FIC: Forgiveness (PG)
Title: Forgiveness
Author: carreysunshine
Rating: PG
Pairing: Master/Doctor
Continuity/Spoilers: After "Journey's End" (Season 4, Episode 13) but before "Music of the Spheres" (Post Season 4, Prom's Special)
Notes: Written for lastblazes, as a surprise gift
It was only after the fifth time he'd tried to strike up a conversation with the vacant control room that the Doctor realized he was truly alone again. His exclamation of, "look at this," hung dull and hollow in the air as he pointed one long finger at the screen of swirls, brown eyes blinking around to see nothing but circular lights on bare beige walls. He had been expecting to see a form standing on the grating, staring back at him as wide eyed and just as full of curiosity as he was. But there wasn't anyone there and hadn't been for a good two days now.
In fact, two days ago the control room had been filled to the brim with people who were hugging each other triumphantly, marvelling that they had escaped from what seemed like the damning blow to all of existence, from an entire fleet of pure-bred Daleks bent on destroying reality itself. There were shouts of joy and smiles that accompanied tears of relief that everything had once again worked out, as if they'd doubted their luck would hold when spread so thinly. The TARDIS had hummed as everyone's hands travelled her console, creating the smoothest ride she'd had in quite a long time. But just as quickly as they'd gathered, they had all departed. Not even the blue suited Doctor had remained. The result was that there were no more stray jackets lying about on the railings, no hat boxes stacked against walls in bedrooms that now lay empty; not even a rogue box of chocolates sat on the countertop in the kitchen.
No matter how many times the Doctor reassured himself mentally that he was used to things like this, it was only in moments like these where he realized that he never really could. He would always be the Lonely God, wandering the stretches of time and space, filling the gaps where he could from time to time with people who were gone in the blink of an eye. The Doctor could remember Ace, Tegan, Sarah Jane, Jamie, Barbara, Ian and Susan as if they'd just come aboard yesterday. Beyond all that though, past every single companion-ridden memory, Gallifrey's orange ochre skies still blazed in his mind, as if he were looking up at it as he entered the Academy for the first time.
'Are you scared?' He'd been asked by a boy with endlessly blue eyes as they both stood and marvelled at the sheer magnitude of the Time Lord Citadel. 'Did you run?' It was the Vortex he was speaking of and the fateful night of initiation where, in the presence of Time Lords and blazing torches, the youth brought before the swirling gap either stayed and looked into the raw power of existence, or fled from it in fear.
'I never stopped,' the Doctor admitted. Though at the time, he wasn't the Doctor. He was nothing more than a skinny blond little streak of a Time Lord, looking quite in over his head as he thought back to the terror that had gripped him as he stood in front of the Vortex.
'I stayed,' returned the dark haired boy almost proudly. There was a faint smirk playing about his lips, almost as if he were self-satisfied at his accomplishment. 'I stayed and saw everything.' The boy had looked at him with mischief in his blue eyes, warm welcoming pools of curiosity and smugness. 'What's your name?' He'd asked as he turned to the blond.
In response, the blond boy had frowned at this question. 'We're going to get new ones soon anyway, so what does it matter?' He'd shrugged in reply. Even though he'd grown up in a family full of cousins, he'd always felt alone, without a friend beside him. He was so accustomed to being lonely that he hadn't a clue this boy was trying to initiate a friendship with him.
The brunette boy had given the other Time Lord a pursing of his lips at his response, a gesture which the Doctor would come to know very well over the years. 'Well, I'm Koschei, at any rate.'
The Doctor leaned back against the console, sighing and dragging a tired hand across his weary face. It was funny, in a way, how his thoughts always seemed to return to the Master, even now, long after his funeral pyre had burnt out, smothered as the last of the ashes fluttered away in the breeze. There was still a stinging pain in his chest whenever he thought about what had happened, wedged just between both of his hearts. He'd thrown himself into his adventures with Donna as a way to keep his mind off of things, but now there was no-one and nothing to distract him. The starry skies were empty and every time he looked at them it was all the Doctor could do not to choke on the hot lump that rose in his throat.
