Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The silence in this TARDIS was heavy, pressing down on Rose like a weight she couldn’t shake. After the Master left her lying on the cold floor, she remained there, curled up, her arms wrapped around her knees as if that small act of self-protection could shield her from the storm raging inside her.

Her skin still crawled from his touch, from the way he had twisted everything so viciously, so personally. Every word he spoke felt like a knife, cutting into places she thought she had long buried. The humiliation of it all churned her stomach, making her feel nauseous, disgusted with herself, with him – with everything.

She pressed her palms against her temples, trying to push his voice out of her head, but it echoed relentlessly in her mind.

Not enough that he dug into her brain, pulling out thoughts and pictures she wanted buried, his mental touch still lingered. Was this how telepathy felt like? The Doctor had never used telepathy with her, so she had no reference at all.

The Doctor.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hot tears stinging behind her eyelids.

She felt so bloody vulnerable right now. She wanted to convolve and wait until the Doctor came saving her. While all her insecurities – bluntly dug out by the Master – screaming at her that he wouldn’t come. Because she just wasn’t that important.

She would die here, wouldn’t she?

Alone and unmourned.

She felt pathetic. She had feelings for the Doctor, but more than anything she wanted to matter to him. In whatever way. And it was so paradoxal, because they understood each other without words, just clicking. But at the same time, there had always been that distance. Always walls, layers of protection he’d built around himself that she could never quite break through. And it was driving an inner portion of her crazy. A part of her that she would never let out. Because it was never meant for other eyes.

Until now. With the Master tearing through her defences and exposing the parts of her she hated most. The fear that she wasn’t enough. That she’d never be enough.

The tears she had been holding back finally slipped down her cheeks, as she stared blankly at the floor. She eventually wiped them away with the back of her hand, angry at herself for crying, angry at the universe for putting her in this nightmare. It felt like a wound ripped open, like her fears were swimming on the surface now, swallowing her whole, so she was drowning in them.

What the fuck did he do?

She felt weak, shredded and eviscerated. With no power to pick up the pieces and put them back together. Like someone ravaged her home and drugged her to leave her laying in the corner and she was expected to clean up the mess.

She didn’t know how long she lay there. Apart from the emotional turmoil, it felt like she had muscle ache – only in her mind. Which was extremely weird.

At some point she dragged herself off the floor and into her bed. She managed to lie down and pull the covers over her shoulders. Then, she let herself sink into sleep like she sank into a tide.

The dreams came in waves, pulling Rose under while she slept, twisted and struggling. At first they were innocent enough – memories of the Doctor, of their adventures in the stars. They felt familiar, like fragments of a life she had lost. She could feel the wind on her face, the warmth of the Doctor’s hand in hers as they ran through some alien landscape, laughing, breathless. But there was always some looming in the background. Something unreal. Something about to happen.

Until the dreams began to shift even more.

She lay in her bed in that dream. She at least thought it was a dream. The Doctor beside her, just staring at each other. But then, his smile, so full of light, began to darken, became distorted. His eyes, once filled with kindness and understanding, turned cold. Rose reached for him in an attempt to understand, but he pulled away.

Not good enough.

Rose shifted in her bed. Was she awake? Asleep? The Doctor wasn’t there anymore. She was all alone.

Only that she wasn’t.

Someone’s taken the Doctor’s place. The hand she had reached out to, was now reaching out to hers, touching it. But it wasn’t the Doctor being there.

“Having trouble sleeping, Rose?” the Master suddenly lay there, opposite to her, both on their sides, and Rose jumped, trying to pull her hand back, heart pounding in her chest, but the dream itself was warped, trapping her, her limbs felt like they were stuck in quicksand. Instantly her throat tightened because of a rising panic inside her. “Stop,” she whispered. Why did he attack again?

But the Master only smiled, a smile that dripped with mockery and something far more twisted. “I thought it was an invitation. You felt so alone. Right?”

“Why can’t I move?”

He winked. “Because I wish it. My rules.” He actually let go of her hand. Only to stretch out his hand to touch her shoulder with his fingers. It was a light touch, but when he drove them slowly down the skin of her arm, it was too light, too intimate.

Goosebumps spread on her arm, tension spiked in her whole body. “I swear, if you …”

“What?” he spat ruthlessly, his eyes had something snotty. “Whatcha gonna do about it?” His hand stroked further, and he watched the movement, almost as if he was hypnotised. She felt his fingers move past her elbow, down her arm to her hand again. The touch, innocent enough, still felt so wrong. “I kind of like it when you don’t struggle.”

