"It is only after we have lost everything, that we are free to do anything."
~ Charles Palahniuk ~
Silence.
Complete and utter Silence.
Silence so loud that it was deafening.
That it was painful.
It is often said that one does not know what they have until they've lost it.
I do not believe that this is out of any form of selfishness, of negligence. But rather that it is impossible to be aware of what loss feels like until you've experienced it, and having never experienced loss how could one pinpoint what they had to lose?
'In the Beginning' I had experienced loss many times over; the loss of a loved one, the loss of security, of freedom, even the loss of my own life. But never had I experienced the loss of my senses. (Death was far too traumatic an experience for me to handle In the Beginning, thus I do not remember the absence of sensation, it presented.)
Even Time Lords, with our far superior physiology, occasionally suffer from bouts of amnesia immediately following Regeneration. Because the complete Void that is Death can simply be too much at times. So, yes, I had experience with loss, but not this loss.
And that, that has made all the difference.
...
It hurt.
The silence. The 'complete absence of sound.' The nothingness. I don't know how.
But it hurt.
I believe it was the shock.
The disconnect.
To go from feeling so many minds at the edge of my perception to two was...staggering. To go from seeing hundreds of theoretical outcomes to only one?
Terrifying.
I felt deaf, blind, and naked.
I was none of these things, I assure you, but that was most definitely what I felt like.
Now before you judge me too harshly on my reaction, take into consideration that I was suffering from acute sense deprivation. And that both The Master and The Doctor were considered historical icons (like Mandela or Nixon) on Galifrey.
The stuff of legend.
Not to mention my memories from 'In the Beginning' shaped my views slightly. Okay, slightly more than slightly. Okay...I totally viewed them both as "fictional characters."
So it really shouldn't be held against me.
The fact that I...
Fainted, that is.
The Master was having a very good day, all things considered.
Not that it was a perfect day, mind you. No day since he'd been a novice-brought before the Untempered Schism-could have been classed as perfect.
But this day had come mighty close.
First, he had been able to mock the Stupid Ape's on their medieval communication's channel. An act made even sweeter by the irony that his actions 'reflected upon the people of Great Britain'-the Doctor's favorite Common Wealth.
Then, he'd had the jolly good fun of Vaporizing the Current President of the United States and declaring himself Master of All. A fact into and of itself (I mean hello he's called The Master for a reason), but still it bared repeating.
People could be so dull after all, what with their forgetting things and such. So if he felt the need to explain his Majesty from time to time, well it was only because he worried it wasn't making it through their Tiny. Little. Brains.
And-as if all that wasn't enough-he had gotten to gloat.
To The Doctor.
Like a right and proper super-villain.
And The Doctor the stand in hero. Only the Hero didn't win this time, oh no...hence the gloating.
Which, really, he could get used to. After all it wasn't everyday one captured their arch-nemesis. Forced them to reveal their real age. And then revealed to them that you had been plotting in the background of their life for nigh on a year, now-Earth time.
For the first time in a long time The Master felt truly alive.
He had beaten him.
Beaten The Doctor.
Oh, it was just a temporary victory, to be sure. He'd been at this long enough to know, to expect, that the Doctor had an ace up his sleeve. Maybe two. Like that servant-girl, Martha, that he'd sent on a fool's errand.
But that was okay, because there really was no point to an arch-nemesis if they rolled over at every turn. And it was his constant attempts and plans to outsmart, to outmaneuver, The Doctor that made The Master who he was. Well, that, and the Drums.
Damn.
He had nearly gone a full minute without thinking about them this time.
One.
Without thinking about that incessant beating.
Two.
That unending tempo.
Three.
That shadowed his every move.
Four.
His every thought.
OneTwoThreeFour. OneTwoThreeFour. OneTwoThreeFour.
"Can't you hear it?!"
He blamed The Doctor.
Every second.
Of every minute.
Of every hour.
Of every day.
Blamed him the way an injured animal blamed their owners for being unable to take the pain away.
It was not that The Doctor gave it to him.
The Drums, that is.
How could he? He'd been but a novice himself at the Time, and he couldn't pass his own Timestream at a later date to have influenced The Master's inauguration. Something The Master felt rather confident about.
