Chapter Text
I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we’d choose anyway. And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.
- The Chaos of Stars, Kiersten White
The first time he sees her, she’s standing at the mouth of the Untempered Schism. Theta has been watching his peers step up to the opening in the vortex for several long, terrible minutes but there’s something different about this girl. Something in the fierce set of her jaw and those unruly blonde curls that drags him from his own anxieties long enough to notice her.
She doesn’t quake like the others – like he is – as she allows the Headmaster to guide her forward. She marches up to the space-time continuum like she’s about to engage in a fist fight and is eager to throw the first punch. Curls bouncing against her small shoulders and nostrils flaring, she leans forward and stares into the vortex as though trying to tame it with the force of her gaze.
So enthralled by her that he forgets his fears for the moment, Theta keeps his eyes fastened on her. It’s the only reason he sees her flinch despite her bravado. The urge to look away – to run – must be screaming under her skin but other than that flicker of fear, she doesn’t react. She stays firmly rooted in place, hands balled into fists at her sides and tears welling in her eyes.
By the time the Headmaster releases her shoulder, Theta is certain he’s never seen anyone so brave or so pretty in his life. The girl finally turns away and though she wears the same dazed expression all the others have before her, there’s a light of determination in her eyes, as though whatever she’d seen had lit a fire within her. The sight of her stirs up a wellspring of courage in his chest and he stands a little straighter.
Behind him, Koschei shifts restlessly and pokes him in the back. Theta tears his eyes from the girl and frowns, glancing over his shoulder. Met with his best mate’s baleful stare, he asks, “What?”
Koschei rolls his eyes and hisses, “It’s your turn, numpty.”
“Oh. Right.” Theta turns away again, hearts thumping wildly in his chest, and stares straight ahead. The Headmaster waits at the mouth of the vortex, hand outstretched and brows lifted expectantly. Swallowing, Theta shuffles forward one step at a time.
At least his hands aren’t shaking now, as they’ve been all morning. He’d stayed up all night, curled beneath his blankets in the dark, fretting over his initiation. This is his chance to finally leave his guardians behind and go to a respectable school, far away from their scorn and disappointment. This is his chance to show them he isn’t destined to be another drone in Rassilon’s army. He’s good enough to be a Time Lord. He just has to do this first.
The Headmaster claps a hand over his shoulder, steering him toward the Schism, and Theta’s breath catches. He can feel the heat of the vortex against his face, the raw power sizzling against his skin like a sunburn. The time winds ruffle his hair and his tunic. Chest heaving, he shuts his eyes tight and tries not to panic.
He doesn’t want to be a soldier. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. As the vortex looms ahead of him, unseen but powerfully felt, Theta struggles against his instinct to run. His whole body tenses. And then he remembers her – the brave, pretty girl who’d stared down the space-time continuum and won.
He opens his eyes.
In all his nightmares leading up to his initiation, one thing had always remained the same. Theta would dream of the hearts-pounding terror leading up to his turn at the mouth of the vortex; of sweaty palms and jeering peers; of opening his eyes to stare at some unknowable foe. And then he would run, as far and as fast as his legs would carry him. Never once had his dreams ever shown him what awaited him inside the vortex. And now he knows why. His subconscious could never conjure anything as horrifying as this.
It cannot be described as anything but purely and simply… Time. Terrible and infinite; nothing and everything. The lines of the past, present, and future converge and coalesce - light and dark, matter and energy - blending and dividing, shifting and changing right before his eyes. He sees every twisted pathway underlying the whole of creation.
It is the universe in a constant state of flux; every atrocity ever committed or ever to be committed; every possible personal future that lays before him, both good and bad. In the span of seconds, he witnesses the life and death of every living thing. Theta stares right into the heart of Time and sees eternity reflected back at him.
Without blinking, he wrenches violently away from the hand still clasped over his shoulder. Twisting out of the Headmaster’s grasp, he turns and runs. There are shouts behind him but he doesn’t look back, running blindly until the chaos of the time vortex is no longer screaming in his head.
When all he can hear is the thundering of his own hearts in his ears and the pounding of his feet against the ground, Theta stops and collapses to his knees. Panting, he curls into a ball in the grass and clasps his hands over his ears. Around him, the universe spins and spins.
He isn’t sure how long he lays there trembling, eyes squeezed shut and teeth biting into his bottom lip to keep from whimpering. He only knows that once he becomes aware of more than his own terror, there is someone sitting on the ground beside him. Theta doesn’t lift his head, risking only a quick peek through his lashes.
