Fic: Quiet Light
Quiet Light
by me, doctorpancakes
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Jo Grant, Delgado!Master
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1522
Warnings: feelings
Author's Note: Ficmas gift for tumblr user greyhoundone, who wanted Jo and Delgado working together. It's not as fluffy as it was meant to be.
The prison cell was damp. So damp, as a matter of fact, that Jo Grant could feel a golden halo of frizz forming around the edges of her hair, and she could swear that she could see the faint plumes of her breath puffing outwards into the chill air. She could not tell if her skin and clothes were actually wet, or just that kind of cold. The single, tiny cell window looked out into passing space - which, it turned out, provided scarcely sufficient light on its own. She let out a dejected sigh, bracing herself as best she could against the cold. It felt as though she had been tossed unceremoniously into a root cellar, and left to rot. Honestly, she thought, even prisoners deserved halfway decent central heating, surely.
Just then, she heard the distinct shuffling of a pair of feet from the shadowed corner of the cell.
“Who’s there?” she whispered tentatively, well aware whoever it might have been was as likely as anything to be dangerous.
A moment passed in silence, and then a figure stepped slightly forward, just enough to be seen.
“Miss Grant?” came a perplexed, but familiar voice.
The Master, she thought. Just her luck.
“Oh, it’s you,” she pouted. Why couldn’t it at least have been someone useful like the Brigadier? “What are you doing here?”
“It’s a pleasure to see you as well, Miss Grant,” the Master replied, stepping into the light - what little of it there was. “I could not have asked for a more charming cellmate.”
“Thanks,” said Jo with a dismissive huff. “The feeling’s mutual, I guess.”
“I’m surprised the Doctor hasn’t sprung to your rescue already,” observed the Master, seating himself on the cell’s single uncomfortable bench. “Venusian karate-chopping his way past the guards and spiriting you back to his TARDIS just in the nick of time, though I don’t suppose he’d be so kind as to let me tag along, as it were. What’s taking him so long, I wonder?”
The Master patted the empty bench space beside him with a gloved hand. Jo grudgingly accepted the invitation, though the surface of the bench was hard, and even colder than the air around them.
“If only,” she sighed. “He’s in negotiations with the Grand Curators for at least three days, with a permission slip from the Time Lords. Sequestered in a meeting room, no one’s allowed in or out. Anyway, while he’s doing that, I was meant to be infiltrating the resistance group to gather information on their assassination plans. But then the headquarters was raided by the police, and it turns out that my being a time-travelling UNIT agent from another planet didn’t strike them as a plausible defence, and, well, here I am.”
“I see,” replied the Master.
“It was just supposed to be so easy, that’s the thing,” Jo continued, crossing her arms for warmth. “The Doctor probably thinks I’m right now contentedly relaxing by the pool and sipping margaritas after a job well done.”
“How very foolish,” said the Master.
“Well, thank you very much,” she protested.
“Oh, not you,” he elaborated. “The Doctor. He should never have underestimated the efficiency of the planet’s police force.”
“Yeah, well, hindsight, and all that,” shrugged Jo. “Dare I ask what you’re in for?”
“Suffice it to say that it’s a long story,” replied the Master, with a wistful grin. “My dear Miss Grant, you’re shivering.”
“Am I?” she asked. She was. She had been so caught up in replaying the events that had led to her imprisonment, she had barely even noticed. “Well, it’s not exactly a sauna in here, is it?”
“Hardly,” he agreed, glancing disapprovingly at their surroundings. “Take my coat.”
There was a rustle of cloth, and before she could protest, Jo found a warm jacket being draped over her shoulders.
“Won’t you get cold?” she asked, almost unsure why it was worth worrying about someone she so often found herself defending the planet against.
“I’ll be quite all right, thank you.” He nodded graciously in her direction, and she accepted the gift with a sigh, shrugging the jacket tighter around her.
The stars pushed lazily past the window, as though whoever was driving had no intention of arriving anywhere on time. The quiet of the cell left Jo with far too much time to think, and far too many things to think about. She worried terribly for the Doctor; not because he could not handle danger, but she knew he would worry for her. At least the assassination had been stopped, she thought, albeit not in the way they had planned. She hoped he would be safe without her protection.
The Master was the first to speak again, after what felt like such a long silence. She should not have found the Master to be such a comforting presence, but in spite of herself, she did. There was something almost charming about him at times, when he was not madly orchestrating her world’s demise. She hugged the jacket tightly around her, relishing the little warmth it provided. “There’s something I think we need to address, Miss Grant,” he said.
His words snapped her from her grim ruminations. She sighed, and, almost without meaning to, leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. He did not flinch or object; rather, he simply placed an arm around her waist as though it were the most logical thing in the world, and continued.
“It would be in both our best interests to coordinate an escape, wouldn’t you say?” he asked.
“You mean, you want to team up? Aren’t I on the wrong side?” she replied.
“I’m not wholly adverse to the idea of working together, you know,” he grinned, “that is, when it suits me.”
