Doctor Who fic, Master/Doctor, in the year that never was. The Master has some fun playing with the doctor, rated M for twisted torture and abuse. Will write more chapters if told to.
BBC owns these two, not me.
I can hear Jacks' screams quiet. It's terrible, but I wish they wouldn't stop. They only stop when Koschei is done playing with him, when Jack is allowed to rest. When Jack is resting, it's my turn. It's so selfish of me to wish that Jack would be tortured for an eternity just so I could be spared. It's sick of me to be so afraid, Me, the Doctor, the Healer. I am Merlin and Muldwych, I am the oncoming storm. The Time Lord Victorious; I am the Destroyer of Worlds, Quiquaequod. I am powerful and endless, I lord over time itself, I am Time's Champion! This shame and fear is foolish.
And I am a fool. I am simply ΘΣ. I am not an alpha. I am lost in my thoughts when I feel the pain of time being turned back, my cage becoming much too small as I return to my tenth incarnation. Bars dig into the flesh of my back, and bump into my knees. The Master reaches through the bars to poke at my skin.
"Thete. Good to see you." He chuckles. No one's called me Thete, not since Drax. Stupid Drax...
"Koschei. 'Fraid I can't quite return the sentiment." I know my good humor grates on him. I know that I ought not annoy someone who wants to torture me, someone who has the upper hand, who has access to my naked flesh beyond metal bars. I wince as I hear his mockery of my invention, his sonic screwdriver focusing mere inches from my scalp, opening the cage. The walls fall away like petals of a flower, leaving me vulnerable in the center.
I want to run. I want to run more than I've ever wanted to run in my life. But if I do that he'll just zap me into unconsciousness, making me more helpless while he waits for me to wake up, waiting until I've returned to full strength before lecturing me. If only it was simply lectures, perhaps I'd be not so afraid. But every day it's different. The same words, the same speech, but different pain. He must run out of ways to make me whimper and scream. He must. It's been months, he's going to run out of ideas at some point.
So I keep thinking, but every day, something different, something so humiliating and painful that I almost hold a respectful awe for his twisted imagination. Almost. He grabs my hair, pulling me upright. I grit my teeth. I don't know why I bother, if he wants me to scream, he'll manage it somehow.
"Thete... I wonder why you trouble yourself like this. You could join me, you know." Well that's new...but just as insane and insipid as any other rambling he's given while he beats me.
"Never. I'd never join you. I'm not like you." I manage to gather what little saliva I have in my mouth and spit at him. It misses his shoe by an inch and a half, but the insult is still there. He pushes me to the floor, giving me a kick in the gut.
"That wasn't very kind, Thete."
"Stop calling me that! I'm the Doctor! I'm not Theta!"
"Not anymore, but that doesn't mean I shan't use the word if I find it most fitting, Theta Sigma. I know all your names, I choose to use this one. If you have a problem with it, than t'is entirely your problem. Not mine."
He circles me, like a jackal. "What do you want? What will make you stop this madness?!"
"I don't want for anything right now, 'Doctor'. I have everything I could possibly wish for. Unimaginable wealth, a trophy wife, power beyond compare, a great body and a perfect health. I have servants that serve me out of fear for their lives, and such entertainment, the man that never dies. And I have you... " His patent leather shoe rubs my chest. "Don't I, Theta."
I hesitate, and his shoe comes down on my hand. Not hard enough for the bones to break, but the threat is clear. "Yes! You have me. You have Theta!" I hate myself as I hear a whimper escape my throat. I'm letting him win...but his foot moves away from my hand.
"That's a good boy..." He bends down to pet my hair. It must feel greasy by now, it feels like ages since I've been allowed to bathe. Months of sweat and piss and fear. I'm disgusting.
"I hate you." The words slip out before I can even think them, and I cower immediately, expecting harsh consequences.
"You don't mean that." He continues to stroke my hair, then cups my face. My eyes are closed, I can't deal with this. I wish he'd hit me, I'd deal with that better than this sour gentleness, these sickening caresses.
"Just tell me what you want, leave me alone... leave everyone alone." My words come out as a lament, often repeated, almost meaningless.
