Chapter 30

Unwanted Guests

The Master (the real Master) returned to the suite he had appropriated from the Doctor to find a very depressed Jason waiting for him. The Prince had been brooding for some time, his melancholy thoughts having turned morbid as he dwelt on the horrible death of his fiancée. The TCE induced an agonizing death, which Jason had witnessed once already. He could picture the same thing happening to Shadra, and each time he thought of it, he sank deeper into despair.

"Jason, what in the world are you doing here?" the pretender asked in a concerned tone. "You should be trying to get some sleep." Inwardly he was wishing he could simply throw the boy out. He was becoming as big a nuisance as the Doctor's companions.

"I can't sleep. How can I?" Jason moaned despairingly.

"You're not going to be much good to anyone if you worry yourself sick," the Master observed, inwardly hoping the Alterran would quite literally worry himself to death.

"I know," Jason sighed. "I just needed to talk to someone. I needed—" Unable to continue, he pounded his fist on a table, cursing under his breath. "I've been such a fool! After all these years, I find out—and now she's gone!" Turning away, he cried mournfully, "Oh, Doctor, I've wasted so much time!"

"Jason, I won't pretend to have the right words," the Master said truthfully. The young man turned back towards him and, fearing he might try to touch him, the Time Lord moved aside.

Jason observed this but chose not to remark on it, saying instead, "You never did understand my—What did you used to call it? My annoying propensity for romanticism?" He gave a small smile, shaking his head. "Well, I admit I still don't know how you can unravel things the way you do. And right now, you're the only one who can possibly unravel all this."

"That's not necessarily true," the Master replied mildly, knowing the statement to be irritatingly accurate.

Jason smiled, thinking his friend was just being modest. "Maybe not, my friend, maybe not. But at least we can talk. We used to be able to talk about anything, do you remember?"

"Of course I remember, dear boy," the impostor lied. He was intrigued by the sudden intimacy of the conversation, reflecting on how his scheme was yielding some very unexpected results.

The Master never got the chance to draw the Prince out. At that moment the violent surge of instability sent the Doctor reeling against the wall in Turlough's room, sending his counterpart staggering into a table that he clutched at for support.

"Doctor! What's the matter?" Jason cried in alarm, taking a step forward to assist his wavering friend.

The Time Lord held up a hand to stop the advancing Alterran. "I'm alright," he said softly. "Just a little tired, perhaps. I really shouldn't be scolding you for not resting when I should be getting some myself."

Now that Tegan and Turlough had voiced their concerns, Jason was positive his friend was concealing something, which only added to his anxiety. The Doctor only concealed information he felt would be distressing to his companions, among whom Jason numbered himself. Whatever had happened along the cliff, the Doctor still seemed to be experiencing its effects. Deadly effects? Jason wondered fearfully. "Doctor, please, what's wrong? I don't have to scan you to see you're under some kind of psychic attack. I'm a Healer, for pity sake! Why won't you let me help you?"

"I'm sorry, Jason, I can't. Not now." Studying the worried face for any glimmer of suspicion, the pretender added firmly, "You must trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"But what are you—?" Jason broke off, his eyes growing wide. "You remember what happened, don't you?"

"Jason, please, trust me."

"You know I hate it when you say that!"

"Jason…"

Still filled with misgivings, the Prince relented. He trusted the Doctor implicitly and it was this trust that the Master was banking on. Jason reluctantly bid the impostor goodnight, inwardly praying his old friend would not wait until it was too late to reveal what was happening to him.

Much relieved, the Master watched him go. Good riddance, he thought.

Turlough sat watching the peacefully sleeping figure in his room for some time. He had managed to find a light that still worked and, not sure why himself, had closed all the drapes. He was turning the incredible story that he had just heard over and over in his mind. It could not possibly be true! And yet…the real Master would hardly have left himself so vulnerable as to go to sleep with one of the Doctor's companions present and unrestrained.

"This is too weird," Turlough muttered, thinking it was probably just weird enough to be something the Doctor would be mixed up in. "Oh no…" he said at last, shaking his head and rising to his feet. "You're not talking yourself into this one. You should be calling for h—" He turned sharply to the door as an idea suddenly popped into his devious mind. He would call to the Doctor for help. This sleeping impostor would never answer him and would very likely flee.

