The Eleventh Doctor || Doctor Who (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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trans_92011-08-10 02:08 am
makeherblue) wrote in trans_92011-08-10 02:08 am
Hanger - TARDIS
[Takes place right after clone plot and arriving back on Stacy. After there]
“First sharks and now explosions!” The Doctor held up his ruined sonic screwdriver and turned it in the light. “I’ll have to proof against both, I suppose.”
He crossed the Hanger in long strides, expecting Otter Soother Daniel Jackson to keep up. Daniel had held himself rather well during the whole clone thing and what was more, he even saved his sonic for him! The Doctor found himself feeling rather fond of the human right this moment. Good man! Resourceful! But also being annoyingly close-mouthed about what he might have picked up from that encounter with the Other Doctor, which was surprising because he thought he knew humans and if there was anything he learned from all his time amongst them, it was they loved talking almost as much as he did! Questions in particular were their favorite, no matter how obvious or rhetorical or downright silly. Big big fan of the obvious questions. Basically they were a chatty species.
Part of the reason why he’d asked Daniel to come with him to the TARDIS.
If he was lucky, Daniel would tell him what he’d seen from that clone on his own, given enough time and company.
The Doctor was tucking the sonic back into his pocket when they came into sight of the TARDIS. He only paused for the briefest of beats as he took in the fact the old girl’s doors were wide open, positively gaping open! This wasn’t looking very looked out after and he wondered if maybe Jamie’s memory retention was failing thanks to him being an ex-dead man. Clearly the human needed a talking to! He approached cautiously, poking his head inside.
Everything in the console room looked in order, if you ignored the suspicious trail of foam cups leading away from the door and a few minute scratches on the glass which he knew for a fact hadn’t been there since he last checked. The Doctor’s lips pursed as he peered about, head weaving as he checked under the control console and then straightened. Where was Jamie? In fact, where were the rest of his friends?
“Better have a look around,” the Doctor lied, perhaps too cheerfully. “Long time away from home and I’m afraid River’s gone and organized things. I’m very specific on my organization system, I’ll have you know.”
He made a vague shooing motion at Daniel.
((So basically this is thread two, with the Doctor/Daniel/Rory jumping into a TARDIS taken over by the Master. Since the Master can switch up rooms (up to the players in the threads for what's wrong with the rooms) and trap people/shift people around, I guess assume timey-wimey things to allow different characters to stumble into each other? But yeah, I guess do subthreads for characters stumbling and we can subthread different people running into them.
I think we're looking at people in the TARDIS as: Victoria, Martha, The Master, River, Jamie, Doctor, Daniel, Rory, Amy, Eva. If I missed anyone, poke me!))
“First sharks and now explosions!” The Doctor held up his ruined sonic screwdriver and turned it in the light. “I’ll have to proof against both, I suppose.”
He crossed the Hanger in long strides, expecting Otter Soother Daniel Jackson to keep up. Daniel had held himself rather well during the whole clone thing and what was more, he even saved his sonic for him! The Doctor found himself feeling rather fond of the human right this moment. Good man! Resourceful! But also being annoyingly close-mouthed about what he might have picked up from that encounter with the Other Doctor, which was surprising because he thought he knew humans and if there was anything he learned from all his time amongst them, it was they loved talking almost as much as he did! Questions in particular were their favorite, no matter how obvious or rhetorical or downright silly. Big big fan of the obvious questions. Basically they were a chatty species.
Part of the reason why he’d asked Daniel to come with him to the TARDIS.
If he was lucky, Daniel would tell him what he’d seen from that clone on his own, given enough time and company.
The Doctor was tucking the sonic back into his pocket when they came into sight of the TARDIS. He only paused for the briefest of beats as he took in the fact the old girl’s doors were wide open, positively gaping open! This wasn’t looking very looked out after and he wondered if maybe Jamie’s memory retention was failing thanks to him being an ex-dead man. Clearly the human needed a talking to! He approached cautiously, poking his head inside.