“When it suits you,” she scoffed. “Why not just work together? Why not just try to be... friends? Would it be so horrible?”
“Perhaps not, but it doesn’t suit me,” elaborated the Master. “It suits the Doctor to work with UNIT, for now, but do you think he would have stayed for so long if he had had a choice?”
“Of course,” replied Jo, but it gave her pause. “Wouldn’t he?”
“It’s not in his nature to stay in one place,” he said, stroking her hair. “Just as it’s not in mine to cooperate.”
“And you can’t change that, can you,” she sighed.
“Only for a little while, my dear,” he said softly, placing a kiss against her temple, “but not forever.”
She turned to look at him: there was a sadness behind his dark eyes, as though they told of endless unspeakable stories, things she could not understand. She kissed his cheek, and drew him gently into a tight embrace.
Perhaps the Master was right, she thought: the Doctor’s purpose was to explore. If the TARDIS was up and running properly, would he stay, or would he take off to who knows where without so much as a goodbye party, never to be seen again? Would he take her with him? It was moot, she supposed, since the TARDIS only seemed to go anywhere when the Time Lords decided to grant him a day pass. She wondered if he would find them, or if they would find him.
The Master felt warm, or at least, warmer than the room. He smelled faintly of dark smoke and spice, and something almost sweet, like soft honey. As they leaned quietly into each other, she felt - not quite safe, she thought, but something like it. She could hear his hearts beating, the same double thump as the Doctor’s.
“So, what’s your escape plan?” she whispered, resting her arms against his shoulders.
“At some point in the next few hours, a guard will arrive with food,” he explained. “I shall persuade him not to pursue us, you take his keys, we quietly slip out and back to my TARDIS in the ship’s cargo hold. Quite simple, really.”
“That’s it?” Jo blinked.
“That, as you say, is it,” replied the Master.
“And in the meantime?” she asked.
“We wait,” he said. “You really should try to rest. I’ll let you know when it’s time to get to work.”
She closed her eyes as the Master quietly stroked her hair, uncertain as to what sort of meaningful rest she could get in their damp little room.
“What will you do, once we’re out?” she asked, sleepily.
“Well, I suppose, as a token of my apology for this whole sorry mess, I could not kill you once we’ve escaped,” he said wryly.
“That’s rather a given though, isn’t it?” she replied, patting him gently on the arm. “But if you wanted, you could take me out for dinner.”
“A night on the town with Miss Josephine Grant,” he mused, taking her hand. “Why, it would be my pleasure.”
by me, doctorpancakes
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Jo Grant, Delgado!Master
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1522
Warnings: feelings
Author's Note: Ficmas gift for tumblr user greyhoundone, who wanted Jo and Delgado working together. It's not as fluffy as it was meant to be.
The prison cell was damp. So damp, as a matter of fact, that Jo Grant could feel a golden halo of frizz forming around the edges of her hair, and she could swear that she could see the faint plumes of her breath puffing outwards into the chill air. She could not tell if her skin and clothes were actually wet, or just that kind of cold. The single, tiny cell window looked out into passing space - which, it turned out, provided scarcely sufficient light on its own. She let out a dejected sigh, bracing herself as best she could against the cold. It felt as though she had been tossed unceremoniously into a root cellar, and left to rot. Honestly, she thought, even prisoners deserved halfway decent central heating, surely.
Just then, she heard the distinct shuffling of a pair of feet from the shadowed corner of the cell.
“Who’s there?” she whispered tentatively, well aware whoever it might have been was as likely as anything to be dangerous.
A moment passed in silence, and then a figure stepped slightly forward, just enough to be seen.
“Miss Grant?” came a perplexed, but familiar voice.
The Master, she thought. Just her luck.
“Oh, it’s you,” she pouted. Why couldn’t it at least have been someone useful like the Brigadier? “What are you doing here?”
“It’s a pleasure to see you as well, Miss Grant,” the Master replied, stepping into the light - what little of it there was. “I could not have asked for a more charming cellmate.”
“Thanks,” said Jo with a dismissive huff. “The feeling’s mutual, I guess.”
“I’m surprised the Doctor hasn’t sprung to your rescue already,” observed the Master, seating himself on the cell’s single uncomfortable bench. “Venusian karate-chopping his way past the guards and spiriting you back to his TARDIS just in the nick of time, though I don’t suppose he’d be so kind as to let me tag along, as it were. What’s taking him so long, I wonder?”
The Master patted the empty bench space beside him with a gloved hand. Jo grudgingly accepted the invitation, though the surface of the bench was hard, and even colder than the air around them.
“If only,” she sighed. “He’s in negotiations with the Grand Curators for at least three days, with a permission slip from the Time Lords. Sequestered in a meeting room, no one’s allowed in or out. Anyway, while he’s doing that, I was meant to be infiltrating the resistance group to gather information on their assassination plans. But then the headquarters was raided by the police, and it turns out that my being a time-travelling UNIT agent from another planet didn’t strike them as a plausible defence, and, well, here I am.”