"Forget about what I want. What do you want, Theta?" I'm stunned, and I say something stupid. I should have asked for freedom, if not for me than for Tish's family, for Jack. But the words are out before I think, and freedom is too impossible anyway.
"I want a bath." I curse my stupidity.
"That can be arranged." And he picks me up. I must be half starved, to be this frail... I open my eyes a crack to look at my ribs. They show clearly, easily countable. I should have asked for food. No! I should have asked for freedom. I'm so stupid. I cling to him desperately.
"Please, don't... Please... j-just let me go. Let Tish go. Let Jack go. Let them go."
"Theta... hush... you know I can't do that. You might ruin my plans, and that just wouldn't do.... but a bath, that's a nice, sensible request... " He sets me down on a cold tile floor, gooseflesh rising as I hiss an intake of breath. Water starts to run.
"Cold." I shiver slightly as he leaves me on my back, curled in the fetal position. "So cold."
"It's okay Theta. You'll be alright... everything is so much easier if you co-operate... open your eyes." His voice is gentle, caring. I obey.
"Ow." The light is too bright, everything is too white. He's kept me in the dark too long, I feel blind. I blink away natural tears.
"Oh.... Theta, I'm sorry..." I feel his fingers on my face, trailing the droplets of salt water. He's made me cry before, he hasn't cared.
"Wh-why are you being so nice to me?" He picks me up again, I can't help but turn to face him, my hair brushing his chest, my face nudging his silk shirt. He lowers me into hot water, my bruises aching anew. My arms and legs stiffen, pushing away from the bottom of the deep tub.
"Too hot!" I cling to him more, getting him wet. His gentleness fades.
"Ungrateful little wretch." He holds me under the water, it's too hot, I can't breathe. I try to scream, watching my voice turn to bubbles before my blinking eyes. The water makes the vision of his face fracture, shatter, undulate. I have to close my eyes, I hold what little breath I still have, thrashing my fists and kicking my feet, splashing the water. My muscles fatigue easily, I hear my hearts pounding, bump-bu-bump-bu, the Master's rhythm. I calm myself, giving into death, bracing myself to purposefully inhale water...
And he pulls me up, delivering a sharp slap to my soaked skin. I cough what water did get into my lungs before gasping at the impact.
"Ow." My breathing is ragged, I am livid, I want to strike back... but he grabs my wrists. I know I'm weak, and whatever flash of fierceness that may have been in my eyes is soon gone as I calm and remember my helplessness.
"Now Theta... being thankful would be far more thoughtful." He lets my wrists go, grabbing soap, lathering a sponge.
"Yes, Koschei." I speak like a cyberman, automatically, without life. He starts to wash my back.
"Koschei is gone, 'Doctor'. Do refer to me by my title, or I'll have to be rough with you. And I would just hate to be rough with one of the last of the Chronarchs."
I whimper. "Yes Master." The name is poison on my tongue. But he continues to clean my back, using lotions. It all smells so heavenly, like the fields of Gallifrey, like home...I find my muscles relaxing against my will, my head lolling to the side. I'm so weak. I don't protest, I can't protest as his fingers move to my chest, cleaning, then moving to my neck, throat, face... He's everywhere, I can't keep track.
"Such a good boy, Theta." He washes my hair, the scent of home washing my mind of all the beatings, all the pain, all the humiliation... for a moment.
"Ahnoohh..." It crashes down as I realize I've let out a moan. My eyes are wide and fearful as I wonder if he heard it. His chuckle tells me he did.
"Such a good boy indeed, Theta. You like my hands in your hair?"
"Y-yes." He tugs lightly, and I correct myself. "Yes M-Master."
He starts to rinse the suds from my scalp, warm water amazing against my skin. After the weeks of being confined to a cramped cage, let out only to be beaten mercilessly, this is heaven. I don't care as his hands begin to wander again, as he moves me so he can clean my feet, my calves, my knees...as he tilts my chin, looking me in the eyes as he washes behind my ears. I'm a ragdoll, a child, I have no fight left in me.
"Theta, you act like a shell... is the Doctor even in there?"
