CHAPTER TWENTY

Signs of Danger

The Master was no older than he had been the last time she'd seen him. In fact, if anything, he appeared younger. With the same dark hair and goatee, he was nevertheless a different face, missing the streaks of grey and the wrinkles of age. Dressed all in black, with gold leaflets around his neck, his attire was unlike what Rose had seen him in thus far. An outfit like that - poufy sleeves and tight everywhere else - would have looked out of place in any time period on Earth that she knew. And it was nothing like the clothes of the Time Lords she'd seen.

His smirk matched the one he'd worn he had worn in his earlier incarnations, and so did the shadow in his eyes. But right now, she was too full of emotion - confusion and fury and frustration at the injustice of what she had just witnessed - to care about any of that. Looking away from him and down the hallway that stretched into the distance behind her, she angrily swiped at the tears streaming down her face. She wasn't sure when they had started, and she didn't care.

"That wasn't right," she said tightly. Then louder, with more conviction, "That wasn't right!"

The Master watched quietly, impassively. Feeling the emotion rising up inside of her, she spun back to him.

"What right do they have to do something like that! What business was it of theirs? She wasn't causing anyone any harm!"

"It isn't as if the law came as a surprise," the Master reminded her calmly. "Or as if they would change it to suit the Doctor's whim. He knew the risks when he imprinted her."

"Imprinted her!"

He smirked, just slightly. "The most tactful way I know to refer to a tasteless act."

Turning on him, eyes blazing, Rose stalked up to him. She didn't care about his mockery and she certainly didn't care about his views on sex. She had other things on her mind.

"What kind of people make laws like that!"

"The kind of people to whom your Doctor was born," the Master answered flatly, coldly.

Swallowing down her anger, Rose took a slow, calming breath as she turned away. She was getting nowhere but more and more angry, and it wasn't helping matters.

"What happened to her?" she demanded.

"What do you mean?"

"That can't be the end of it. What did they do to her?"

"Exactly as they specified - no more, no less."

"And the Doctor?"

"What about him?"

"Where did he go? How long did he stay away?"

"I'll show you, if you'd like."

Wheeling back to face him, Rose felt all of her anger rising up again at the sound of his carefree tone. "And you!" She stepped closer and poked a finger into his chest. "What the hell kind of friend are you? Couldn't you help him figure out another way?"

He grabbed her wrist and twisted it so hard and quick, it was clear that the only reason he didn't snap it was because he chose not to do. She let out a startled squeak, eyes wide with shock as he gave her a stern, silent warning - a dark, dangerous look in his eyes - before he let her go, shoving her a step back.

She stumbled, rubbing her wrist as she caught her balance and stared at him. For a moment, thoughts derailed by the sudden aggression, she didn't know what to say. A wave of fear, followed by confusion. He'd told her from the beginning that he wasn't independent of the Doctor. And surely the Doctor would never harm her. For that matter, the thought that she could be harmed here hadn't really even occurred to her. But her wrist definitely hurt. Mental projection or not, the pain was very real to her.

"You humans and your emotions," the Master sneered at her, his eyes dark and piercing. "You don't even know her and you pity her. Empathize with her."

"She didn't do anything wrong!"
"You're as bad as he is." He paused as he considered his words thoughtfully. "Or perhaps it's the other way around."

Moving back against the wall, Rose tried to stay as far away from him as possible.

"All of these emotions - love and fear and hate - and for what? What do any of them benefit you in the end?"

She swallowed, gathering her defiance in spite of the fear that was still lingering in her mind. "And how was your hurting me not emotional?"

"Hurting you?" He laughed, a sound that sent a chill down Rose's spine. "I assure you, if I had any interest in seeing you hurt, I would need no emotional incentive."

She watched him, feeling that fear - that instinct that she was in danger - growing by the second. "What happened to you?" she demanded, her voice wavering just slightly. But she had faced Daleks and disaster and the threat of death; she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of scaring her.

"What do you mean?"

"You've changed." Her voice leveled, concerned and wary, but she kept the fear at bay. He wasn't even real. Surely he couldn't hurt her. "You've changed. You've become so... so dark."

He smirked slightly, but didn't answer. She searched his eyes, but found only emptiness there, as well.

"So lost..."

This time, he chuckled. "Save your sympathies, child. I've no need to be psychoanalyzed by you."

She ignored him, shaking her head slowly as she mused, mostly to herself, "You're supposed to be a manifestation of how the Doctor sees you. Is this really what he thinks of you?"

"I said I know the Doctor better than most anyone. Do you think he would know me any less?"

"No." She swallowed hard as she stood straight, shoulders back. "Which makes me wonder why he would let you guard his memories."

"Wonder all you'd like. I don't believe it's any of your concern."

"But it is my concern. Because I'm the one in here with you and you just attacked me."

His smile widened as he dropped his head a fraction and stepped in closer. "Attacked you?"

"I'm sorry for yelling at you, but it didn't warrant you trying to break my wrist."

Crouching in on her personal space, he lowered his voice. "My dear child, if wanted to break your wrist - if I wanted to hurt you in any way - I wouldn't have to try."

Rose pressed herself against the wall more, swallowing against her suddenly dry throat. "Then what do you call that? What you did?"

"Communicating."

The anger, buried somewhere deep in her reserves, finally found its way to the surface, mingling with the fear in a heady, confusing mix. "I think you need to learn how to better communicate, mate."

In a flash, he had her pinned, forearm against her throat, cutting off her air. Eyes wide, she grabbed frantically and instinctively at his arm, but she knew immediately that she had no hope of breaking free. "Do you know how many of you pathetic little humans the Doctor has gone through over the years?" the Master hissed at her. "Angela was the first, but she was hardly the last. Memories erased, lives ended or scarred forever. All of them so easily replaced."

She writhed, chest heaving as adrenaline kicked in and fight or flight instincts went into overdrive. Inches away, the Master smiled wickedly.

"How long do you think it would take him to replace you?"

She tried kicking at him, struggled as wildly and as frantically as she could, but he pinned her hard, his full weight on her, crushing her. She wasn't going anywhere until he let her go. It suddenly occurred to her to wonder, in the blind panic that was swirling in her mind, if she could actually die here. If he might actually be capable of killing her. River had said she'd be safe... but she'd also said she couldn't be hurt. And the arm across her throat was pressing hard enough to cause pain as well as fear.

"Struggle all you'd like, if it makes you feel better." Leaning forward, he broke eye contact to growl in her ear. "I've been the agent of his death, my dear, sweet Rose. Do you think I would hesitate to be yours?"

Moving his arm suddenly from her throat, he grabbed her by the hair and threw her, none-too-gently, to the floor. She didn't think, didn't stop to wonder why he'd let her go. Instead, she scrambled to her feet and ran as fast and hard as she could down the hall, gasping for breath as she heard his laughter behind her.