Giving a little cough, strictly so there would be some sort of noise to punctuate the silence with, the Doctor pushed himself off of the console. The TARDIS was nestled in a grove of trees in London, having landed there merely so that he could take a look at her wiring, though also from a faint hope that someone would come and knock, just so that he could have a bit of company. Company usually turned into companionship and that was one thing the Doctor couldn't give up, the opportunity to distract himself with someone. Travelling with someone else was like a drug, because the moment he was alone, like he was now, he would turn in on himself and simply crumble. It was a way to pretend he was alright because there was an air he had to maintain, a push forward, a drive to keep whoever was near him from knowing the torment that went through his head day after day. But when no-one was around to see, there was no reason to pretend. The will was gone and he found himself sinking deeper and deeper into the bitter pits of despair.
He cast a glance at a bit of lined paper he'd gathered and placed on the seat near the console, blank staves of music just waiting to be written on. But he hadn't the heart to pick up his pen and scribble, not today. The universe was singing around him while he was weeping on the inside and he was quite sure that anything he'd write would be nothing more than a great epic sob, a splattering blob of ink that seemed to have just been flung on the paper. That was no masterpiece, that wasn't even anything more than the sound of his sorrow. Instead he turned away, kneeling in front of the console and opening the door, reaching in with long fingers to coax out multicoloured cords, wiring that coiled around and seemed to lead nowhere in particular.
Pushing on his brainy specs, the Doctor set to work tweaking. There were times when maintenance kept his mind from spiralling out of control and he hoped that this was one of those instances. The pulsing hum of his sonic screwdriver made him give a faint smile, as if reminding him of the good moments that had just slipped through his fingers not too long ago. Perhaps he should've asked the TARDIS to switch on an audio track, music, dialogue from a radio programme, anything to keep the silence away.
Before he could open his mouth to ask, there was a buzzing, like an electronic device had just been switched on, giving a few snaps of static before warming up enough to begin. Except that nothing sounded in the silence. In fact, the Doctor could feel the silence itself buzzing in the cavities of his ear, echoing in his head until it was practically deafening. As the Doctor peered into the wire strewn crawlspace under the console, there was a sigh.
Oh, Doctor...
He was hearing things again, as he frequently did whenever he was alone. The Doctor was haunted by sighs whenever there was silence, though the way the syllables fell so perfectly in his mind made the stinging in his chest feel even more ominous. Only one being could ever say his name like that, so particularly, so full of arrogance and disapproval. He frowned as he leaned even further into the base of the console, this time pointing his sonic screwdriver at a bundle of wires, face illuminated with blue light.
Oh, Doctor... Came the sigh again. Wait until you see what I'm going to do to her.
The Doctor paused, screwdriver shutting off as he was immediately bathed in semi-darkness. Usually the sighs didn't prolong themselves, and they didn't ever seem to begin a conversation, either. He squinted, crouching low and remaining perfectly still to see whether or not he would hear the sigh again.
You'll be so angry with me. Cannibalizing what we made together. What you took. What you ran away from me with. You'll be sorry.
He tried to get his head out of the console door so quickly that the Doctor was quite amazed with himself after he'd managed to get free without a knot on his head to show for it. His brown eyes blinked around, surveying the walls of the TARDIS, lights the only thing shining back at him until he spotted it. In the corner, flickering as it shone green, blue, turquoise, and aqua, as far from opaque as it could be without compromising the fact that it had form, was a hologram. The Master stood, lined and wavering from time to time, smartly dressed in his suit and tie, looking up at the console as if the Doctor was nowhere to be seen.
The Doctor rose from where he'd been crouching, perplexed momentarily, unsure of what he was seeing. Here was a hologram of the Master, seemingly from when he'd rewired the TARDIS, creating a paradox machine that caused such chaos during his reign as Prime Minister of Great Britain. But how had this happened? Surely the Master hadn't meant to create an image of himself. Or had he? The Doctor dared not say anything, not yet. Instead he watched with both hearts slamming against his chest as the holographic image crossed his arms, considering his next move.
