The Lilies on the Lake

Up until this point, they had done well with the weather, but soon the afternoon sky had been swamped with rain clouds and they were now all thoroughly drenched with a steady battering of rain.

The Minister was not all that bothered by it, but his 20th century Earth attire was not faring so well. The Santines must think he looked rather odd with his overcoat and trousers, he mused. It seemed the human colony of Santiny had decided to return to a far more ancient and yet timeless style, with their flowing robes and capes.

Upon reaching her unit, Sala had been forced to drop his hand to go talk to some other Santines. The Minister would admit, he was missing the connection, as much as he tried to ignore it. The gravity that drew him to her was intensifying, he realised. It had been only a few days since they had first met, but it had felt much longer than that trudging through the forest. He had known almost instantly that Sala was different. The others in his past which had stirred similar emotions within him paled in comparison to her energy, her courage, her bright smiles.

And because the code always prevented you from growing closer to them, a dark voice whispered from the back of his mind. Of course, how could he forget the damn code, he thought bitterly.

It occurred to the Minister with a wave of concern that he hadn't seen Sala eat anything since they had re-joined the group. Although they had been separated for a time after she had talked to Hawk. Perhaps she had eaten then, otherwise how else would she still be moving. His Gallifreyan biology would keep him going for a lot longer than humans, but they hadn't had any real food for days. Sala could take care of herself, he reminded himself.

"Come on, Snake. Now you're the slow one." Sala said, drawing him back to the present. "Wait! We'll rest for five minutes." She called out to the others in her unit.

Through the canopy of leaves the rain continued to trickle down onto them, but there was something else, another sound he couldn't quite place, so he asked Sala.

"That is the lilies on the lake." She replied. It may have just been his ears, but her voice seemed to take on that melodious quality again. "Their leaves collect water and the rain, and when the weight of it becomes too heavy, they wilt, and the water splashes into the lake, and they spring upright again."

She sighed and he closed his eyes, trying to take in as much of it as possible. The chatter of the others in her unit seemed to fade to mere background noise.

"They develop a shiny wax on the surface to stop the water penetrating, but it just collects on the outside and when there is too much, it gives way." She finished with a gesture to accompany her explanation, cupping her hands to mimic the lily leaves and then letting them drop.

The tranquillity of it all was overwhelming. The scent of the ferns filled his nostrils as he took in a deep breath. The air was simply delicious. Such purity was now so rare in the universe.

"This is a place..." He muttered, barely audible over the sound of the splashing lilies. "A place where one could ... live."

The words hung in the air as the reality of what he had just said set in. Never before had he felt such an attraction to a place as he did now. He could never allow himself; it was just too dangerous.

The Minister had not forgotten what his old master had always told him back at the academy when he was just a youth, a mere fifty years of age. They would walk together for hours through the flaming forests, endlessly repeating the laws of interference with time and the weight of the power they wielded. It was all to prepare them for the Great Trial, after which - if they succeeded - they would be granted a Tardis and let loose into the universe.

"Always remember your duty," they said in their croaky, time-wizened voice. "As Gods' of the Fourth you shall travel the stars, helping those in their hour of need."

They would always pause for affect. The Timelords were prone to drama, not that they would ever admit it in a thousand millennia. "But you must never form attachments." They said. "You may make friends along the way, you may grow fond of places, but you must have the strength to watch them die, watch them burn - to watch a thousand die.

"Attachments make you weak, they make you vulnerable. They are the surest path to misuse of your gift." The master would shake a fist for emphasis. "Misuse which can have the most dire consequences, as you know, for the space-time of the universe. You have a question?"

"But then do we use our power, Sir?"

"Now that is up to you. In time you will learn to make those decisions but remember it is to be used sparingly and only in the most desperate of cases. It should never be used out of anger or revenge, or passion, as you will find it will only lead to your own destruction, and that of those around you."

Fixing the stunned young Timelord with a beady stare, they would continue. "You must never forget that you were born with this gift to help the lesser beings who cannot help themselves. But if you go around ridding the universe of all evil with the merest thoughts, then there can never be any good. Light can only exist relative to darkness."

"If I had your power, that thing you did - I would use it to help my people." Sala said quietly, gazing in the direction of the sounds of the lake.

An ache in his chest formed at her words. "We - we have a sort of code."

"Yes, I know." She replied sharply, arms folded tightly across her torso. "But no code would keep me from healing all the hurt here and driving the Canisians out."

Of course she would and he could never blame her for it. But how could she ever understand, how could he even explain why the few were gifted with such powers, but could almost never use them to help the many? It was an infuriating paradox that plagued him to no end.

"I think you might find it difficult to understand." It was a weak reply, but no other words would form in his mouth.

"I understand this." She began, fixing him with that granite stare again. "Without other grains, sand is not sand. All men are the same, I think, wherever you are."

He couldn't help but notice how close she was standing to him. He could see the light shining off each strand of her fuchsia tresses. Each raindrop sliding down her pale cheeks that made its way through the leafy roof above them.

"You don't understand. I'm not a man." Said the Minister, a cold reminder to both her and himself. He was a God of the Fourth, though he always hated that title and the way it seemed to elevate Timelords to the status of higher beings.

Sala reached up a hand, placing it on his arm. He did not stop her. "I know. You are more than a man, better."

If only he were a just a man, then so many aspects of his life could be so much easier. But still her words struck something deep within him. A chord, a pleasant and harmonious major paving the way for a beautiful melody. If that was what she really thought of him, then perhaps... perhaps he could stay here - with her. He could manage it, maybe the timelords would never find him, if he just never used his power again. Yes, there was a chance it could work out.

But this couldn't go on this way, no matter how much he wanted it to. "No, no." He said, trying to shrug of her hand, though somehow it ended up in his instead.

"Yes, to me, yes." Sala whispered, looking up at him in a way that made his heart both swell and break at the same time. If she had come to feel for him anything close to what he felt for her, it would only serve to make things so much more difficult.

"All people feel the same things." She pressed on. She was so close to him now, if he leant forward slightly then his lips would brush her forehead. The icy fire had returned in her eyes and he could feel it reaching out, lighting the spark within him. He really shouldn't be-

"Some try not to love for fear of the sorrow, but sooner or later, the feelings must be faced, or they will face you."

It was so close to the truth it almost hurt. "Perhaps for some, it is not they that would be hurt by ... involvement." His voice rumbled like a brewing storm. "Sometimes it's for the good of all that a few must remain isolated."

Even as he said it he was not sure that he believed it anymore, but he forced out each word, even though watching her turn away was worse than a stake through a heart.