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

[syncopath]

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.

Comments

[syncopath]

The Master's first thought was to protest the idea of squatting on the bare ground. This, if anything, had to be beneath him. However, the idea of standing seemed ridiculous to the point of being equally embarrassing, and so he sat.

Almost as soon as he had done so, he could hear the sky open up, and the first drops of rain scatter lightly over the dusty ground outside. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to focus on it-- hoping the noise outside would help mitigate the effects of the sounds inside.

He especially tried not to think of how much sitting in this place reminded him of the grotto, and his prior imprisonment there.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

Rose heard the rain, and sighed. They were just in time, it seemed. The cave was proving to be adequate shelter, with the exception of the occasional draft. Rose shivered at a particularly chilling one and curled against the Time Lord, her head nestled on his shoulder.

[syncopath]

His eyes snapped open at the sudden contact, and he looked down at Rose warily. Any irritation he might have felt at the intrusion lessened as he gazed at her.

She was not as docile as Lucy had been. She was more difficult to break and seemed to expect much better treatment during the process. She was certainly disloyal; would probably go back to her damned Doctor given half the chance.

Still. She was his companion, for better or for worse. His.

He had no wish to be alone here. And that made him more resentful than ever, his strange neediness.

"You're cold," he said, less a question than an observation.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

She nodded, and snuggled closer. Rose had no wish to be alone here, either, and had equally no wish to leave him here alone.

"Are you cold?" she asked softly.

[syncopath]

"No."

After a moment, the Master eased his arm around Rose's shivering body, opening his coat and draping some it carefully around her shoulders and back.

"Better?"

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

She nestled still closer with a sigh.

"Yes," she murmured.

After a moment, she tilted her head, up and to the side, and gently brushed her lips against the Master's neck.

[syncopath]

The Master closed his eyes again as she kissed him, letting the song wash over him like nausea.

"You've done something to me," he said thickly.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

Rose frowned, puzzled and a little worried.

"What? What is it?" she asked softly.

[syncopath]

"Can't you hear it?" he whispered, his brow creased. "In your mind?"

His eyes opened and he looked at her reproachfully. "It's from you. The Vortex. It's you."

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

She looked at him for a moment, still bewildered. But then an idea came to her. She reached up, rested her fingers on his temples, and drew close to press her lips to his.

And oh, the song. It was beautiful.

[syncopath]

The Master let out a little groan as she intruded upon him again and the song resurged. Beautiful it may have been, but it was altogether too much. He could almost feel it chipping away at him slowly, leaving room for something else to slip in. Something he couldn't bear.

He kissed her back, harder, trying to grasp something solid to distract himself.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

She groaned as well, following him deeper into the kiss. She let her hands drift from his temples... that wasn't necessary anymore. All the connection they needed was their lips, their breath... their souls.

Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him closer, held him tight and warm.

[syncopath]

His eyes shut tightly, the Master leaned into her, attempting to block everything else out. Everything but the reality of their kiss, their bodies. Her arms slid around him and he drank that in too, concentrating on the feel of her enveloping him.

Holding him. Forgiving him.

He began to panic, then, trying to pull away, his hand on her shoulder, his mind recoiling.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

He panicked, and she broke the kiss and released him, frowning with concern.

"Hey," she said softly. "It's all right. Everything's all right." She touched his cheek gently. "What happened? What's wrong?"

[syncopath]

The Master jerked back from her touch, eyes narrowed. "That's quite enough," he said in a soft, dangerous voice. He got to his feet and brushed himself off, watching her all the while.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

She blinked at the sudden change, the sudden hostility, then swallowed, drew her knees to her chest, and lowered her head. She was once again without his warmth, in more ways that one,and she couldn't help but shiver.

[syncopath]

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.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

She shook her head.

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

[syncopath]

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.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

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.

[syncopath]

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.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

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..

[syncopath]

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.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

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.

[syncopath]

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.