Hello All! This is my 5th fan fic, but my 1st Doctor Who fan fic so bear with me please! My other four ones are Harry Potter, so if you are a major geek like me, who loves both Harry Potter and Doctor Who, you should check my other stuff out. I'm a whatever they call people who love England. An ANGLOPHILE! That's what they're called Anglophiles! No, not feeling it. Don't like the sound of that word. I'll stick with whatever they call people who love England. Right you wanna story, so… here you go! Wish me luck!
Disclaimer: no, not even gonna say it! But I've gots to so… I don't own Doctor Who… or David Tennant…or Billie Piper…or Catherine Tate…or Oh you get the idea!
Rain slapped the pavement as lightning brightened the night sky. A man opened the gate to a house. In the upper level of the house there was a room. In that room there was a girl. The girl slept silently. But even more silent was the man downstairs. As he silently climbed the stairs, she stirred, plagued by nightmares.
He opened the door, light flooded the room. He tip-toed quietly until he was towering over her, he placed his hands on her temples, and lifting her head slightly, gently placed his forehead on hers.
Terrible images, horrible nightmares, worse than the ones she was already having, filled her mind. Until, finally, it was too much for her to bear and her eyes burst open. The man jumped back, startled, as the girl opened her mouth to scream. Not missing a beat the now grinning man strode over and covered her mouth.
"Hey, no, hey, shh. No. No noise, hush, shh, hush." He whispered. The girl quieted suddenly and momentarily, before biting his hand.
"Hey, no! No, no, no! No!" He shouted.
"Hey, no, hey, shh. No. No noise, hush, shh, hush." She mocked, standing up to face him.
"No, I say that. Don't mock me. No. Don't."
"Who are you?" she asked, standing on tip-toes to look into his eyes.
"You really don't know? Did you not pay attention?" he whispered angrily, and touched his forehead to hers. A minute later he withdrew and looked at the awestruck girl in front of him.
"Oh, you are perfect." He muttered.
"Your Harold Saxon and you're name isn't Saxon its… you're a…"
"Oh you're a clever one. Ever met a man named the Doctor?" He asked taunting, she shook her head. He continued. "OH, you are beautiful, if you don't catch the Doctor's eye after I'm done with you, I don't know what will." He chuckled. The girl's eyes grew wider before getting angry.
"What do you mean 'done with me' and who's this Doctor. What the hell are you pl—"she hissed.
"Shh" he said, putting a finger to her lips. "Hush, shh, shh, quite." He muttered as she struggled against his grasp.
"Sleep." He whispered forcefully. The girl's eyelids grew heavier.
"Sleep now. Hush, little girl. Sleep." Her eyes fluttered, struggling to stay open and she slumped slightly to the floor.
"Sleep!" He said, louder and even more forceful than before. The girl fell to the floor, eyes fluttering slightly one more, before finally closing. As her breathing deepened, the man picked her up and whispered something in her ear. The one last thing she remembered before falling to a near unconscious sleep.
"You're Master commands it."
?
Unaware of what was going on inside, a cabby sat outside the house in return to a call that was made earlier that day. The Master walked out carrying the near-unconscious girl in his arms.
"What 'appen to 'er?" He asked, staring at the girl.
"She asleep." The Master said tonelessly and carelessly.
"Your 'arold Saxton, yeah?" the cabby asked twisting to try and get a better look.
"No." the Master answered, shortly. "And you're not getting paid to ask questions, Drive." The cabby obliged, driving silently until, he had to ask one final question.
"Is she alright, that girl? I can take you to a 'ospital if you like." He offered. The Master looked murderous.
"SHE. IS. FINE." He hissed. "And if I wanted a hospital I WOULD HAVE ASKED FOR A BLOODY HOSPITAL." His voice rang as they lapsed into silence. The girl stirred in the Master's arms.
"Stop here." The Master said finally.
"10 Downing Street? Wha' choo wan' 'ere?" The cabby asked, none the less opening the door to let the Master out. He sat there watching him struggle to get through the narrow door of the cab while carrying his new charge.
"Take her." The Master commanded, shoving the girl into the cabby's arms. "Better." He muttered stepping out. Another streak of lighting burst through the clouds, illuminating the Master's face. "Come long." He called walking up the steps.
"Come in." he said un-characteristically generous, when the door swung open after fiddling with the lock for a minute.
"That's the Prim Minster's 'ouse, we can' just walk in." the cabby protested weakly.
"But we can." The Master said smugly. The cabby looked at him confused. The Master clarified. "Because you were correct and for a human, however stupid you maybe, observant."
"What choo mean?" The cabby asked shifting the girl in his arms slightly. She stirred again.
"I am Harold Saxon. You were correct to that point. But that is not my real name. I go by a better greater name." he said proudly.
"But you said you weren't 'uman?" The cabby said again. The girl stirred.
"I'm not." The Master replied simply.
"WHA' CHOO MEAN YOU AIN'T 'UMAN?" The cabby yelled.
"Get in." The Master hissed, shoving the man inside the house. The girl chose this moment to wake up.
"What the hell!" she yelled as the cabby dropped her, stunned by her sudden awakening.
"No, no, no, no, no." the Master panicked, picking her up again.
"Let me go!" she yelled.
"What is it with the yelling, why the yelling, why can't you all HUSH?" the Master complained, yelling at the last word. The cabby and the girl both found they couldn't yell.
"LUUU-CCCY." He called in a sing song voice. An attractive blonde woman swept down the stairs at the sound of her name. A body guard followed her.
"Lucy, take our new…charge upstairs, will you? Good lass." He said to Lucy as she approached the blonde girl. They went upstairs. "And you, what's your name?" he asked the guard.
"MacDonald. David MacDonald sir." The young guard said in a thick Scottish accent.
"Yeah, I don't really care MacDougal." The Master said rudely. "Take care of him." Then he followed the women up the stairs.
"Get up." MacDonald said to the old cab driver.
"What does he mean 'take care a' me'? " The old man asked panicking.
"I'm sorry." MacDonald whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."
So… how'd I do? Good? Bad? Maybe? Wait, maybe makes no sense, at all. So do you see that great little shiny button down there? You do? Fantastic! So what you do is you click and write a great review! 'Cause I know you all are perfectly perfect brilliant ol' humans!