(no subject)
In their flat, hidden away in the back of Alonso's sock drawer, is an envelope with Alonso's name in Turlough's handwriting. When turned over to be open there's more writing: "To be read after I've returned to Trion. -February 10th."
My dear Alonso,
This will undoubtedly be the hardest letter I've ever had to write. No matter at what length we've discussed my leaving, or that I've known since the day I set foot in the Nexus I would want to go back, does it make this letter, or my leaving at all, any easier. I'm grateful for that. For you. Now I have somewhere else I long to be, not just Trion. You're sleeping as I write this and somehow I already miss you.
I don't know what I'll truly be facing on Trion. I'm scared. Not just for myself, but for Malkon and his people. If I've lead them into a trap... It doesn't seem too likely, though. After all, wouldn't it have been more convenient to have let us die on Sarn than take us all the way to Trion for execution? Sorry, I shouldn't be so pessimistic. Even with the Doctor I wanted him to return me home, despite what hung over my head there. I think I wanted to be brave, I wanted to change then. But I also knew how unreliable the TARDIS was. Or if we did get anywhere close to Trion, the time period would be wrong; we'd have a risky adventure and be on our way again. Sometimes I don't know what I would have really done if he had managed returning me home properly.
I know it won't be like before. I know I'll walk past the ruins of something, or a new construct of a building my father built and I'll feel an ache in my chest, wishing things hadn't changed. War changes everything. Yet war doesn't change. I can only hope whatever animosity between parties has passed after nearly two decades there. For Malkon's sake more than my own.
I'll write to you. You won't receive anything, obviously, but I've already purchased a journal to write in while I'm there. I never kept a journal before, not really, not counting my marginal musings in my sketch pads, so having someone to address it to will help, I think. Hopefully I can share it with you. Hopefully, I can share Trion with you and you can meet Malkon.
I realize that not everyone returns to the Nexus. I realize there is a chance this is the last you will ever hear from me, as painful as it is to admit. I realize how brave you are for knowing this just as much as I, yet you've given hardly a complaint, or voiced a fear. You are by far the most courageous and honorable person I know. If nothing else you've taught me that. I could make a list of what I've learned from you, but it will be morning soon and I would need at least a week and a half for a completed list.
I love you.
You were my first real friend here, I think. Certainly my best after such a short while. I have never made friends easily. I didn't know it was possible to become such good friends with anyone in such a short while. I didn't know love was possible. At least, not for me. I didn't think I deserved it. I had made too many mistakes and taken the coward's way out so many times, I was convinced that even if I was given the option, I would run away from it. If you recall in the park, I nearly did. And here we are a year later.
Sometimes I feel as if my decision to leave for Trion now, at this time, is somehow me attempting to run away again. Sometimes. On the other hand, coming here, or rather, staying here was running away from this new Trion I'm now returning to. I was scared then, too. The timing isn't at it's best now, I agree, but what I'm not scared of is our relationship. How far we've come. How much further we have to go.
And yet, I'm afraid I must be blunt, because it needs to be said, however unromantic: If I don't return with in the year, please don't wait for me. I think a year is long enough. If not longer than I should even dare ask for. I would ask that you remember me, what we shared, most of all how much you made me care for you when I thought I was incapable of opening myself up and sharing what I have with you. I don't want you to be lonely, but I don't want for you to marry out of loneliness either. You deserve someone who can see how truly amazing you are and how they can be a better person with you. I hope you find that. I hope that, ultimately, it's with me. But if not...
I want you to be happy. You deserve that most of all. You made me happier than I've been in all my life, a feat not easily accomplished, as I've probably said before. You've made me a better person, you made me want to be better. You've made me self aware and at times even selfless. The only time I've ever seen you selfish, however good you are at hiding it, is because of wanting me to yourself. I am yours, Alonso. Now and forever.
With all my love and sincerest gratitude,
Turlough
My dear Alonso,
This will undoubtedly be the hardest letter I've ever had to write. No matter at what length we've discussed my leaving, or that I've known since the day I set foot in the Nexus I would want to go back, does it make this letter, or my leaving at all, any easier. I'm grateful for that. For you. Now I have somewhere else I long to be, not just Trion. You're sleeping as I write this and somehow I already miss you.
I don't know what I'll truly be facing on Trion. I'm scared. Not just for myself, but for Malkon and his people. If I've lead them into a trap... It doesn't seem too likely, though. After all, wouldn't it have been more convenient to have let us die on Sarn than take us all the way to Trion for execution? Sorry, I shouldn't be so pessimistic. Even with the Doctor I wanted him to return me home, despite what hung over my head there. I think I wanted to be brave, I wanted to change then. But I also knew how unreliable the TARDIS was. Or if we did get anywhere close to Trion, the time period would be wrong; we'd have a risky adventure and be on our way again. Sometimes I don't know what I would have really done if he had managed returning me home properly.
I know it won't be like before. I know I'll walk past the ruins of something, or a new construct of a building my father built and I'll feel an ache in my chest, wishing things hadn't changed. War changes everything. Yet war doesn't change. I can only hope whatever animosity between parties has passed after nearly two decades there. For Malkon's sake more than my own.
I'll write to you. You won't receive anything, obviously, but I've already purchased a journal to write in while I'm there. I never kept a journal before, not really, not counting my marginal musings in my sketch pads, so having someone to address it to will help, I think. Hopefully I can share it with you. Hopefully, I can share Trion with you and you can meet Malkon.
I realize that not everyone returns to the Nexus. I realize there is a chance this is the last you will ever hear from me, as painful as it is to admit. I realize how brave you are for knowing this just as much as I, yet you've given hardly a complaint, or voiced a fear. You are by far the most courageous and honorable person I know. If nothing else you've taught me that. I could make a list of what I've learned from you, but it will be morning soon and I would need at least a week and a half for a completed list.
I love you.
You were my first real friend here, I think. Certainly my best after such a short while. I have never made friends easily. I didn't know it was possible to become such good friends with anyone in such a short while. I didn't know love was possible. At least, not for me. I didn't think I deserved it. I had made too many mistakes and taken the coward's way out so many times, I was convinced that even if I was given the option, I would run away from it. If you recall in the park, I nearly did. And here we are a year later.
Sometimes I feel as if my decision to leave for Trion now, at this time, is somehow me attempting to run away again. Sometimes. On the other hand, coming here, or rather, staying here was running away from this new Trion I'm now returning to. I was scared then, too. The timing isn't at it's best now, I agree, but what I'm not scared of is our relationship. How far we've come. How much further we have to go.
And yet, I'm afraid I must be blunt, because it needs to be said, however unromantic: If I don't return with in the year, please don't wait for me. I think a year is long enough. If not longer than I should even dare ask for. I would ask that you remember me, what we shared, most of all how much you made me care for you when I thought I was incapable of opening myself up and sharing what I have with you. I don't want you to be lonely, but I don't want for you to marry out of loneliness either. You deserve someone who can see how truly amazing you are and how they can be a better person with you. I hope you find that. I hope that, ultimately, it's with me. But if not...
I want you to be happy. You deserve that most of all. You made me happier than I've been in all my life, a feat not easily accomplished, as I've probably said before. You've made me a better person, you made me want to be better. You've made me self aware and at times even selfless. The only time I've ever seen you selfish, however good you are at hiding it, is because of wanting me to yourself. I am yours, Alonso. Now and forever.
With all my love and sincerest gratitude,
Turlough