A/N Chapter 2! I know, I posted this right after the prologue, but it needed to be done. I hate leaving epilogues without at least putting another chapter after it.
Chapter 2
"Master…" I hear in my empty head. "Master… come on, come back to me, old friend."
My head swims somewhat as I try to open my eyes. Light filters through and I shut them again and groan. I assess the damage. The Drums are gone, completely. What am I without the Drums? An average renegade Time Lord. I could have sworn I was dying, but I'm not. Keeping my eyes shut, I tense each muscle in my body, testing its strength. I haven't regenerated, but my body is much stronger now. I feel… good as new. But not entirely new. How can this be? Is this even… real?
-It's real, Master-
I cringe and mumble, "Don't… Don't call me that."
-It's real… Koschei-
I smile and finally drag up the courage to open my eyes. I sit up and my head swims again. The world tilts and I feel a hand on my back. I look into the Doctor's eyes and for the first time, I fail to understand this situation. How did I escape the time lock? I was standing so close.
-I saved you.-
Of course he did. He's the Doctor. He saves everyone, no matter what the consequences are. I look around and find that I'm in the sick bay of the TARDIS. I can feel her mental hum of approval of my presence, for once. I reach out to the TARDIS and she gives me the feeling of forgiveness. She understood better than anyone that I'd had no choice when I'd turned into a Paradox Machine. I sighed happily and pulled away from her, turning to the Doctor. He seemed to be wary of me, wondering what I'd do next. So, I surprised him. I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around him. It was all I could do to stop myself from weeping.
"Theta…" I whispered in Old Gallifreyan. "Th-thank you."
"I… I did everything I could, Mas—Koschei…" he said into my shoulder. "I tried to force you to regenerate because your body was dying, but something went wrong. The artron energy healed you, but you're still in the same body. I really tried, I'm sorry… I'm so sorr—"
"Shut up," I said, gripping the back of his jacket and burying my face his shoulder. "Just shut up. You have nothing to be sorry for." The Doctor sniffed and pulled away from me. I tried to look at him, but he looked away.
"I do…" he said, lapsing back into English. "I have so much more to be sorry for than you could ever imagine, Master. Because now, I am about to become the most cruel being in this Universe."
"What do you mean?" I asked, responding accordingly. Suddenly the door to the sick bay slammed open and five UNIT soldiers burst into the room. They were unarmed, but one of them was carrying handcuffs. The Doctor stood and walked back a few paces to make room for them. I looked at him, confused as to why he would let them take me. "Wha-what's going on? Doctor?" He looked away from me and his expression turned to stone.
"I can't be sure you're completely alright again, Master," he said coldly. "And I'm afraid I don't have the resources to help you if you aren't."
"What are you talking about?" I snapped, resisting the men as they grabbed my arms and forced me to stand. "You said you could help! You promised!" My hearts broke as I heard the final click of the handcuffs. He really was going to let them take me. Didn't he realize how cruel they would be to me? Didn't he realize that it really was the Drums that had controlled me? As the UNIT soldiers took me away, I realized he didn't have that much faith anymore. He once had so much mercy, but it had gone on too long. I let my head hang in shame and I let him see just how broken I was because of this betrayal.
"Kui'la, Koschei," he called to me in Gallifreyan.
"I love you too, Theta," I said, for the first time since my coronation. "I love you more than anything in this universe."
He looked up, completely shocked. I let a tear slide down my cheeks. Just before the doors to the sick bay shut, I saw the Doctor step forward as if to stop the men dragging me away.
The UNIT soldiers blindfolded me and led me out of the TARDIS. I already knew where we were headed, but I didn't tell them that. They would just knock me out or beat me or offer up some cruel insult that I was far too sensitive to hear at the moment. When had I become so sensitive? I don't remember being this way before my coronation. Perhaps it was because of everything I'd suffered. The Drums had eliminated any trace of a conscience I'd had, but now, the memories of all the lives I'd taken rushed to the front of my mind. It hurt. I staggered from the pain and felt one of the soldiers push me forward.