He didn't have to speak; the hologram turned his head to regard the Doctor with all the curiosity and arrogance he'd had as a child before they'd entered the Academy together. Are you angry? He asked simply, looking as if the idea of the Doctor being upset was something to be excited over. The Master would never allow himself to be excited so quickly, though, and his face held the same calm reserve the Doctor had come to know so well.
'No,' the Doctor muttered in return, hands slipping into his pockets as he swallowed. He watched as the hologram frowned, apparently just as unexpecting of his answer as the Master would have been. There would be a setting of the jaw followed by a displeased pursing of his lips as he tugged gently at the knot in his tie, giving his neck a little tilt, as if anticipating a pop of his spine while he decided what to do next. It happened just as he thought it would, within seconds. He knew the Master so well that it pained him to watch this hologram.
No anger? Ever the sanctimonious one, aren't we, Doctor? Asked the hologram bitterly. Does nothing I do make you angry?
It was the Doctor's turn to look a bit off-guard, not having expected the Master's hologram to ask him something so openly. He looked up at the glowing blue rods suspended from the middle of the TARDIS console as he thought. 'Not angry, no. Though I'm sure I've done quite a few things to upset you, haven't I?' The Doctor raised an eyebrow at the hologram. There was no need to go into his offenses further, both knew what he was referring to, as referenced by the fact that the Master's form knitted his brows, frown lines deeply etched onto his face as he seemed to seethe silently before him.
You left me, the hologram insisted, looking so bitter he was all but spitting his words as if each one had personally done him some offense.
'And now you've gone and left me,' the Doctor pointed out as an almost tangible melancholy drenched his tone. There was a confused look from the hologram, who obviously had no idea just what his flesh and blood self had been through after converting the TARDIS.
What do you mean, I've gone and left you? He asked, a familiar bite present in his voice. The Master always seemed to be on the edge of defensiveness whenever he didn't seem to understand what the Doctor was talking about, as if it was gravely upsetting for the Time Lord to know more about something than he did.
'You died,' the Doctor said with such finality that he had to take a moment to rasp in a lung full of air. He wasn't one to show emotion and having being betrayed so by his voice which broke when he'd uttered his last two words, was surprising. 'You chose to die rather than regenerate because you didn't want to be stuck with me forever.'
The Master's hologram smirked, looking as smug as ever as the Doctor relayed this information. He looked as if he were lording over a kingdom he'd just recently oppressed and smothered under his shiny Italian leather shoes, as if he were gloating that he'd completely decimated everything good in the universe. Of course I did, he said. Did you think I was honestly going to resign myself to your capture so easily? After almost nine hundred years one would think you'd be expecting a better game of chase by now.
There was a frown from the other Time Lord, one that seemed to balance on the line between disgusted and annoyed. 'I can't give chase if you're dead,' he returned, with a faint hint of dejection.
Well, looks like I win, then, smirked the hologram.
Hearing those words all over again, seeing the Master's eyebrows jump as he realized his ultimate triumph made an unavoidable choking sob escape the Doctor's throat for a split second, sorrow cutting off in a staccato note before returning to mere silence and reservation. 'Yeah,' he said in a strained voice, rubbing one of his eyes to keep from displaying too much emotion again, 'yeah, you win.'
The Master's hologram rounded the console, staring at it thoughtfully, as if to admire the work that he hadn't yet done in the sliver of time he'd been taken from. It was good, though, wasn't it? His hand reached out as if to touch the TARDIS gently but never quite made contact as his image bent and danced like waves in the ocean on a blustery day. He evened out after his hand once again fell to his side.
Rather than answering, the Doctor merely sighed. There was no reason to even acknowledge his question or dignify it with a response. Overall it didn't matter whether he agreed; they were destined to share differing view points on things forever. The Master knew this as well as the Doctor; there was no need to put it into words. Neither was it prudent to vocalize half a dozen other things that were on his mind. Everything tended to be unspoken between them and now was no exception.