Cold spread from her heart into her limbs. Her lips quivered as she still tried to move. “I’d rather move. And don’t fucking touch me.”

Despite his statement, he seemed amused, grin widening. And with the next blink, she was free. And somewhere else. Standing in her old room, actually. On Earth.

“Thinking of more innocent times?” he breathed down her neck and she jumped, twirling around, but he caught her wrists, preventing her from fleeing. “Now, now,” he warned. “I can take your ability to move away again.”

“You are such a psycho.” Her voice was unsteady.

“Oh, you have no idea,” he promised.

“Why bring me here?”

“I’m just along for the ride on this one.” He pulled her closer, slowly, and she tried to hold against it, but she slid towards him anyway. His unnerving smile not budging. “Do you wish none of this had ever happened?” he murmured. “Preserving your innocence?”

The door opened. And Jackie came in.

“Mum,” Rose whispered, but Jackie didn’t seem to hear her. Just rummaging around. “Mum!” she tried louder and tears were filling up her eyes. In a way, he was right. She wished for easier times.

The Master was behind her suddenly, lips on her ear. “She can’t hear you, Rose. Nobody can hear you. Only me.”

Rose felt so helpless as she watched her mother go out of the room again.

“Don’t worry,” he purred, his voice thick with false tenderness. “I’ll take care of you now.”

Rose recoiled, trying to bring some distance between them again, but it didn’t work. He was there, brushing her cheek, his touch light but suffocating, like a cage closing in around her. She tried to struggle, push him away, out of her mind, just away. It was like his hands cradled her cheeks. “Shshsh,” he whispered, pulling her in again. “Where would you even go, pet?”

“Away from you, it doesn’t matter where!” she tried to shout.

“But I promise I won’t leave you,” he mocked her, still holding her close, nose to nose, revelling in her horror. “Not like he did.”

Rose squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block him out, but it was no use. He was in her mind, manipulating everything, twisting every fear, every longing, until she didn’t know what was real anymore. “I don’t want you,” she whispered, but she should be screaming the words. His proximity influenced her in ways she couldn’t comprehend.

The Master chuckled softly, still holding her close. “You will stop fighting at some point,” he whispered, his lips ghosting against her temple. “I’ll make sure of that.”

And then, just as the darkness seemed to close in on her completely, suffocating her under its weight, Rose jolted awake.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath was ragged as she shot upright in bed, her body drenched in sweat. For a moment, she was disoriented, the dream lingering at the edges of her mind.

But then she saw him.

The Master sat in the corner of the room, watching her with a smug, predatory smile. His legs were crossed, one hand casually draped over the armrest of his chair, as if he had been sitting there for hours, savouring every moment of her nightmare.

Rose’s breath caught in her throat, her entire body tensing as the realisation hit her like a freight train. She probably knew before, but everything had been accompanied by this nightmarish state. “You,” she gasped, her voice trembling with both rage and fear. “You invaded my dreams.”

The Master’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction. “Such vivid dreams, Rose. It was hard to resist.”

Her stomach twisted as his words settled in, the nauseating sense of violation making her skin crawl. “You psychotic, sick bastard,” she spat, her voice shaking with a mixture of fury and revulsion.

He chuckled again, briefly looking away. “Like I said, you only know half of it.”

“Aren’t you a touch telepath?” How could he invade her telepathically, when he was sitting over there?

He tilted his head curiously, like he hadn’t expected that question. “Normally, yes. But when I’m on my TARDIS – that treacherous bitch,” he added, but it sounded almost fondly, “I’ve got more power.”

More power. Great. Exactly what he was short of, Rose thought bitterly. But her attention was on his comment about the ship. “T-trecherous?” she almost didn’t dare to ask. Afraid.

And his eyes sparkled at her knowingly. “Oh yes, I figured out that she helped you of course.” He raised his index finger. “No more new books for you either.”

She tried to read him, but couldn’t. There was amusement, but it was drenched in malice. She was terrified. Terrified he wouldn’t stop. Him attacking her again was undoubtedly a reaction to him realising out about the ship. Maybe it was silly, but it was like losing the only ally she had.

He stood up, his movements slow and deliberate as he approached the bed. Rose shrank back instinctively, her body recoiling from his proximity. “Leave me alone,” she spat sharply.

And he briefly stopped, frowning amused. “What did you expect, Rose? Seriously. You were trying to kill me. Did you expect for it to go unpunished?”

He continued walking closer and her heart beat up her throat. She remembered when she thought that being alone in this room for ages was torture. What would she give for him ignoring her again. What the fuck did she bring herself into?