Everything in the console room looked in order, if you ignored the suspicious trail of foam cups leading away from the door and a few minute scratches on the glass which he knew for a fact hadn’t been there since he last checked. The Doctor’s lips pursed as he peered about, head weaving as he checked under the control console and then straightened. Where was Jamie? In fact, where were the rest of his friends?
“Better have a look around,” the Doctor lied, perhaps too cheerfully. “Long time away from home and I’m afraid River’s gone and organized things. I’m very specific on my organization system, I’ll have you know.”
He made a vague shooing motion at Daniel.
((So basically this is thread two, with the Doctor/Daniel/Rory jumping into a TARDIS taken over by the Master. Since the Master can switch up rooms (up to the players in the threads for what's wrong with the rooms) and trap people/shift people around, I guess assume timey-wimey things to allow different characters to stumble into each other? But yeah, I guess do subthreads for characters stumbling and we can subthread different people running into them.
I think we're looking at people in the TARDIS as: Victoria, Martha, The Master, River, Jamie, Doctor, Daniel, Rory, Amy, Eva. If I missed anyone, poke me!))
So tempted to pull a Cheshire Cat on him
"Ah, that. There's been a bit of... rearranging." His smile widened a bit. "Temperamental beast, this ship."
The Master slotted one last book into the shelf before him and regarded Daniel again with a keen eye.
"Complete Works of Sha'kk-sper," he murmured. "Would you like to help me look?"
Now I'm curious!
"Is this normal? The ah, rearranging?" Daniel looked around at the rest of the library, as if expecting it to shift out from under them any minute. What would happen if that happened with people inside? Maybe they'd get dumped into some nether space. Maybe they just lifted with it, or maybe they just got their atoms scattered. Fingers crossed that it was choice two.
The archaeologist looked back in time to see John put a book back, and finally glance at him.
"You mean Shakespeare? Probably. I think the Doctor's got so many books, he'd put every library back on Earth out of business." Daniel cut himself off, realizing he was rambling. He looked at the sheer size of the library again. As much as he wouldn't mind helping him out and taking a look himself, Daniel was just a little reluctant to say yes to what could take easily more than a week. "This could take... awhile if you don't have a general idea where to narrow it down..."
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"Sha'kk-sper," he repeated, enunciating each syllable as if addressing a particularly slow child. "Gottram Sector, 45th century? No? Well, it's a big green book, and it should be somewhere in this section."
He pointed lazily at the nearest stack, already turning back to the shelves before him. After a moment's consideration, he switched the order of two of the books. Yes. That was funnier.
"To answer your earlier question, it depends. You do realize this ship is alive, don't you?"
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Daniel had to fight to keep his patience. It was only in just that correction of the name, and Daniel got the feeling he was being talked down to from a tenured professor, with hundreds of papers to his belt, to a bunch of scared freshmen, which Daniel was pretty sure that he didn't qualify as anymore. Unlike Jack, Daniel did try to keep more of a lid on his impatience on first impressions, and he wasn't as likely to blow them just because someone had a few rough edges, so he made an extra effort to let it go this time. Besides, if people were from all over time, how the hell was he supposed to know where the Gottram Sector? Where he came from, they'd only just gotten the Stargate working. And being in the 45th century?
"I don't think we've gotten there yet. You know, us and the 90s," Daniel said flatly.
The archaeologist turned to look around for this green book, touching the shelves as he searched. "Yeah, I got that. Will the TARDIS re-arrange back to the previous layout?"
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"Were you particularly attached to the old one?" he asked, in lieu of actually answering anything.
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Daniel frowned into the bookshelf. God, it really bothered him for some reason. He didn't like the idea of being part of a collection or just kept around because he was a passing interest or oddity. Maybe John would be more forthcoming if he asked the right way. He knew that they hadn't exactly started off on the right foot and a good part of it felt like Daniel's fault. Nice to know that even after over a year, Daniel still had kneejerk reaction after that failed lecture, which was something he'd have to get over eventually. He could be imagining the patronizing attitude.