I've never forgiven you for what you did, you know, said the Master's hologram as if he'd suddenly realized he had something else in his mental arsenal to hold over the Doctor's head. I've never forgiven you for leaving me.
'I've never forgiven myself, either,' the Doctor admitted with a sorrowful nod, hands still thrust deep in his pockets. He looked as if he'd just been caught, exposed and unable to keep the truth hidden any longer. The Time Lord raised his head to look curiously at the hologram. 'But why don't you forgive me?' It wasn't something he'd had to ask, it was simply something he'd taken a chance in uttering, now that he had the opportunity. The Doctor knew the Master wasn't one for forgiveness; that in itself was answer enough. He'd hated being forgiven by the other Time Lord for everything he'd done; so much so that the Master had tried to all but claw his way out of the Valiant that fateful day he'd died in the Doctor's arms.
We could've had everything. It could've been you and me, the hologram said, and you threw that away.
The Doctor was surprised he'd gotten an answer, eyes slightly wide in shock. It was a rather selfish thing to say, in retrospect, but then, he hadn't expected anything less from the Master. 'I did,' he agreed, 'I did throw it away. And it was,' the Doctor trailed, swallowing with great effort as he murmured something he never had before, 'so foolish of me. I never should've done that. And I've always regretted it.' He stood, looking as if he'd been completely stripped bare, exposed and vulnerable now in front of the Master's hologram. Those were words he hadn't even dared to think, much less ever let slip past his lips.
Turning, the hologram stared at him, searching the Doctor's face, eyes squinted slightly. He didn't move and made no noise, simply taking his being in, mulling him over. There was a flash in the Master's eyes and even though they were green and not brown like he remembered, the Doctor could tell they held recognition, as if his words had registered and struck a chord, that familiar look of understanding dawning over him. The hologram's face was devoid of anger or arrogance suddenly. He looked as if he knew the Doctor had been pained over his bad choice, and that he'd suffered just as much as he himself had.
At least you know what a sanctimonious fool you really are, said the hologram.
It was as close to a pardon of forgiveness as the Doctor was ever going to get from the Master. He couldn't help but feel as if the weight of the universe, which had been crushing down upon him prior to now, suddenly lifted off of his chest. There were tears in his eyes as he smiled at the hologram, giving another nod. 'Yeah, I know it quite well.'
Oh, dry your eyes and stop being so sentimental, chastised the Master's form, giving another half-annoyed smirk as he adjusted his tie. And do the TARDIS a favour and put her guts back where they belong, he said, clicking the tip of his tongue and giving a disgusted glance down at the wiring that was snaking out of the console. So messy.
The Doctor nodded, almost wanting to let a burst of laughter spring forth from his lips as he listened to the hologram's displeasure. 'It's been nice seeing you, too,' he teased, picking up the clusters of wires, giving them a good shove back inside the crawlspace.
Rolling his eyes, the hologram sighed. Do tell yourself that, Doctor, he remarked sarcastically, though the Doctor could recognize his familiar playful twinkle.
'I'll see you again,' the Doctor said confidently, giving an amused smile, his feelings of loneliness fading as he watched the irritated face of the Master screw up at the thought of him being sentimental once more.
When you rewire her wrong. Again, he rebuked. Bloody trapped on the TARDIS, just my luck. The hologram complained as he began to flicker out of view until nothing was left but the vacant control room and the silence that had threatened to overwhelm the Doctor mere moments ago.
The Doctor could feel a calm sort of resolution settle between his hearts, replacing a bit of the sting he'd been plagued with for so long. Even if he was a hologram, it had forgiven him, more or less, and that was enough for now. Just knowing that it was there with him, stuck in the wiring of the TARDIS, travelling alongside him gave the Doctor a bit of comfort he didn't have before. He gave a long, almost satisfied sigh as he slowly walked around the console, contemplating what had just happened before his eyes came to rest on the blank sheets of music just waiting to be scribbled on.
Perhaps he did feel in the mood to write. Come to think of it, there was a wonderful symphony his fingertips were just itching to write. The universe was singing all around him, after all, and his hearts had just recently joined in.
