The Master opens his mouth. Considers. Closes it. Opens it again.
“I have been the embodiment of your pain too many times. I don’t know … how I couldn’t have stayed, or seen it.”
That would be a kind of unforgivable that excels any and all of his present litany of crimes. Because it would be hypocrisy. The Doctor is the storm. And he who quarrels with the stormy sky cannot abide hypocrisy.
He’s still in his own nightclothes. He slides closer to his best and oldest friend.
“It’s not as if it’s anything I haven’t seen before, love.”
Many times; the change of faces does not erase all of the most poignant memories. Nothing ever could.
He takes the hand offered him and sits in silence.
“Yeah, the … hair-stroking was real,” he ventures, feebly.
And the blanket covering. And the humming, and the touch-telepathic guided meditation that wrecked Koschei because he is so telepathically permeable and naturally assumes the emotions to which he’s exposed. Especially from the one person he adores.
“You wanna … ah, try resting again? I’ve ways to block bad thoughts for you. If you. Want.”
The Doctor shakes his head. “No. I wouldn’t inflict that on you. You being here is enough.”
He edges closer and closer, knowing in his mind the very specific comfort he needs. He has just dreamed about loss and the enormity of it, and here sits the person he is absolutely terrified to lose. The Doctor knows the Master is more than capable of looking after himself and surviving in spite of everything. That doesn’t do anything to change the instinct he has to protect, to hold close what he has claimed as his own, and keep it safe from the universe. Keep him safe. His failure to do so with every one of his other friends leads to more pain each time he tries to protect someone. Finally, he sits upright properly.
“Not you,” he whispers. “I won’t lose you too.” He strokes the Master’s face, eyes glazed with exhaustion. “Can I hold you? I need to feel that you’re…safe.”
Stupid thought. The safest place for anyone is as far away from the Doctor as they can get. Is he being selfish? He falters, suddenly unsure. Eyes full of questions and self doubt search the Master’s face for any sign that he doesn’t want to be here. His mind races, ahead of itself and still partly stuck in its dream.
“Not need. You don’t have to. You don’t…owe me anything.”
God, he hates being vulnerable. He’s slipped up twice now, first with the crying and now with the admitting he needs something. What he should’ve said is I’d like to hold you. Not need. He doesn’t need anything. The Master doesn’t owe him his company or his closeness, and especially not after staying with him all night. The Doctor looks at the other side of the room, shame plastered all over his face.
But there is nothing the Doctor could have said that would have pleased the Master more, than I have a wish that only you can fulfill.
Koschei beams softly at his best friend. He looks more youthful and innocent than he has for several consecutive faces, and it has nothing to do with the roundness of his bone structure. There is neither pity nor disgust on his face as he makes one smooth motion, t-shirt, sweatpants and all, and situates himself in the Doctor’s lap.
He cups his chin and guides pale eyes up to meet dark. He doesn’t force his Theta to look long; he knows shame so well, it is his intimate friend, his motivation, his cause to chase greatness, like a greyhound chasing a stuffed rabbit.
"Oh, my sweet fool. Nothing makes me happier than this. My hearts are safe with you.”
His lips meet the Doctor’s so slightly that the kiss is nearly ticklish. Then, they press more firmly to his lover’s mouth. He pulls back, and settles himself contentedly beneath his chin, and closes his eyes.
“You are the Doctor, comprised of morning sunlight and babies’ laughter, and yes, despite this, I know that you could knee me in the nuts, drop me hard, and snap my neck if you still had the inclination. It is a fact, and I impenitently confess that i find it desperately sexy.”
“I’m sorry but did you just,essentially, call me sexy?” Somehow despite hearing every single word he said, those were the words that were processing.Any attempt to make herself look serious of course dissipated. “Since when do you ever compliment me? Is this a new thing?”
The Doctor’s bluntness staggers the Master; at the same time, it’s like cold water dousing the head of a fever victim. It’s the reality of the gulf between them: she is accustomed to unadulterated malice, to contrariness for its own merit. Not the poesy of their boyhood days. Not anymore.
“Well I … I thought I’d, ehm. Try something different.”
He hears the lameness of his words. But how the hell can he tell her that Missy left an impression? That, further, had he experienced 70 years of the Doctor’s undivided doting attention, surely he too would’ve come to the same conclusion as his future self? That he has watched this incarnation of his childhood friend from afar, taking responsibility for her faults, offering her companions the benefit of informed consent to the dangers awaiting them? That he loves her as he has only ever loved her very first face?
The timeframe for my med withdrawal is 3-4 days for the acute phase (I’m on day 3) and after that 10-14 days of milder but prolonged symptoms. I was on a very low dose of the med, and never exceeded one pill a day, sometimes every other day, when apparently some people take it 3-4 times a day or more and at double the dose I take, and for years. So I am hoping this means my withdrawal will be short. So far I haven’t had severe versions of any of the withdrawal symptoms listed, which apparently can become very dangerous and even deadly.
The point of all this is a request for patience lol while I undergo this basically without any medical assistance (lmao all the doctor said was “stop taking it, bye!” and apparently doctors are supposed to put you on downward titration and then on transition meds….). Among the symptoms I experience, are nausea, dizziness, vomiting, extreme headache, frequent urination, light and sound sensitivity, irritability, anxiety, loss of appetite and weight loss, hand tremors, depression and “surges of panic and rage” (those are fun lol).
I will do my best but if I’m not here I promise it ain’t for fun reasons lol.
Icarus 