He didn’t stop closing in and as she wanted to stand up on the other side of the bed, he was suddenly there, snatching one wrist across the bed. “You already proved how powerful you are, stop.”

“Oh, I don’t think I have,” he disagreed. “I think I have been too lax with you.”

Don’t.

“You tortured me, invaded my mind and my dreams!” she yelled in panic and anger. “Believe me, I get the picture.”

“Then I’ll make sure you really do. Again and again and again.”

“You can’t-” she began, her voice faltering, but the Master cut her off, his smile widening with that sick, knowing satisfaction.

“There’s nothing you can do to stop it.” His voice was a silken whisper, wrapping around her like a noose. “And as long as you doubt that, you don’t get it.”

Her body trembled with the weight of the truth. He was right. She couldn’t do anything about it. And the terrifying part was – everything he’s done in the past hours – he enjoyed it. He enjoyed controlling her, playing with her, bending her. He thrived on it.

He lingered there for a moment, before he slowly moved. Coming closer, his knees getting on the bed as he closed in. And she wanted to run, but didn’t see it helping her in that moment. She was frozen, as he was right in front of her and still towering over her.

“You're trembling,” the Master observed, his voice soft, but dripping with mockery. “So much bravado yesterday. What happened, Rose? Am I finally getting to you?”

Rose forced herself to meet his gaze, swallowing the panic that threatened to consume her. She hated that he was right. She tried to muster the shreds of defiance that were still somewhere within her. “Why don’t you get lost,” she whispered. “Get out of this room.”

He tilted his head, feigning confusion as he leaned even closer. “Out of this room? Rose, I'm already in your head. Where would I go?”

She jerked back, actually getting her hand out of his grip, off the bed, walking backwards. Her pulse racing as she tried to distance herself from him, but there was nowhere to go. She was trapped, in this room, in his clutches.

“You’re sick,” she whispered, her voice filled with disgust.

“I’m making a point.” He casually got off the bed as well, walking relentlessly closer.

“What point?” Desperate, she backed away as he stepped closer, only to hit the wall behind her. With nowhere left to go, she was trapped – hemmed in from behind by cold metal and from the front by his implacable approach.

“That I’m in charge,” he hissed, intruding her personal space again. “I own you. I can take everything from you.” Again, his hand found her head, fingers touching her ear, her hair and her cheek. “Everything I want.”

Rose’s heart pounded, her skin crawling under his touch. She wanted to lash out, to scream, but the weight of his control was stifling. “You can’t take everything,” she whispered. “There are parts you’ll never have, no matter what you do.”

His chuckle was as dark as his eyes, like there was no soul behind them. Like she was an ant he burned with a magnifying glass, enjoying her frantic escape from the fire, knowing she had no chance. “Oh, Rose. I already have ‘em all. I’ve already seen what there is to see.” His fingers moved on her skull and her breath hitched, afraid he’d invade again. But he only showed her that he could. “And I can take any bit … any time.”

She used her flaring anger to push through the fear that clung to her. Her voice, when it came again, was lower, more deliberate. “You might force yourself into my mind. You might twist my body and dreams. Maybe you’ll even f-force yourself on me …” She hated her quiver, but she also hated the flicker of the Master’s eyes – she saw in the way his smile sharpened at the edges, a glimpse of her worst fear reflected back at her. She pressed herself to continue, to not lose her determination, even if rooted in pain. “But you won’t own me. Not completely. You won’t own my choices. You’ll never have my consent.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and tense.

For a moment, the Master’s expression didn’t change. He stood there, the same cruel, smug smile playing on his lips. But something in his eyes shifted. No less calculating or dark. Slowly, he straightened, his head drove back just a little, though his gaze never wavered from hers. The smile remained, but something even more dangerous simmered beneath the surface now. “Consent?” The word slipped from his mouth like a taunt, his voice derisively soft. He tilted his head, watching her with that predatory gleam. “You think I care about your consent?”

She barely noticed a silent tear running down her left cheek, otherwise motionless. She felt disillusioned, but mostly numb. Emaciated. Like her body and mind was shutting down, but still trying to cling to anything resembling strength. “Without it, you’ll never really have me.”

He huffed. “You’re so … naive.” His grin was almost amazed, but his voice dripping with contempt. Her look fell down and she started shaking her head in disbelieve, when he continued, “Clinging to this illusion of control, when I could make you scream, cry and beg for anything.”