Author: carreysunshine
Rating: PG
Pairing: Master/Doctor
Continuity/Spoilers: After "Journey's End" (Season 4, Episode 13) but before "Music of the Spheres" (Post Season 4, Prom's Special)
Notes: Written for lastblazes, as a surprise gift
It was only after the fifth time he'd tried to strike up a conversation with the vacant control room that the Doctor realized he was truly alone again. His exclamation of, "look at this," hung dull and hollow in the air as he pointed one long finger at the screen of swirls, brown eyes blinking around to see nothing but circular lights on bare beige walls. He had been expecting to see a form standing on the grating, staring back at him as wide eyed and just as full of curiosity as he was. But there wasn't anyone there and hadn't been for a good two days now.
In fact, two days ago the control room had been filled to the brim with people who were hugging each other triumphantly, marvelling that they had escaped from what seemed like the damning blow to all of existence, from an entire fleet of pure-bred Daleks bent on destroying reality itself. There were shouts of joy and smiles that accompanied tears of relief that everything had once again worked out, as if they'd doubted their luck would hold when spread so thinly. The TARDIS had hummed as everyone's hands travelled her console, creating the smoothest ride she'd had in quite a long time. But just as quickly as they'd gathered, they had all departed. Not even the blue suited Doctor had remained. The result was that there were no more stray jackets lying about on the railings, no hat boxes stacked against walls in bedrooms that now lay empty; not even a rogue box of chocolates sat on the countertop in the kitchen.
No matter how many times the Doctor reassured himself mentally that he was used to things like this, it was only in moments like these where he realized that he never really could. He would always be the Lonely God, wandering the stretches of time and space, filling the gaps where he could from time to time with people who were gone in the blink of an eye. The Doctor could remember Ace, Tegan, Sarah Jane, Jamie, Barbara, Ian and Susan as if they'd just come aboard yesterday. Beyond all that though, past every single companion-ridden memory, Gallifrey's orange ochre skies still blazed in his mind, as if he were looking up at it as he entered the Academy for the first time.
'Are you scared?' He'd been asked by a boy with endlessly blue eyes as they both stood and marvelled at the sheer magnitude of the Time Lord Citadel. 'Did you run?' It was the Vortex he was speaking of and the fateful night of initiation where, in the presence of Time Lords and blazing torches, the youth brought before the swirling gap either stayed and looked into the raw power of existence, or fled from it in fear.
'I never stopped,' the Doctor admitted. Though at the time, he wasn't the Doctor. He was nothing more than a skinny blond little streak of a Time Lord, looking quite in over his head as he thought back to the terror that had gripped him as he stood in front of the Vortex.
'I stayed,' returned the dark haired boy almost proudly. There was a faint smirk playing about his lips, almost as if he were self-satisfied at his accomplishment. 'I stayed and saw everything.' The boy had looked at him with mischief in his blue eyes, warm welcoming pools of curiosity and smugness. 'What's your name?' He'd asked as he turned to the blond.
In response, the blond boy had frowned at this question. 'We're going to get new ones soon anyway, so what does it matter?' He'd shrugged in reply. Even though he'd grown up in a family full of cousins, he'd always felt alone, without a friend beside him. He was so accustomed to being lonely that he hadn't a clue this boy was trying to initiate a friendship with him.
The brunette boy had given the other Time Lord a pursing of his lips at his response, a gesture which the Doctor would come to know very well over the years. 'Well, I'm Koschei, at any rate.'
The Doctor leaned back against the console, sighing and dragging a tired hand across his weary face. It was funny, in a way, how his thoughts always seemed to return to the Master, even now, long after his funeral pyre had burnt out, smothered as the last of the ashes fluttered away in the breeze. There was still a stinging pain in his chest whenever he thought about what had happened, wedged just between both of his hearts. He'd thrown himself into his adventures with Donna as a way to keep his mind off of things, but now there was no-one and nothing to distract him. The starry skies were empty and every time he looked at them it was all the Doctor could do not to choke on the hot lump that rose in his throat.