I shrug. I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to talk at all. I close my eyes, sinking into the warm water... it takes me a moment before I feel his finger tips at my temple. He hasn't done this. I've wondered, but so far he'd only been physical in his abuse. I assumed even he had a limit, a level of decency. I try to squirm away, trapped in the tub.
"N-no. Noo." His other hand goes to my newly washed hair, holding me still.
"Theta, open your mind."
"No! Never, Koschei, Never!" I splash around more, feeling like a fish out of water. Stupidly, I glace at his eyes, and find myself trapped. His mind, entering mine. It's violation, brutal and sharp and painful. It's rape. Memories flash before my inner eye as he rips through all of my defenses. He tears through walls in my mind, I'm sure I'm screaming but I can't hear it. The memories are almost as painful as the way he pries them from my mental cavity.
"My my, Theta, you really did earn the name Karshtakavaar. You simply are a destroyer of worlds... so many dead... so many lives ruined." I don't know if he's speaking verbally or not, but his voice echoes in my skull. He goes deeper, before the last 800 years. He goes to childhood. I try to break away, I'm not even sure if my physical body is moving, but my mind tries to flee in terror. Surely I'm saying no. Surely by now I'm screaming, surely someone will help me.
He flicks past university, past the meetings of the Deca, all the way to before the drumming, before the schizm. Before the insanity. Back to when we were friends. Back to when we were all the other had. Distantly, I know I'm crying, sobbing, just as when I was seven years old, before I was the doctor, before I was even Thete, before things were complicated.
The bully. Faceless now, blurred by the hands of time. Larger than life, kicking Koschei relentlessly, yelling insults long forgotten. I watch in horror, watch as the beating takes a different, more brutal turn. I remember squirming against hands holding me back, people making me watch, my screams muffled by many, forcing me to stay still. I don't recall how I broke free, just a flurry of activity, boys running, the one who was panting over Koshei now bleeding under me, begging me to stop as I keep hitting, I just keep hitting and hitting and hitting until he's still and harmless. Until he's nothing. Until he's dead. Koschei holds me as I cry over the body, unable to comprehend what I just did, what I just saved my friend from, none of it able to sink in, my universe reduced to a seven year old's arms, holding me as a sob even as he sobs on my shoulder in return.
Slowly I am returned to reality, Saxon's shirt soaked with water as he holds me, letting me cry on him, his own eyes dry. When my tears and sobs subside, he speaks.
"I never would have thought that you had loved me, Theta."
"I d-don't. I h-hate you. I h-hate you so much. I h-hate you." I pound weakly against his chest, my fist-falls lighter than rain. I see why he wasn't like this before. Before I would have had a fighting chance.
"It's not hate I saw in your thoughts, not in the academy." He holds me still as I struggle in his arms.
"Let me Go!" It comes out more as a whine than a yell. His fingertips find my temple again, my mind is forced into brutally once more. He's searching for something, he is unsatisfied that he cannot find it. He's focusing on the companions, the kisses, the unrequited love on their part. On Rose. On Tish. On Ace. He goes all the way back to Barbara Wright. He cannot find what he's looking for. He gives up, withdrawing less gently than before, making me sob in pain and mental anguish.
"It's not there. Where are you keeping those thoughts, Doctor, those memories?"
"I d-don't know what you're talking about!" He's insane. He's truly absolutely insane. Beyond insane.
"Unclean thoughts. You've not had a breath of sexuality in your mind since university, since the Deca! You've not bothered to think about it. You've surrounded yourself with pretty young women, the occasional little male, and yet... nothing. Where are you hiding, Doctor!"
He breaks me a third time, searching relentlessly. I feel I'd be sick if I had anything to be sick with.
"P-please. Stop. I d-don't know... I... I j-just haven't. I haven't th-thought about s-such things.. p-please st-stop hurting me."
"Hush, Theta, I haven't even begun to harm you." He rubs my back, some pale comfort compared to the torture he has put me through.
"Please.... please... a-anything. Ju-just stop." I cling to his shirt, holding myself close, the cold air on my dripping body making me shiver, his skin warm and inviting in comparison.
He pauses. "Poor Theta. Poor little time lord victorious." He pets my hair briefly, then finds a towel and begins to try me off, being none to shy with my tormented body. I do nothing to stop him. He finishes drying me, running fingers through my hair to spike it, and carries me.