He spots her hair first, realizing with a jolt of surprise that the girl beside him now is the same one he’d been so fascinated by a few minutes and an eternity ago. Catching his stare, the girl smiles tentatively down at him – as though she’s trying to be comforting but doesn’t quite know how. Theta shuts his eyes again, strangely soothed in spite of the fact that they haven’t exchanged a single word.
Though he’s still shaking too badly to express his gratitude for her quiet presence beside him, he’s never been more thankful for anything than he is for her; small and warm against his side, keeping her hand tucked snugly into his as though she can imbue him with some of her bravery through her fingertips. As his pounding hearts slow to their normal rhythm once more, he catches the sweet sound of her soft hum.
Even in his current state, he recognizes it as an old earth lullaby and wonders where she’d heard it. Their people tend to look down on the humans and even more so at Theta for his fascination with them. He likes the humans, likes their funny clothes and their imaginations, the way they cram so much into such short little lives.
He wants to ask the girl if she shares his fondness for the species that looks so much like their own but his eyes are heavy and the space between him and this girl feels sacred, something he shouldn’t disturb. He tightens his grip on her small fingers and swallows his questions, humming along with her instead. She seems to like that, her quiet giggle muffled by his hair.
“Theta? Melody?” They both jump, the illusion of peace that had cocooned them shattered at once. The Headmaster stands before them, arms crossed and mouth pursed in disapproval. “It’s time to go.” He reaches out a hand, guiding them firmly to their feet and ushering them back the way they came. His grip on Theta is too tight, his fingers digging painfully into his shoulder blade.
He loses sight of Melody the moment they return, swarmed by his classmates. In the shuffling crowd, he finds Koschei instead. His friend looks different than the last time Theta had seen him only a short time ago, his face pale and his eyes oddly hollow. “Kosch?” Theta nudges him worriedly, frowning when his friend only blinks. “All right?”
Koschei nods, still looking dazed. “Fine,” he mutters, looking away. He swallows, hesitating. “D’you hear it too?”
“Hear what?”
Rubbing at his temple, Koschei shrugs. “The drumming.”
Theta shakes his head, flexing his empty hand at his side and hearing nothing but Melody’s quiet lullaby.
-
As a species, Gallifreyans tend to consider themselves above physical violence, using their intelligence instead of their fists. Such lack of restraint is far too reminiscent of the humans to be looked upon favorably. Despite their rarity, it’s a mere three days into his first year at the Academy when Theta witnesses his first schoolyard fight.
Lurking on the steps of the Great Hall overlooking the school grounds, Theta sits with his books on his lap and his lunch beside him. Koschei had abandoned him for the sake of an extra hour of sleep, growling something about a headache when pressed. He’d thrown a shoe for good measure and Theta had narrowly escaped their dormitory with his first regeneration still intact. He’ll be furious he’d missed all the excitement. Theta cranes his neck, struggling to see through the crowd of his peers and glimpse what all the fuss is about.
A flash of blonde curls catches his eye and his stomach gives a funny little lurch. He clambers to his feet without thought. His books slide off his lap and skid down the steps to rest in the grass but he hardly notices. It’s Melody.
She stands in front of Androner, the two of them toe-to-toe and glowering at each other in the middle of the crowd. Androner usually sits next to Koschei in the dining hall and as far as Theta can tell, is little more than an arrogant prat – always going on about his father’s Very Important Job in the Gallifreyan Parliament.
Melody seems to agree with him. She punches Androner right in the nose.
He crumples like an old piece of paper, buckling at the knees with a howl of pain – his hand curled protectively around his profusely bleeding nose. Theta grimaces. As much as he dislikes the other boy, he hadn’t witnessed Androner doing anything to incur such wrath. It hardly seems fair to go around punching people for no reason, even if they are arrogant prats.
He stumbles down the steps and into the fray, shouting, “Oi!, that’s enough!”
Flexing her hand, Melody looks up from studying her battered knuckles as the crowd parts to let Theta through. Her lips curl into a smile, as though she recognizes him, but the pleasant surprise on her face fades quickly at his scowl.
Gesturing to Androner, he asks, “What did you go and do that for?”
Stemming the blood flow with the sleeve of his robes, Androner groans miserably, “Half breed savage.”
Melody sneers at him briefly but her eyes quickly return to Theta. She lifts her chin. “Why do you care?”
Theta clenches his jaw, wondering if he’s about to get a fist in the face too. “I don’t like bullies.”
Her eyes narrow and she tosses her curls over her shoulder. “Then maybe you should tell your friend to pick on somebody his own size.”