Giving a little cough, strictly so there would be some sort of noise to punctuate the silence with, the Doctor pushed himself off of the console. The TARDIS was nestled in a grove of trees in London, having landed there merely so that he could take a look at her wiring, though also from a faint hope that someone would come and knock, just so that he could have a bit of company. Company usually turned into companionship and that was one thing the Doctor couldn't give up, the opportunity to distract himself with someone. Travelling with someone else was like a drug, because the moment he was alone, like he was now, he would turn in on himself and simply crumble. It was a way to pretend he was alright because there was an air he had to maintain, a push forward, a drive to keep whoever was near him from knowing the torment that went through his head day after day. But when no-one was around to see, there was no reason to pretend. The will was gone and he found himself sinking deeper and deeper into the bitter pits of despair.
He cast a glance at a bit of lined paper he'd gathered and placed on the seat near the console, blank staves of music just waiting to be written on. But he hadn't the heart to pick up his pen and scribble, not today. The universe was singing around him while he was weeping on the inside and he was quite sure that anything he'd write would be nothing more than a great epic sob, a splattering blob of ink that seemed to have just been flung on the paper. That was no masterpiece, that wasn't even anything more than the sound of his sorrow. Instead he turned away, kneeling in front of the console and opening the door, reaching in with long fingers to coax out multicoloured cords, wiring that coiled around and seemed to lead nowhere in particular.
Pushing on his brainy specs, the Doctor set to work tweaking. There were times when maintenance kept his mind from spiralling out of control and he hoped that this was one of those instances. The pulsing hum of his sonic screwdriver made him give a faint smile, as if reminding him of the good moments that had just slipped through his fingers not too long ago. Perhaps he should've asked the TARDIS to switch on an audio track, music, dialogue from a radio programme, anything to keep the silence away.
Before he could open his mouth to ask, there was a buzzing, like an electronic device had just been switched on, giving a few snaps of static before warming up enough to begin. Except that nothing sounded in the silence. In fact, the Doctor could feel the silence itself buzzing in the cavities of his ear, echoing in his head until it was practically deafening. As the Doctor peered into the wire strewn crawlspace under the console, there was a sigh.
Oh, Doctor...
He was hearing things again, as he frequently did whenever he was alone. The Doctor was haunted by sighs whenever there was silence, though the way the syllables fell so perfectly in his mind made the stinging in his chest feel even more ominous. Only one being could ever say his name like that, so particularly, so full of arrogance and disapproval. He frowned as he leaned even further into the base of the console, this time pointing his sonic screwdriver at a bundle of wires, face illuminated with blue light.
Oh, Doctor... Came the sigh again. Wait until you see what I'm going to do to her.
The Doctor paused, screwdriver shutting off as he was immediately bathed in semi-darkness. Usually the sighs didn't prolong themselves, and they didn't ever seem to begin a conversation, either. He squinted, crouching low and remaining perfectly still to see whether or not he would hear the sigh again.
You'll be so angry with me. Cannibalizing what we made together. What you took. What you ran away from me with. You'll be sorry.
He tried to get his head out of the console door so quickly that the Doctor was quite amazed with himself after he'd managed to get free without a knot on his head to show for it. His brown eyes blinked around, surveying the walls of the TARDIS, lights the only thing shining back at him until he spotted it. In the corner, flickering as it shone green, blue, turquoise, and aqua, as far from opaque as it could be without compromising the fact that it had form, was a hologram. The Master stood, lined and wavering from time to time, smartly dressed in his suit and tie, looking up at the console as if the Doctor was nowhere to be seen.
The Doctor rose from where he'd been crouching, perplexed momentarily, unsure of what he was seeing. Here was a hologram of the Master, seemingly from when he'd rewired the TARDIS, creating a paradox machine that caused such chaos during his reign as Prime Minister of Great Britain. But how had this happened? Surely the Master hadn't meant to create an image of himself. Or had he? The Doctor dared not say anything, not yet. Instead he watched with both hearts slamming against his chest as the holographic image crossed his arms, considering his next move.
