Communication 3
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Pairing: Master/Doctor (10)
Summary: The Master is on a rescue mission. Or at least he'd like to be.
The next week was hell. No matter how much the Master wanted to go out and do something, find the Doctor and maybe blow up one of two cities on the way, he couldn’t leave the bed. He was hurt, his useless human body refused to cooperate and the woman of the house had tied him to the bed the third time he’d tried to leave. Oh, she was so going to die! Her son, Teenan, got the thankless task of feeding him after that. To his credit, the young man looked just as embarrassed as the Master was feeling, but he was going to kill him for it anyway. Just to prove a point.
During that week reality kept changing. One morning he was awoken by the family that cared for him to join them in their prayer to Hexaha, the hero who had saved and united their world and now watched over them as their protector. That had been the third time the Master had tried to get away, and this time he did it screaming and cursing. They prayed twice each day, like they had all their life. The Master had all the memories of four different lives on this planet and none of it made any sense. The one constant was the Doctor - they where old friends from school who’d stayed in touch, they where colleges at work, the Master was a shopkeeper and the Doctor a thief who stole from him at least once a week, they where lovers. One day the Master nearly choked on his meal when he was suddenly overcome by the memory of courting his old enemy during a garden party. Whoever created these realities didn’t seem to take into consideration that he and the Doctor were actually aliens from a planet that never existed.
And whoever created these realities had a very dirty mind.
In the end the things he remembered merely proved to him that the Doctor had nothing to do with what kind of reality was created. If he had, everyone on this planet would be happy, honest and annoying and no-one would worship a guy called Hexaha. And of course the species would die, because no-one ever had sex. But whoever was responsible for this (the Master suspected a guy called Hexaha), they where using the Doctor for it. And they definitely had no idea what they where doing. As one false history was painted over the other, the Master could feel the strain in the fabric of reality. Soon it would snap and the gab would consume not only this world but the whole of time and space.
It was simple, really. The history of this world got changed until it got erased from history altogether. But other civilisations had had contact with this planet, and in that case this contact never happened. So their history got changed as well. They would fall into the hole torn by this planet and disappear, and so would all the other civilisations they had ever contacted and so on. Until everything was gone. It would take a while, but in the end there would be nothing left of the universe but a giant plane full of things that never where.
Not at all unlike what had happened during the time war.
And all the time that Master was trapped, unable to do something. The birds that where singing in the evening didn’t stop for one second when he felt reality shift once more and this time he could have sworn he heard the universe scream.
-
In the darkness he was alone.
He was more alone than he had been for a long time, his hearts trapped in the first moment after, when he’d woken up to nothing and the emptiness was so powerful he couldn’t breathe.
He didn’t hear anything. He didn’t see anything. But he felt. Everything.
He felt their hands when they touched him. He felt the needles breaking his skin and every centimetre of the tube that ran down his throat to keep him breathing. He felt it when their drugs entered his system and he felt them in his mind, making him do things he didn’t want to do. He tried to fight them but when he did they would hurt him until the pain broke his concentration and they got what they wanted. Around him he could feel the universe twisting and screaming and he screamed with it, alone, unheard.
He saw this world the way it was now, saw people he’d watched die live on happily. Saw children playing in the streets without knowing the meaning of the word ‘war’. Everyone was happy. They had finally found the peace they never had to fight for. And he was sorry. So sorry.
Another crack in the fabric of time and space burned a searing white trace through his mind and he screamed in agony but no-one heard.
-
The second week the old woman finally removed his restraints and allowed him to move around a little bit. The Master had intended to jump up and make a run for it the moment she left the room but again his body betrayed him. But there was no way he’d let himself be stopped now. He’d go, and if he had to crawl there!
Crawl where?
Well.
It occurred to the Master that in this new reality he had no idea where to look for the Doctor. So much for that.
And where ever the Doctor might be, the Master didn’t intend to appear there in his pyjamas. Standing unsteadily on his feet he looked down on himself. No pyjamas. Right.
He didn’t intend to appear there naked. After all he had more style than that.
Never having been someone to bother with modesty he made his way through the house, slightly disappointed that there where no girls he could send screaming and blushing. In fact, he was all alone. The family had gone to listen to the weekly speech of their saviour.
In the next room he found a closet full of suits. They where a bit small, but black and neat. The Master tried one, than studied his reflection in the mirror. Perfect. All he needed now was a cape.
And a goatee.
On his way to the door his gaze fell on a picture on a cupboard. It showed him and the Doctor kissing in a park, in front of a high building in the distance. He remembered when it’d been taken: it was the day he’d proposed to the Doctor. The Master grimaced. Someone was so going to suffer for this!
Now that he saw the picture he remembered other significant days of his fake lives. It seemed that pretty much all the important events had taken place either right in front of or at least in viewing distance of that building. A least all the important events concerning the Doctor. Once he’d even been shot in the park he saw in the picture, the park that in other realities didn’t even exist.
Oh, well. It was worth a try.
He considered, briefly, to kill everyone in the house before he left but didn’t do it because save for him the house was empty. After another second of thinking he stole the photo.
And limped into the sunset.
August 18, 2007
NEXT
By the way, I'll be gone for about a week now, with no connection to the internet. So the next part will have to wait, sorry.
