Chapter Text
To the children born of Gallifrey, loomed in a process of blending strategically advantageous genetic materials together with no thought beyond the desired corporeal result, the emotional instincts that they are born with are an acute liability. Infants on Gallifrey are bred; they are the result of a series of conscious and logical decisions by the parents and other well-educated adults. Children are not unplanned or conceived in the heat of passion, and that lack of emotion in their conception sets the tone for the many lifetimes to come.
Time Lords are not rocked and nuzzled as infants, nor soothed when they cry, for to do so would teach that weaknesses are to be nurtured. The Time Lords teach that one’s own weaknesses are never to be nurtured, only improved. Emotions certainly exist and have their place, but to allow them to have any say over one’s actions is preposterous. Any species or race low enough to think with their emotions is well beneath the Time Lords, for whom reason is King. It's not that Gallifreyans don't have emotions, naturally they do. They feel, because the ability to feel is vital to good intentions. However, although this mighty race and the even mightier Time Lords that spring from them may have two hearts, these masters of time, space and logic are not ruled by said hearts. The Time Lords are obedient only to the mind.
Species who follow their hearts are simple. Laughable. To be pitied and protected, of course, but never, ever emulated.
Emotions are nothing but trouble.
Emotions hurt.
Emotions destroy.
And so it was that every Gallifreyan child was taught early in his or her life to shun the emotions that welled within him or her and follow the laws set by their species; the laws of time, physics, and logic. Their emotions should be ignored as much as possible.
Emotions hurt. Emotions destroy.
Logic is law.
Law is order.
Order must be preserved.
That is the way of the Time Lords.
~*~O~*~
The Doctor well remembered being taken to look into the Vortex at the age of eight. He’d stepped up to the Untempered Schism, guided by the hand on his shoulder, and looked anywhere but the crack in Time that was waiting for his gaze. He felt it waiting. It beckoned him softly, tugging at his brain gently but insistently.
He’d been afraid of this moment, of what he may see, and hot shame bubbled within him for this weakness along with the fear. The hand on his shoulder had compounded his fright; the panic of someone discovering that he’d allowed himself to feel something just added to the taboo emotional cocktail swirling within him. He concentrated effort on swallowing the anxiety, telling himself to be the man that would make his parents proud. The twin suns never blinked, he told himself, they stared steadfastly at all of the goings-on in the universe. So must he. He must be steadfast and strong, like the twin suns.
Don’t be a child. Don’t be a stupid baby that can’t control itself and needs to sit in the corner for hours until it regains control. Be strong. Don’t waver. Don’t blink. This is your destiny. Don’t be afraid.
But he was. He was terribly afraid, and although the Elder and the Scholar were there with several other boys, he felt incredibly, incredibly alone.
“Go on, look.” The hand on his shoulder nudged him a little, with more gentleness than he was used to. He sensed an emotion he was unaccustomed to and had no name for but liked. It felt warm, like a nice bath, and he wanted more. He wondered idly if his emotional receptors were heightened because his fear was so high, and had a brief moment of panic because his fear was so high, wondering if the Elder could feel it. He told himself that the Elder was being - kind? sympathetic? - and he wondered if perhaps even if he was showing fear when he wasn’t supposed to, maybe he wouldn’t be in trouble? Maybe this Time Lord was different from the others? Maybe the emotions he had such a hard time controlling weren’t such a terrible thing?
He looked up at the owner of the hand with bright, hopeful eyes and the warmth he felt from it died. The older Time Lord had apparently seen his hope, perhaps read his thoughts.
The boy's shoulders sagged under the Elder's hand. Oh. Well.
The young Doctor - not yet the Doctor - looked quickly back down at his feet, avoiding the swirling light that kept tugging at his mind. The hand at his shoulder didn’t abide this, the tiny amount of patience he had apparently having been exhausted on the Doctor’s hopeful upturn of eyes. The Elder nudged the Doctor forward towards the Vortex, not unkindly, but with the clear intent that he should get on with it.
The young boy closed his eyes and took a short, blind step forward, stumbling a tiny bit and praying to Rassilon although he knew he shouldn’t.
Please don’t make me look. Please don’t make me. Please don’t make me look. Please, don’t. Please-
The young boy - not yet the Doctor - raised his head, opened his bright eyes and peered into the Vortex.
~*~O~*~
In many lifetimes to come, the Doctor wouldn’t be able to describe the Vortex and its beauty in any sort of way that may do it justice. Swirls of light and color, sounds that surrounded and filled him. It was vision. It was sound. It was everything.
It was terrifying.
The Vortex was singing to him, showing him snippets of things he couldn’t possibly understand.
Battles being fought in the sky.
Celebrations; people dancing together under twinkling fireworks and laughing.
Himself standing amidst fire and rain, fury incarnate.
Himself weeping bitterly.