“He’s not my friend,” Theta mumbles, unwilling to let that particular assumption slip by uncorrected. It’s then that he spots the smaller boy just behind her. He gazes at Theta with wide eyes, his ruined belongings scattered in a puddle beside him. Androner had been bothering someone after all – just not Melody. “Oh.” Theta flushes. “Sorry, I thought you were-”
Melody scowls. “Perhaps next time you should mind your own bloody business then.” She turns on her heel and stalks away, her curls bouncing against her shoulders as she goes.
Leaving the bleeding Androner and everyone else behind, Theta trails hurriedly after her. “Wait, where are you going?”
She sighs, not even glancing over her shoulder as she stomps up the stairs and into the Great Hall. “Didn’t I just warn you to mind your own business?”
“I’m not very good at that,” he admits, shrugging.
“What?” She snorts. “Listening to directions or minding your own business?”
“Both.” He beams at the back of her head, still struggling to catch up. “I’m Theta, by the way.”
She stops suddenly, whirling around in the middle of the hall to meet his stare. Now that he isn’t distracted by fear or a misguided sense of nobility, he can’t help but notice the catlike shape of her bright green eyes or that small bump in the middle of her nose. He’d known before but now, with nothing else to divert his attention – well. She’s…pretty. Really pretty.
“I know,” she says, eyeing him curiously. “I heard the Headmaster call for you back when-”
“Right,” he interrupts, blushing all over again. She’d heard his name when he’d been sniveling like a baby after peering into the Time Vortex. The days since then haven’t softened the experience. In fact, it only grows more horrifying with every nightmare he’s had since. “Thanks.” He ducks his head. “For sitting with me.”
Melody softens a bit, the frost in her eyes warming over just a touch. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” she says quietly, still studying him. “Lots of people cry at their initiation.”
Theta peeks at her through the curtain of his hair. “You didn’t.”
She shrugs, glancing away. “I’ve seen worse.”
He hesitates, staring at her wonderingly. “Androner called you a half breed.”
Barely flinching, Melody stiffens. “What of it?”
“Are you-” Theta fidgets, squirming with the indelicacy of the question on his tongue. “Um, what are-”
“I’m half human.” She glares at him in defiance, and Theta gets the distinct feeling she’s preparing for him to turn on her. “On my father’s side. But I’m not ashamed of it and I’m probably cleverer than any of you so don’t get any ideas about-”
“Actually,” he interrupts softly. “I think you’re brilliant.”
Melody stares at him. “You - you do?” At his nod, she snaps her mouth shut and squares her shoulders. “Of course you do. Why wouldn’t you?”
Theta grins at her. “I’ve only ever read about humans before. What’s duct tape? Do they really use it for everything or is that just a myth?”
She looks away again, the light leaving her eyes. “I don’t know.”
He frowns. “But you said your father-”
“He’s dead,” she snaps, bristling. The words slip from her mouth halting and angry, with a hint of wobble he suspects he isn’t supposed to notice. “My mother too. I may be half human but I don’t know any more about them than you do.”
“Oh.” Theta scratches his cheek, ducking his head to contemplate his shoes. “I don’t have any parents either. Just an older brother I hardly ever see.”
She pauses and he peers at her through his lashes to find her staring at him in surprise. “You’re an orphan?” At his tentative nod, she studies him for another long moment while he does his best not to fidget under her gaze. At last, she snatches up his hand and turns, dragging him with her down the hall. “Come on then.”
He stumbles in his haste to keep up. “Where are we going?”
“I missed breakfast,” she says, steering him through the Academy corridors like she already knows exactly where she’s going after only three days. “Do you want some eggs?”
Theta frowns and digs in his heels, protesting, “But the kitchens are closed!”
Melody laughs brightly and laces their fingers together. “Not to me, it isn’t.” Theta follows her – to the kitchens and everywhere thereafter.
-
His nightmares are always the same – the old woman shrouded in veils and the persistent buzz of flies – but this one is different. The sound of the swarming flies is drowned out by a voice whispering his name. A fly lands on his face and he flinches away from it before he realizes it isn’t a fly at all but someone poking at his cheek. Behind the veils, the old woman opens her eyes. Her dry lips part and a familiar voice spills from her mouth. Theta, she rasps. Wake up.
His eyes fly open and he gasps out loud, cowering away from the face looming over him in the dark. A hand reaches out and grasps his blanket before he can pull it over his head. “Don’t be afraid,” says the voice, and now that he’s awake Theta recognizes it instantly. “It’s only me.”
He lowers the blanket and sits up, peering through the dark at Melody standing beside his bed. He squints at her, taking in her rumpled curls and red pajamas. “What – how in Rassilon’s name did you get in here?”
She smiles and he’s already terribly familiar with the smug curl of her mouth. “It was easy.”
Scrubbing a weary hand over his face, he glances at the bed on the other side of the room, astounded to find Koschei still fast asleep. “I can’t believe he didn’t hear you.”