He didn't have to speak; the hologram turned his head to regard the Doctor with all the curiosity and arrogance he'd had as a child before they'd entered the Academy together. Are you angry? He asked simply, looking as if the idea of the Doctor being upset was something to be excited over. The Master would never allow himself to be excited so quickly, though, and his face held the same calm reserve the Doctor had come to know so well.
'No,' the Doctor muttered in return, hands slipping into his pockets as he swallowed. He watched as the hologram frowned, apparently just as unexpecting of his answer as the Master would have been. There would be a setting of the jaw followed by a displeased pursing of his lips as he tugged gently at the knot in his tie, giving his neck a little tilt, as if anticipating a pop of his spine while he decided what to do next. It happened just as he thought it would, within seconds. He knew the Master so well that it pained him to watch this hologram.
No anger? Ever the sanctimonious one, aren't we, Doctor? Asked the hologram bitterly. Does nothing I do make you angry?
It was the Doctor's turn to look a bit off-guard, not having expected the Master's hologram to ask him something so openly. He looked up at the glowing blue rods suspended from the middle of the TARDIS console as he thought. 'Not angry, no. Though I'm sure I've done quite a few things to upset you, haven't I?' The Doctor raised an eyebrow at the hologram. There was no need to go into his offenses further, both knew what he was referring to, as referenced by the fact that the Master's form knitted his brows, frown lines deeply etched onto his face as he seemed to seethe silently before him.
You left me, the hologram insisted, looking so bitter he was all but spitting his words as if each one had personally done him some offense.
'And now you've gone and left me,' the Doctor pointed out as an almost tangible melancholy drenched his tone. There was a confused look from the hologram, who obviously had no idea just what his flesh and blood self had been through after converting the TARDIS.
What do you mean, I've gone and left you? He asked, a familiar bite present in his voice. The Master always seemed to be on the edge of defensiveness whenever he didn't seem to understand what the Doctor was talking about, as if it was gravely upsetting for the Time Lord to know more about something than he did.
'You died,' the Doctor said with such finality that he had to take a moment to rasp in a lung full of air. He wasn't one to show emotion and having being betrayed so by his voice which broke when he'd uttered his last two words, was surprising. 'You chose to die rather than regenerate because you didn't want to be stuck with me forever.'
The Master's hologram smirked, looking as smug as ever as the Doctor relayed this information. He looked as if he were lording over a kingdom he'd just recently oppressed and smothered under his shiny Italian leather shoes, as if he were gloating that he'd completely decimated everything good in the universe. Of course I did, he said. Did you think I was honestly going to resign myself to your capture so easily? After almost nine hundred years one would think you'd be expecting a better game of chase by now.
There was a frown from the other Time Lord, one that seemed to balance on the line between disgusted and annoyed. 'I can't give chase if you're dead,' he returned, with a faint hint of dejection.
Well, looks like I win, then, smirked the hologram.
Hearing those words all over again, seeing the Master's eyebrows jump as he realized his ultimate triumph made an unavoidable choking sob escape the Doctor's throat for a split second, sorrow cutting off in a staccato note before returning to mere silence and reservation. 'Yeah,' he said in a strained voice, rubbing one of his eyes to keep from displaying too much emotion again, 'yeah, you win.'
The Master's hologram rounded the console, staring at it thoughtfully, as if to admire the work that he hadn't yet done in the sliver of time he'd been taken from. It was good, though, wasn't it? His hand reached out as if to touch the TARDIS gently but never quite made contact as his image bent and danced like waves in the ocean on a blustery day. He evened out after his hand once again fell to his side.
Rather than answering, the Doctor merely sighed. There was no reason to even acknowledge his question or dignify it with a response. Overall it didn't matter whether he agreed; they were destined to share differing view points on things forever. The Master knew this as well as the Doctor; there was no need to put it into words. Neither was it prudent to vocalize half a dozen other things that were on his mind. Everything tended to be unspoken between them and now was no exception.