I expect my cage, I close my eyes and try to relax, knowing the pain that is to come of the aging will be excruciating... "Please... just let me go..."
I am snapped out of my pleading as I feel myself being set upon something soft. I blink my eyes open. A bed. A sense of foreboding overrides my senses, and I lean upright, needing to run.
"You're not going anywhere, my little Gandalf." He forces me to the mattress, pinning my limbs individually to tie them to each corner of the bed. I feel exposed, and even more helpless. I stare at the ceiling.
"Please. Please, don't. For the sake of decency, just put me back in the cage... "
He slaps me across the face again, and this time I taste blood. "No. Now stay."
And he leaves. I'm alone. Oh God I'm so alone. I wonder if he'll just let me die here... I tug the bonds, to no avail. I am trapped. I speak to no one.
"Please please please oh God just let me go. Just let me go I need out of here!" It suddenly occurs to me that just I could hear Jack's pleading, Jack and Tish can likely hear me. I musn't worry them. I mustn't let them know what's going on. I shut my mouth, biting my lip. There are few things I can do at this point to maintain whatever fictional pride and dignity I have left, but by God what I can do, I will.
I close my eyes, trying to relax. It's a nice bed, it's warm, and welcoming. I am almost asleep when The Master returns. I open my eyes warily as I hear a clink on the bedside table. A bowl, steam rising from it... he undoes my bindings only to tie me up more creatively, keeping me stuck in a seated position.
I shake my head, but my stomach growls. I hate it so much. Saxon laughs.
"Clearly you're lying... I don't know if I should reward such behavior with food. Then again... Doctor, have you ever fucked a corpse?"
I shudder as much as possible in revulsion. He's been in my mind, he knows I'd never do anything like that. "Why on Earth?! No!" I try to edge away, falling onto my side. He pulls me upright by my hair. He knows I love my hair.
He laughs as I squirm, tears springing to my eyes. He fills a spoon with soup, then holds it to my lips. I want to spit, but I daren't. I'm so hungry. Saxon puts the tray on the bed, the bowl in the center of the tray, and lays the spoon aside. He pushes me onto my stomach, mere inches from the bowl.
"Go on little Theta, Eat." I wriggle, my face finding the bowl, and I devour the soup quickly, not caring as it burns my lips and tongue. I'm so hungry, my belly is like a beast, roaring for more. I can't help but give in to it, licking the bowl clean, licking as much as my face clean as I can. I lay on my side, panting. I didn't know I was capable of eating like that.
"So it came to pass, that the Great Doctor fell... and his hope was no more. And I looked down upon my new acquisition, as Master of all, and I thought it... good. Are you better, Theta? More flesh on your bones?"
I wince as I realize the significance of his corpse comment. Again I panic. "Oh ... Oh God you -wouldn't-."
And again his hands are upon me, caressing lewdly, making my skin crawl. "Oh but perhaps I would." He leans over me, licking what soup I missed from my cheeks, putting the tray aside. "Do tell me the truth..."
"Anything. I'll tell you anything."
"Have you honestly never taken advantage of one of those women you're so often with?"
"The... the companions? N-no.... never... " I shake my head. The food has done me well, the half nap as well... "No... they don't interest me that way. They were for company, for sharing the adventures with."
"Not for bedding." He scoffs slightly. "Do you like the look of my wife?"
I stare at him, not sure if this is a trick question or not. I frown. He laughs.
"Not your type I take it. What about Jack?"
"What about him?"
"You're in his mind. He's not so much in yours. He's got you and that Ianto fellow, giving him hope... you have no hope, doctor."
"I don't need hope. I don't need any of that nonsense. You will lose this. I will win. That is -all-." I know the fierceness is back. I know it's dangerous, that I'm risking a slap. I don't care. I'm strong, I'm young, I am full of 'piss and vinegar' as the saying goes. I wrinkle my nose as he begins to laugh.
"Now there is the Doctor. It will be fun to break you again. I thought you'd completely gone, but if you're still here, then I can still have fun."