Melody shrugs. “I didn’t want him to.”
As though it’s that simple for her. He has a lot of questions about Melody, but he has a feeling she isn’t in the mood to answer them. Stifling a yawn, Theta shakes his head in an effort to rid himself of the urge to ask her anything and everything. It’s better to just be grateful she’s here. Waking up to Melody’s mischievous grin is loads more preferable to waking alone in the barn, shivering on his cot.
She pokes him again, tugging at his blankets. “Budge over.”
He blinks at her. “Why?”
She huffs. “So I can sit with you, obviously.”
They haven’t been friends long but Theta has already grown used to doing whatever Melody tells him to do. She doesn’t bully him. He just usually finds that he wants to do whatever it is she asks of him anyway. He scoots over and Melody climbs into bed beside him, tucking the blankets around them both. She prods at him with an elbow and he flops onto his back with a sigh, letting her have half of his pillow.
She nestles in close to his side and her curls tickle his cheek. He tries to huff them away but her hair is as persistent as she is, always tumbling back into his eyes right away. He gives up, resigning himself to an itchy cheek. He breathes in as Melody steals some more of his blanket. At least she smells nice.
By the time she’s finally settled and the only sounds Theta can hear are Koschei’s soft snoring and Melody’s quiet, even breaths beside him, his nightmare seems far away and far less threatening. It doesn’t make any sense but with Melody beside him, he feels untouchable. Swallowing, he turns his head and stares at her profile in the dark. “Why are you here?”
Eyes shut, she says simply, “You were having a bad dream.”
He squirms, embarrassed to have been caught, and mumbles half-heartedly, “Was not.” Melody turns her head to look at him and even in the dark her incredulous stare pierces right through him. “So what if I was? You couldn’t have heard it all the way from the girls dormitories.”
Her eyes slide away from him and she tucks her chin beneath the blanket. “I couldn’t sleep,” she says, shrugging. “I thought I’d see if you were up.”
To a boy as familiar with pretending he doesn’t have nightmares as Theta is, he recognizes the signs in another with ease. As Melody avoids his gaze and grips his blanket in her fists, he determines that she’d probably had a bad dream too and sought him out for comfort. He’s slowly starting to understand that Melody doesn’t admit weakness easily and pointing it out only makes her lash out, like those tafelshrews Koschei likes to corner in the woods behind his father’s house. With Melody, it’s far better to let her pretend she’s the one looking after him. Theta, who grows more fond of her with every passing day, is only too happy to put her at ease.
Instead of asking her about her own nightmare, he nudges her shoulder with his chin and whispers, “Thanks for waking me. I hate that dream.”
Melody stifles a giggle when his chin digs into the dip between her neck and shoulder, elbowing him away. The sound of her muffled laugh makes him grin, proud of himself for helping her forget whatever it is that keeps her up so late – if only for a moment. “Prat,” she whispers, still smiling. “What’s your dream about?”
Half expecting to be laughed at, Theta warily recounts his recurring nightmare about the body of the elderly woman he’d seen nearly two years ago, shrouded in black veils and covered in flies. The image of it is still so visceral in his mind that he shudders. Melody doesn’t laugh at him. She gives him a bit more of the blanket and finds his hand in the dark, holding on tight.
“My Auntie Kovarian says having nightmares is a sign of mental weakness.” She bites her lip and her thumb swipes soothingly over his knuckles. “But she looks rather a lot like a nightmare herself so I’m not sure I believe her.”
Theta muffles a snort of laughter into their shared pillow but it’s easy enough to sober when he pictures his friend needing comfort after a bad dream and having just as little of it as he usually does. His smile slips from his face and he latches onto the sleeve of her pajama shirt, rubbing the material of her shirt cuff between his fingertips. “What’re your bad dreams about?”
Melody pauses for a long moment and he expects her to insist she doesn’t have any and then steal the blanket as retribution for even daring to suggest it. Instead, she licks her lips and admits, “Mostly about my mum and dad.”
He bites his lip, studying her. “You don’t remember anything about them?”
She closes her eyes and Theta watches her lashes flutter, mesmerized by the soft smile that curls her lips. “My mum had red hair and my dad always said it could rival the forests at sunrise.” Her smile flickers at the edges and he holds his breath, an ache in his chest. “They called me Mels.”
Theta swallows around the lump in his throat, watching Melody open her eyes and stare blankly at the dark ceiling overhead. Never before faced with such quiet grief, he can’t think of anything at all to say. Nothing seems like enough. So he squeezes her hand and relinquishes a bit more of the blanket. Melody’s mouth twitches like she understands.
