Author's Note: Yesterday the uplaod failed or something. I'm very sorry for the inconvenience caused.
Promises aren't meant to be broken; at least not on Gallifrey.
My father had promised me that soon all would be better. Soon it would be over.
He was such a terrible liar. He couldn't even lie to his own son to make him feel safe again; to make him feel secure and snug.
He knew that the worst hadn't even started yet.
And he had always thought I wouldn't notice...
My father had always known that I had been ignorant. I guess he'd never realised simply how ignorant I had been.
I didn't know anything. I knew nothing, never ever. And my innocence, my endless naivety and integrity forbade me to question my father, or his decision; and I would never even dare to ask, not once. Just one question and it would have been over, simply one word and the nagging insecurity would have ended; just one word.
Why?
I should have asked him when I'd been a child. I really should have. It would have changed my life, one word would have changed my life. If only I'd had the guts to ask him why he had wanted to me to tie my legs together at night.
I should have known that it hadn't been about me tying my legs together at night; it also should have occurred to me that it wasn't either about my legs; it had been about what was between them.
And he should have told me. And I should have asked.
And we had both been too scared to even talk about it.
I hung in his arms motionless and shivered.
I had calmed down a bit. I felt somewhat save, resting lifeless in his arms while the last remaining and isolated tears dried on my burning cheeks. I was composed. I was silent.
But I wouldn't have the courage to simply ask my father; and neither had my father the courage to tell me.
And he knew.
He had known it right from the beginning.
Innocence meant ignorance. And secrets are meant to be kept while promises weren't meant to be broken. And that wouldn't change.
The human reverend Koschei had dared to refer to the last time was... well, I guess his pamphlets, his poems and his outpourings in written form had had the deepest impact on me; beside the "Collected wisdom of Dr. Neakahla", of course.
The reverend's words had always been dear to me; I had always thought that I actually understood him, him a primitive human being, forced to live and die miserable on a polluted planet during one of its saddest decades. I had always had pity on him; but his works, simple worded as they were, had always fascinated me; it had soothed and appalled me at the same time.
'The toys are us and we don't even know.'
'In each relationship it's not about love.'
'The weak ones are there to justify the strong.'
'And nothing's going to change the world; and nothing's going to change.'
They were as simple as that. But those words had to have a lot of truth inside of them to find their ways into a Time Lord's heart; and I had always relied on them. Not out of religious purposes but out of humanity.
And in his simplicity he had been right; though I doubt that he had even realised how right he'd been.
And nothing's going to change the world.
And nothing's going to change.
Well, nothing had changed after all.
And even at that point, at this low-point my father wouldn't change that, either.
And he knew. He'd always known.
He knew that it would happen like this. He had known it all the time; and he had thought he could have prevented it.
My father had seen it, he'd seen it before. He'd been there. He'd already been there.
Time is relative; and especially for Time Lords. But it's not only that the Time Lords can see what is, what was and what was going to be; they might as well be able to see what might happen.
And time had found its ways to turn tables. Time had managed to prove and reveal itself what would happen; and all you could do was standing aside and watching as the foretold future unfolded.
My father had seen the future. He hadn't searched for it; the future had searched for him.
I don't know if fate has reasons; and I don't know if you can reason with it. But you can't play at fate; so you can't probably reason with it, either.
Is that you, 'Doctor'? Have you finally found your way back, your way into your own mind.
It's your mind, Theta. This is your past and not mine.
We share the same past; we share the same fate. We both are forced to die.
Every living creature has to die one day. But it's fate's choice 'who' it's going to be first.
And if I tell you that it isn't?
Who are you to play at fate?
Who am I NOT to play at fate? Others had played at fate for me all my life; they had made decisions for me, they had made me make sacrifices in order to protect me; how come others know what's best for me? Why can't I for once in my life make the right decision?
Because it isn't YOUR decision, Theta. Listen to me...
You know it, 'Doctor', don't you? You keep claiming that it is my past and yet you know it; you know what my father had done; you know how horrible it had been the first nights after he'd scared me to death by demanding from me to keep my legs shut and don't let anybody come between them; you know how I'd cried the nights and dreaded the days because I had known that worse nights were to come, nights in which my father would come to my bed and tie me down, no matter how much I'd scream, no matter how much he'd scare me and no matter how many hours I would lie awake at night, unable to cry myself into sleep; you know it because it had been you back then as well as me.
...
No witty reply this time?
...
'Doctor'?
Why can't you die, Theta? Why can't you simply die and take all those bloody memories with you? Why can't you die with the secrets unspoken and the promises unbroken? I swore myself not to tell...
No, 'Doctor'. It was I who swore it. And it will be I who breaks those promises.
Promises aren't meant to be broken.
Not on Gallifrey, no. But we're gone, 'Doctor'. We're not on Gallifrey. Not anymore. And neither are we existing; properly existing, in the current state of mind.
He had known it. My father had known it. And he had never helped me. All the years he had known it and he had never even tried to help me.
He had tried, 'Doctor'. Oh, how he had tried! He had wanted us to be safe from the predestined fortune. He had tried to change history by changing destiny.
And he had failed.
He'd seen it, Doctor. In a blink he'd seen it.
In the terrible night that had followed the day were my father had caught Koschei and me wrestling on my bed he'd seen it. As I had opened the door after the last remains of the supernova had vanished he'd caught a glimpse of me. I had rushed home because I hadn't told my parents where I'd stayed the day and the beginning night. And as the sky had darkened... maybe I had been scared.
And I had run home. And I had pushed the door open rapidly and had stared my father into his pair of frightened eyes.
But he hadn't seen me coming through the door.
Well, he had seen me. But not me as a child, not me with my innocent twelve years.
He'd seen me as I was lying in his arms right now. He'd seen my reddened eyes, he'd seen my horror-filled face and he'd met my helpless stare before his eyes had trailed down my sweaty body until they had caught a glimpse of my...
And he had blinked. And he had looked down at a frightened twelve year old boy once again.
But my father had seen it. He had seen the bulge on my body. He had seen my distorted stomach. He had known that I would carry a child by the age of seventeen if...
That had been his last straw. IF.
If the future would happen as it had been foretold. If he wouldn't manage to prevent it from happening. If he could manage to keep Koschei away from me. If he could manage to train me at not letting anyone come between my legs...
Well, if...
It wouldn't have happened. He never would have been forced to see my terrified eyes as well as my abused and fecundated body.
So, my father had tried it. And he had tried changing the future by changing the prophecy. And he had failed. He had failed and wouldn't have realised it until I had dared to stumble into our well-situated home, desperately searching for shelter and covered in sweat.
And the child I was now carrying under my heart set the seal on his failure.
But nonetheless he held me in his arms tightly and stroked my hair absent-mindedly.
"It's over now. Everything's going to be alright, Theta. Please, don't be scared."
He lied to me. He lied to me and he thought I wouldn't have sensed his desperation.
"Everything's going to be alright."