Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, any of the characters, places or alien species; those belong to their respective owners. I only own my OC Selene.
Foreword: A great big thanks go grapejuice101, who not only suggested this chapter be a thing, but also for helping me figure out what was going to happen!
26. An Interval of Silence
356 Days Later…
There were ninety-eight bolts in the ceiling that Selene often found herself staring at as she tried to fall asleep. She'd had three-hundred-fifty-six days to count and re-count and re-re-count all of those bolts. She did it almost every night when she went to bed. It was a staple of normalcy for her now, just like how she used to mutter a goodnight to the TARDIS. But there was no one to speak to before she went to sleep anymore. The only face she was guaranteed to see every day was that of the Master's. They had daily sessions, in which he would prompt her to 'prophesize' something for him. Tell him some aspect of the future that would aid him in his total domination of the planet earth. Selene never cooperated, though, much to his frustration. She was so adamant on not letting him get a word out of her she had made the executive decision to simply not speak. Not to him, at least. She would recite monologues from Shakespeare plays in her cell––her favorite being one of Beatrice's from Much Ado About Nothing––to exercise her voice.
Her cell was made to look more welcoming than it truly felt. There was a narrow bed with a plush comforter and a pillow that was too soft. A set of shelves held what clothes she'd been given in the last year; they were all variants of different sweaters, cardigans, and sweatpants in a rainbow of dull colors. Selene was fairly sure that the clothing was as monotonous as it was to remind her that she was a prisoner, no matter how 'important' to the Master she was. There was always a guard behind the sturdy, thick metal door that kept Selene locked in. It was that guard that would escort her to and from the bathroom down the hall and kept watch to make sure she didn't leave without permission. Not like she could, anyway––the door was locked three times over. She had also been given a collection of books, which were slipped into a small bookshelf pressed flush against the wall opposite her bed. There was a tiny, rectangular window just over her clothing shelves, which allowed the time traveler to see clouds drift through the pale blue sky. But the walls were undisguised, uncovered metal, hence why she was able to could the rivets and bolts. Everyone on board called it a room––but it wasn't. It was exactly what it had always been. A cell.
Sixty-seven, sixty-eight, sixty-nine, seventy… Selene counted, lying on her cot with one arm slipped underneath her head. She heard footsteps approaching her cell. Her eyes flickered towards the door, but then returned to the ceiling and the lines of bolts. Seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-three… The door was opened and, judging by the heavy scuffle of boots against the floor, it was one of the Master's guards. She glanced over at the man and then returned it to the ceiling. Seventy-four, seventy-five…
"It's time to get up, Miss Thomas," said the guard. This man was named Colin. He was in his early thirties, but the floppiness of his hair and the smattering of freckles across his cheekbones always made him seem younger. Selene had learned early on it was best to cooperate with the guards, who most certainly would carry her over their shoulders to get her where she needed to be. So, she sat up and slipped her cold feet into the single set of shoes she'd been provided with and grabbed the tan cardigan off the foot of her bed. Colin waited for her to slip her goosebump ridden arms through the sleeves before he took a firm grip on her elbow and escorted her from the room.
There were two paths that Selene was accustomed to walking through the Valiant when it came to appointments with the Master. If they turned to the right and climbed the stairs, they were headed to the flight deck, where everything went down a year prior. If they went to the left, climbed the stairs, turned right, then left, then up another set of stairs, it was likely she was being brought to the Master's private sitting room, which was far too lavish for someone so incredibly devious. That day, they were turning right, which meant it was the flight deck. En route, they passed Tish, who was toting a tray that bared empty dishes and glasses. The Jones family had been kept aboard the Valiant as staff members, daily cleaning the ship or serving those who lived in it. Selene and Tish locked eyes as a form of greeting, knowing full well that any spoken words would guarantee some sort of punishment for one or both of them. Tish then ducked her head and moved on a bit faster, having noticed Colin narrowing his eyes at her.