“I read about a human superstition once,” he begins quietly, settling deeper into their pillow. “As a way to ward off bad dreams, they used to weave these nets and decorate them with sacred beads and feathers, hoping that it might capture the nightmares and only let the good dreams through. They called them dream catchers. It’s sort of clever, don’t you think?” At Melody’s silence, he flushes. “I know it’s silly but-”
She shakes her head, turning to peer at him. “It’s not. I like it.”
“Yeah?” He grins. “Me too. I know we don’t have any sacred beads or anything but I was thinking maybe…” He squirms, scratching at his cheek. “I dunno, I thought maybe we could be each other’s dream catcher.”
Melody smiles slowly, dropping her head back to their pillow and shutting her eyes. “All right,” she agrees, yawning. “I’d like that.”
Theta beams into the dark, still clinging to her hand.
Across the room, Koschei turns over in his sleep. He flops onto his back, one arm dangling over the side of the bed, and mumbles incoherently about drums. Glancing at each other, Theta and Melody muffle quiet laughter into their hands. They duck their heads beneath the blanket, whispering together until sunrise.
-
If anyone were to ask him why he’s transformed from a lonely orphan boy no one ever noticed into a troublesome prankster who will live in Academic infamy, Theta would blame it on how delightfully devious Melody looks when she’s plotting. The light of mischief in her green eyes practically dances and her lips twist into a sly grin, both of which Theta can never resist. She’ll toss her hair and hold out her hand to him, silently asking if he dares to follow her into one more ridiculous scheme.
Sometimes he thinks she might be testing him, concocting more and more outrageous antics, as if waiting for him to give up on her and find some normal, boring friends. He never does. Koschei is the only one who has bothered to question him but he never asks in quite the right way. It’s never why are you doing this and always what has that ill-bred she-demon done to you or are you trying to get yourself expelled from the Academy or even -
“Have you lost your sodding mind?”
Dangling precariously from the ledge of the clock tower, the ground far far below and his grip beginning to slip, Theta grits his teeth. “Not really the time, Kosch.” He turns his head and cranes his neck, unable to take his eyes off Melody for long. Only her grip on his ankle keeps her from plummeting to the ground below and he watches with his heart in his throat as she stretches out her free hand for her prize.
The Urn of Rassilon.
It’s purely symbolic, Theta reasons with himself as his hand starts to go numb. No Time Lord in their right mind would put the real ashes of Rassilon on top of a clock tower, no matter how prestigious the Academy might be. He assumes the real thing must be in a dusty tomb somewhere. Melody had been convinced the replica would look simply darling sitting on her bedside table. Helpless as ever to say no to her, Theta had once again found himself a very willing accomplice to thievery.
He wiggles his fingers, trying to gain a bit of feeling back in them. Instead, his grip slackens. His hand slips.
There’s barely even time to yelp before another hand grabs his and holds on tight, yanking him and Melody back from a messy regeneration. Theta turns his head and finds Koschei braced against the ledge, his red school cloak abandoned beside him as he grips Theta’s hand with both of his own. “You idiot,” Koschei snarls, black hair slipping into his eyes. “I told you she would get you killed.”
Theta grimaces, feeling Melody dig her nails into his ankle. “Actually you said she’d get me expelled, if you want to be technical about it.”
Koschei grunts, adjusting his grip. “Same thing.”
“Oh lighten up, Kosch. You’re starting to sound like your dad.” Koschei glowers and Theta laughs – hanging in mid-air and still alive only because Koschei hasn’t let go yet. The thrill of it makes his hearts pound and he grins broadly in the face of his friend’s scowl, turning his head to peer down at Melody once more. “Finished yet?”
“Got it.” Melody looks up, the Urn hanging precariously from her fingertips, and beams. “Pull us up, will you?”
“Working on it.” Theta un-pries one of his hands from the ledge and grasps the collar of Koschei’s shirt instead, ignoring the other boy’s growl of protest. He hangs on tight and Koschei pulls, staggering back one step at a time as he pulls both Theta and Melody back to safety.
Theta drops back inside the tower first, Melody still hanging onto his leg. He stumbles a bit, scrambling forward to reach for her hand. She takes it and with the last of his strength, he hauls her out of the air and back into the tower. They land together in a heap on the floor, Melody on his chest and the Urn resting safely beside her.
She giggles breathlessly, her every exhale a warm puff of air against the side of his neck. Theta laughs again, his fingers still white-knuckled around her shirt sleeve, and wills his pounding hearts to slow. Melody lifts her head and their eyes meet. For a moment, Theta forgets to breathe.
“Thanks for not dropping me,” she says, still grinning.
