Sturdy digits made callused by ferocious mechanical labor now grace the keys of the grand piano once played by Missy inside the Vault. They rest there, ghosting over notes, until a melancholic, tender melody streams forth. The Master sits there on board the TARDIS and croons, in a competently pleasant, soft second tenor, which startlingly lacks grandstanding of any sort.
“In every heart there is a room A sanctuary safe and strong To heal the wounds from lovers past Until a new one comes along.
“I spoke to you in cautious tones You answered me with no pretense And still I feel I said too much My silence is my self defense.”
He pauses mid song to catch the Doctor’s eye, with contrition and something more remarkable still: meekness.
“And every time I’ve held a rose It seems I only felt the thorns And so it goes, and so it goes And so will you soon I suppose. But if my silence made you leave Then that would be my worst mistake So I will share this room with you And you can have these hearts to break.”
He swallows hard.
“And this is why my eyes are closed It’s just as well for all I’ve seen And so it goes, and so it goes And you’re the only one who knows.”
The music swells.
“So I would choose to be with you That’s if the choice were mine to make But you can make decisions too And you can have this heart to break
“And so it goes, and so it goes And you’re the only one who knows.”
The music had drawn the Doctor in, initially- that gorgeous tinkling sound of keys finally being played once more after laying silent and gathering dust. It was gentle, almost mournful in the way the notes filled the air and drifted through it straight into her ears… into her hearts. The TARDIS had encouraged her to approach the Vault, the sight of which gave her more than a little trepidation. Too long it had been since that dreadful thing had been filled- too long since it hadn’t been a part of the ship itself.
Yet there she found herself, leaning against the metallic framework and staring, enraptured, at the Keeper of her hearts as he began to both play and sing. She remained silent, a swell of devotion wrapped in contentment dissolving into her blood and causing her entire body to grow warm. When he paused and caught her eye she felt that warmth blossom onto her flesh, turning her skin an appropriate color in accordance with the feeling deep inside.
The corner of her mouth tilts up, but it isn’t amusement in her eyes- it’s acceptance. It’s her taking every single word as seriously as he’s singing them, and as the song continues she finds her feet once again moving of their own volition. Before long she’s standing next to the piano alongside him, facing him, never once taking her eyes off of him- barely blinking, as it were. Both hands fold atop the dusty black instrument as the music swells, and moisture springs to her eyes as the song ends and leaves them both in silence that echoes the meaning and sounds even after they’ve gone.
She stands there a moment before slowly joining him on the piano bench, swallowing thickly as her own hands lift to hover fingertips over the keys. It seems only natural to her that she should begin to play, the notes gentle and a little faster than the ones he’d played, but no less haunting. Her eyes gaze down at the keys, at her hands as she begins to sing, voice just as gentle as the notes and wavering softly from the emotion he’s already brought up inside of her.
“I know I wasn’t there When you needed me the most I know I didn’t care And was afraid to get so close Tonight it’s getting hard to fall asleep Cos it’s becomming clear that I broke all into pieces And I cannot reverse it So I’ve got one more thing to say…
“I’m sorry for your pain I’m sorry for your tears For all the little things I didn’t know I’m sorry for the words I didn’t say But what I still do I’m still loving you.”
She takes a breath, her eyes closing and that moisture slipping down her cheeks as she continues.
“I know I let you wait And been away for far too long But now I can relate To everything that I did wrong I stop breathing when I think I’m losing you And there’ll be no excuse So I am on my knees, so listen please Let me hold your hand once again.”
It’s here that she finally looks at him, is finally able to do so, and as she meets his eye he will see the affection, the devotion, just as he always has but now.. now it’s paired with one other raw emotion: repentance.
“I’m sorry for your pain I’m sorry for your tears For all the little things I didn’t know I’m sorry for the words I didn’t say I’m sorry for the lies I’m sorry for the fights For not showing my love a dozen times I’m sorry for the things that I call mine But what I still do I’m still loving you
"I’m sorry for your pain I’m sorry for your tears For all the little things I didn’t know I’m sorry for the words I didn’t say I’m sorry for the lies I’m sorry for the fights For not showing my love a dozen times I’m sorry for the things that I call mine But what I still do I’m still loving you That’s what I will always do…”
He closes the piano lid just as she utters her final line, and shakes his head, and shakes it again, almost so violently that it should do damage to his neck and shoulders. Almost like a child banishing a poltergeist.
He shudders and it seems exorcized, the mood, the memories.
“Oh, enough,” he sighs, turns and seizes her against him. “We’re both so stupid, Doctor.”
The fingers of one hand dig into her scalp, the others into the back of her little rainbow shirt, pulling it tight, clutching a fist full of thick soft bleached hair, evidence that she is real and she is present, evidence that centuries of fruitless struggle, cycling a highway ramp with no exits, have ended.
“I love you. Say you love me. It’s that simple and that complex.”
He smiles at the ceiling.
“Aren’t you proud of me? See, I learn. I even learn fast. You know what I think you should do? What we should do?”
He peels himself off her with great effort, and rests his palms on her youthful, elfin face.
“Let’s demolish this room. Don’t ask the TARDIS to do it. Do it manually. Let’s do a … a cleanse, hm?”
A pause, as his eyes rove the room.
“Except I wanna keep the piano. I like the piano. And. I want a kangaroo. And a license to be a brain surgeon. And … maybe some Jelly Babies.”
Icarus 