Chapter 7: Answers

That night, the Master lay in bed, pretending to be asleep.

He was thinking.

It was quiet at night. All the humans were still, more or less. A couple of sentries paced back and forth outside, their attention wandering, their steps crashing loudly on the grass and leaves. The children tossed in their beds, dreaming the wildly random dreams of the young. The adults slept too, their dreams replaying their mundane waking lives.

The Doctor was asleep again as well. The Master could sense that he was dreaming about Clara, searching for her...

The Master wished he could help his friend find her. But unfortunately it wouldn't be quite so easy as that.

It would take time. And work. And planning.

So much planning...

The Master set that aside, shutting out the distractions, focusing on his roommate. Missy was asleep, deeply. Exhausted by whatever invisible struggles she dealt with every day.

The Master had scanned her biological code with his laser screwdriver, days ago. It had taken a while to process, but after meeting the Doctor today, he'd gotten a mental ping signalling that the analysis was complete.

He had compared the results to his own biological code...

They were not a match.

So Missy was not him: not his future self nor his past. Not some alternate universe version.

No, Missy was someone else entirely.

But still, she was somehow an echo of the Master... He was sure of it. And he didn't know how that could be.

Time to find out.

The Master rose from his bed, silently, catlike. He approached Missy's sleeping form.

Mentally linking with your past or future self could be dangerous if done improperly. When he wasn't sure if Missy was in fact his future regeneration, he couldn't risk it. But now he could finally get some answers.

He didn't want to wake her, didn't want her to know what he knew. And although she wasn't him, she certainly was a Time Lady, so he was prepared for a struggle.

But when he established the psychic link Missy barely even stirred, let alone fought back. It was as if this was nothing unusual for her. As if she was expecting him... As if he'd paved the way himself.

He soon discovered why.

Missy's mind was a battlefield, a ruin. Memories, emotions, loves and hates scattered and broken all around.

And in the center of the destruction, a structure. Monolithic. Fully intact. Dominating the landscape.

The Master recognized it immediately.

It was him.

His thoughts, his memories.

His life.

But how...?

The Master moved in closer, trying to understand what he was seeing. But as he approached the conglomeration that was his life's experience, he was repelled, ejected from Missy's mind as if they were two identical poles of a powerful magnet.

The Master blinked into the dark of the farmhouse room. He wasn't quite sure what he had been expecting to find but... Certainly not this: his own life transplanted into Missy's mind.

He stood there frozen, stock still, like a statue in the night, as he tried to process this information. Tried to figure out what this meant to him. What he would do next.

After a few minutes he made a beeline for the Doctor's room.

"Who is she, Doctor?" he asked without preamble.

The Doctor woke from his dreams. "Who do you mean?"

"Missy," the Master specified, although he knew the Doctor was well aware of who they were discussing. "Who is she?" he demanded to know. "She isn't me... But she has my memories. Doctor, what are my memories doing in someone else's head?" There was a dangerous edge to his tone. They both knew how badly this conversation could go if the Master didn't like his friend's answers.

The Doctor looked at him, uncomfortable, his gaze almost pleading. "It wasn't my idea."

This was not an answer, not what the Master wanted to know. "Doctor. Explain."

The Doctor sat up on his bed, ran a hand through his gray hair. "It was before they brought you back. The Time Lords."

The Master nodded, almost imperceptibly. He'd assumed as much. The Time War had been a strange time for both of them, a dark time for the Universe... A story that had ended very, very badly for everyone.

The Doctor continued, "Someone came up with the idea of... Using your memories, putting them into someone else. They wanted you, but there was some... Concern about bringing you back." He looked away, guiltily. "You don't exactly have the best track record in terms of dependability, you know."

The Master was well aware of how that situation had ended. But now was not the time for that conversation. "So since the War... There's been another Time Lady walking around with my memories?"

The Doctor paused, still not wanting to admit the truth. But it was far too late for that now. "Yes," he said.

The Master asked the important question then, peering at his friend through the darkness. "And who is she, really?"

"I don't know."

The Doctor hesitated.

The Master noticed.

"She thinks she's me," he prodded.

"Yes, that wasn't supposed to happen," the Doctor said, shaking his head, sadly, frowning. "Memory implantation on that scale had never been tried before and it went wrong. She was overwhelmed, she lost who she was."

The Master couldn't help a self-congratulatory grin. Because he was just that good...

"You needn't look so pleased," the Doctor chided him.

"So..." The Master paced. He was still processing. He always thought better when he could use the Doctor as a sounding board. "She thinks she's me. But you..." He wagged one finger at the Doctor. "You knew she wasn't... And you haven't told her... Why haven't you told her?" He smiled as he reached a conclusion. "You're trying to fix me."

"No. No!" the Doctor contradicted him, hastily, nervously. "I'm trying to fix her."

"But they're my memories," the Master said. Memories were all you were. Memories were what made you. The Doctor knew this and was well aware of how feeble his little verbal distinction was. "And you can't remove them... You must have tried."

He saw that he was right about that too.

So predictable, Doctor.

"But you want her to be someone else in spite of that..." The Master went on. Another thought struck him, something that didn't fit. "Why would you go to all that trouble, though?"

He had learned from Bill that the Doctor had been guarding Missy, watching over her. Staying in one place for decades.

"Even for you, that's a lot for someone you don't even know..." His eyes lit up. "But maybe not for someone you used to know."

He leaned in close to the Doctor then, watching him, reading his expression. "You said you don't know who she was, before the War. But did you used to know?"

The Doctor's reaction told him everything.

The Master smiled a predatory smile. "She's Clara, isn't she?"

The Doctor frowned up at him silently.

"I'm right. Somehow, that's a Time Lady version of Clara." And then that glorious moment when it all fell into place: "Missy is all you have left of Clara and she thinks she's me!"

The Master couldn't help a triumphant chuckle at the bizarre irony of it all.

The Doctor's response was sullen. "Stop laughing, it's not funny."

"It's a little funny," the Master contradicted him offhandedly. His eyes darted around as he considered the possibilities. "Oh, this is a very interesting situation..."

"Don't..." That look came into the Doctor's eyes, that look of dread that the Master relished. That look that told him that he was a step ahead - and that the Doctor knew it. "Whatever you're going to do, just don't."

The Master looked at him steadily, so still again. Everything decided, the course immutable now. "Oh, I'm not going to do anything. She'll have an opportunity to make her choice. That's what you want, right? For her to choose." The Master smiled in the dark. "You or me, Doctor. Let's see who she picks."