So those were some interesting revelations last chapter huh? Did it retroactively make a few things said make more sense?
Steady as the Beating Drum
Chapter 9: The Doctor loses his cool
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"Now back on topic!" exclaimed the Master with glee. He leapt down from the platform and strode right up to the Doctor, who had gotten to his feet once again. The men surrounding them, cocked their guns, ready to fire at the slightest provocation. And as Martha had seen with her own eyes, all it took as a stray bullet to kill a Time Lord.
"What is the dear old Master doing in Cardiff?" he wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes at the name. "Any guesses? You, with the gun." He pointed at Martha.
"We have met," she muttered, exasperated. "I walked the bleeding Earth for Pete's sake."
"Yeah, sorry about that. All his companions kind of blur together after almost 1300 years."
"Blimey you're old!" gasped Martha. "Were you that old when I travelled with you or has it been a while?"
"Do you really think that's the pressing issue right now?"
"Yes yes yes," the Master clapped his hands and ran a hand through his flyaway hair. "I'd just like you to know that it's too late."
"Too late for what?"
"Why, for Donna of course!"
The Doctor inhaled sharply and narrowed his eyes. His hands which had been held up, fell to his sides and clenched into fists. Martha's eyes widened, her glance moving back and forth between the mortal enemies. "Donna, but she's-"
"Silly, dim and unsuspecting. But most of all: lonely. And lonely is a dangerous thing to be in the universe."
What happened next was something Martha had never seen before, not from the Doctor. Certainly not from this one. The Doctor leapt at the Master and punched him in the face. Two uniformed men with guns rushed forward and restrained him. He was pulled off the Master kicking and shouting incoherencies, which, now that she thought about it, must have been Gallifreyan.
"Doctor!" she hissed, "What is this, a schoolyard scuffle? Am I going to have to mend scrapped knees and a split lip next?"
He ignored her. "What did you do to her?! What did you do?"
Fear struck a blow to the Doctor's chest. Anything the Master could have done had already doomed her, he knew. But he had to know. Had he let her burn? Stood there smiling as she wasted away in overwhelming fear and crushing memories? Or had he struck her down like he had so many others. He wondered if Donna had died not knowing the truth. He wondered if Donna died unhappy.
"Nothing fatal," assured the Master in a way that made the Doctor wish it had been. "She's still useful."
Maybe it was coarse and indelicate, but Martha had learned to resort to sass when she was backed into a corner. She blamed the Doctor for this. "Great, chew the scenery some more there. Blimey, we get it. You're evil. Moving things along now now." Er, maybe she'd gone too far. But this regeneration left a considerable babbling vacuum. "You know, he kind of looks like you. The old you."
He was tall, skinny, had a long face and a pointy chin. His hair stuck up in front.
Oh no.
"And she's got it! Look at that, look at that. She's good, you should keep her."
"No thanks, I've got people who depend on me."
"Don't worry Doctor," the Master circled them like a shark. "She hasn't remembered, yet. But somewhere in her mind is trust, trust for the skinny Doctor who could show her impossible things and made her simple, useless life worthwhile. Humans are so easy to exploit, remind them of a loved one and they'll gladly stumble over themselves to get a taste." The way he said that made the Doctor want to hit him again.
"You can't have any real interest in her. Whatever you wanted her for as about me. Well you've got me. Now leave Donna Noble alone."
"Actually," the Master quirked an expressive brow and smirked. "For once, Doctor, this is not about you at all."
Donna and Josh returned to the table. Josh seemed perfectly relaxed, Donna was stiff as a board and Maisie seemed none the wiser.
She buttered her bread and chatted a little more animatedly than previous and for all the world looked perfectly happy.
Donna felt sick.
The rest of the meal passed with Maisie carrying the conversation and Donna staring into her full plate.
"Happy birthday to you!" someone began singing, which startled the redhead out of her stupor. Her eyes widened when they fixed upon a waiter carrying a tray laden with a candle-topped cake.
"Happy birthday dear Donna, happy birthday to you!" Maisie and Josh chimed together.
