The Doctor didn’t shift her eyes away from The Master for a second. She was concerned. Very concerned. She had only ever seen the other like this a couple of times in the past.
“Hey. It’s only me.”
With tremulous hesitation, the Master lifts his mournful eyes. He swallows audibly. He musters a grim smile.
“Yes, darling, but the trouble is, remembering a nightmare makes it all the more potent. And this was more than a nightmare. It happened.”
He leans toward her, and it isn’t pleasant. He stinks of sweat and bad breath from sick, sick from nausea, nausea from the pain in his back. Where Missy, dear, wild, beautiful, vicious Missy, left her scar. And Koschei, hunkered into an upright fetal ball, knees drawn to his chest, whispers conspiratorially to his Doctor.
“They stabilized my resurrection, in the Timelock, at a price. They did things to me, they … . rid me of the ability to tell them no, and then they punished me. Rassilon punished me. With intermittent … . sensory overload, and deprivation. With neurochemical substances. With seventy years alone. No one to talk to. The constant fear of the Drums returning, to mock me for being … once again forgettable. With you. With a hundred thousand nuanced scenarios of you bursting in to rescue me. You never came. And I have dreams. And sometimes I feel I might slice my scalp and pull it down over my face and … hide in nothingness, just to make it all stop.”
He draws a shuddering breath.
“You. You make it all stop. It’s only ever been you. That’s what I was afraid to say. The little boy who made me Death’s Dog is the woman who can save me.”
“This is Twirly. He lives with us now. Might need to do something about his upselling protocols.”
“Theta, oh my God.”
“Wha’?! He’s BRILLIANT, you’re gonna love him. And he helped save the day, so I couldn’t just leave him there in that stuffy old factory. He’s too great to be put on the shelf, plenty of life left in him.”
The Master rolls his eyes and richly laughs. His head lulls back as he broadcasts how tickled he is.
“Oh, darling. VERY well! As long as he doesn’t wheel along after me like a demented Roomba at all hours, following me into the lavatory and offering me prices on shaving gel or … or hemorrhoid cream, or something.”
He scoffs, forehead wrinkled at the extremely unpleasant mental image. He squats in front of the perpetually spinning robotic head. He tries not to shiver, with a flicker of a memory of uncontrollable Dalek high generals behaving similarly. A distant, stomach-curdling memory.
“Ey oop, Twirly. I’m probably gonna be the one performing regular maintenance on your circuitry, so. Put ‘er there, chum. With your metaphorical hand, as it were.”
He smiles his politician smile.
“Get cozy with me, because mum here is full of rousing speeches about your autonomy, sure, but can she remember to grease your joints every month?”
//I think I’m a little too emotionally tired from my mom’s ER visits and continued health crisis to watch the new episode tonight. It may sound weird, but even if I really really enjoy something, sometimes the excitement of it is “too hard” when I’m emotionally drained. I promise to watch it first thing tomorrow morning, though ❤ For now I’m gonna confine myself to drafts or maybe to just staying off the computer altogether.
//Taking mom to the ER. Depending on what happens, I may be back tomorrow, or I may not be here for a while.
//Well we are already back from the er. So far a lot to be grateful for.
Mom has an infected toe but it’s not dangerous at all yet. X rays show normalcy too, and blood labs are good.
Best of all she learned that even with her cirrhosis she can safely take Tylenol. and Vicodin. Which she’s on. And lmao. Boy is she pleasant and loopy.
Finally we learned that the er we live five minutes from is exceptional which is very relieving to me since I go to the er many times a year.
Icarus 