Dammit. Dammit all. I ought to act submissive, meek, make him lose interest... but then would would keep him from killing me? At least if he's having fun with me, I have a purpose, something that will keep me alive. Is it worth it? I don't know. I can't know. But dammit I'll be finding out the hard way.
"Then have your fun. See if I care." I know there's a challenge in my voice, I know that I'm being stupidly difficult. I know that I practically deserve whatever he's going to dish out, I may as well be directly asking for it. But I don't know what he's going to do. I just have an ever present sinking feeling that I'm going to regret it.
"Don't get snippy with me, bitch." He tugs my hair lightly, a warning. I'm not so dense as to not take it. I sullenly stare at the ceiling.
"Just do it already. Just... do it. I know you're going to." I want to cry, but will be damned if I show any more weakness.
"I haven't the foggiest notion what you're talking about..." He runs a finger along my skin, making me jerk and shiver. "Enlighten me."
"Oh shove it." I'm getting terribly sick of this charade. He has me at his mercy, he has had me like this for months. If he's going to do something, anything, there's not a bloody thing I can do to stop him. Just lay back and think of England, that's what used to tell girls, right? This is hardly my wedding night, but it ought to do.
I'm jolted from that frame of thought as Saxon slaps me. "Respect, Theta."
"I saved your life, Koschei. Where's your gratitude?"
He slaps me again, and again, and again, my head soon ringing as some of his blows hit my ears, his open hand curling into a fist. Before I know it's he's got me on my back, is straddling me, punching again and again, my mouth full of blood.
I spit at him. He's infuriated. Reasonably so I suppose, I think blood tends to ruin silk. As if the water hadn't...
"These clothes are worth more than you are! How DARE you be so insolent!"
And I start to laugh. His rage, it's not funny, he's going to beat me, it's going to hurt, but somehow, I just don't care. I've slipped past whatever bonds me to reality. I am Time Lord Victorious. Nothing can stop me, I am the last of my kind. I am the last that is whole, for this pitiful creature is not a Time Lord, not in the true sense. This miserable beast is insane, driven mad by imagined constant war drums.
"You can't hurt me." Four words, spilling past my laughing lips. He hits me again and again, but somehow I just feel it. He leaves the room in a huff, and for the moment I think I've won. Yay me.
Yet he returns shortly, a sly smile on his face. "In your mind, do you know what I found?"
"Good will t'wards man?" I shouldn't be joking. I am in no position to be joking.
"No...." His face turns sour for a moment before he smiles. "Hoplophobia."
I blink, feigning ignorance to the term. "Bless you."
He frowns again, bringing forth a small handgun. I start to sweat, gulping back fear. "Now put that away, before someone gets hurt."
"The only one who'll get hurt is you, Theta, if you don't co-operate."
"Why do people think that being at gunpoint encourages compliance?" I muse, wanting him to point that thing anywhere but at me.
"Because it does, you silly little brat... now open your mouth."
My eyes widen, my mouth clamps shut, and I shake my head. My confidence is dwindling. He wouldn't. But I know he would. And he will.
"If you don't open it, you're going to like what I'm about to do even less. So open your damn mouth and co-operate for once, Theta."
I turn my head away, but slowly open my mouth. He takes my chin and forces me to face him, shoving the barrel down my throat, hitting my teeth and making me choke. There's no give, I gag, soup rising in my esophagus. He pulls it out and inspects it, unsatisfied. I've barely swallowed down the burning liquid before he shoves it past my lips again.
I blink, eyes watering, the metal tasting horrible, making me cringe. I find myself whimpering, hearing him switch off the safety making me slobber on it wantonly before pulling away. "Oh God don't shoot me. Don't shoot me, please. Oh God don't."
He inspects it again, silently, ignoring my pleading for a moment. "You said I can't hurt you. Clearly I wasn't trying hard enough."
I sob. I'm not stupid. Naive occasionally, perhaps. Inexperienced, of course. Optimistic, rather often, thank you very much. But there's no way what he was about to do could be good. There was only one reason I could think of for these kinds of actions. I wonder briefly if he did this to Jack. If he pulled the trigger, killed Jack that way. It's too horrible to contemplate, I have to focus on something else. The Master grabs my attention forcefully, tugging on my more sensitive parts, eliciting a yelp.