Whenever he pushed her so far that she was beyond her emotions, it always felt strangely liberating. When she looked at him again, she didn’t hide her tears, but she felt sober and calm. “You’re truly a lost cause, you know that? You’re alone in every sense of the word. That’s why you need to control people, because you can’t build real connections. Even though you want to,” she realised, no idea where her clarity stemmed from. “But you’re a deficient being. Failing, again and again.”

He frowned still mainly amused, wondering where her sudden attitude originated from, but there was also another question lingering that he held back. “Thanks for that psychological profile, Dr. Tyler. Speaking from experience with a certain different Doctor?”

“Failing to connect to the Doctor?” she almost grinned, darkly, but so sure of herself that her words would cut. “You would know all about that, wouldn’t ya’?”

At that, finally, the Master’s smile faltered for a split second, a flicker of something dangerous behind his eyes. His fingers flexed at his sides, as if he were holding himself back from something more violent. She didn’t care if he’d hurt her right now. The triumph she felt was reward enough. “Cat got your tongue?” she quipped a little too mocking, but she didn’t care.

His hand shooting forwards to grab her throat and press her against the wall was unexpected. It was sudden, the grip firm, but not squeezing. More like to hold her than to strangle her. To examine her. He observed her, like he was searching something in her face, her eyes or her soul. She hoped she would see her defiance again that she had temporarily lost.

His mouth opened and she saw him bite his tongue, like he was in thought, not quite finding what he was searching. “You are a strange creature, I give you that.”

Well, Rose had no idea what to say to that. “Is that why I am connected to your creepy machine? That why ‘m here?”

That brought a smile back to his face, even if it was a lot tamer now. He was still skimming her face, an unsettling softness in his eyes. “Don’t bother yourself with these questions. Just remember,” she felt him tighten his grip lightly, leaning in, “that if you try to kill me again – I’ll shred you in ways you can’t even imagine.”

With that, he let her go completely, even taking a step back. She sagged, her hand unwillingly wandered to her throat. But it was like his weight lifted from her, giving her enough space to finally breathe.

He had his arms behind his back and Rose wanted them to stay there. The small smile was still on his lips. “Come on. Say it,” he prompted almost cheerfully.

She needed a moment trying to understand what exactly he wanted to hear. “I won’t try to kill you again.”

His grin got darker. “Use my name.”

Her skin crawled, her whole body. Because his bloody name made her feel submissive, which was of course exactly what it was supposed to do. But she had to, she seriously needed a break. Her body ached, her head throbbed and her mind felt torn. So she did, but her voice trembled with hatred. “I won’t try to kill you again, Master.”

His grin widened, not swallowing in the darkness within it.

<>

Rose slept. She had no concept of time, but she was swimming in and out of it. She believed her dreams were churned up, not sure if the Master was slipping in sometimes. But she didn’t really remember them, like she was too exhausted for that.

Sometime at an unspecified ‘later’, she woke up and felt … somewhat fitter. Being crawled up in the corner of her bed.

She missed her books.

But everything was gone.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Thanks, anyway,” she murmured to the ship. “Thanks for trying.” Maybe, maybe, the ship would support her in any way in the future. Even if it wasn’t much. To be honest, Rose had no idea why it had done it in the first place.

She had expected to be here again for … hours? Days? But no, she heard the door knob move and finally saw the door open. With him leaning against the frame.

Honestly, she had no clue what to say, so she just stared at him for the longest time, not moving. “What is it?” There was no force behind her voice. Before, there had only been one thing that had made him seek her out. “Do I need to be in the torture chair?”

He tilted his head. And then simply nodded.

She sighed again, frustrated. Her hands finding her upper arms, holding them as she sat there on the bed, knees propped up. “And what if I refuse?” she asked quietly. It was an honest question.

“You know that’s not an option,” he answered calmly.

Her fingers pressed around her arms. “It’s obvious it isn’t just a torture device. What are you doing to me?” She didn’t expect him to answer, so his silence wasn’t surprising per se. She just found his whole composed demeanour unwonted. “Do you ask yourself why your ship wants to help me?”

He chuckled under his breath, still very contained. Looking briefly upwards. “I have some ideas,” he murmured, shifting slightly.

That made her curious. Sadly, he didn’t intend to elaborate. “Is it my charm?” she surprised herself with delicate banter.

His grin had an edge, like always, but it wasn’t malicious.

This whole talk had a vibe from a former, now empty, battlefield. They fought, and now there was nothing more to win for the time being.

With her next, resigned sigh, her hands drove through her hair, she sank her head along the way. Okay, there would be no way around it. And maybe it was more important finding out what the purpose of it all was. She still hated it.