Maybe John had traveled with him? Or maybe he'd been aboard Stacy and met him before he arrived. It was possible. The ship was a big place and who knew what the Doctor did in all hours of the day? The Doctor was already something of an eccentric, and that, coupled with the fact that he had ship that was bigger on the inside and just about everything else about him made Daniel intensely curious about the man.
Getting a straight answer out of him was about as easy as breaking into Fort Knox, which left asking John.
"Well, yes. I was starting to figure out the layout. I like knowing I can find my way out," Daniel pulled at a book, inspecting the cover. Big-ish, green. The book looked incredibly dusty, old, but it also looked unread. No Sha'kk-sper. He put it back. "Why does he do it? Picking up all these people?"
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"I suppose they're expendable to him," he replied, continuing with the book shuffling. What next-- should he end this row with the Equation of Cowardice, or a more obscure joke involving the Doctor's mother? Choices, choices.
"His way of filling up the holes."
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Daniel thought back to that set of images he'd gotten slammed with earlier. That planet exploding and that crushing sense that he was the very last. The last of who? Of what? Unless there were other holes in his life, Daniel was thinking that was the big one. He kept his mouth shut on that theory. The Doctor hadn't given a single sign that was his past before, and if he was right, it seemed too personal to talk about. Whatever the Doctor thought about him, or them all, Daniel was at least going to have the decency to keep that to himself.
He couldn't deny John got his attention. Asking for more information wasn't the same as blabbing himself and Daniel always had hard time resisting his sense of curiosity. But this was pushing it. This was prying into the Doctor's personal matters behind his back.
Daniel blurted out before he could stop himself. "What holes?"
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He slammed the last book home with finality, then stepped back to admire his handiwork, his brow creased. "I suppose that's why he collects them. Like strays. Because he's afraid of what he really is."
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The Doctor always seemed an oddball, friendly, intelligent, harmless, and generally unphased by life. When Daniel tried to press him on things, the Doctor tended gloss over it, or better yet, get distracted, half the time conveniently, Daniel thought. He didn't seem to open up.
John was blunt, critical, but if that flicker of memory he had was anything to go by, being brutally honest with him too. Daniel couldn't think of any good reason to destroy an inhabited planet. He was still having a hard time believing the Doctor was capable of mass murder.
"I find it saddening, actually," Daniel said. Not funny at all, even if he could see the neat analogy. "I can't imagine getting to a point in your life where you have to surround yourself with people to forget being guilty."
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His laugh was not particularly kind, or sympathetic; in fact, he seemed to find the whole thing wildly hilarious, as if the Doctor's slow slide into grief was not only inevitable but enjoyable. As if he were rooting for his downfall.
"Truthfully, I think he'd rather forget just being him at all. And there's the real pity. Someone capable of such glory-- someone who singlehandedly sealed the Medusa Cascade, forced back the Long Forgotten Armies of the Otherwhens. Someone who burned his own planet to a crisp-- even his beloved Romana..."
The Master trailed off as he sensed a shift of something behind him, something he hadn't expected to happen quite yet. Not with a human. He turned to face Daniel slowly, puzzled.
I am so sorry, i got sort of carried away.
"-to you, Romana," said Daniel. He wiped at the ash on his face, but it only succeeded in smearing a wide path across a cheek. He didn't notice. "Modest and proud. A dangerous combination."
Romana wisely ignored the sarcasm. "It's different this time, Doctor," she continued. She was actually whispering conspiratorially. She was quite good at it. Daniel also didn't think it suited her. The conspirator act, that is, because like everything she touched, she had mastered the actual whisper quickly. But there was always more to a decent conspirator's whisper than just technique. "The end of the War is coming. The Lord President called a meeting of the High Council earlier today."
