wasn't the right time. He wasn't supposed to be there just yet. It was much too soon.
He dashed to the console, unaware that the piece of paper he had tucked inside his robe was fluttering lightly along a weak breath of wind in the alley where he had landed. In his outright panic, he smashed buttons and pulled levers and flicked more buttons and punched random numbers on that weird calculator.
"Please, take me back," he begged under his breath, sucking off the robe that was becoming increasingly unbearable. "Please, please, please, take me back, she can't see me, not now."
The Tardis answered his prayer, and the time rotor whirred to life as it dematerialized from the playground, mere seconds before Rose Tyler would stumble into the alley and find the only test he had ever failed in his life.