Her hands fell, clapping her upper legs. “Okay, then,” she faked motivation. “Love getting my brain fried. Under one condition.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re in no condition to have conditions, Rose.”

“I think I do, since you obviously – like I knew – need me.”

“Don’t go there,” he almost pleaded, but it was a threat. “You know I can just force you.”

“Just,” she squeezed out, trying to get a hold of her tone, “give me some books again or something, so I don’t go mad.”

“Aw, you bored, Rose?” he taunted with condescending callousness.

“Oh my God, you’re such a jerk,” she groaned, she couldn’t help it, head sinking into her hands again. She hated that she now had real fear, every time she was obstreperous. It could all shift again within seconds to him torturing and attacking.

“Say please.”

She hadn’t expected his quiet words, even if challenging. She froze for a moment, then she searched for his eyes.

He glinted at her. “Beg me.”

Of course. She could do that, right? “Please, give me something to do here.” Her voice was honest and open. She didn’t want to play games. Not right now.

He was surprised by her tone, she could tell. Maybe even annoyed that she wasn’t livid underneath? But to his credit, he didn’t really let it show. “Maybe I will, then,” he answered almost neutral. Then stepping aside. “Now come.”

<>

Walking again into the control room was somehow strange. The yellow power cells were all repaired, no sign of what she had done to it. Come to think of it, she didn’t see any burns on the Master’s skin any more either.

“Are Time Lords healing faster?” she asked before thinking better of it, her natural curiosity just slipping through. She hadn’t even considered the context, which was less than optimal. Also, she felt like she should know from her time with the Doctor.

“Time Lords have better technology,” was his answer.

Made sense, too. They can make things heal faster. She was just glad that he didn’t commented on his burns. She watched the chair coming closer and beside that, the big machine apparently linked to her. Her heartbeat wasn’t relaxed, but it wasn’t running wild either.

When she walked towards the chair, however, she tensed up again. She twirled around, a little irritated he was so close. “No shackles,” she told him.

He blinked. “What?”

“Don’t strap me to that chair. It’s obvious I can’t flee so I won’t.”

He moaned, rolling his head on his neck, before focusing on her again. “You’re getting annoying.”

“Well, ‘cuse me, I didn’t know I asked to be your hostage.”

He winced with a mix of curiosity and taunt. “You’re treading on thin ice, you know that?”

“Yeah, so whatcha gonna do?” she asked calmer, knowing this lay in his power only. “Let me walk or let me break through?”

Again, it seemed like he studied her. Like he had to consider his steps with her. She partly wondered why. Probably because she didn’t even know what he needed her for, was far from having the whole picture. After a moment, he actually nodded. “All right, why not,” he hissed a little, contracting his nose. He turned around and Rose let out a tense breath. Of course, seeing him come back with his little pain device didn’t lighten her up. He tilted his head, eyes sparkling. “You still better sit down.” He rose his hands in a mock gesture of apology. “Not that you crash to the ground. Just looking out for your safety.”

Rose shook her head, dumbfounded and disgusted. “I don’t even know how to comment that.” She simply turned around to sit down. Expecting the shackles to surround her limbs, but they didn’t. She pulled her hair to the side and he already was leaning in close. “C-an you make it hurt less?” she asked before considering her words. Sounding small and vulnerable. Pleading him. And she didn’t expect him to freeze or the flicker in his face, almost … tentative.

His following smile wasn’t as sharp as she came to expect from him. “Would you believe me if I said I already tried?”

Her mind was blank for a second. Did she believe him? Probably not. And yet … maybe?

He drove the device closer. “Hold on tight.”

The pain was familiar and ugly. And everywhere. Her vision went white and she only heard her own scream as the pain finally vanished. She dangled on the chair as she got herself together again. Noticing him walking from the console to the machine mirroring her heartbeat. She never registered the panel there. Not really, because she never saw him working there.

But he seemed dissatisfied. At first his face hardened, his fist twitched, and finally he hit the machine once, groaning in frustration. He ruffled his hair before he twirled around. “Okay, change of plans.” He strode towards her. “Get up.”

She blinked at him. “Not sure if I feel my legs yet.”

“Let’s see,” he quipped, grabbing her arms to pull her up.

“Hey!” she called out surprised and had to steady herself on him.

He let go, at first having his arms in place to catch her, but she didn’t need it. “All good. So c’mon.”

He turned around and she was confused and still a little groggy. “Where to?”

“Oh, you’re going to love it,” he chuckled and turned around. “We’re going on a trip.”