Daniel didn't have time for politics. This wasn't the first time someone had promised an end to the War. He felt especially old just then. Tired. Very old and very tired, and he wasn't even the oldest Time Lord in record. But after everything he'd gone through in his lives, he might as well be. The run in with Sabbath and then the matter with Zagreus in particular had aged him. Romana could see it and he knew she could see it, but she never said it. It was in the eyes, Daniel thought. And maybe the fact that he'd even agreed to join the front lines in the first place. There was a time once when the idea of him leading a war was unthinkable. Things were different now. Daniel was done being lenient. The Daleks had been given multiple chances to change, and ultimately, time and again blew their right to exist.
It was just hard knowing who to trust these days. At least with the Daleks, you could be sure from the start what one wanted. That was the marvelous thing about murderous pepper pots with a one track mind. They were astoundingly easy to predict, so you knew where you stood. Romana? Daniel was sure he could trust her still.
"Don't tell me. Initiative this, Initiative that, Initiative 'that Will Undoubtedly End the War this time', etcetera etcetera-"
"Doctor," Romana rarely had to raise her voice, but this time she did. "I think we need to talk."
Daniel didn't get to find out what this woman wanted to talk about. The world shifted around him. It was a jumble of images. Daniel felt his hands dig into the shelf, painfully, teeth grinding. His eyes reflexively flew shut. That red head flashed by again, then Empress of the Racnoss. All that water-
He was wet, soaked even! and looking upwards, wondered when he'd fallen into a copy of Alice in Wonderland. The view was dizzying, the library spiraling above him, books falling like snow. The TARDIS groaned. It was a good thing the pool broke his fall, because he preferred to avoid another regeneration so soon-
Don't apologize! It is beautiful!
Thing was, though, the trap hadn't been meant for Daniel.
The Master strode toward him, furious, and gripped Daniel's head roughly, needing to see this for himself. How had a human managed to steal the Doctor's mental signature?
With no preamble, the Master forced his way in, being careful to remain around the edges of the trap. And then his features relaxed; he even laughed aloud in pleasant surprise.
"Oh, you poor, poor thing," he murmured.
:D! okay memories are going to be split so its easier to respond to
Daniel waited, hands going into the overly large jacket. He made sure that Jamie, Polly, and Ben were safely out the door. Then he opened his mouth.
"The secret is.... I haven't got one."
The archaeologist didn't notice the Master come up to him, much less make any sign that he was aware of the other man's surprise or the fury that was coming down on him like a storm cloud. He didn't react when he was roughly turned. His fingers came away from their fierce grip on the book shelf, fingernails pulling up wood as he was jerked away. Daniel only stood there leaning towards the other man. His head lolled in the Master's hands.
There was only a flicker of white behind the lids in response as the Master easily forced his way inside.
It hurt. The same pain he'd felt back on Galilee was only a fraction of the real thing. His cells were dying. Each and every single one. Daniel couldn't imagine being so sensitive to each function of his body dying one by one. His skin crawled as he wandered the console room like a trapped animal. They'd been dying for awhile now. It hurt, but he'd held on as long as he could, used every trick he knew to slow the cell death, just enough to see everyone off. Wonderful, funny, sad Donna Noble, finally getting some of happiness she deserved. She didn't need him around, not really. Not when she was finding ways to make it herself. With her new husband and Wilf by her side, she couldn't ask for better. Then there was Mickey and resourceful, practical Martha Jones, together! Fantastic Rose Tyler, about to hit the best year of her life. Good old Captain Jack. They were all going to be so happy.
This was it. He could feel it. The end.The last thought on his mind, before the world exploded in fire, was;
I'm not ready.
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The backlash of pain, nearly as strong as that from the Moment, startled him. This was new. This was his Doctor, dying.
He couldn't control his curiosity any longer-- not about something that had the potential to be this entertaining. Mentally, the Master took a tentative step further, brow furrowing in concentration as he strained to see more.
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Daniel let out a small sound of discomfort as the Master tightened his fingers against his skull and into his hair. He didn't resist as he was pulled closer.
When the Pandorica's doors closed, it was like a tomb sealed shut. He was buried alive. No way in, no way out. Not for him. The sound of personal fear and helplessness compressed very neatly into one sound. Daniel stared dumbly at the interior for a fraction of a second. That fraction stretched out for an eternity, all fear, panic: he'd escaped from jails and prisons across the known universe, but this was the first time he knew that he couldn't escape this one. It felt like even his hearts were muffled in the oppressing silence.
