"What most people don't seem to realize is that there is just as much money to be made out of the wreckage of a civilization as from the upbuilding of one… There's good money in empire building. But, there's more in empire wrecking."
-Rhett Butler, Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell)

Empires rise, and empires fall. Regardless of how much money changes hands it can be assured that the righteous are not the ones receiving the money. What is to talk about? Empires are brought up and torn down by tyrants.

It's the way of things.

ooc: This is, of course, below the minimum accepted word count but it's all Turlough had to say on the matter...

“How much further is it?” The boy grumbled as he pushed himself up over the edge after the other. “Where are we going?”

The older of the two turned to smile at his companion even as he kept on as if the climb was nothing. “You’ll see. Don’t complain so much, it’s a good workout, isn’t it?”

“I think you’re trying to kill me.”

The older let out a bark of laughter. “Malkon, don’t be ridiculous. It’s just a bit of a climb.”

“Be quiet, Vislor. Maybe it’s “just a bit” of a climb for you, but I’m exhausted. We’ve been going since after breakfast. Can’t we stop for a bit?”

Turlough nearly smiled as he slowed his pace and let himself fall back to his brother’s side. He reminded him of the boy he had been before the Doctor; so self-assured, so used to having no higher authority than himself, so childish. “I want to get there by sundown. The sky will be beautiful.”

“We’re breaking our backs for a sunset?”

Turlough snorted and continued on. “You’ll see. Be patient. It’s not too far now.”

The dark haired Trion groaned and upped his pace to keep up with his brother. They continued their hike in quiet for a time until they came upon the forest. The trees towered over head with trunks as red as blood and fleshy plates of leaves in mauve and purple, circling up to the sky.

“Follow me.” Turlough commanded, moving up the tree’s leaves as if they were steps in a flight of stairs.

“No! I’ll fall!” Malkon objected, his tone suggesting that he found his brother quite mad. Turlough just laughed and continued up, using the leaves as stepping stones.

“You won’t fall. I promise.” He leaned down and offered his hand for support and when Malkon accepted he pulled him up until the dear waned and he stepped on the leaves without fear he would fall through the canopy.

The view from the top was extraordinary. Turlough closed his eyes a moment and opened them slowly to be sure he hadn’t dreamed this.

It was real. He was home, and he had his family beside him.

He breathed in the air and turned his eyes to a stark white sky.

And then he smiled.

...A deal is a deal. And it looks like fun enough.

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Appearances can be deceiving. Haven’t you ever heard that it is unwise to judge book by its cover? The cover of my book is misleading; the words on my pages are all calculated lies. You don’t know who I am. You never will.

Take a long look at me. What do you see? Be honest, now, it isn’t anything I haven’t heard before. Lanky and pale with a mess of red hair…Hardly a threat, wouldn’t you say? What could I do? You aren’t really looking though (don’t lie to me, you aren’t,) if you were looking you would have noted my eyes. Yes, they’re blue. Rosa said it is almost as if they aren’t eyes at all but ice. Cold. Straight to the core.

Now listen to me. My tones are British. I’m European, wouldn’t you say? I’m charming and polite. I’m attentive and you like me. But you aren’t really listening. No one ever really listens. I’m not British at all. Eight years in that Hell would give anyone an accent. Am I charming or is it all one great big formula? And polite? Only at a glance. You win more flies with honey than with vinegar; I’ve explained this method to Tegan already. She says I am sneaky. She has it right. Every move that I make is premeditated to serve my best interests.

You’re looking beyond the cover now, aren’t you? You’re looking beyond what you see in me. But you’re still at the surface. Watch me. I’m a coward, don’t you think? I have only myself in mind. You can’t get anything right. I can’t blame you, of course. Not even the Doctor has me pinned.

…I don’t even have myself pinned. Am I the Jackal, conniving and clever? Or am I the Wolf, powerful and loyal?

Don’t be fooled. Don’t trust me.

I am my own best friend.

Generally, I don’t like people. My own company has always been preferred, even before the war and Brendon (both of which I admit fueled my distaste for others,) for the simple reason that people are, as a whole, terrible. The Doctor liked to see the good in things, an admirable and stupid flaw. I stand proudly on the other end of the scales; the universe is full of terrible things and it isn’t worth it to keep searching for the light in overwhelming darkness.

This is not to say that there isn’t good in people…It is simply that I do not take much time to see the good and then take steps to look past the bad and make friends. I do have friends, of course…It’s in one’s nature to crave companionship, to need it. Growing up, I was close to Juras…I even venture to say that she was my best friend. And then the war came and I was exiled to Earth, away from Juras at Brendon and the boys were awful but the need for companionship rose and so I took on Ibbotson as a “friend”, though there was no true camaraderie in it at least on my part…

Then there was the Doctor…

I mentioned that I prefer my own company. This is true and remained true throughout my years with the Doctor though I confess that between him and Tegan I was spending less and less time alone. But I do not know that either classifies as a best friend. We knew so little of one another. The idea, of course, was that the person we had been before was unimportant as the three of us travelled together. This is untrue, the Doctor said it himself – “A man is the sum of his memories…” My past is what makes me who I am and I never shared it with the Doctor or with Tegan, I never trusted them with such a thing.

And so neither of them can qualify, can they? A best friend should know you better than anyone else can hope to and while we were hardly strangers I cannot tell you Tegan’s favorite colour or what the Doctor felt about religion…

When I left the Doctor and returned to Trion, Juras and I attempted to rekindle our friendship but it wasn’t the same. We could hardly pretend that we would not have killed one another years before, though. We could hardly act as if no time at all had passed since my exile…Our closeness was gone even as we tried desperately to hold on.

Even my brother and I are not as close as I had hoped.

But I know myself well, will never tell my secrets, can trust myself implicitly Yes, I think I am my own best friend.

Clearly if Nyssa decides to amuse herself with one it's important enough for me to bother with.



Brendon looked nothing like that.

( You wouldn’t want to hold my hand if you knew how much blood it was covered in... )

( The reasoning: )

( The mix: )

( He didn't say goodbye. )

( This time he said goodbye... )