oooooooooooooo

Turlough knew he was talking too much, but he didn't care. It had been far too long since he'd had a sympathetic—and disinterested, if that weren't too much of a contradiction—ear. His brother couldn't understand, and there was no one Turlough was closer to, not on Trion. Why not share his troubles with a stranger in a bar? Why not tell that stranger about how poorly he'd been treated since he came home, how it had all been his father's fault for being on the wrong side of the political wrangling during Turlough's childhood, his mother's fault for not being strong enough to stand up to his father, his planet's fault for exiling them after his father's spectacular political failures? Why not tell him about the supposed change in political climate that allowed him to return home, only to discover that some things hadn't really changed? The wrong things? And why not tell him about the problems that exile had caused Turlough? He seemed interested enough...

"He treated her shabby, if you want my opinion," Turlough mumbled belligerently into his a'lwhara. "Just left her on that bloody space station, no one around but a bunch of sick aliens and that rat thing, just left her, and after all she'd done for him—"

"I don't understand, friend," the stranger murmured, putting out a gloved hand as if to lay it on Turlough's arm, then snatching it away before actually making contact. "I thought she was a mere traveling companion, like yourself and the Earth girl. Free to make her own choices."

"I never said any different," Turlough replied, taking a long drink from his mug, suddenly cautious. Talking about his travels with the Doctor always made him slightly uncomfortable, as if he were giving away secrets. And feeling uncomfortable always made him angry; why should he feel that way? He didn't owe the Doctor anything.

"Your words may not say any different, but your voice certainly does," the stranger countered.

Turlough shrugged, concentrating on his drink, vaguely aware that he'd allowed himself to become far more inebriated tonight, on his birthday, than he had ever been in his life. And not caring, either. He turned to stare at the man who had been buying him drinks for the past few hours, unearthly blue eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. "What do you know about it?" he demanded belligerently.

The stranger raised his hands in a placating gesture. "I know nothing about it," he offered soothingly. "I simply...wondered."

"Well, there's nothing to wonder about," Turlough snarled, turning away sharply. "Nyssa was the most wonderful woman I've ever known—intelligent, brave, resourceful, beautiful—and he treated her like he treated everyone, like he didn't even notice her or her feelings. Even though Tegan and I both knew how she felt." He fell abruptly silent, as if he regretted his outburst, but the damage had been done.

"She was in love with the Doctor," the stranger murmured in sudden comprehension. Turlough nodded, then demanded another drink. The Master nodded at the bartender's doubtful look, laying down more money to soothe the man's obviously uncertain conscience. The money did the trick, as the Master had expected; the bartender merely shrugged and refilled Turlough's thick ceramic mug with the frothy beverage, then moved on to another customer.

The Master waited until Turlough had taken his first gulping sip before continuing his delicate questioning. "Did he return her feelings?"

"No," Turlough replied harshly. His eyes, bleary and bloodshot, shone with emotion, even through the cumulative effects of a night of steady drinking. He could certainly hold his liquor, the Master would give him that. "Like I said, he never even noticed how she felt, much less showed her how he felt. Never really showed any of us that; it wouldn't do to go parading your emotions in front of lesser beings, now would it? Even if he had any."

His voice held more bitterness than the Master would have expected from a former traveling companion of the Doctor, but then, Turlough was hardly an ordinary traveling companion. Nor had Nyssa been, apparently; this conversation had turned in utterly unexpected directions, and the Master found himself grateful that one of his latest weapons required technology only available on Turlough's home planet. But he also wondered if the sharp featured red-head realized how much of his own emotions he was giving away. Only one way to find out...

"You were in love with her?" he prodded. Turlough's shoulders tightened, and the Master braced himself for a violent response. Not that he was worried about taking the youth on; he simply made a habit of preparing himself for all eventualities. And it was not impossible that Turlough's mood, already bitter, could take an abrupt turn for the worse. Especially after such a direct—and intensely personal—question.