Aside from the fact that one cannot cross their own Timestream-a Law Theta made a constant point of abusing-there was the fact that no TARDIS could travel relative to the Untempered Schism. They'd be torn apart before they landed anywhere near. (It was how the High Council kept monopoly of the Schism, and prevented overlapping Inaugurations.)
So yes, ONE it is not that The Doctor gave him the TWO drums. But that Theta had never believed THREE they were given to him in the first FOUR place.
OneTwoThreeFour. OneTwoThreeFour. OneTwoThreeFour.
He believed they came from with-in. That The Master had looked deep within The Void, that The Void had looked back, and that it had driven him Mad. Judged him unworthy.
Insane they'd called him.
Delusional.
Never-mind that he was one of the brightest Temporal Engineers since Omega himself.
Never-mind that he could manipulate the Psyche of nearly ever life form he had come across.
He wasn't insane, just because he didn't run away like The Doctor didn't mean he was insane. Oh no, he was something far more dangerous, he was inspired.
Or so he thought.
After all, would an insane person have the technological know-how to build a self-contained paradox, out of materials that could be salvaged from 21st Century Earth? With-in a year?
Possibly, actually.
Intelligence and insanity are not mutually exclusive.
...and no sane person would think to cannibalize a TARDIS. So, yeah, maybe he was a little insane...but that's okay because he was also inspired.
Not that The Doctor could see that, could see his brilliance. Really, it was a wonder it had taken him this long to capture his "old friend" when he was clearly the better of the two.
Of course, he would have triumphed decades, centuries, sooner if not for that meddlesome council.
But then, The Doctor had already taken "care" of them, too.
And really, what right did HE have to judge The Master when HE had played the singular role in eradicating their SPECIES?!
Really, some things just boggle the mind.
But, the point was, The Master was having a rather magnificent day, all things considered. So he really should have expected something to go horribly, unexpectedly wrong.
Okay, that's a little harsh.
It was unexpected, sure. But to label it both "horrible" and "wrong" just seemed a little...mean, to him. And he knew that he was currently planning the genocide of a level 5 planet, to prepare for Intergalactic war, but that didn't mean he didn't have a heart, or two.
Or did it?
Ah, a thought for another day.
No, today his thoughts were clearly focused on the being in front of him. The being that just appeared in front of him. The being that was neither zapped, nor trans-mattered in front of him.
Keeping one eye on 'the being' and one on 'The Doctor' (this had all the makings of one of the Old Coots plans, after all) The Master decided to play the welcoming host.
"And who do we have here?"
Tense.
The being tensed before whipping it's head up and catching The Master's eye.
And instantly he had two thoughts.
Time Lady
And
Child
And with those thoughts The Master reached out, almost instinctively, with his consciousnesses. Here was another voice. Another song. Another mind.
It was just one more.
Compared to the billions of minds that had routinely brushed his consciousness in the Old Days hers was nothing. A speck of dust amongst a sandstorm. A single Carbon atom amongst the Big Bang. Nothing.
But.
Compared to the Silence? To the absence of a million-billion voices? To the rebounding void that was The Drums and The Doctor's "I'm Sorry. I'm so sorry."? Compared to the emptiness of Space and the vastness of Time?
Her singular voice was everything
A life-line.
His Salvation.
Not that he had any interest in being "saved." Or anything of the like, that was far too 'Doctor' for him to feel comfortable with.
But the point stood that The Master was none too gentle in trying to...greet the child. (And she didn't look a day over 100, how precious) So it is entirely possible that he caused the poor girl to faint.
But, really, that was her own fault. Raising her mental shields so fast. He'd had no time to abort and so had plowed into her consciousness like a 2 by 4. He'd barely gotten anything out of her.
Just the vague feeling of relief, being chased away by fear, near paranoia, and one word.
War
"What?"
Well, judging by The Doctors reaction, this was most likely not one of his convoluted plans.
"What?! What?!"
Scratch that, this was definitely not one of his plans.
All the better.
"Lucy, be a dear and take the girl to the guestroom. It's degrading, her lying on the floor like that."