Going out into the main room, Turlough looked around for the best place to conceal himself. He decided the heavy drapes in front of the sliding glass door to the balcony would be best, as they also offered a way of escape should anything go wrong. He turned on a small light to illuminate the impostor's escape route. Then he went to the bedroom door, calling out in his most terror-stricken voice, which was not that too difficult considering how frightened he was already.

"Doctor! Doctor, help me! Doctor!" Turlough broke off when the eyes of his unwelcome visitor snapped open. He took up his position behind the drapes and waited.

Turlough's cries woke the Doctor from a sound sleep and the urgency in the voice drove all thoughts from his mind save the welfare of his companion. He looked around the room and then rose to his feet to begin searching in earnest.

"Turlough? What's wrong?" the Doctor called as he entered the main room. "Turlough, where are you?" He was making for the door when he caught sight of himself in a mirror and stopped dead, cursing himself for being so obtuse. He was still the Master to everyone. Obviously the boy had run to the person he thought to be the Doctor—the Master.

The very thought of his companion seeking help from his sworn enemy made the Doctor's blood boil and he glared angrily at the reflection, speaking to it as if it were the Master himself, "Oh, no, you haven't won yet. Once I'm out of the way, you'll have no need of my companions, will you? Well, I'll find a way to stop you. Do you hear me? I'll find a way!"

Picking up a brass figurine from a nearby table, the Time Lord hurled it at the mirror and the offending reflection was swallowed in a cascade of broken glass. "Seven years bad luck," he grunted as he began his customary pacing.

The Doctor pressed his hands against his head as if to prevent any stray thoughts from escaping. "Think. Come on, think! There has to be a way. There has to!"

His mind, infuriatingly, was blank.

"Oh, it's no use," he growled. "Let's start from the beginning." He counted on his fingers as he went. "One: you've just been sentenced to death." A momentary pause. "Two: there are still too many guards about to make a break for the TARDIS. Three and four: you've been drugged and still can't think straight—as is evident by this exercise. And five: you've just managed to chase you're only hope of assistance to the very person responsible for this whole mess!"

Looking at his open hand, the Doctor sighed. "So far, Doctor, I'd say you're not doing very well at all." Rubbing his temple with his hand, he added dejectedly, "Now I'm the one feeling left out."

This last remark caused Turlough to let out an involuntary cry of alarm.

Startled, the Time Lord spun around, relaxing visibly when his companion came out of hiding. They stared at one another for what seemed an eternity before the Doctor finally said calmly, "I thought you'd gone."

Turlough tried to answer, but nothing came out and he had to shake his head in reply. What he had just heard was the confirmation he did not realized he needed. The sinister figure standing before him was not the Master at all. It was the Doctor. Somehow, the incredible story was true.

"Turlough? Are you alright?" the Doctor asked concernedly.

"Yes…no…oh, I don't know. Everything's all mixed up!" Turlough suddenly felt completely overwhelmed. This was not the outcome he had expected when he decided on his little experiment. He went to the nearest chair to sit down, discovering at the same time that he was trembling. Whether it was from shock or fear he could not say.

"Turlough, you're many things, but indecisive isn't one of them," the Doctor observed, cautiously drawing closer. "You believe me, don't you?"

The young man did not answer right away. He studied the man standing across the room, the face having become synonymous with evil. But something had changed. In the dark, he had not seen it, but now he could see quite clearly that the cold, compelling eyes had lost their sinister edge and were studying him with a look of concern that he had seen many times before—in the Doctor's eyes!

"What you just said…" Turlough managed finally, "about…being alone…"

"About being left out, you mean?" the Time Lord corrected. The instant he said it he realized why this statement had been such a shock to his companion. "That's what I said to you on the beach this morning!" he gasped. "I'm a fool! I should've thought of that. The things the Master couldn't possibly know."

Listening to the all too familiar rantings of the Doctor chastening himself, Turlough really needed no further proof. But when faced with an extremely dangerous situation he liked to think of himself as having a well developed sense of caution, so just to be on the safe side, he asked, "Such as?"

A wry smile came to the Doctor's face as the reply came to him. "Such as your wanting to know if I've ever wondered what it would be like to be able to change my appearance like the Alterrans."

The young man could not help but laugh at how ironic his "silly question" had become.

Encouraged, the Doctor asked again, "Now do you believe me?"

Turlough met the Time Lord's gaze steadily. "Yes, I believe you, heaven only knows why. But I can tell you right now," he added hurriedly, "I'm going to find it very difficult calling you the Doctor."