(no subject)
For over a thousand years the Master had experienced more in his single allotments of regenerations than all of mankind on a single planet like Earth might experience in the entirety of their life. He had seen birth and death, and caused the latter on more occasions than he could count. Planets had burned before his eyes, and entire societies had crumbled because of his a single word he'd breathed. All of that and yet he wasn't ready to experience something that nearly every human on Earth.
The rather simple and temporary, at least as he had seen it before experience set in, pain of heartbreak.
For weeks he had thought of ways to make Sam pay for what he saw as games played. If it hadn't been for the lies, for the admission that he seemed ashamed of the most important thing the Master prided himself on rather than their same sex relationship, perhaps overcoming it all would not have been so hard for him. Instead he constantly played and replayed the events of that day, the words said - and more importantly, the words as he remembered him.
In the end he felt used, played as he heard it so often called on the telly, and the last conversation with Sam had only confirmed that pain he kept wanting to ignore. He had been little but a stepping stone to this Peter character, and Sam seemed to relish what he'd done to the Master as if it were a badge of honor.
Perhaps it was. In the end a single human had done what the Doctor never could, and entire armies had perished attempting. He had brought the Master to his knees, emotionally and mentally - and in a moment he would do it physically as well though it was not his hand that would actually flip the switch.
Human had not been a trait he had aimed for in his return. Was that what this was? Like the other Masters he had spoken to, he was broken in a way that he had never known. The other Masters were dying from their hunger, from being consumed by their own power. He was shattered by his, too human not to hurt and alien enough that he couldn't overcome it as easily as the whole of the planet seemed to do.
The watch rested heavily in his hand, warmed by his skin and yet bitterly cold at the same time. For so long it had held his true essence until he was naught but a shell of a man trying to save all of mankind. Instead the Doctor's companion had freed him from the mask of his own fear.
And now he was considering donning that mask again.
No, not considering. He had made his choice as he set the watch carefully into the Chameleon Arch, locking it in place. Despite the knowledge that there would be pain before there was peace, he made no hesitation as he lifted the arch up and settled it upon his head.
Pain arced through him, brilliant lights before his eyes - behind them - as every last cell in his body seemed to catch fire at the same time. Tiny, perfect flames that began to consume him from the inside out, eating away at all that was him, was truly a Time Lord, and channeling it into that small, innocuous bit of every day frippery.
Falling to his knees, the Master pitched forward and the arch fell from his head. Hitting the ground with a clink, the watch fell from where it was seated, rolling under the sofa and falling still in the shadows. Panting, the Master raised his head, looking about the townhouse that he knew was his home and yet didn't recognize for a moment. Everything looked new, different as if the entire world had shifted just a half a meter to the right and he was seeing things through new eyes.
Rising, he tripped over the metal frame, frowning at it without knowledge of what it was. Giving a sigh, he gathered the arch and set it on a shelf, turning it slightly to the side as one might a piece of art, setting it just so. Giving a nod, he turned away to go back to what he'd been doing before he fell.
Yet try as he might, he couldn't quite remember what it was he'd been doing.
The rather simple and temporary, at least as he had seen it before experience set in, pain of heartbreak.
For weeks he had thought of ways to make Sam pay for what he saw as games played. If it hadn't been for the lies, for the admission that he seemed ashamed of the most important thing the Master prided himself on rather than their same sex relationship, perhaps overcoming it all would not have been so hard for him. Instead he constantly played and replayed the events of that day, the words said - and more importantly, the words as he remembered him.
In the end he felt used, played as he heard it so often called on the telly, and the last conversation with Sam had only confirmed that pain he kept wanting to ignore. He had been little but a stepping stone to this Peter character, and Sam seemed to relish what he'd done to the Master as if it were a badge of honor.
Perhaps it was. In the end a single human had done what the Doctor never could, and entire armies had perished attempting. He had brought the Master to his knees, emotionally and mentally - and in a moment he would do it physically as well though it was not his hand that would actually flip the switch.
Human had not been a trait he had aimed for in his return. Was that what this was? Like the other Masters he had spoken to, he was broken in a way that he had never known. The other Masters were dying from their hunger, from being consumed by their own power. He was shattered by his, too human not to hurt and alien enough that he couldn't overcome it as easily as the whole of the planet seemed to do.
The watch rested heavily in his hand, warmed by his skin and yet bitterly cold at the same time. For so long it had held his true essence until he was naught but a shell of a man trying to save all of mankind. Instead the Doctor's companion had freed him from the mask of his own fear.
And now he was considering donning that mask again.
No, not considering. He had made his choice as he set the watch carefully into the Chameleon Arch, locking it in place. Despite the knowledge that there would be pain before there was peace, he made no hesitation as he lifted the arch up and settled it upon his head.
Pain arced through him, brilliant lights before his eyes - behind them - as every last cell in his body seemed to catch fire at the same time. Tiny, perfect flames that began to consume him from the inside out, eating away at all that was him, was truly a Time Lord, and channeling it into that small, innocuous bit of every day frippery.
Falling to his knees, the Master pitched forward and the arch fell from his head. Hitting the ground with a clink, the watch fell from where it was seated, rolling under the sofa and falling still in the shadows. Panting, the Master raised his head, looking about the townhouse that he knew was his home and yet didn't recognize for a moment. Everything looked new, different as if the entire world had shifted just a half a meter to the right and he was seeing things through new eyes.
Rising, he tripped over the metal frame, frowning at it without knowledge of what it was. Giving a sigh, he gathered the arch and set it on a shelf, turning it slightly to the side as one might a piece of art, setting it just so. Giving a nod, he turned away to go back to what he'd been doing before he fell.
Yet try as he might, he couldn't quite remember what it was he'd been doing.