"The guestroom, Harry?" The Master cringed at the name. Really he should have a talk with her about that, how many times had he explained that he was not Harold Saxon? That there was no Harold Saxon?
Honestly.
"Still," he mused, smiling at the way The Doctor winced every-time he crossed eyes with his Lucy "she's useful as a means of torture, if nothing else."
"Harry?"
Not that it made her any less annoying.
"Yes, the guestroom. It'll have to do until we can have her own room made up. You always wanted a daughter, didn't you?" He called, flippantly, enjoying the widening of The Doctor's eyes.
"Well there you go. Just make sure to call me when she wakes up. I have so much to teach her."
Que threatening smile.
"Leave her alone!"
Ah, right on schedule. Really, over the years The Doctor had just become so predictable. It was really rather sad...in a pathetic-I'm-so-much-better-than-you way. But then, The Master had always been better than him...so maybe he was always pathetic?
Sounds about right.
"Hmm, let me think about that," he taunted his aged 'friend', "...no."
A smirk, "No, I don't think I will."
The Doctor was having a very bad day.
An awful, no good, downright horrible day.
A catastrophic, one for the books, seared into long term memory, kind of day.
But-sadly enough-the day didn't even make his Top Ten. Which, in his defense, was really hard to do when said list-maker was not a day over 900 (that's his age, and he's sticking to it) and had a penchant for such 'bad days'.
They were the norm, he'd found. What was it he had told Romana all those years ago?
"Whenever you go into a new situation, you must always believe the best, until you find out exactly what the situation's all about. Then, believe the worst." Or something along those lines.
In the end the Doctor had found that the vast majority of days-'day' being completely subjective, of course-could be classed as 'bad.' On virtue of the fact that they-almost inevitably-ended in goodbye.
A concept he was well versed in.
'Planets come and go. Stars perish. Matter disperses, coalesces, forms into other patterns, other worlds. Nothing can be eternal.' Those were the words he lived by, his anchor. A concept central to the very foundation of Time Lord society.
The idea that everything had a beginning, and therefore, by the Laws of Sustainability, everything must have an end.
Everything ends.
It was a lesson The Doctor had taken to heart after years of heart-wrenching good-byes. It was the very lesson that had ultimately helped him with his decision to Time-Lock Gallifrey. Everything came to an end, and everything died...his home planet included.
So, while today was horrible.
Awful.
And a bunch of other things that he couldn't quite think in polite company, it was still redeemable. After all, something had happened. Something impossible. Something good. Something, impossibly good.
Because, despite everything, a day can't be all bad, when-rather than a 'good bye'-you get a 'hello'.
"and who do we have here?"
To say The Doctor was shocked was to put it mildly, he hadn't been this shocked since Donna had materialized directly onto his TARDIS-mid flight-right after Rose's...departure. Come to think of it, this materialization bared a striking resemblance to that one.
Huon particles?
But where did she get them? They were a massive part of Time Lord technology, the core of the TARDIS, if you will. They weren't exactly a dime a dozen. You would be hard-pressed to part a dying TARDIS with them. Collapsing dimensions, and all.
Yet, here she was.
Time Lady.
"What?!" The thought flitted across his consciousness in less than a tenth of second. Almost unconsciously. Time Lords could recognize their own species with the same efficiency that humans employed for facial-recognition, after all.
There was no conscious thought to it.
Just a glance.
And an understanding.
Time Lady
And not just a Time Lady, but a child. A tot. A Time Tot, if you will. Or, well, not quite. But still, she was so young there was no way she should have been off-planet. Off Gallifrey.
And now she was fainting.
"What?! What?!"
Once again, to say The Doctor was confused, was to put it mildly. But that didn't matter, what did matter, was the fact that The Master now had a child to mess with. An impressionable child. And Martha had only left a few hours ago.
"Lucy, be a dear and take the girl to the guestroom. It's degrading, her lying on the floor like that."
This was bad. This was really bad. There was a reason most species guarded their young with a surprising furiosity. And Time Lords were no exception. And this girl, this child. She wasn't even a Gallifreyan, no, she had passed through The Academy and taken her name, The Doctor could tell that with the same surety that told him she was woefully unprepared to be off World.