There was a tinge of confusion in the pit of her stomach as they approached the flight deck. She'd already met with the Master earlier that day, some time between breakfast and lunch; that was how she measured daily time. She had no clock, for which she was thankful. If she had one, that would be all that she'd stare at and she would surely have gone mad. Instead, she measured and judged time based on the distance between the three meals of the day. Hence why she was confused as to why she was being brought to the flight deck so close to dinner. When she was escorted into the room, however, she fully understood. The large glass conference table was blanketed with a white tablecloth, and there were three place settings: one at the head of the table, one to its right, and one to its left. The seat at the left hand was occupied by a very disgruntled, very tired looking Doctor, who had been given a wheelchair that he didn't have the strength to maneuver himself. He turned his head to look towards the door, eyes brightening somewhat when they landed on Selene. They'd been kept apart for the most part, and even if they were in the same room, they were not allowed to interact. Colin was pulling her towards the place setting on the right side of the table, and all the while, Selene was staring at the Doctor, who stared right back. Beyond the elation of seeing her again, seeing her healthy––more or less––and unharmed, there was a sadness in his brown eyes. A sadness that was tinged with anger all caused by the man who stood at the head of the table. The Master beamed at Selene as she was deposited by her chair, his eyes gleaming. He moved a couple feet to the right and drew her seat, nodding for her to sit down. With confusion furrowing her brows, Selene hesitantly complied. She was there to have dinner. And it was going to be a horrendously awkward and unpleasant affair.
"Good evening, dear Selene," the Master said into her right ear, causing an uncomfortable shiver to crawl down her spine. He then seated himself on the edge of the table casually so he was facing Selene. He held up a finger and pulled a thinking face. "I thought it might be a nice change for us to have dinner together. All three of us, like old friends. But, first, I have something for you." The Master snapped his fingers and Bertram, another of the guards who typically stood watch by Selene's door, stepped forward. He was holding a rectangular black box that had hinges on one of the short sides. It was fairly big, but also considerably thin.
"Here you are, sir," Bertram said. The Master took the box and rested it atop his thigh.
"Now, I've just realized that all of this… torturing business has become quite anticlimactic, hasn't it? I didn't build up to it. Now killing off dear old Jack doesn't have as much effect as it used to. I didn't try… the little things, like being kind. Giving gifts––you did rather enjoy that folio of Shakespeare's works I got you. Quite old, that. So, I thought…" the Master drummed his fingers on the box's lid––tap-tap-tap-tap––drawing her attention to it, "you're a woman. You like to dress up, you like jewelry… so… I got you these." The Master pulled the box open to reveal a glittering diamond and sapphire necklace with matching earrings and a brooch. Selene's eyes widened and she stared at the jewelry pieces as though they were the most dangerous things she'd ever seen. "The French crown jewels, believe it or not. These belong to… oh, what was her name… oh! Queen Marie Amélie."
"Shouldn't you be giving these to your wife?" Selene bit out in a quiet, shaky voice. The Master grinned and chuckled; so, finally, she spoke. He slipped off the table and set the box down just by her left hand.
"I gave her all of the diadems and crowns from the rest of the French crown jewels. Now, move your hair off your neck," he instructed. Selene didn't move to do as told, watching in mounting horror as the Master lifted the two-hundred-something year old necklace out of its satin resting place. He held the sapphire and diamond necklace at her eye-level and raised both brows, fixing her with a look. "Move your hair. Now…"
The tone of his voice had been cheery but decidedly threatening at the same time. Meeting the Doctor's eyes across the table, Selene reached up and balled her hair up in one hand, holding it to the back of her head. The Doctor's fingers curled around the arms of his wheelchair, knuckles turning white. The Master beamed happily and looped the necklace around her neck, allowing it to sit perfectly around the base of her throat. Once he'd latched it together, the Master pulled her hand away from her hair and rearranged it over both her shoulders.
"There we are…" He spun the desk chair around and beamed down at her, watching the way the necklace glittered. "How lovely." He spun the chair back around so she was facing the table and moved to sit in his own seat. "Now, why don't we all have a nice chat? Doctor? Is there anything you'd like to say?"