Then he tested the restraints. Gave his wrists a good shake, a better twist. They didn't give, and it was well they didn't considering this was the perfect prison. You couldn't call it the Not Quite So Perfect Prison if these gave.
Daniel tried again anyway, this time with more desperation. He nearly wrenched his wrists. There had to be a way out. There always was. Pond was out there, with Rory the Impossible Roman, River Song. The universe was going to end if he didn't get back to the TARDIS and their reaction was to lock him away and throw away the key? Were they insane?! Something of a loaded question considering who he was dealing with, but there was a time and place for petty revenge schemes actually working and when you had to let him prove that he wasn't actually behind their reality's imminent destruction.
The hopelessness of the situation was growing heavy in the air. For the first time, Daniel began to seriously contemplate his likely future. This box would survive everything. Thousands of years by himself. Never dying. Everything else he ever knew gone. It was a fate worse than death.
He began to struggle again. He had to think of a way out. But even as he did, he knew it wasn't happening this time.
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"No. No," he hissed, tunneling deeper in his fury and willing that memory to come back. He wanted to hear the TARDIS screaming. And more than that, wanted to know why and how.
It took him a moment to realize that in this new memory, the Doctor was trapped. In limbo. And in his haste to turn the show to his advantage, the Master had gone too far. He was feeling the vestiges of panic right alongside Daniel.
It was far too much like the watch. It was far too much and he couldn't get out.
On the outside, the Master began to tremble, breath quickening and hearts pounding as he clung desperately to Daniel.
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The Master's lunge for that earlier memory was partially successful. It dug up the TARDIS, but not the one he was looking for. The first images were of battle TARDISes in escort formation and very efficiently surrounding them. Daniel rushed past Charley, doing his best, according to Charley earlier, whirling dervish impression on the console. Time Torpedoes?! They wouldn't- yes, yes they would, and there were so many options he had to choose from before they hit his TARDIS and none of them were the right one! Thirty seconds...They couldn't outrun them. Daniel anxiously loosened his cravat. Ran a hand through brown, curly hair. But neither could they outrun all those TARDISes. Not a Type 40, not at her best. Twenty-two seconds... on the other hand, (eighteen seconds) he'd never give up, he was the Doctor, and if there was one thing he did, it was never give up- the next flash was blinding.
The TARDIS exploded, exploding, would explode, in place of a sun in Earth's sky. It was almost the most beautiful thing in the universe. Since it was the only thing left next to Earth in this tiny patch of universe, it wasn't too hard to be 'almost the most beautiful'. The silence was followed by an equally silent explosion in space, followed by the sensation of both Daniel and the Master's very existence being ripped to shreds and then, just as quickly, pulled back together.
That's what it felt like when the Chameleon Arch worked. Daniel looked at it, took in the lines and angles. He didn't touch it again. Instead, he caressed the fob watch sitting in his palm with a thumb, feeling the Gallifreyan writing adorning the metal. Martha watched the movement, disheveled from the mad dash to the TARDIS and puzzled. Wondering what he was thinking, probably. That was easy: he couldn't believe he was resorting to this. It was almost as bad as regeneration; just a teeny, tiny sliver below it in terms of pain. Rewriting your own biology in any way was something that would never be anything but painful.
"Martha." She looked up as if she'd been shot. Or like a deer in the headlights. Yes, that one was better. He preferred that one. It was a lot less violent sounding.
"You have to trust me. I need you to trust me. I know what I'm doing," Daniel put the fob watch into her hands. He had to make sure she understood what he was going to do next and what he was asking of her. "I'm going to do it. I'm going to become human."
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Still, that was nothing compared to the next memory. At first it seemed like another typical sad, soppy Doctor moment, with Saint Martha hovering ineffectually nearby. But the Chameleon Arch... the fobwatch... the Master knew what would happen next.
