(no subject)
Something was off. Even asleep, Martha instinctively knew as much. On her best days, she was still a light sleeper, prone to waking at the slightest provocation. It made her a poor bedmate, although she tried to spare the Master as much as possible, taking care to not disturb him when she felt inclined towards a late-night walkabout.
The warm body beside her was too soft, too small, and yet when she reached a blind hand down and felt fur, her drowsy, instinctive reaction was one of reassurance. A moment later, however, it hit her: She did not and had never owned a cat, on or off the island.
Eyes snapping open, she sat straight up. Her furry bedmate was visible as a disgruntled silhouette in the half-light, and appeared less than impressed by her sudden theatrics. The cat was intensely familiar, but she couldn't place why. Being unable to remember him was the least of her worries, however, as she was becoming increasingly and alarmingly aware of the fact that she was not in the same room she'd fallen asleep in.
...and that she was white.
No, strike that. She was not only white, she was a man.
"Oh my God," she said aloud, and immediately gasped at the low rumble of her own voice. A voice she recognised much in the same way she had the cat, but wasn't entirely certain of, as it was deeper in the echo of her own head. She twisted round, eyes wide, attempting to determine her location. The Compound, it looked like. Near the clinic? She could swear that she could hear the faint, but familiar rhythmic beep of a heart monitor not far off. There wasn't a mirror handy that she could see, but as she scrambled to her feet and looked down the length of her body, she became aware of the fact that she hardly needed it. She knew this body. Intimately.
"Oh, bloody hell."
The warm body beside her was too soft, too small, and yet when she reached a blind hand down and felt fur, her drowsy, instinctive reaction was one of reassurance. A moment later, however, it hit her: She did not and had never owned a cat, on or off the island.
Eyes snapping open, she sat straight up. Her furry bedmate was visible as a disgruntled silhouette in the half-light, and appeared less than impressed by her sudden theatrics. The cat was intensely familiar, but she couldn't place why. Being unable to remember him was the least of her worries, however, as she was becoming increasingly and alarmingly aware of the fact that she was not in the same room she'd fallen asleep in.
...and that she was white.
No, strike that. She was not only white, she was a man.
"Oh my God," she said aloud, and immediately gasped at the low rumble of her own voice. A voice she recognised much in the same way she had the cat, but wasn't entirely certain of, as it was deeper in the echo of her own head. She twisted round, eyes wide, attempting to determine her location. The Compound, it looked like. Near the clinic? She could swear that she could hear the faint, but familiar rhythmic beep of a heart monitor not far off. There wasn't a mirror handy that she could see, but as she scrambled to her feet and looked down the length of her body, she became aware of the fact that she hardly needed it. She knew this body. Intimately.
"Oh, bloody hell."