Part 1
Part 2
Rating: PG
Pairing: Master/Doctor (10)
Summary: The Master is on a rescue mission. Or at least he'd like to be.
The next week was hell. No matter how much the Master wanted to go out and do something, find the Doctor and maybe blow up one of two cities on the way, he couldn’t leave the bed. He was hurt, his useless human body refused to cooperate and the woman of the house had tied him to the bed the third time he’d tried to leave. Oh, she was so going to die! Her son, Teenan, got the thankless task of feeding him after that. To his credit, the young man looked just as embarrassed as the Master was feeling, but he was going to kill him for it anyway. Just to prove a point.
During that week reality kept changing. One morning he was awoken by the family that cared for him to join them in their prayer to Hexaha, the hero who had saved and united their world and now watched over them as their protector. That had been the third time the Master had tried to get away, and this time he did it screaming and cursing. They prayed twice each day, like they had all their life. The Master had all the memories of four different lives on this planet and none of it made any sense. The one constant was the Doctor - they where old friends from school who’d stayed in touch, they where colleges at work, the Master was a shopkeeper and the Doctor a thief who stole from him at least once a week, they where lovers. One day the Master nearly choked on his meal when he was suddenly overcome by the memory of courting his old enemy during a garden party. Whoever created these realities didn’t seem to take into consideration that he and the Doctor were actually aliens from a planet that never existed.
And whoever created these realities had a very dirty mind.
In the end the things he remembered merely proved to him that the Doctor had nothing to do with what kind of reality was created. If he had, everyone on this planet would be happy, honest and annoying and no-one would worship a guy called Hexaha. And of course the species would die, because no-one ever had sex. But whoever was responsible for this (the Master suspected a guy called Hexaha), they where using the Doctor for it. And they definitely had no idea what they where doing. As one false history was painted over the other, the Master could feel the strain in the fabric of reality. Soon it would snap and the gab would consume not only this world but the whole of time and space.
It was simple, really. The history of this world got changed until it got erased from history altogether. But other civilisations had had contact with this planet, and in that case this contact never happened. So their history got changed as well. They would fall into the hole torn by this planet and disappear, and so would all the other civilisations they had ever contacted and so on. Until everything was gone. It would take a while, but in the end there would be nothing left of the universe but a giant plane full of things that never where.
Not at all unlike what had happened during the time war.
And all the time that Master was trapped, unable to do something. The birds that where singing in the evening didn’t stop for one second when he felt reality shift once more and this time he could have sworn he heard the universe scream.
-
In the darkness he was alone.
He was more alone than he had been for a long time, his hearts trapped in the first moment after, when he’d woken up to nothing and the emptiness was so powerful he couldn’t breathe.
He didn’t hear anything. He didn’t see anything. But he felt. Everything.
He felt their hands when they touched him. He felt the needles breaking his skin and every centimetre of the tube that ran down his throat to keep him breathing. He felt it when their drugs entered his system and he felt them in his mind, making him do things he didn’t want to do. He tried to fight them but when he did they would hurt him until the pain broke his concentration and they got what they wanted. Around him he could feel the universe twisting and screaming and he screamed with it, alone, unheard.
He saw this world the way it was now, saw people he’d watched die live on happily. Saw children playing in the streets without knowing the meaning of the word ‘war’. Everyone was happy. They had finally found the peace they never had to fight for. And he was sorry. So sorry.
Another crack in the fabric of time and space burned a searing white trace through his mind and he screamed in agony but no-one heard.
-
The second week the old woman finally removed his restraints and allowed him to move around a little bit. The Master had intended to jump up and make a run for it the moment she left the room but again his body betrayed him. But there was no way he’d let himself be stopped now. He’d go, and if he had to crawl there!
Crawl where?
Well.
It occurred to the Master that in this new reality he had no idea where to look for the Doctor. So much for that.
And where ever the Doctor might be, the Master didn’t intend to appear there in his pyjamas. Standing unsteadily on his feet he looked down on himself. No pyjamas. Right.
He didn’t intend to appear there naked. After all he had more style than that.
Never having been someone to bother with modesty he made his way through the house, slightly disappointed that there where no girls he could send screaming and blushing. In fact, he was all alone. The family had gone to listen to the weekly speech of their saviour.
In the next room he found a closet full of suits. They where a bit small, but black and neat. The Master tried one, than studied his reflection in the mirror. Perfect. All he needed now was a cape.
And a goatee.
On his way to the door his gaze fell on a picture on a cupboard. It showed him and the Doctor kissing in a park, in front of a high building in the distance. He remembered when it’d been taken: it was the day he’d proposed to the Doctor. The Master grimaced. Someone was so going to suffer for this!
Now that he saw the picture he remembered other significant days of his fake lives. It seemed that pretty much all the important events had taken place either right in front of or at least in viewing distance of that building. A least all the important events concerning the Doctor. Once he’d even been shot in the park he saw in the picture, the park that in other realities didn’t even exist.
Oh, well. It was worth a try.
He considered, briefly, to kill everyone in the house before he left but didn’t do it because save for him the house was empty. After another second of thinking he stole the photo.
And limped into the sunset.
August 18, 2007
NEXT
By the way, I'll be gone for about a week now, with no connection to the internet. So the next part will have to wait, sorry.
Part 1
Part 2