"Let her go…" the Doctor demanded in a tired, gravely voice. The Master hummed and cupped a hand behind his ear as though he hadn't heard.
"Beg pardon?"
"Let her go!"
"Now, why on earth would I do that? She holds such valuable information, Doctor. You can't possibly expect me to let that just… slip through my fingers," the Master laughed as Tish, Francine, and Clive all stepped through one of the doors and set a plate of food down in front of each of those sitting at the table. The Master immediately began to saw at the steak with his knife, nodding to the Jones family as they left. "Service is a bit lacking, I have to say…" He winced dramatically. "Bit frigid in attitude, wouldn't you say?"
"Gee, I wonder why…" Selene grumbled under her breath, keeping her hands in her lap. Any appetite she might have had had disappeared the minute she realized she would have to eat along side the Master. Said man turned his attention to her with brows raised.
"Sorry? Oh, please, speak again, I do miss hearing your voice," the Master prompted, popping a piece of meat into his mouth. Selene simply turned her head to the side and picked up her glass of water, drawing it to her parched, chapped lips. The Master turned to the Doctor, gesturing at Selene with his fork. "Is she always this stubborn?" Again, there was no response. There was no sound besides Bertram clearing his throat at the back of the room. The Master groaned and dropped his utensils, slumping back in his chair. "I had hoped this would be more conversationally stimulating. But, if neither of you are going to talk, we might as well do something else." The Master wiped his mouth with a napkin, which Selene found greatly unnecessary seeing as he'd only eaten a bite of food, and then rose to his feet. "We––and by 'we' I mean Selene and I––are going to dance. It'll be fun! Who doesn't have fun while dancing?"
Selene's mouth dropped open and her fingers curled around the arms of the chair as though that would keep her rooted to her seat. "I don't dance," Selene replied curtly. The Master chuckled and quirked one brow upwards, matching the sideways tilt that his lips performed. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacked and extracted a thin pile of photographs. He began to flip through them as he chuckled.
"Now, now, now, Selene… let's not be hasty," the Master hummed, reaching down to grab her wrists. He pried her hands off the arms of the chair and pulled her to her feet and away from the table. She felt like a doll that was there for his amusement, to tug around when he felt like it and torture when he deemed it fit. When she was tugged closer to the Master's chest, Selene stepped on both of his feet with heavy steps. She looked up at him with a bland, unemotional expression engraved into each of her features.
"Oops. Sorry," Selene deadpanned. The Master's smile stiffened, but it didn't fall. It was clear to all in the room that her misstep had been intentional. The Time Lord nodded to Bertram, who clicked a button on an intercom system situated in the wall; music began to play through speakers in the ceiling. It was classical music of some sort, which prompted for some sort of waltz. The Master tightly grasped her hand in one of his and placed the other on the curve of her waist, which made her squirm uncomfortably. Selene was forced to take the Master's lead as they began to move, dragging her feet as he pulled her along. This was all for his amusement. It was as plain and simple as that. Her discomfort made him smile, the Doctor's rage made him laugh. The Doctor had tried to get up and out of his chair, but Bertram had settled a hand on his shoulder, gently keeping him sitting him down. The Master twirled her around, causing her stomach to clench and her head to spin.
"Why don't you tell me about the future?" he asked in her ear as he spun her out and then pulled her back to his chest tightly. Selene turned her face away from his and tried to focus on anything but him. He smelled overwhelmingly of musky cologne and aftershave, and it was only contributing to the future headache she would likely receive. "It's quite a sexy thing to talk about isn't it? To discuss what's going to happen… to know what's going to happen is even better; because then you can change it to your liking if it displeases you… tell me, did you know about Japan? Did you know what I was going to do?" Ever so slowly, as they moved along, the Master's hand slipped to sit flush against her lower back, which was when she'd just about had enough.