Himself laughing, joy etched on every line of his face.
Kings deferring to him.
Kings calling for his head.
Various people turning bright, happy faces to him in gratitude.
Himself running for his life, fear etched on every line of his face.
Huge, graceful beasts flying across the sky.
Planets breaking apart into dust, the magma within cooling into rocks within seconds.
A woman holding his hand, smiling brightly at him as they ran together.
But feeling so alone…
And all the while, the Vortex sang to him, telling him that he was destined for greatness, that he alone among his people would understand truths long lost, that his future was going to be the stuff of legend. It said that songs would be sung of him, tales told and he would be known across all of time, space and reality itself, beloved and feared. That he was destined to be different. He was the Time Lord who would change everything…
The young boy panted heavily as he viewed what the Vortex had to show him, hearing her song. His eyes were wild and his hearts beat rapidly.
The old Time Lords who had brought him exchanged glances. Many children had shown fear before. It wasn’t an unusual reaction and, given the circumstances, it was certainly understandable, even forgivable. But this...this seemed different, somehow.
The Elder bent to the young boy. “What is it?” he whispered urgently. “What is the Vortex showing you, boy?”
The young Doctor trembled and made a strangled noise in his throat, trying to answer, still looking into his future, still hearing the song.
The Elder looked to the Scholar then back to the boy, shaking his shoulder. “What is it?” he hissed.
The boy didn’t answer this time. He just stared for a moment longer into the swirling light before he yelled, “No!” with all of his might, turned, and ran away.
~*~O~*~
The Time Lords had a strict moral code and set of laws that was to be obeyed at all times. The Doctor, despite having gone through The Academy and being exceptionally brilliant, was considerably less brilliant when it came to thinking inside the box, as it were. It wasn’t that he didn’t like law and order - he was rather a fan, thanks ever so. It wasn’t that he didn’t love being a Time Lord from Gallifrey, he most certainly did. He wasn't such a fan of the ceremonial garments, but in for a penny, you know.
The problem that the Doctor had was that he’d never, ever been able to tamp down those emotions and instincts that were held so taboo by his people - not completely. Not to the level that his peers would like. He was certainly highly logical and a very deep thinker. Intellect was not a problem for the Doctor, thankyouverymuch. But contrary to the rest of his species, he quite admired the people, cultures, and species that let emotions have larger parts in their lives. He was utterly fascinated by humans, a race the Gallifreyans were very similar to but most other Time Lords heartily disapproved of. This marked difference between himself and the rest of his people didn’t bother him too much: he knew his destiny, though not his timeline. The Doctor was born to be a bit different, Time itself had destined him to be a rebel, and although that truth wasn’t entirely comfortable - well, not at all comfortable for himself sometimes and most uncomfortable for his family, specifically his wife - he would accept it. It didn’t take much to be different from the Time Lords, just a little flexibility of thought. A little admiration for humans and some secret emotional response didn’t hurt anyone.
Still, though, he tried to toe the line for the most part. He’d made the expected advantageous match and loomed a child and then another - wholly unemotional events. Like a proper Time Lord, he remained mostly detached while a part of the social structure; it was his place to remain aloof, and had he shown too much emotion it would have created a problem for those in his life. He cared for his children as best he could, in his way, quiet and distant. He'd wanted to cause no trouble for them. He considered himself an island, alone and mostly isolated from the rest of his people, and he was alright with that for the most part. There were so few kindred spirits on Gallifrey, anyway, and no Time Lords like himself. So the Doctor just did his own thing, breaking the rules when he absolutely had to and keeping to himself otherwise. The Doctor knew the rules and how to play by them. He just...didn’t always do it.
But a quiet life on Gallifrey was not to be for the Doctor. The Vortex had shown him his future, and it was full of adventure, intrigue, and other things that he didn’t want to think about. He was quite the renegade already, what with his penchant for feelings, but there was a great big universe out there that needed the gifts of a Time Lord and, according to the Vortex, this particular Time Lord. So, to that end and the fulfillment of his destiny, the Doctor stole a TARDIS and flew away, taking his granddaughter with him. Susan shared his love of adventure (and Earth), and surely the universe wouldn’t let anything happen to such a young girl. She would be his shield.
Susan decided to stay behind in England and get married, but that was alright. He met so many other wonderful people, and they all taught him so very, very much. For the first time, the Doctor met other people like him and realized fully that the ideas drilled into him his whole life - that emotional beings were inferior, stupid, less than he somehow - were dead wrong. The people he met on Earth both in his early travels, during his exile and later were all brilliant, clever, warm and curious. They were everything he’d dreamed they would be, but they were anything but beneath him. He learned so much from them: and the chief lesson he took away was that emotions aren’t a liability. Emotions are what make life worth living.
Then the Last Great Time War happened, and the Vortex could be denied no longer.