“I see,” replied the Master.
“It was just supposed to be so easy, that’s the thing,” Jo continued, crossing her arms for warmth. “The Doctor probably thinks I’m right now contentedly relaxing by the pool and sipping margaritas after a job well done.”
“How very foolish,” said the Master.
“Well, thank you very much,” she protested.
“Oh, not you,” he elaborated. “The Doctor. He should never have underestimated the efficiency of the planet’s police force.”
“Yeah, well, hindsight, and all that,” shrugged Jo. “Dare I ask what you’re in for?”
“Suffice it to say that it’s a long story,” replied the Master, with a wistful grin. “My dear Miss Grant, you’re shivering.”
“Am I?” she asked. She was. She had been so caught up in replaying the events that had led to her imprisonment, she had barely even noticed. “Well, it’s not exactly a sauna in here, is it?”
“Hardly,” he agreed, glancing disapprovingly at their surroundings. “Take my coat.”
There was a rustle of cloth, and before she could protest, Jo found a warm jacket being draped over her shoulders.
“Won’t you get cold?” she asked, almost unsure why it was worth worrying about someone she so often found herself defending the planet against.
“I’ll be quite all right, thank you.” He nodded graciously in her direction, and she accepted the gift with a sigh, shrugging the jacket tighter around her.
The stars pushed lazily past the window, as though whoever was driving had no intention of arriving anywhere on time. The quiet of the cell left Jo with far too much time to think, and far too many things to think about. She worried terribly for the Doctor; not because he could not handle danger, but she knew he would worry for her. At least the assassination had been stopped, she thought, albeit not in the way they had planned. She hoped he would be safe without her protection.
The Master was the first to speak again, after what felt like such a long silence. She should not have found the Master to be such a comforting presence, but in spite of herself, she did. There was something almost charming about him at times, when he was not madly orchestrating her world’s demise. She hugged the jacket tightly around her, relishing the little warmth it provided. “There’s something I think we need to address, Miss Grant,” he said.
His words snapped her from her grim ruminations. She sighed, and, almost without meaning to, leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. He did not flinch or object; rather, he simply placed an arm around her waist as though it were the most logical thing in the world, and continued.
“It would be in both our best interests to coordinate an escape, wouldn’t you say?” he asked.
“You mean, you want to team up? Aren’t I on the wrong side?” she replied.
“I’m not wholly adverse to the idea of working together, you know,” he grinned, “that is, when it suits me.”
“When it suits you,” she scoffed. “Why not just work together? Why not just try to be... friends? Would it be so horrible?”
“Perhaps not, but it doesn’t suit me,” elaborated the Master. “It suits the Doctor to work with UNIT, for now, but do you think he would have stayed for so long if he had had a choice?”
“Of course,” replied Jo, but it gave her pause. “Wouldn’t he?”
“It’s not in his nature to stay in one place,” he said, stroking her hair. “Just as it’s not in mine to cooperate.”
“And you can’t change that, can you,” she sighed.
“Only for a little while, my dear,” he said softly, placing a kiss against her temple, “but not forever.”
She turned to look at him: there was a sadness behind his dark eyes, as though they told of endless unspeakable stories, things she could not understand. She kissed his cheek, and drew him gently into a tight embrace.
Perhaps the Master was right, she thought: the Doctor’s purpose was to explore. If the TARDIS was up and running properly, would he stay, or would he take off to who knows where without so much as a goodbye party, never to be seen again? Would he take her with him? It was moot, she supposed, since the TARDIS only seemed to go anywhere when the Time Lords decided to grant him a day pass. She wondered if he would find them, or if they would find him.
The Master felt warm, or at least, warmer than the room. He smelled faintly of dark smoke and spice, and something almost sweet, like soft honey. As they leaned quietly into each other, she felt - not quite safe, she thought, but something like it. She could hear his hearts beating, the same double thump as the Doctor’s.
“So, what’s your escape plan?” she whispered, resting her arms against his shoulders.
“At some point in the next few hours, a guard will arrive with food,” he explained. “I shall persuade him not to pursue us, you take his keys, we quietly slip out and back to my TARDIS in the ship’s cargo hold. Quite simple, really.”
“That’s it?” Jo blinked.
“That, as you say, is it,” replied the Master.
“And in the meantime?” she asked.
“We wait,” he said. “You really should try to rest. I’ll let you know when it’s time to get to work.”
She closed her eyes as the Master quietly stroked her hair, uncertain as to what sort of meaningful rest she could get in their damp little room.
“What will you do, once we’re out?” she asked, sleepily.
“Well, I suppose, as a token of my apology for this whole sorry mess, I could not kill you once we’ve escaped,” he said wryly.
“That’s rather a given though, isn’t it?” she replied, patting him gently on the arm. “But if you wanted, you could take me out for dinner.”
“A night on the town with Miss Josephine Grant,” he mused, taking her hand. “Why, it would be my pleasure.”