Which meant that she was-in the eyes of the Universe-a fully realized Time Lord. Which, of course, meant she was also one of the most sought after commodities this Galaxy over.
And she was a female.
A young female.
Time Lords didn't make a habit of natural births, having had used the looms for centuries, but-curse or not-they were still capable of it. A fact that did not play into the child's favor. She was basically asking to be kidnapped and made into some snot's wife.
Many planets still believed in "raising a wife" after all. And who would be better for their young Lord or Master, than a Time Lady?
It hurt. The need to protect. To shelter. To hide away. It physically hurt. And the pain only grew with every second that the child was there-a place his body deemed unsafe-rather than here, beside him.
"...make sure to call me when she wakes up. I have so much to teach her."
That was it. He couldn't just sit there and let the Master corrupt that child.
Sure he'd protect her.
As much as The Master would like to be able to ignore his baser instincts, there was no doubt that he had to be feeling the need to protect the child, just as strong as The Doctor. After all, that girl was the only chance their species had.
So The Doctor knew The Master wouldn't harm her.
But he'd remake her. Into his own image. A child after his own heart. Something broken and wrong. The Doctor didn't trust himself to do any better a job. But at least he wouldn't be actively trying to screw her up.
"Leave her alone!"
But try as he might, The Doctor knew there wasn't much he could do in this current situation. His plan to escape was a good Year Off, and even if he managed to get the child and throw her off the plane, and she managed to-somehow-survive the attack until Martha was able to fix the paradox. There was no telling what that would do to the child's Time-Sense.
It could irreparably damage it.
At least here, she would be in the center of the storm, and therefore shielded from most of the back-lash.
And judging by The Master's smirk he knew exactly that.
"...no. No, I don't think I will."
A/N: Well here's chapter 1 of BtLG hope you all like it! Not too much happened, but at least we got to see come reactions from our two Time Lords, ne? Next chapter will have a lot more of Rechi's reaction/interaction with people. I don't expect this "year" to be too long though, so no worries.
Now if you've ever read my stories you should know I make it a point of responding to reviews at the bottom of my chapter. So here y'all go.
: Thanks! Hopefully you'll continue to like it :)
jcscheidt: Thank you! Happy you like my chapter, and my writing!
time-twilight: Well, this should answer your question as to what POV I'm gonna do/I did. And I hope you appreciated The Doctor's reaction, although it wasn't much of one seeing as our poor friend was (a little)...in shock. Thank you for your review!
dark-dreams-of-love: Thank you very much! I hope you continue to enjoy my writing style, and that I don't disappoint. As for the jealousy thing, don't worry I'm still uber jealous of the people who can draw/sing out there.
Lucifae: Here you go, right when she arrives on The Valiant as requested. Lol, that prologue wasn't really meant to be an 'In Medias Res' thing, so no worries on that end. Thank you very much for your kind review, and your compliments! Hopefully you'll continue to like the story.
scarlet: Lol, technically it is near the End of Season 3, but time-line wise it's about a year off from The Master's defeat. Which I'm sure you gathered from the chapter...so I guess I just felt like making small talk. Lol, well thanks for your review! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Gladoo89: Yes, you can already get a feel of how The Doctor views her, this chapter, (like a child) which won't go over well with a very independent Rechi, I can promise you.
Nam: Thank you! I hope that you enjoy where the story will lead :)
SilverMarkings: Thank you for your kind review! I've found one, or two, SI-OC DW fics myself. But they almost always involve some human girl (roughly Rose's age) who enters the story at the beginning of 9's tenor. And said girl is (almost always) dropped on the planet when she is a teenager, having fallen through some rip in Time and Space, etc. Not to say that these fics are bad, some are really well written. But they weren't exactly what I was trying for, either. Year that Never Happened. Eleventh Hour is still a while away, I'm afraid. Lol, I could see her getting mad at The Doctor's companions because they treat her like a teenager when she's got a good century on them. Well thank you again, for the review!
Thanks again to all who read/alerted/favorited/reviewed. You guys are awesome!
Ja ne!