“Never.” He licks his lips, trying to decipher the strange warmth flooding his veins. “I’ll always catch you.”
Sprawled near his abandoned cloak, his chest heaving and his cheeks flushed from exertion and rage, Koschei lifts his head with a glare. “Did you hit your head when I pulled you up? You’d both be gooey splatters on the ground begging to regenerate by now if it wasn’t for me-”
“Shh.” Melody scrambles off Theta, narrowly avoiding kneeing him in the gut in her haste. She runs to the overlook, peering out over the school grounds. Theta and Koschei exchange a puzzled glance, watching her in silent befuddlement. She’s utterly still, as if frozen in time itself. Finally, she says, “The Headmaster’s coming.”
“Told you,” Koschei says, looking smug. “Expelled.”
Melody whirls from the ledge with a glare. “And what do you think will happen to you if he catches you with us? Ever heard of guilt by association, numpty?”
Theta props himself up on an elbow and huffs his hair out of his eyes. “She’s got a point, mate.”
Lifting his chin, Koschei says, “I’ll just tell him I had nothing to do with it.”
Melody scoffs. “And you think he’ll just believe you?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“It’ll be our word against yours.”
Koschei labors to his feet, hands balled into fists as he steps toward Melody. “If he won’t believe me, what makes you think he’ll believe you, half breed?” He sneers and Theta clenches his jaw. “You’ve been in trouble since the first day of term.”
Melody lurches toward him with an angry snarl and it’s only Theta stumbling to his feet and putting himself between them that saves Koschei from a black eye. “Enough,” he says, glaring at Koschei in particular. “Now isn’t the time unless you’d both like detention until our fifth regenerations.”
Though she still looks cross, Melody nods grudgingly and reaches for his hand. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
Without a backward glance at Koschei, she yanks Theta toward the stairwell. Theta glances over his shoulder to make sure his friend is following, watching as Koschei rolls his eyes and snatches up the Urn, grumbling under his breath. “I didn’t save you idiots for nothing.”
Theta stifles a smile, turning his attention to the spiral staircase beneath his feet. Melody still hasn’t let go of his hand but his feet have a mind of their own and the last thing he needs is to trip and tumble all the way down. He’d never hear the end of it from either of them if his next body is the result of his own clumsiness.
They reach the bottom of the stairs and Koschei slips past them for the door, motioning impatiently. “This way,” he says, and slinks through the door and around the clock tower, heading in the opposite direction of where Melody had last seen the Headmaster. Exchanging a glance, Theta and Melody follow Koschei’s lead and sprint across the school grounds to the library.
By the time they collapse at a table in the back of the vast, quiet hall, the three of them are out of breath and stifling laughter. As the sound of authoritative footsteps echo through the room, Melody stuffs the Urn safely inside her satchel and kicks Theta beneath the table to quell his giggling. He grimaces, clasping a hand over his aching shin as the Headmaster approaches their table, looking furious.
“Well?” He asks, and in the quiet of the library, his voice is thunderous. Several students at other tables jump, glancing up in bewilderment. “Where is it?”
Their Headmaster is not a small man, but tall and broad – like Rassilon himself. Theta can’t help but shy away from his piercing stare as the man looms over them but Melody meets his gaze without flinching. Hands folded primly in front of her, she asks in a voice all innocence, “Where’s what, Headmaster?”
Theta stares at her, in awe of her composure.
“You know what,” their Headmaster snaps. “The Urn of Rassilon.”
Melody widens her eyes and Theta bites his lip, torn between amusement and horror. “The Urn of Rassilon is missing?”
“Enough.” The Headmaster clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring. “I know it was you and that other orphaned urchin.” He waves a hand at Theta and Melody stiffens, eyes narrowing. “It’s always you two.”
She lifts her chin. “And what proof do you have?”
“Other than witnessing the two of you hanging from the clock tower myself? Not a wit.” The Headmaster arches an eyebrow, smirking when Theta wilts in defeat. “Now about your punishment-”
Koschei clears his throat and they all turn to him curiously. Theta had nearly forgotten he was there, too caught up in the shining brilliance of Melody’s bravery. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, looking a bit like he does when he’s ordering his servants about whenever Theta visits. “You must be mistaken, Headmaster. Theta and Melody have been studying with me all afternoon. It couldn’t have been them.”
Across from him, Melody lifts her head and stares at him, her face a picture of astonishment. Theta gapes at him too, knowing full well that he’s challenging the Headmaster. Without concrete proof, it is only his word against Koschei’s. Their Headmaster sighs and for one brief moment, Theta is convinced they’re going to get away with it.
