syncopath | but none of 'em were home inside the catacomb (for twood

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but none of 'em were home inside the catacomb (for twood_rose)

He had no way of knowing how long he had been in the dark; it was a funny thing, perhaps, but even a Time Lord must concede (as much as it might personally gall him) that death is timeless by its very nature. Still, he remembered everything.

When he awoke, groggily, the first thing he did was clap a hand to his neck, expecting a mark or a hole where the persistent memory of pain told him it should be. There was nothing. A ghost feeling. He blinked twice and sat up.

The room was dim, dusty and unused, and the small sink in the corner rattled ominously before spitting out water of some unsavory color, but there was comfort, egregiously tiny as it may be, in washing up as best he could. He surveyed his surroundings again. Besides the mattress he'd woken up on (and who had placed him there?) the room boasted nothing else.

He knew when he was, but not where. Or why. Not for the first time, he wondered if it might not be a prison.

The Master took panicked strides toward the door, fully expecting it not to open when he yanked on the handle roughly, and almost falling backwards when he was proven wrong.

A maze of hallways spread itself before him, each equally dim and dusty as the room behind. As the Master began to walk, it became obvious what he'd somehow known from the moment he opened the door. It wasn't a prison.

It was a ruin.

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He stared at Rose, her chagrin, in disbelief. "Did you honestly think you could... just fix me?"

Yeah, you are a bit like that. A faulty circuit. The memory of the Doctor's voice, his face etched in disappointment, resurfaced unbidden in the Master's mind, and a small, bitter laugh escaped him.

She shook her head.

"No," she said softly. "I didn't. I don't. I don't think that at all."

The Master gave her a hard look before turning away.

"Good."

He stood in the entrance to the cave, looking out at the rain, tapping in time restlessly.

She watched him for a few moments.

And then quietly began to sing to his tapping, a song without words, only clear, simple tones in rhythm to the patter of his fingers.

He'd been lost inside himself somewhere, watching the wet drops attack the ruined planet, then spread themselves over it like a salve. From far away they looked like tiny silver spheres plummeting downwards, sacrifice and suicide, and he thought of what his mind seemed to flirt with more and more often, about what it would be like to end things once and for all. To be so definite seemed so alien to him, no pun intended.

The Master jumped at Rose's voice, losing the rhythm for half a beat. Then, realizing what she was doing, he slumped a little against the cave entrance, shoulders hunched, head low, eyes drifting shut.

She watched him slump, and frowned a little, but didn't stop singing. Carefully, she crept forward, crouched, until she could reach out and run her fingers down his back.

"Master," she whispered..

The Master shivered as she touched him, spoke his name. Waking piecemeal, as if from a trance-like state, he lifted his head and opened his eyes slowly. His fingers slowed, softened.

"Mmmm?" he muttered, an impatient edge to his voice.

She said nothing, but just sat quietly next to him, her knees drawn to her chest, staring out into the rain, trying to make sense of all this. After a moment, she lifted a hand and slipped it into his. It was a simple gesture, one of support, companionship, even a sort of loyalty. She would not leave him to face whatever might come alone.

The Master's hand stiffened, then relaxed, his fingers curling around hers lightly.

"It doesn't bother you?" His tone was somewhat accusing as he looked out over the empty city.

"What?" she asked quietly, turning her face up to him. "The planet? The rain? Your hand?"

He gave Rose a withering look in return, as if she should have known all along what he was referring to.

"The singing. The drumming. All of it."

It was unbearable that she should remain unaffected while he, he felt he was being eaten alive.

She turned her head and looked out over the rain again.

"No," she said. "It doesn't. But I don't hear it the same way you do. I'm not a Time Lord. You're made to feel time, sense the vortex. It's what you are. Me..." She laughed quietly. "I'm just a human who has a vortex-shaped hole in her head. I don't have the ability to experience it full force. Well... not and remain alive."

It was true, her natural inferiority. Still, it wasn't fair.

The Master shook his head. "I could always hear them. Even when I--"

He shut his mouth with a snap, clenching his jaw.

She glanced up at him again.

"Even when you what?" she asked softly.

The Master swallowed, looked away. "The Time War," he addressed the rain. "I had to hide. Hide from what was coming. Had to rewrite my DNA."

He chuckled, despite himself. "Can you imagine, can you even understand how much that hurt." His eyes flashed as he unconsciously tightened his grip on Rose's hand.

She swallowed, hard, but instead of flinching from his tightened grip, she squeezed back, just as hard. She had to be here for him. Be strong for him.

What an odd way to think about a man who had killed thousands... millions...

"Probably not," she said softly. "But I can try."

"I'm sure I could make you understand," he said with a casual viciousness, not relinquishing his iron grip as he continued.

"I became human, Rose," he spat out the words, his mouth twisted in a bitter smirk. "Just as human as you, or little Lucy, or our dear 'friend' Martha Jones. Just as much a fool. And I could have been lost forever."

She wrinkled her nose at that name. Martha Jones. Rose couldn't understand for a second what the Doctor saw in her. Apparently his standards in companions had gone down since he lost Rose.

"But you weren't," she replied, her voice firm this time. "You weren't lost. You're here. And you're a Time Lord, like you should be."

She paused for a moment, listening to the rain.

"But you heard the drums?" she continued. "Even then?"

Like I should be.

The Master shook his head impatiently. "They never stopped. They never do. Not inside the fobwatch. Not outside." He glanced at Rose.

"And don't imagine your precious Doctor can hear them either, by the way."

That earned a snap of her head.

"What exactly do you expect me to do about it?" she said irritably. "Any of it? They don't stop. I can't possibly understand what you're going through. And neither can the Doctor. Fine, fantastic, and now that that's settled..."

She stood and tried to wrench her hand out of the Master's grasp.

The Master tightened his grip, holding her there for another moment and giving her a hard wordless look, before suddenly releasing her and turning away.

Always the Doctor. Always the Doctor coming between them.

He turned away, and she glared at his back. Always playing the Doctor card.

"What do you want?" she said finally, with a stomp of her foot. "You blow hot and cold on me, draw me in then push me away... for god's sake, make up your mind!"

He whirled on her, closing the distance between them quickly, his face dark, maliciously angry. "I see. You'd like me to make up my mind, would you? Do you imagine this is some sort of game?" He made a grab for her.

She tried to dodge, but he was too fast for her, and she yelped in pain as his fingers dug into her flesh. She glared at him, shaking.

"You're the one making it a bloody game," she near spat into his face, her eyes flashing. "I'm not your pet, I'm not your toy, I'm not your plaything."

His laughter was harsh. "Oh, there's that fire again," he remarked approvingly.

"Why don't you tell me, then, Rose Tyler-- stop struggling, now, I'll only hold you more tightly-- tell me, what is it you think you are? Friend? Lover? Confidante? Savior?" He made each option sound patently ridiculous.

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