This Is Some Greek-level Cassandra Shit Right Here

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Born on April 15, 1990

Kisses

Here is the story I’d said I’d write.  Title is misleading, basically angsty doctor/master.  Let me know if you want me to read more.  There *may* be a part 2 posted.

🎉Happy Trans Visibility Day!🎉

The Master was back.  

The Doctor was walking around her TARDIS’s console, halfheartedly flipping switches and tracing buttons.  Her mind was a million miles away, but she didn’t want anyone to see her sitting still and ask questions.  They were the one thing she really couldn’t handle right now.  Actually, she really couldn’t handle a lot of things at the moment, but she could only cop to one before the doubts poured and rushed into her very old mind.  

Honestly, she should have seen this coming.  No matter how many times she lost him, the Master always returned like a psychotic yo-yo.  It doesn’t matter how far they come, how bloody close she gets to feeling decent about their chances and herself for once in her life.  It doesn’t matter, because in the end, he always dies and he always comes back trying to take over the world again.  The whole situations kinda like a rubber band really.  You can move forward, but in the end, you pull too far and you end up back at square one, fingers smarting and cursing yourself. Why couldn’t she learn?  Why couldn’t she let Master go?  

She remembered every time she had seen him, every time he had saved her with the “intention” of killing her later.  She remembered him calling her, telling her he was alive.  She’d said it was unfortunate.  She remembered further than that.  Remembered the Academy.  Running with him.  Not running away.  There wasn’t anything scary or shameful enough yet.  Not running to anything.  As far as they understood, this would last forever, nothing would flicker or fade.  She remembers messing with his experiments, remembers him showing up in the middle of the night.  

She remembers how desperate she was seeing him again.  Her what tenth?  Eleventh? These regenerations were really starting to wear on her.  But whatever it was, whenever she was seems irrelevant, because he was there.  He was there, with hatred in his heart and drumming in his head and he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  He’d missed Master so much.  Practically begged.  Let’s run away together.  Effectively, it’s what he’d meant. Hadn’t worked though.  But still.  The Master hadn’t killed him.  That had to mean something.  Pathetic Doctor really. She wasn’t even totally sure which voice that was. Bit of a con of avoiding your past really, hard to keep it in line.  Gets even more jumbled than usual.  

She thought of River then.  But River Song was different.  River, armed with her blue book always knew where they were in relation to each other. River was always two steps and five spoilers ahead.  And she was gone.  And so were her parents.  Rory Pond and Amelia.  Amelia Pond. This face would never get to see her face.  She clutched the console as more and more people came to mind.  Sarah Jane probably wouldn’t recognize her even if she saw her now. Donna couldn’t.  Clara would never even get the chance.  And Martha Jones.  Jo. Rose Tyler.  For a moment, The Doctor wondered if Rose would choose to stay with the human version of who she was, or if she’d travel with her again.  She’d promised forever.  But then again, so had he.  But that’s the thing. None of her companions lasted.  

On a good day, they retired, middle-aged and happy.  She couldn’t think about the bad days right now. There were far too many of them. Didn’t spoil the good ones, no. But it did make it harder to think. Maybe that’s what she liked about The Master.  He lived as long as she did, shared life experiences and all that.  She knew that was barely a fraction of the truth.  She’s liked him ever since they were children.  He was my man-crush.  That’s what he had told Bill.  Bill.  Can’t think about that right now.  I’ve got to move on.                  

And that’s another thing that made all of this so much harder.  Last time she had seen the Master, he was Missy.  Her hearts ached at the thought.  Missy had been the closest to the boy she remembered running with on Gallifrey.  It was so frustrating, because it had felt like they were so close.  So close to being friends again.  But then again, she never has been blameless in their dynamic. She was the one who convinced Missy ‘without hope, witness, or reward’ and she had died that way.  And where had she been?  Also dying.  Thinking about the stars.  She should have found Missy after, given her a proper rest, again.  Because she had been lost.  Again.  

Then there was another friend lost, all too complicated and too recent.  O.  She had liked him.  Genuinely liked him.  They texted, far more consistently than she usually managed.  O had been nice, funny, sweet.  Really smart too.  And witty. He could keep up with her, which was rare.  And he sent her memes.   It was so hard, trying to reconcile the manic, violent, hate-filled Master with O’s peaceable façade.

Before she was fully aware of her actions, The Doctor found herself sitting on the steps in front of the console, opening her phone and scrolling through messages upon messages.  And every one of them was a lie.  The name at the top of her phone was a lie.  She should change it, but what was the point?  It really wasn’t fair.  The Master couldn’t be O.  It was unfathomable.  He couldn’t just be O.  He couldn’t just ask her how her day was and listen to her voice memos about daleks and cybermen and the fam running off and almost getting eaten by a relative of Scylla. He couldn’t just share anecdotes about his day and cooking and fixing his hut in the outback.  He couldn’t just call her when he had a nightmare.  

The first time that had happened, the Doctor was wholly unprepared.  She was fixing the TARDIS, just routine maintenance when her phone had rang.  So, she put the wire she was holding between her teeth while she answered her phone.

“Hell-o?”  She said, muffled.  There was nothing on the other end of the line, not even breathing. The hairs on the back of the Doctor’s neck stood on end at the unnatural stillness.  

“O, is that you?  Are you alright, is this a distress call?”  She was well on her way to becoming truly panicked when she heard something. It would have sounded like a balloon deflating if it wasn’t such an obviously sentient sound. Ragged breathing followed after, chocked off.