"Ahn! Stop!" I squirm against the bindings, only to be pulled and tied differently, spread eagle on the bed. I thrash as hard as I can, uselessly. All of it's so useless. "Stop, that HURTS!"
He laughs. "I was hoping it would. Do you respect me yet? Am I more powerful than you yet, 'Doctor'?" He holds my groin in a painful grip, his other hand pushing the gun against my tight ring of muscles.
"Yes! Yes Master. Oh God don't do this, Please!" I'm frantic now, crying, both out of pain and anticipation of further pain. Yet he only seems thrilled by my panic, my hearts beating faster than I thought possible, the blood pounding in my ears, his beat overwhelming me as he pushes the into me in one swift motion, everything overwhelming me and briefly becoming black.
Darkness, safe and unfeeling darkness. I cling to it desperately, even as the Master holds smelling salts under my nose. I'll be damned if I let him bring me to consciousness, and I actively fight against it. I distantly feel him slap my face, and then he puts a hand over my mouth and nose. My eyes widen as I feel myself being dragged into alertness, struggling to breathe past his fingers, muscles going taught, and suddenly every nerve screaming. He left the gun in me. He removes his hand to hear my screams. I forget about Jack, and Tish, I can't bring myself to care about how this may affect them. I scream, louder than I thought I could. It echoes, maybe only in my head. I hope only in my head. Eventually I run out of air. I know I'm going into shock. My hands tremble against their restrictions, my legs are trying to snap shut. My eyes are glazing over.
"Now now... c'mon, it can't be that bad..." He tries to arouse me, failing terribly. How in hell can he expect me to want this? To have any modicum of pleasure from such pain?
"I should have let him rape and kill you." My words are through gritted teeth, and I have never wished such things upon anyone before. "I should have killed you myself, ages ago. I should have... ah... No!"
I scream again as he take the gun and begins to thrust it in and out. I feel my throat become raw as I scream for what seems like hours. He turns the safety on and off, to hear the change of tone as my panic increases or decreases. He pulls the hammer back every now and again to hear me beg, sob, plead, and pray. I make promises, I swear revenge, I cry myself dry of tears. I can feel and smell blood pooling on the sheets between my legs.
After what feels like days, I am finally too tired and weak to protest, my yells and screams now hoarse mewls of pain, my threats simply whimpers.
I nod, feeling sick, so sick... He removes the gun, finally, and my body feels empty and used. I tremble all over, unable to react in any other way. The Master's face shows concern, of all things.
"Are you alright? You don't look so good... " He manages barely to have the bowl from my soup under my chin as I lean as much as I can to vomit. I'm sick until I can be sick no more, it feels like gallons, but I barely cover the bottom of the bowl.
I let out a broken half sob. Remotely, some part of me is aware the Master is undoing my bonds. That small part of me still has the will to run. It is very small, and greatly outweighed by my need to stay still, to close my eyes, to pretend this didn't just happen. I shudder as much as my tense and tired body will allow when I realize the Master is stroking my hair.
"Good little Theta... good boy... You did good... I'm proud." I want to scream obscenities at him, but instead I close my eyes and sleep. I nightmare, of course, but when I wake up Saxon is gone. For a moment I contemplate running, and it seems to be a good idea. Upon sitting up I realize my folly, immediately lying down again. I gasp and my hands fly to my rear. The blood is dried, making it all that more awkward and painful. I start to cry, and Saxon returns.
"Ah, pet, you're awake. Thirsty?"
I nod, mutely. He holds a bottle of water to my lips, tilting it so the liquid slides down my eager throat.
"There you go... now I'm afraid you're going to go back in your cage, I've got to have a maid clean the sheets..." I don't even bother to struggle as he picks me up, taking me back to the main room, blood still on my thighs. The agony of being aged feels like nothing, my soul is numb. I think in an offhand way about how Tish will see the blood, how she'll know something happened, how she may worry. I can't bring myself to care. I hold the bars and look at nothing with large dull eyes.
The Master pets my head through the bars. "Until next time, Doctor."
I cringe. I don't want there to be a 'next time'.
But there will be. There always is.