I've never forgiven you for what you did, you know, said the Master's hologram as if he'd suddenly realized he had something else in his mental arsenal to hold over the Doctor's head. I've never forgiven you for leaving me.
'I've never forgiven myself, either,' the Doctor admitted with a sorrowful nod, hands still thrust deep in his pockets. He looked as if he'd just been caught, exposed and unable to keep the truth hidden any longer. The Time Lord raised his head to look curiously at the hologram. 'But why don't you forgive me?' It wasn't something he'd had to ask, it was simply something he'd taken a chance in uttering, now that he had the opportunity. The Doctor knew the Master wasn't one for forgiveness; that in itself was answer enough. He'd hated being forgiven by the other Time Lord for everything he'd done; so much so that the Master had tried to all but claw his way out of the Valiant that fateful day he'd died in the Doctor's arms.
We could've had everything. It could've been you and me, the hologram said, and you threw that away.
The Doctor was surprised he'd gotten an answer, eyes slightly wide in shock. It was a rather selfish thing to say, in retrospect, but then, he hadn't expected anything less from the Master. 'I did,' he agreed, 'I did throw it away. And it was,' the Doctor trailed, swallowing with great effort as he murmured something he never had before, 'so foolish of me. I never should've done that. And I've always regretted it.' He stood, looking as if he'd been completely stripped bare, exposed and vulnerable now in front of the Master's hologram. Those were words he hadn't even dared to think, much less ever let slip past his lips.
Turning, the hologram stared at him, searching the Doctor's face, eyes squinted slightly. He didn't move and made no noise, simply taking his being in, mulling him over. There was a flash in the Master's eyes and even though they were green and not brown like he remembered, the Doctor could tell they held recognition, as if his words had registered and struck a chord, that familiar look of understanding dawning over him. The hologram's face was devoid of anger or arrogance suddenly. He looked as if he knew the Doctor had been pained over his bad choice, and that he'd suffered just as much as he himself had.
At least you know what a sanctimonious fool you really are, said the hologram.
It was as close to a pardon of forgiveness as the Doctor was ever going to get from the Master. He couldn't help but feel as if the weight of the universe, which had been crushing down upon him prior to now, suddenly lifted off of his chest. There were tears in his eyes as he smiled at the hologram, giving another nod. 'Yeah, I know it quite well.'
Oh, dry your eyes and stop being so sentimental, chastised the Master's form, giving another half-annoyed smirk as he adjusted his tie. And do the TARDIS a favour and put her guts back where they belong, he said, clicking the tip of his tongue and giving a disgusted glance down at the wiring that was snaking out of the console. So messy.
The Doctor nodded, almost wanting to let a burst of laughter spring forth from his lips as he listened to the hologram's displeasure. 'It's been nice seeing you, too,' he teased, picking up the clusters of wires, giving them a good shove back inside the crawlspace.
Rolling his eyes, the hologram sighed. Do tell yourself that, Doctor, he remarked sarcastically, though the Doctor could recognize his familiar playful twinkle.
'I'll see you again,' the Doctor said confidently, giving an amused smile, his feelings of loneliness fading as he watched the irritated face of the Master screw up at the thought of him being sentimental once more.
When you rewire her wrong. Again, he rebuked. Bloody trapped on the TARDIS, just my luck. The hologram complained as he began to flicker out of view until nothing was left but the vacant control room and the silence that had threatened to overwhelm the Doctor mere moments ago.
The Doctor could feel a calm sort of resolution settle between his hearts, replacing a bit of the sting he'd been plagued with for so long. Even if he was a hologram, it had forgiven him, more or less, and that was enough for now. Just knowing that it was there with him, stuck in the wiring of the TARDIS, travelling alongside him gave the Doctor a bit of comfort he didn't have before. He gave a long, almost satisfied sigh as he slowly walked around the console, contemplating what had just happened before his eyes came to rest on the blank sheets of music just waiting to be scribbled on.
Perhaps he did feel in the mood to write. Come to think of it, there was a wonderful symphony his fingertips were just itching to write. The universe was singing all around him, after all, and his hearts had just recently joined in.