"No," he said again, but in a drawn-out, mournful moan. He'd run so far. He'd seen so much. Too much even for a Time Lord. He couldn't go through this again--
The Master clawed his way forward, not sure if he was going outward or further in, not caring. To just get out of this horrifying, shameful memory!
An unfamiliar young man at what looked like an extremely boring stag party, staring with mixed hope and terror at a large cake. A cake the Doctor unceremoniously burst out of in the next instant. No. That couldn't be right.
The images were coming faster now, some so absurd that it was hard to believe even the Doctor had experienced them. Fish fingers and custard. A banana daiquiri with Mme. de Pompadour. Breaking through a glass ceiling from several hundred meters above. Two Doctors, flanking a confused Rose Tyler. The pain of regeneration-- no. Being forced to regenerate, and the shame of exile, achingly ever-present no matter how much he tried to deny it, no matter how he kept himself busy. A TARDIS that would never fly again.
1/2
A TARDIS that would never fly again. That's what they said about the old girl when he'd first caught a glimpse of her in the museum. Now they were light years away on some unknown planet, and Daniel would have laughed at them all if his ankles weren't killing him. He tapped his foot impatiently. What was taking the boy so long? "Could you bring that there - yes, that one over there to me, Chesterfield?"
The human came back with the device and handed it to him with a sigh. "It's Chesterton. Ian. Chesterton."
"Yes, I'm absolutely certain that's what I said the first time, you silly fellow! I have ears and I know what I heard and I know what I said. Now do run along, Barbara and Susan are waiting," Daniel grunted peevishly. He waited for Chedderton to leave. Then he allowed himself to hobble to a tree stump, sit down, and nurse his aching feet. He wondered for the first time what he'd done to get himself saddled with these humans. Why did he lock them in? In hindsight, it wasn't a very good plan, not when he could have just up and left with Susan and gone to a different planet. A momentary lapse of judgement. He'd started getting used to living on Earth. It would have been easier on them both to leave the humans there. Perhaps Barbara and Chatterman knew their identities but the universe was a big place.
2/2
"Doesn't even know his own name. Hmph!" he grumbled out loud to the air. The air, of course, had nothing to say.
Underlying each smell and sight was an ugly, heavy feeling in their gut, this unnamed fear and rage against the end of his own existence. Death wouldn't stop him, he vowed, as he faced the Dalek's, right before they executed him. He'd out survive them all!
Then nothing. If this was Death, (and he'd personally met Death at some point or other, relatively recently in his lifetimes), it wasn't that much different from living. The TARDIS was still here. He stared up at the ceiling. It was no longer ripped apart by the aftershock of the Moment. It looked different, some undersea variation this time that he hadn't decided if he'd liked or not yet. Daniel sat up, touching his chest. He felt broader. Just a bit. His frock was mostly blown to pieces, terribly scorched. There was no way he could repair it. And getting a nice copy was rather difficult. Daniel wanted to sigh but the sigh came out wrong in new lungs, so it ended up a cough. He was still alive. There was that fresh tingling sensation all over. He stared at his hands. Also bigger, not nearly as willowy as they'd been last time. Something felt weird about his head, as if there was a draft.Yes, this wasn't Death.
Daniel looked out through the TARDIS doors and looked out on Nothing. That was what was in the space where Gallifrey had once been. Nothing. All gone. The suffocating sorrow threatened to rise again but this time, he was ready. The TARDIS hummed tentatively, as if reminding him that it was there. Bizarrely enough, it did the trick. He'd just been thinking about throwing himself out the open doors, but now the idea seemed stupid. Pointless. He was the last, and that would be a stupid way to end his race. Maybe he was alone, but at least he could tell himself that he'd prevented so many others from suffering worse. Just maybe he could do some good.Or at least, he could spend the rest of his lives trying to make up for what he'd done.
