muse_shuffle; After the Storm
You question me // “Can you ride anything?” // Lord do you mean like your mood swings
(Tori Amos - ‘Snow Cherries From France’)
The crunch of grass was soft under the Doctor’s trainers, though it seemed unbearably loud to his ears. What sounded like humming crickets were the only noise to accompany his foot falls. He wasn’t really sure what sort of bug they were. They could have been anything. He had only checked to make sure the planet was very devoid of developed life before landing. Crickets were all right. Probably. The most 'he' could do would be to stomp them into the ground. Given his mood the last time the Doctor saw him, it was entirely possible that he had already tried it.
‘He’ was sitting on a large rock. The fields around him were brittle and tall, swaying in the night breeze. The skies were clear, expanding around them as an endless blanket of stars. The Doctor couldn’t tell where the Master was looking. He wasn’t sure if he should even say anything. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to be here yet.
The Master didn’t move. The Doctor frowned and bounced a bit on his heels, hearing the crush of the grass. The insect hum continued to buzz but the Master didn’t so much as flinch. The Doctor nudged a rock, kicking it towards a tree. It hit with a dull thunk.
One minute.
Five minutes.
Fifteen minutes.
“Master?”
Another minute.
Too soft. Too timid. Too anxious.
The Doctor cleared his throat, forcing strength and authority that he wasn't even sure he'd ever had. “Master.”
Even the breeze didn’t seem to touch the sitting man. He considered walking closer. He even considered grabbing him. But several hours ago he’d found himself with two broken ribs and a broken arm from trying to talk to the Master. Best not to try anything sudden this time.
“You can’t ignore me forever.”
But he was. Or maybe he honestly couldn’t hear him. Maybe he didn’t want to. The Doctor took a few cautious steps forward. He went to put his hands into his pockets and winced when his right arm protested with pain. Instead he crossed them loosely.
“I wanted to check up on you.” He still couldn’t see the Master’s face. Yet he made no move to try to see it. “Well, no, it’s not like that. A bit, maybe. But you stormed off like that so what was I supposed to do? I couldn‘t very well leave you. I gave you some time, didn‘t I? And, well, didn‘t see you come back, so I went to find you and here we are, eh?”
He waited. No response.
“I sat by this lake for a bit while I was waiting,” he continued. “Saw the oddest fish too. It had rainbow stripes! Like a real rainbow. Actually, it looked a bit like a clown fish but only a rainbow fish. It was quite small, though. Then again, there wasn’t anything bigger than my hand in that lake. I checked. I did have a lot of time on my hands.”
The breeze picked up, taking the edges of the Master’s jacket with it. The Master made no move to fix his clothes. The gathering darkness enclosed on them, seamlessly blending with the Master’s black and the rock’s silhouette as though he was part of it all.
“But that’s really the extent of the life I’ve seen. Haven’t even seen the…the whatever is making that humming sound. Might be a cricket-like insect. I don’t think this planet develops too much, actually. Just a feeling. But it’s a rather strong feeling,” the Doctor spoke to the Master’s back. “Although I do think this place gets settled eventually. By the Kegtarads, matter of fact. They’ve got that war in a hundred years or so that makes their planet uninhabitable and this is the nearest planet they can get to with the technology of the time. Solar sails, you know, propelled through space with lasers positioned at specific planetary intervals…”
He trailed off. The Master still wasn’t moving. The crickets hummed and chirped, the breeze blew past louder and stronger and no amount of scraping his trainers across the ground was getting the Master to listen to him.
The Doctor sat down against the rock, cradling his broken arm. The ribs were healing fine but the arm still felt stiff and even flicking his fingers caused a painful stretch. With a sigh, he rested it against his chest and tilted his head up to the sky. He named the stars under his breath, one by one, feeling his arm mending as the time passed on into the night.
An hour of silence dragged on and finally the Doctor gave up. He stood, still holding his arm and began to walk away.
He stopped at the edge of the trees and glanced back. The Master was still amidst the blowing weeds, far away from the Doctor, no matter how close he really was.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, too quietly for the Master to hear.
