"Okay, Spourgit, you can't claim to love everything."
"But I do. The world is so wonderful."
"Even the Doctor?"
Saira froze. She stared into the distance, slowly letting her wings ease their tension that formed at the mere mention of her past. "I do hate him, I think," she whispered finally.
"See?" he said triumphantly, "Loving everything isn't possible."
The alarian's eyes focused and a stubborn expression set on her face. "I did love him like a father, once."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"I do not think any love is wasted. I am who I am because of that connection, no matter how painful it was."
"That's great and all, but that doesn't change the fact that you hate him now."
Saira contemplated that concept for a moment.
"I am not convinced Hate is completely separated from Love.
I think Hate is just Love that had no where to go. Like a fruit that has sat in a basket for too long.
I think love can be twisted and broken to become something dark and cruel; but at some point, it was Love.
An apple that has rotted is still an apple, even if nearly every property has changed."
"But would you ever eat a rotten apple?"
"No, I suppose not, but it was an apple once. Doesn't that count for something?"
The two stared at each other, caught between two perspectives they would never truly understand. The horrid truth glared at them- if given the opportunity, Saira might attempt to mend the relationship she had with the Doctor. Admittedly, it was a terrifying thought for her to grapple with. So, instead of letting either of them dwell on that possibility, he simply ruffled her hair, "Sure, Saira, and then a tree could grow from the seeds."
The young alarian, too young for the scars that littered her body like a canvas, lit up. "Yes, I like that idea a lot. Thank you." She left then, to her garden, to plant an apple tree.