“O?”  She chanced saying his name again. Another sharp intake of breath, some noise that sounded so lost and pained and then.    

“Hey Doctor.”  Shaky, but there.

“Hey, are you alright?”  

“N-yeah, of course.  Actually, just being a bit stupid at the moment, instance of, of nostalgia I suppose. Really shouldn’t have called.  I am okay Doctor, let me just-”

“Don’t hang up!” She hadn’t meant to sound that forceful.  Both her and O had been struck silent at the force in her words.  O spoke first.        

“I really am okay Doctor, I just…”

“Had a nightmare?” She guessed.  There was a long sigh.  

“Yeah.”

“Get those often?”

“What is that, a bad pick up line?”  O’s halfhearted laughter did nothing to distract the Doctor.  

“It’s a genuine question.”  She could practically feel O deciding between telling her the truth and hanging up.  

“I’ve had them since I was a kid.  Seem to be coming back more and more though.”  He stopped again and the Doctor knew he was still seeing whatever had wrested him from sleep.  

“Do you want to talk about it, or do you want a distraction?”

“Distraction, definitely.”  

“Where are you right now?  Describe it.”

“Really doctor?” He sounded rather cross.

“Please?”

“Alright, I’m in my, well, I’m outside my, my hut.  On my deck? Porch?  I dunno.  My head is resting on a pillar.  Well, my head’s resting on my hand on the pillar.  My other hand’s holding the phone obviously.”

“What’s it like outside, what can you see?”

“I dunno!  It’s dark. Nightfall.  Um.  Outback-y? Few trees, lots of dirt.  It’s so flat, why’s it so flat?  Um, there are a few stars.”  He cuts himself off.  

“O?”

“Where are you?”  He sounds desperate, words rushed.  

“I’m in the TARDIS.”  

“No, but where?  Look outside.”  He demands.

“Alright, just a sec.”  The Doctor keeps the phone to her ear as she opens the door to the TARDIS, sits down on the edge.

“I’m in space.  Not near any planets, well I can’t see any.  I’m sitting down.  My feet are dangling off the edge of the TARDIS.”  She swings her feet to illustrate the point.

“Are you swinging your feet?” He asks.

“Maybe.” She replies.  She hears almost the breath of a laugh and can’t help but smile.  

“So, no planets, what is around you?”  O says hesitantly.

“Stars.  Millions of them.  There’s one not too far from me.  It’s beautiful.  Burning blue and red and orange and colors I don’t have a name for.  There’s flares coming off it.  And I can almost feel it’s heat, like the sun maybe, but less intense? You know I forget sometimes, how breathtaking a star can be?  Thanks for this.”  There no response on the other end of the line.

“O?” She asks, panic seeping in again.

“I’d like to see that star.  Could we go sometime?  See a few stars together?”  He’s speaking so quietly, the Doctor can scarcely hear him, has to strain her ears.  It’s a wonder his words aren’t lost to the millions of miles between them.  Something about the request, the tone? The longing?  Takes her breath away.

“I’d like that.  Maybe next time I visit?  Go see a couple before I have to bring you back?” She says softly.

“Who says I have to come back?”  There, that’s much sharper than anything she’s used to hearing from O.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing I.” He groans in frustration.  “My nightmare just reminded me of a few things.  I don’t want to talk about it.”  Before she can say anything else, he speaks again.  “Next time your in town, eh?  Might just need to invite a rogue alien incursion then.”

“Don’t you dare.”  The Doctor is laughing, and so is O.  And, it’s nice.  And it’s quiet again.  They sit in silence and if the Doctor closes her eyes, she can almost picture O’s hut, picture him in front of it.  

“The sun is rising.”  He tells her after a while.  Quietly still, like he’s trying not to break this glass atmosphere between them.  

“What’s it look like?”  

“Big.  Orange. It’s turning the far-off grass red. Minus the smoke, it looks like the world is on fire.  But nothing is burnt.”

“Sounds like home.”  She hadn’t meant to say that.  She tenses, waiting for the inevitable and completely warranted questions about home. But O surprises her.  

“Yeah.”  Is all he says.  She waits for more and when it’s obvious it’s not coming, she relaxes.  O usually is really good at knowing when not to press her.

“Thank you for being here Doctor.”  He tells her. She could almost swear the star is front of her is really the Earth’s sun on her closed eyelids.  

“No problem, it was nice.”

“It’s not over yet.”

“It will be though.”

“But it’s not now, that’s the point.”

“I know.”  

“I should go to work.”

“Go to work then.”

“I don’t want to.”  

“Are you pouting O?”  She asks, amusement coating her words.

“No.” He says petulantly.  She can almost picture the crease between his eyebrows.  

“I’ll text you later, okay O?  Go to work, I don’t want to make you late.”

“Alright.  Try not to get killed Doctor.”

“O-kay.”  She tells him.  She can hear the grin at the exaggerated pun, and then there’s a moment of silence, and then the line disconnects.  She stays there for a long time after.  It’s peaceful.  She can’t remember the last time she felt so peaceful being still.  

Then, the clatter begins as the fam wakes up.  And the Doctor stands, takes one more look at the star, and closes the TARDIS doors.  She walks to the console and saves her coordinates.  

Just in case.  

Kisses

Here is the story I’d said I’d write.  Title is misleading, basically angsty doctor/master.  Let me know if you want me to read more.  There *may* be a part 2 posted.

Happy -215th birthday, Captain James T. Kirk

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Captain Kirk!

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