With a bow of his head, he faded into the night.
(Tori Amos - ‘Snow Cherries From France’)
The crunch of grass was soft under the Doctor’s trainers, though it seemed unbearably loud to his ears. What sounded like humming crickets were the only noise to accompany his foot falls. He wasn’t really sure what sort of bug they were. They could have been anything. He had only checked to make sure the planet was very devoid of developed life before landing. Crickets were all right. Probably. The most 'he' could do would be to stomp them into the ground. Given his mood the last time the Doctor saw him, it was entirely possible that he had already tried it.
‘He’ was sitting on a large rock. The fields around him were brittle and tall, swaying in the night breeze. The skies were clear, expanding around them as an endless blanket of stars. The Doctor couldn’t tell where the Master was looking. He wasn’t sure if he should even say anything. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to be here yet.
The Master didn’t move. The Doctor frowned and bounced a bit on his heels, hearing the crush of the grass. The insect hum continued to buzz but the Master didn’t so much as flinch. The Doctor nudged a rock, kicking it towards a tree. It hit with a dull thunk.
One minute.
Five minutes.
Fifteen minutes.
“Master?”
Another minute.
Too soft. Too timid. Too anxious.
The Doctor cleared his throat, forcing strength and authority that he wasn't even sure he'd ever had. “Master.”
Even the breeze didn’t seem to touch the sitting man. He considered walking closer. He even considered grabbing him. But several hours ago he’d found himself with two broken ribs and a broken arm from trying to talk to the Master. Best not to try anything sudden this time.
“You can’t ignore me forever.”
But he was. Or maybe he honestly couldn’t hear him. Maybe he didn’t want to. The Doctor took a few cautious steps forward. He went to put his hands into his pockets and winced when his right arm protested with pain. Instead he crossed them loosely.
“I wanted to check up on you.” He still couldn’t see the Master’s face. Yet he made no move to try to see it. “Well, no, it’s not like that. A bit, maybe. But you stormed off like that so what was I supposed to do? I couldn‘t very well leave you. I gave you some time, didn‘t I? And, well, didn‘t see you come back, so I went to find you and here we are, eh?”
He waited. No response.
“I sat by this lake for a bit while I was waiting,” he continued. “Saw the oddest fish too. It had rainbow stripes! Like a real rainbow. Actually, it looked a bit like a clown fish but only a rainbow fish. It was quite small, though. Then again, there wasn’t anything bigger than my hand in that lake. I checked. I did have a lot of time on my hands.”
The breeze picked up, taking the edges of the Master’s jacket with it. The Master made no move to fix his clothes. The gathering darkness enclosed on them, seamlessly blending with the Master’s black and the rock’s silhouette as though he was part of it all.
“But that’s really the extent of the life I’ve seen. Haven’t even seen the…the whatever is making that humming sound. Might be a cricket-like insect. I don’t think this planet develops too much, actually. Just a feeling. But it’s a rather strong feeling,” the Doctor spoke to the Master’s back. “Although I do think this place gets settled eventually. By the Kegtarads, matter of fact. They’ve got that war in a hundred years or so that makes their planet uninhabitable and this is the nearest planet they can get to with the technology of the time. Solar sails, you know, propelled through space with lasers positioned at specific planetary intervals…”
He trailed off. The Master still wasn’t moving. The crickets hummed and chirped, the breeze blew past louder and stronger and no amount of scraping his trainers across the ground was getting the Master to listen to him.
The Doctor sat down against the rock, cradling his broken arm. The ribs were healing fine but the arm still felt stiff and even flicking his fingers caused a painful stretch. With a sigh, he rested it against his chest and tilted his head up to the sky. He named the stars under his breath, one by one, feeling his arm mending as the time passed on into the night.
An hour of silence dragged on and finally the Doctor gave up. He stood, still holding his arm and began to walk away.
He stopped at the edge of the trees and glanced back. The Master was still amidst the blowing weeds, far away from the Doctor, no matter how close he really was.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, too quietly for the Master to hear.
With a bow of his head, he faded into the night.