The combined onslaught of the memories and feelings, along with the Master's greedy pushes forward, were proving to be too much. Daniel moaned. The archaeologist's knees started to give out, the only thing keeping him from completely falling was the Master's death grip on his head. Daniel sagged, dragging him down.
no subject
It took him a few moments, resting in his new body in the between-space of the TARDIS and further away from the Doctor's insistent screaming, to realize that it wasn't the universe growing larger. The universe was emptier somehow.
He cast out his mind, seeking out that familiar hum of the others, but only the lone, lonely voice of the Doctor remained. The Time Lords were gone. Gallifrey was gone.
The Master sank to his knees along with Daniel, sucking in a hissing breath. The realization stung more than he thought it would have. It should have been funny. He'd spent all his lives trying to undermine them, escape them, make them see how stupid and old and useless they were. And now he and the Doctor, the two most unwanted children of Gallifrey, were the only ones left.
It should have been hilarious. But now there was too much silence in his head, the drums greedily filling up the void to become louder than ever. He screamed, a noise of sorrow and abandonment and defiant rage and, yes, terror. Terror at being so alone, he and the Doctor. The last.
There were only the two of them left. It was so important that he just see that, that he look outside his own stupid, brilliant, brilliantly stupid brain for once and just see. Because it wasn't just about their old games anymore-- and even when the entire universe had been at stake, he suspected that's really all it had been for his oldest, best enemy: a terrible, deadly, childish game. It was about not being so alone. It was about no longer being the last, the only, the remaining.
It was about starting over. A chance, if the Master took it. He stared at the other Time Lord and held out his hand, his mouth rationalizing, but his eyes pleading. No matter what happened, how far they went, whether the Master actually took his hand or tried to cut it off, he knew he'd always have some small nugget of hope in his hearts for the other Time Lord to change and grow.
Oh, no. That was too much. That was absolutely disgusting. The Master recoiled bodily from the memory, the sensation of dumb, blind, hope. It had been bad enough knowing the Doctor felt this way... but actually sharing in the feeling himself made him want to retch.
With something akin to panicked horror on a scale not yet seen, the Master forcibly removed his hands from Daniel's head, falling backward in an undignified sprawl.
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That's all there was. A heavy silence. Just like when that planet was wiped from the universe. All that was left was Nothing. Nothing and the silence. The archaeologist curled in on himself, one hand digging into his hair. Oh God. Oh God. Someone was breathing heavily nearby. Daniel couldn't tell who it was, if it was someone else or him. Probably him. He felt like he'd been dragged through several gates and then had a hand device pressed against his head for an hour. No, actually, he was pretty sure the hand device never hurt this much. His head was past aching. His hearts- heart was pounding in his chest, and he could still see the fading afterimages of that planet winking out in an instant. He could still feel the loneliness. He could still hear the drums echoing in his mind, growing fainter but no less terrible.
Daniel lay there heavily, eyes closed, unable to move for several minutes. Unable to do much actually. Thinking? Wasn't going to be happening, not when he was trying to remember how to breath again.
There was so much that went past him. So much he couldn't comprehend. A lot rushing out of his memory. Whatever had happened, even Nem's machine hadn't been like this.
Help. That was a word that came to mind. The drums were still there. Faint but not gone. He should get help. Whatever that was. Help was a good word. It felt good, so he should say it. Daniel tried to but, finding his throat was too hoarse, he only ended up mouthing the word. It came out like a choked wheeze.
no subject
Still, it had been enough. Quite enough. The Master scrambled to his feet, mind still reeling from what he'd been forced to re-live. All those wounds re-opened. He could almost smell the stink of humanity all over him again. And the Doctor's hopeful, stupid, beautiful face, right in front of his own. It was an image that was somehow even worse than a thousand Gallifreys burning, forever and ever.
He backed away from the shuddering heap on the floor quickly and quietly as if it were a poisonous snake. His only consolation was that this idiot human might still be in the trap, suffering even worse than he. He was understandably loathe to touch him and find out, but either way Daniel would likely be suffering from the aftershocks for a good long while. It would have to do, for now. The Master surely would find a way to make him pay in full sooner or later.
As soon as the Master got far enough away, he turned and broke into a run.