After a moment of dead silence, Turlough's shoulders sagged and he nodded, turning his face away once again. "Yes. I was in love with her," he replied softly. "Still am; I'm drunk enough to admit it tonight. I was in love with her, and she was in love with him, and the Doctor—well, he was always in love with himself, that one." The bitterness returned to his voice. "When he left her on Terminus, he didn't even turn a bloody hair. Tegan was in hysterics and my heart was broken around my feet, and he just left her, cool as you please, without even a real good-bye. And she wouldn't let me stay with her. I would have, too," he added, his voice low and passionate. "But she told me no, that it was something she had to do on her own. I don't even know if she had a chance to finally tell him how she felt, or if he knew he was the real reason she left." He gazed reflectively into the contents of his mug. "But I could tell it hurt her to leave him. Hurt her a lot."

"Perhaps she simply realized that he couldn't love her the way she loved him," the Master offered, more to see the boy's reaction than anything else. "Perhaps she, too, realized, the way you did, that he was too self-absorbed to be able to return her love."

Turlough's lips quirked in a tight, humorless smile. "I don't really think the Doctor was that much in love with himself, no more than any of us are; I think he just spent so much time caring about the big problems, that he forgot how to care about the little things, like the people who were closest to him. But he made all of us care for him, him and his crazy crusades to save the universe, and that's what hurt the most. He couldn't seem to spare enough time from the universe to see how much we cared. How much she cared."

When he fell silent this time, the Master knew it was for good; he'd said all he had to say. The disguised Time Lord murmured an excuse about meeting someone elsewhere, and Turlough merely waved him away listlessly. His half-finished drink sat on the bar in front of him; the Master had a feeling it would remain there until the boy finally returned home, more than likely to brood on his obviously less-than-happy memories.

Running into the Doctor's former traveling companion had been sheerest coincidence; the Master had completely forgotten that Turlough came from Trion. Even if he'd remembered, he would never have expected to run into him in a sleazy portside bar; it wasn't exactly the sort of place young Trion noblemen frequented. But then, Turlough was hardly the average young Trion nobleman, not after exile and traveling with the Doctor and the bitterness spawned by both experiences. It was obvious that his triumphant homecoming had fallen far short of his expectations.

When the Master recognized Turlough, his first thought had been that this was a golden opportunity to work some mischief against one of the Doctor's pet projects. That had been his intention when he first started speaking to the boy, thankful that he had taken the precaution of donning a disguise while conducting his business on Trion. It always paid to be cautious, an adage Turlough might think about adhering to in the future. However, as the evening progressed, it became increasingly obvious that nothing he could do to the youngster could possibly be worse than what he'd already done to himself.

In spite of Turlough's protestations of happiness at finally being where—and when—he belonged, the Master could tell that he was lying through his teeth. That being where he belonged wasn't nearly as satisfying as Turlough had expected it to be, and that the bitterness of that realization was exacerbated by the things he'd revealed. Things that were part of his past, a past he seemed incapable of letting go. Turlough was too sunk in his own misery, brooding on might-have-beens and perceived injustices done to him—by his father, by his planet's government, by the Doctor, by just about everyone he spoke of—to enjoy the life he'd struggled so hard to return to. A Time Lord walked in infinity, but Turlough trod the by-ways of the past, and could not find his way out. The Master was content to leave him there.

Even though he decided to leave the boy alone, however, the meeting left its mark. The Master had always concentrated his attempts at vengeance on the Doctor at the companions that were still traveling with his old enemy; what about the ones who had left? If Turlough was right—and the boy had no reason to lie—then one companion in particular might be the key...

oooooooooooooo

"It might behoove you to pay more attention to your traveling companions," the Master concluded. "Of course, that's only one man's opinion, but I do believe Turlough is an unimpeachable source. After all, he traveled with you for how long?"

