A Match Made in Heaven | Doctor X OMC | Doctor Who

A Christmas Carol (Part 2)

He hadn't wanted to leave his mate there like that, but he hadn't had much of a choice. Once the other man had passed out, a voice had called out to him, sounding like a voice he should know for some reason. It had sounded like the tolling of bells, and like the crumbling of stone into dust, like the ocean eroding a cliff-side away one wave at a time.

This is not your time, child.

Then he'd been enveloped by a bright white light.

When he'd opened his eyes again, he was standing in his room in the Tardis once more, Shadow at his side. She'd looked just as confused as he'd been, which was no help what-so-ever.

When he'd tried to latch back onto the sad, older version of his mate, there was nothing there. His grasp of their bond was almost slippery whenever he went looking for what he now knew to be the next regeneration of his mate.

Something was obviously stopping him from going back there, he thought with a flare of irritation.

His grace leapt eagerly to his unconscious call, bursting out of him with barely a flicker of a thought. The way it danced around him in excitement was new. All he'd ever seen it do was radiate out from him.

Clearly, seeing another Angel use their grace differently had given him some ideas, even if he wasn't consciously aware of it.

He eyed it critically for a moment, comparing it to the dream he'd had of his mother. Her grace was brighter, more pure in a way. What did that mean, though? Was he just less powerful, or maybe he was broken in some way. Maybe he was less innocent.

Less pure.

The colour of your grace is a reflection of your soul, Azharian, Azrael's voice explained, butting into his thoughts with all the subtlety of a sledge hammer. As you grow, you will experience new things and be shaped by those experiences. It is common for a person's grace to change as they grow.

He didn't know how he felt about that idea. The colour of his grace was a part of him, so why would it change as he got older?

The universe has always been about balance, Azrael said after a moment. There is much evil that exists, which is why Angel's were brought into being. We were there to balance the scales, removing the bad before it could become worse. Why do you think we were pre-cognitive?

It made a terrible kind of sense to Haylen, not that he wanted to admit that. But what made more sense, was what his father hadn't said. That the Angels had drifted from their purpose, believing in their own superiority more than what they'd been put there to do.

That was why they'd had to be destroyed.

He wondered, then, if a similar thing was to blame for what happened to the Time Lords. Had they gotten too big, and had to be wiped from the sky before they destroyed the universe?

It made something uncomfortable squirm around his stomach. In the purging of his kind, he'd been missed. If there was some kind of deity that kept track of that sort of thing, then what was to say that he wouldn't one day be removed from the universe in much the same way that his people had been?

It might solve the problem of outliving his loved ones, but only if it happened after they were all dead and gone. He couldn't let his lack of control be the reason that he was taken away from the people that he loved.

Unfortunately, there was only one person that he could ask for help with that.

And he really didn't want to.

He huffed a breath out in defeat. The odd antagonistic feelings he had toward his so-called father were nothing in the face of not wanting to disappoint or upset his mate.