The flaming cake was set in front of her, she'd never felt more on the spot on her life.
"Make a wish," Maisie prompted.
I wish this had never happened. And then Donna blew out her candles.
"I actually have some news for you Donna," Maisie seemed so excited. It's such a shame Donna would have to quit and move to Timbuktu. "You've been with us for a few months now and you do such great work. I was wondering if you'd like to stay on permanently."
Oh no.
"Would you like that?"
Words failed her, "I-I don't know what t-to say!" she stuttered out. "I can't think of a single reason to say no."
She and Josh made eye contact.
She could think of a thousand, but none that she could give Maisie.
There was a man, not so very long ago, who was very handsome and very charming. He became one woman's everything, faster than she knew, and in six months, it all came crashing down.
Lance was not the first to betray Donna Noble, he was not the last. And he was by no means the most important.
When the Doctor came into their lives, he was in no place to be angry on behalf of a stranger's heartbreak. Sadness would do just fine then.
On all of the adventures they went on the Doctor never had the opportunity to be angry on Donna's behalf. Terrible things happened to her and him both in those times, but the anger never manifested; there was no one to direct it at. How can he be angry at a library and a little girl?
Anger does not cover the loathing he felt for himself when he betrayed Donna's wishes and took her memory.
But now, standing before his childhood friend, who cackled at darling, none-the-wiser Donna's expense, vitriol bubbled up in his chest. Donna Noble, brilliant, empathetic, infuriating Donna Noble, with her big threats and tirades and her bigger heart, was meant to have a good life.
She was supposed to be left alone to finally be happy. She was supposed to live to the ripe old age of 115, surrounded by adorable Shaun and Donna clones, loved, cared for and free of worry and regret.
The Universe owed her. The Universe owed no one apparently, not even the person who'd saved it.
The Doctor was now good and properly angry.
"Master, you have no idea what you've done."
Serenity was placid on the Master's face. "I think you'll find that I know a lot more than you think I do." He licked his lips. "Didn't taste much like sardines."
Martha wrinkled her nose, completely missing the joke, but still on the same track.
The Doctor swallowed and pushed the buried memory of the 20th century kitchen deep down where he kept all his unresolved issues with women: in a little box marked 'not to be revisited'.
"How do you know about that?" he grit, peeking inside the mental box, just a little. Just enough to remember that he'd had no idea what to do with his hands.
The Master smirked, "That specifically? You told me."
When? Well, that was complicated, because it hadn't happened yet.
Well. Everything got a hundred times more convoluted with that notion introduced.
They were meeting the Master out of order, which could mean any number of things, but chief among them was that he was the only one who knew how this whole thing ended.
"Tardis?! That's not even a proper word!" "Agatha Christie didn't go around surrounded by murders. Not really. That'd be like Dickens surrounded by ghosts… at Christmas!" "Just trust me, jump!" "I should do that more often… the detox, I mean." "You were brilliant."
Donna awoke in the middle of the night with a start. She took deep, heaving breaths and stared up at the white ceiling, counting heartbeats. She was sweating, but felt very cold.
Slowly, she got out of bed and donned a soft fleece dressing gown before putting on a pair of trainers. She grabbed her mobile and slid down the stairs as silently as she could manage.
Wilf was asleep on the sofa, in front of the telly when the door slammed (it stuck otherwise and refused to shut except in the hottest summers). He jolted to his feet and stumbled for the front door. He threw it open to find Donna skittering off into the night. He called her name.
She turned around for only a moment, her eyes were haunted. "Granddad. I remember. I remember the Doctor," she gasped before disappearing into the darkness.
"Donna!" Wilf shouted, uncaring if he woke the neighborhood. "Donna, come back!"
The old man tottered inside as quickly as he was able and practically lunged for the kitchen drawer to the left of the dishwasher. Inside were old receipts, bills and the Doctor's phone number.
The ansaphone picked up with a click, "Doctor! It's Wilfred Mott. Doctor, something has happened to Donna. She remembers you."
Bit of a slow chapter, but it'll pick up next time in...
The Master Explains It All
(Theories?)