And then he produces something from behind his back – a red cloak with Koschei’s family seal embroidered on the breast pocket. Theta nearly groans, remembering how his friend had shed the cumbersome garment in order to haul him and Melody back over the clock tower ledge.
With a disappointed tsk, the Headmaster says, “I expected better of you especially, considering your family name.” He eyes all three of them sternly. “Now. Produce that Urn at once.”
With a grumbling sigh, Melody nudges her satchel toward him with her foot.
The Headmaster glares.
They spend two weeks doing chores for the Headmaster as punishment – cleaning his office, sorting his papers, and fetching his tea. Koschei is suitably furious about being treated like a servant and complains every chance he gets. Theta is far too used to his generally contentious demeanor to mind but to his astonishment, even Melody manages to cling to her patience.
It’s then that he realizes Koschei had earned her grudging respect. He had shown loyalty when he didn’t have to and had been punished accordingly. Theta is starting to understand Melody well enough to know what that means. She’ll be loyal to Koschei now too, whether she actually likes him or not.
For the rest of the term, they’re a team. Melody comes up with the prank, Theta devises a haphazard plan to make it happen, and Koschei makes sure their recklessness doesn’t get them caught. Only because I don’t want my association with you two idiots getting me in trouble again, he insists with a glower.
Exchanging amused glances, Melody and Theta pretend to believe him.
-
When summer holidays arrive, they convene most days at Koschei’s. As the only one of them with real parents and a home rather than careless guardians or a terrible aunt, it makes sense to gather in the place where they’ll have the most freedom. And nothing in the whole wide universe speaks of freedom the way those endless fields do. They spend their days running through pastures of red grass, shouting to the sky and hearing their voices echo back to them, surrounded as they are by the vast slopes of Mount Perdition.
With his friends so near and the suns overhead warming his skin, Theta’s home life and its daily frets are no more trouble to him than a distant star. There are no bad dreams and no sneering guardians here, whispering that he’ll never amount to anything. That ramshackle house where he lives in the drylands doesn’t exist at all. Out here, he belongs.
“Your girlfriend is late.”
Theta lifts his head from the task of plucking the grass between his knees, eyeing Koschei through his fringe. His hair is always flopping into his eyes, growing more and more troublesome by the day. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he stammers, blushing.
Koschei snorts – the most undignified noise Theta has ever heard him make. “Is that the best you can do? Rubbish.”
“She isn’t.” Theta goes back to plucking at the grass, a bit more aggressively this time. “She’s just a friend, like you are.”
Wrinkling his nose, Koschei says, “Please tell me you don’t stare at me with those moony eyes when I’m not looking. It’s bad enough witnessing it, let alone being on the receiving end of it.”
Cheeks warm, Theta scowls and mumbles, “Oh, shut it.”
Furthering bickering is interrupted when he spots Melody walking toward them over Koschei’s shoulder. Theta brightens, lifting a hand to wave at her. It’s only when Koschei snorts again that he becomes conscious of the smile stretching his cheeks. Despite his best attempts to stifle it, he can’t quite keep the corners of his mouth from curling up.
“It isn’t like that,” he hisses under his breath, still watching Melody approach. She holds out her hands, brushing the long red grass with her fingertips as she moves. “She’s just nicer than you. Of course I’m happy to see her.”
“Nice?” Koschei stares at him. “You think she’s nice? Bloody hell, you’re hopeless.”
“What are you idiots going on about?”
Theta turns as Melody sinks onto the ground beside them – and stares. She doesn’t meet their questioning gazes, actively avoiding eye contact as she reaches out a hand and brushes the grass from Theta’s trouser legs with a tsk of disapproval. As a distraction, it’s a poor attempt.
With his hearts in his throat, Theta says nothing as he takes in her pale face and the dark circles under her eyes, as though she hasn’t been sleeping. Her fatigue is nothing compared to the cut he spots above her eye, hiding just beneath the curls slipping over her forehead. There are bruises on her arms too, some of which seem to have taken the shape of fingers.
He swallows, struggling to find words, but Koschei has no such difficulties. “What the bloody hell happened to you?”
Melody stiffens, as though Koschei had broken some unspoken rule by daring to bring it up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t know what -” Koschei gestures at her irritably. “You look like you got into a cat fight with a Cloister Wraith.”
“I’m fine,” she snaps, glowering. “And it’s none of your business anyway.”
Theta draws in a breath, forcing words past his tight throat. “Melody, your arms-”
“It’s nothing.” She bristles, and though she has no problem glaring at Koschei, she can’t quite seem to look at Theta. “I had a nightmare and fell out of bed.”
He shakes his head, hair flopping into his eyes. “You don’t expect me to believe that, do you? Melody, those are fingerprints.”
She clenches her jaw, silent.