Before the Doctor could respond, Nyssa stirred, moaning softly and bringing both men's attention back to her supine form. "I'm just amazed that I never thought of doing anything like this before," the Master murmured. "Interesting, isn't it, how a chance encounter can alter a lifetime's way of thinking." He shook his head, an ironic smile touching his lips.

The Doctor tore his eyes away from Nyssa with difficulty, to glare at the Master. "I think you've danced around the subject long enough," he spat out, ignoring the twinges of conscience his enemy's story caused. Turlough could wait; Nyssa could not. "Get to the point."

"Very well," the Master agreed with a disdainful sniff. His eyes bored directly into the Doctor's. "According to young Turlough, Nyssa fell in love with a Time Lord, one who obviously didn't appreciate what she had to offer. I, however, am very well suited to appreciate her. And that, old friend, is just what I intend to do. Appreciate her." He repeated those words with relish, savoring every syllable. "After I consider myself sufficiently amused, she dies."

It didn't take the Doctor long to realize just what the other Time Lord was referring to; his eyes widened and his mouth dropped in an expression of shocked disbelief. "I never thought you'd stoop to rape," he finally managed to get out, his voice thick with rage.

"I admit, it's not my usual style," the Master agreed, unfazed by the Doctor's reaction, "but I felt a need for a change in tactics. After all, my normal methods haven't been nearly as effective as I would like. Do you think," he added, as if struck by a sudden thought, "that it makes any difference that I wear her father's body?"

Nyssa had regained full consciousness by the beginning of the Master's speech. The terrified expression on her face spoke volumes to both men, who turned their gazes back upon her in the same instant, the Master thoughtfully and the Doctor with an expression of helpless fear. It sickened him to think of his enemy using any woman the way he proposed, let alone one of his former companions, but it was obvious the Master relished the prospect. That last comment, tossed off as if he had just thought of it, was simply his way of twisting the emotional knife.

"If you find us in time, Doctor, you might possibly save her life," the Master was saying, grinning in a manner that let the Doctor know that he understood quite well what he was doing. "After all," he added, "it will be a slow death. I want to be fair, don't I? Give you a sporting chance?" He grinned wolfishly, then turned his back on the Doctor and pulled an intricate dagger from its hiding place in one sleeve. Nyssa saw it as well; her eyes were large and luminous with fear as she struggled futilely with her bonds.

"NO!" she and the Doctor shouted at the same time as the Master, ignoring them both, merely pressed another button on his TARDIS console with his free hand. His prisoner's bonds sprang open; she tilted over on one side at the unexpected freedom before scrambling to her feet, staring at the Master as if mesmerized. He simply waited, smiling and toying idly with the dagger, as she finally wrenched her gaze away to look with desperate appeal at the Doctor's image on the view screen. His helplessness must have been clear to her; her expression turned to one of grim determination as she bolted for the door that led to the interior of her captor's TARDIS, all without saying a single word.

The Master continued to grin as he padded after her without haste. Before exiting the console room, however, he paused and turned back to the monitor. "Not to worry, Doctor. I shall return with her for the conclusion of this little comedy." With that, he, too, disappeared through the inner door, which banged shut with a terrible sense of finality.

The Doctor stood rooted to the spot, staring in stunned disbelief at the now-empty room on the view screen. Precious moments passed before he was able to shake off his paralysis and leap frantically to the TARDIS controls, looking for something—anything—that would point him in the right direction. He'd jury-rigged enough equipment in the past; this should be the proverbial piece of cake. With any luck, he'd not only be able to save Nyssa's life, but also keep her from having to endure the rest of the Master's vile threats as well. She was a clever girl; she should be able to hide in the alien TARDIS long enough for the Doctor to solve this riddle. He clung to that hope as he went to work.


A/N: Yes, intentionally creepy and gross. Just as a point of interest: Originally the story featured Tegan in the same situation, but this seemed to work out much better. I can certainly imagine Turlough in love with Nyssa, but definitely NOT with Tegan. Let me know what you think!