"Move it, alien scum!" he snapped. I pushed the memories back into my mind and focused on the steady tap of their boots against the linoleum. Left, right, left. Left, right, left. I didn't dare count in that godforsaken rhythm of four. The memories receded momentarily.
I felt myself being pushed forward and stumbled again, landing on the floor. I would have caught myself if my hands hadn't been cuffed behind me. My face hit the floor with a sickening smack and I groaned a little. The soldiers insulted me a few more times, said something about a General coming to see me and I'd better behave or they'd come back and beat me till I'm half dead, and left. I curled into a ball and wept silently. I wasn't weeping because I didn't think I deserved this, because I did. I was weeping for Gallifrey and the Senators' stupidity. I wept for all the lives I'd taken and destroyed. I wept for the Doctor. I wept for his companions: Martha Jones, Captain Jack Harkness, The Jones family. I wept for Lucy Saxon and felt a sense of pride when I thought of her. She'd done the right thing by killing me—twice. When I think about her now, I feel ashamed that she'd died. She was so brave; such a wonderful, curious little human. Any ordinary man would have been lucky to have her and I had treated her like a chess piece in a game against the Doctor and the human race. An expendable chess piece.
I sensed the General before I heard him exit the lift at the end of the hall. A smile crept across my face as I realized what he was. Perhaps he could keep me safe here. Maybe… just maybe, I'd be saved from the cruelty of these humans who so badly wanted to punish me for my crimes. Maybe… maybe not.
"Master," he said. His voice was a deep baritone. He unlocked the cell and walked in, locking it behind him.
"General," I replied sarcastically. He took off the handcuffs and the blindfold and helped me up onto the bed in the corner. I looked around my cell. One toilet, one sink, a desk and a chair. I assumed the desk contained some writing utensils and paper. The General pulled the chair over and sat in front of me. He examined my face and body for several minutes. I examined him as well. He appeared to be about six feet tall, Caucasian, broad shouldered, high cheekbones. His hair was dark, short and curly and he sat up perfectly straight—like I assumed a soldier should. After far too much time had passed, I became irritated. I never liked being stared at. "Yes?" He smiled.
"This…simply won't do," he said, tilting his head to the side.
"What?"
"Your appearance," he replied. "But we'll deal with that after your treatment." I raised a brow in inquiry. "Yes, you will undergo treatment for rehabilitation. You will take part in shock treatment, MRI and CT scans, physical and mental exercises, and various tests centered on your conscience and integrity." I frowned. That last part hadn't made sense. I'd expected the torture—er, shock treatment and 'exercises', but what had he meant by the last? I asked him. He smiled.
"You will see a psychologist every week," he said. "Each week, you will be asked to recall your crimes and you will be judged on your reaction." I swallowed thickly. They couldn't make me do that, could they? I could just… you know… refuse to speak. I was already trying my hardest not to remember every little detail. If I did that… I'd break. "If you refuse to participate in your treatment, you will only remain here longer and your treatment will only get worse. The Doctor has provided us with a means of getting information out of you… though, as I'm sure you know by now, I won't need it."
Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. My hands began to shake at my sides and my hearts rate jacked. Was this fear? Am I… afraid? My brain fumbled to come up with a response.
"I—you can't," I whispered.
"I can, Master, and I will," the General answered, his sick grin growing wider. A lump formed in my throat and tears stung my eyes and threatened to spill over.
"Please…" I begged. "I am begging you, please don't make me do that. You can do anything else you want to me, but don't make me do that. It would destroy me." I was being perfectly honest and the General seemed surprised. He hesitated with his next response.
"If you want the Doctor to believe that you have truly changed, you must," he implored, standing. Before leaving the cell, he said something to me in Gallifreyan. "I know, Master."
My mind flooded.
A/N Rate and Review please. 3
TLK
