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Sacrifice	By : Lady_Gemini Category: 1 through F > Doctor Who Views: 1404 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Lady_Gemini does not own Doctor Who or Torchwood. Lady_Gemini does not make any money from this fiction.

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Conrad’s cart pulled up at an unfamiliar farmhouse. About twenty carts were already parked out front and a large group of people were milling around.
“Aren’t we going back to your farm?” Amy asked.
“Not tonight. This is the Hollenbrook farm. It was their little girl, Daphne that was sacrificed today. Whenever a family loses someone, we like to rally around them, try to do as much work as we can for them. We’re going to help bring in their crops tonight. Amy, why don’t you go inside with the women, they could use some help with the cooking and cleaning. Doctor, Rory, you come with me to the barn so we can divvy up the fieldwork.”
Amy considered being offended at being sent to do ‘womanly work’ but decided that now was not the time for Scottish indignation. She pecked Rory on the cheek and walked inside.
. . . . .
Rory, armed with a short sickle, was working his way down a row of wheat. The men had assigned The Doctor to help in the stables but he had ignored them and, gathering a large pile of scrap metal and wood, was fashioning a mechanical thresher. Working smarter was infinitely preferable to working harder he believed. Besides, these people were the remnants of a highly advanced civilization. He was not introducing them to any technology they weren’t already aware of.
. . . . .
In the farmhouse, Amy was working a loom with a group of women. The device was easy enough to operate, though the fabric she was making was not as fine and soft as that made by the more experienced ladies. In an adjoining room, the mother and father of the girl had secluded themselves. The cart ride from the ceremony had been utterly silent. Amy and Rory were in stunned silence, and The Doctor often grew silent when witnessing such atrocities. Now, Amy began asking questions of one of the older women.
“So, what was that all about? Why did they kill that girl?”
“She was this year’s sacrifice.”
“What’s that then? Some kind of religious thing?”
“No, she’s a sacrifice for us. For the lives of all the other criminals.”
“How was she a criminal? She couldn’t have been more than 14 years old!”
“She was 16 actually. She got drunk with her friends and they toppled the fence surrounding the Collins ranch, half his cattle escaped. They were able to recover most of them but 2 of them must’ve found their way back into the old city.”
“She was killed for that? That’s barbaric.”
“No, child, she was selected by lottery. You must understand, our community is so small, we balance on the edge of knife. We live on the only available farm land, the old city covers the rest of the planet, we can’t afford losses. We needed a way to keep these petty crimes in check or they could destroy us. The punishment must be frightening enough to deter these acts.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Haven’t you been listening, girl? Our community is small; we can’t afford to kill able-bodied workers. That’s why we have the sacrifice. Every person with a criminal record is put into a drawing, and one year one person is selected. The fear of the drawing is enough to keep most on the straight and narrow. This poor girl may be the youngest sacrifice we’ve ever had.”
“So you kill one person every year?”
“One petty criminal. Murderers, rapists, arsonists, they are all executed on the spot. There can be no second chance for these.”
“Why do you agree to live this way? Why don’t you fight back? Even one innocent girl dying is too much.”
“Fight back? We chose this life to preserve our world. There may be sadness, but it is a small price to pay.”
. . . . .
As the sun began to set, the men made their way in from the fields. The Doctor’s machine had worked expertly and had managed to complete the work of five men. Even so, the farm was large, and much of the work remained undone. The women brought dinner out to the men and they all settled in front of small campfires. A few jugs of liquor were passed around. Conrad explained that nobody would return home this night, they would sleep in the barn and in the morning make their way back to their own homes.
Amy carried a small pot of stew over to where The Doctor was sitting with Conrad and his family.
“Where’s Rory?”
The Doctor looked up in surprise, noticing Rory’s absence for the first time. Conrad spoke up.
“That crazy bastard is still out in the wheat field. Can’t nobody talk any sense into him. Don’t know what got into him.”
Amy peered out across the dimly illuminated field and saw a lone worker, barely a pinpoint in the distance, working his way down the rows.
. . . . .
Rory swung his sickle with violent fury, mowing down huge swaths of grain. His face was red with exertion and his shirt was soaked through with sweat. Amy approached with caution, and a canteen full of water.
“Rory, the sun’s going down. You should come in and have some dinner.” She held the canteen out to her husband. He ignored her outstretched hand and continued working his way down the line of wheat.
“I’ve got to finish this row. They’re not going to have enough time, they’re going to need this done. They’re going to need to take the time to grieve.”
Amy was silent. She’d never seen Rory so impassioned. She moved in behind Rory, avoiding the swinging sickle, and laid her hand on his arm. He lowered the sickle to his side; she could feel him trembling beneath her touch.
“They watched their own daughter die Amy. She was shot, right in front of them. What kind of monsters would do that? No parent should have to watch the death of their own child, not when it can be stopped. I know… I know how that feels.”
Amy thought back to that awful day, in Adolf Hitler’s office, watching Melody bleeding out from a stomach wound, learning just in that moment who she was.
“We never did get a chance to grieve for our own daughter, you know.” Rory said.
“We don’t need to grieve for her, she’s still alive. Of course I’m sad that we didn’t get to raise her, but she grew up into a wonderful woman.”
“No she didn’t. Amy, you know how regeneration works. She died, and a new woman, with our daughter’s memories, showed up. Our daughter died a long time ago, before we ever got the chance to meet her. We never grieved; we never acknowledged it at all. We thought that if we just moved on, focused on building a new relationship with River, maybe it would be ok. But it’s not ok.”
“Oh Rory. I know. I miss her too. But we can’t change the past.”
“You’re right, but we keep running away from it. Hoping that if we see enough planets, if we go to enough worlds, if we fill our minds with enough wonders, it’ll make up for it. But we need to know this right now, nothing will ever make up for it, we will never be able to fill that hole in our lives, and I can’t live like this anymore. Amy, I want to go home, with you. We can start over, make a new life for ourselves. Please, come home with me.”
Amy wrapped her slender arms around her husband’s frame and leaned against him. She was crying now. Rory gathered her into his arms. They stood together, crying together in mutual sorrow.
“Ok. When we get back to the TARDIS, we can ask The Doctor to take us back home.”
. . . . .
Rory woke with a start. Something was wrong, he could feel it. He bolted to his feet and looked around for his wife. A letter that had been sitting on his chest fluttered to the floor.

Rory,
I know you want to leave, and we will. But I can’t just go without doing something for these people. They shouldn’t have to live like this. I need to do something to make a difference before we go. I love you.
Always,
Amy

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Sacrifice