Hands flexing into fists, Theta struggles to keep the anger burning in his veins from bleeding into his voice. “Was it her? That horrible aunt of yours?” Melody still doesn’t speak, teeth grinding together and eyes fastened stubbornly on her lap. Theta, normally the quiet and peaceable one of the three of them, struggles with the new and unfamiliar urge to hit something. “I swear I’ll-”
“Stop it.” Melody lifts her head, eyes flashing. There’s a fierce sort of protectiveness in her face and it takes Theta a moment to understand the person she’s trying to protect is him. “You’ve never hurt even a fly and you’re not about to start now, you idiot. So shut up about it and tell me what the plan is for today. Have you thought about setting those pig-rats loose in the Department of Administrative Records?”
She stares him down, her green eyes narrowed, as if daring him to venture back into territory she had just deemed unacceptable. Theta stares right back at her. Most of the time he’s content to do whatever Melody wants – letting her boss him about either because it’s easier than trying to resist her will or because they’re usually of the same mind in what they want anyway. But he doesn’t want to let this go – not this time.
As determined as Melody seems to protect him, he wants to keep her safe just as much. Maybe she won’t let him near her aunt and maybe she won’t talk about the bruises on her arms but there are other ways to look after her. Keeping her from inciting panic amongst government employees when she looks dead on her feet is one of them.
Finally breaking eye contact, Theta exchanges a swift, weighted glance with Koschei who frowns and nods once. Relieved, Theta licks his lips and begins with a shrug, “Actually, Koschei’s got another headache so we thought we might just stay here today. Do some cloud watching, maybe badger the cook for some of those chocolate biscuits.”
He cringes even as he says it, knowing how much Melody hates sitting still. When she flops onto her back into the grass and agrees without protest, he nearly sags in relief even as her easy agreement troubles him. She must truly be exhausted to concede to such a quiet, lazy afternoon. His mind races with all the possibilities of why she’s so tired and pale, all the ways her horrid aunt could have spent the hours terrorizing her since he saw her last. He stares at her unashamedly, his hearts raw and open.
Melody doesn’t appear to notice his scrutiny, studying the clouds sleepily. “That one looks a bit like a TARDIS, doesn’t it?”
Shifting to lay down beside her, Theta feels his whole body relax into the grass when Melody instantly turns toward him and lets her head rest against his. Her hair tickles his ear and he stifles a smile, lacing their hands together. Forcing his gaze away from her profile and toward the sky, he finds the cloud she’s referring to and hums. “I see it,” he murmurs. “Do you think we’ll ever get our own TARDIS?”
“Of course we will.” She says it with the same confidence she says everything else, as though she can make things happen just by wanting them enough. “How else will we travel the universe together?”
Theta brightens at once, grinning. “Really? You want to travel with me?”
“Well I’m certainly not staying here forever. And you’d be terribly bored without me.” She shifts her gaze toward him almost shyly, as if waiting for him to disagree. He can’t begin to understand why he would want to when she’s completely right. Imagining his life without Melody in it, letting her swan off to see the universe and leaving him here to go on without the adventure she brings to every minute of his life, is unfathomable.
“Gallifrey without you?” Theta shakes his head, still struggling to contain the wideness of his smile. “I’d rather be rid of it completely first.”
Melody beams at him.
Koschei lifts his head, tufts of red grass caught in his dark hair as he scowls at them. Belatedly remembering his friend’s earlier teasing about Melody being his girlfriend, Theta realizes the last few minutes haven’t exactly proved him wrong, and blushes. He braces himself for further torment, glancing uneasily at Melody.
“And what about me? You can’t just leave me here with my father and a boring bloody government job.”
Theta rolls his eyes, relief softening his reply. “Of course not. You’re coming with us, obviously.”
With a teasing sigh, Melody relents, “If you must.”
Slightly appeased, Koschei sticks out his tongue at her.
Before they can start bickering, Theta asks, “Where will we go?”
Eyes fastened on the sky, Melody smiles. “Everywhere.”
With a lazy smile, Koschei flops back into the grass and agrees, “Everywhere. Unless I find better company, of course.”
Melody elbows him. “Better company certainly wouldn’t include you.”
Theta snorts, grinning. “So it’s settled then. After the Academy, we’re off.”
Rubbing his sore side, Koschei eyes Melody warily and agrees, “Every star in the universe.”
Tightening her grip on Theta’s hand, Melody shuts her eyes and for a moment, Theta forgets about her bruises and the dark circles beneath her eyes. He forgets about her aunt and the fierce protectiveness still curled around his hearts. There is only her hand in his and the future spread out before them.
Face tilted toward the sky, Melody breathes, “You watch us run.”