"Stop!" Selene tore herself away from him, pushing away his arm and stumbling into the table. He stared at her with his arms open and both brows raised, almost as though he was surprised about her outburst. "You want me to talk? Fine, I'll talk. I don't want your stupid gifts!" She reached up and unclasped the necklace, grasping the priceless piece of jewelry in her fist. As much as she might have instinctively wanted to hurl it at the wall, Selene couldn't bring herself to destroy such a historical piece. So, instead, she dropped it onto the table and turned the most ferocious glare she could on the Master. "No matter what you do, I'm not going to tell you anything, first and foremost, because I can't!"
"Ugh," the Master groaned, head lolling backwards, "again with that excuse! It's absolutely sickening to hear now."
"Then listen to me say it again––I cannot tell you about the future! Not only would I ever want to, I can't! My memories of the future are locked up with a deadlock seal, and no one can break it! I haven't remembered anything in nearly a year! This year is a blank to me! So stop torturing my friends, stop threatening my life, and let me go!" Selene shouted, voice breaking in a couple of places. Her eyes were glassy with tears of frustration and she felt like breaking something. The Master's eyes narrowed. She could see a thought or two visibly flicker across her face, but, for the life of her, she couldn't pin down what he might have been thinking about.
"If I were… to open that seal––"
"You… can't…" labored the Doctor from his side of the table. Bertram squeezed his shoulder.
"––if I were to get that seal open, would you tell me then?"
"No," Selene said in a steadfast tone. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes were narrowed, and her fists were clenched. The Master's lips quirked to the side in a brief, angry smirk. He strode forward and grabbed hold of her elbow in a painfully tight grasp. Pulling her along, the Master brought her to the window where the Doctor had previously been forced to watch the Toclafanes descend to Earth.
"Bertram, up here, now," the Master ordered. Bertram marched up the steps and stood at attention just behind the two at the window. "Hold her." Selene felt two large hands take a firm hold of her upper arms, keeping her in place as the Master tapped on the window. An interactive screen appeared on the glass and displayed an image of the earth. With the flick of his hand, he spun the globe till it settled in a particular spot. "That is North America, as it is, right now," the Master informed Selene. He took two fingers and moved them diagonally across the glass, enlarging the picture till they were zoomed in and linked to a live feed of a very familiar looking city. "This is where, I believe, you used to call home. Boston. A city ripe with history and pride. Where you attended Northeastern University, where you worked, and played, and had a right fun time. Now, I want you to watch as I burn it to the ground!"
"What?!" Selene exclaimed, completely livid. The Master turned to face her and leveled a finger at her face, his own dangerously blank.
"You, my dearest Selene, are going to have to learn to cooperate with me. Because it has been a year since I have begun this escapade to get you to prophesize for me, and it looks like me being nice just isn't going to cut it for you. So let's learn to compromise; I'll burn down Boston and you'll tell me everything I want to know."
"I already told you that I can't!"
"Well, then, we're just going to have to start working on that head of yours, won't we?" the Master said in a darkly placating tone. He typed in a couple of numbers––coordinates, presumably––and then pressed a button. On the screen, Selene watched as Toclafane swept into the city she'd called home for so long. She struggled against Bertram's grip, but he held her fast, keeping her in one place. She listened to the sounds of people screaming, listened as things began to explode. Then, she heard the Master sigh. "I thought this was going to be a lovely evening…" Selene dared to glance up at the screen, watching through teary eyes as fire and destruction swept through the city. "Bertram, if you would, take her back to her room."
"Yes, sir."
Bertram turned Selene away from the window and steered her back towards the door, keeping hold of her elbow as they went. The Doctor was halfway out of his wheelchair as she was marched past him, but another attending guard pushed him back down, a hand resting on the butt of the gun holstered against her hip. Selene was thankful, for the first time, for the cooler air in the Valiant's passages. Her face felt far too hot and her breathing was erratic.
"You need to keep yourself calm, Miss, otherwise you'll hyperventilate," Bertram warned in a steady, deep tone. Selene placed a hand over her mouth, hoping that if the breaths that were whooshing in between her lips were stifled she might calm down. But when it became perfectly clear that was't going to be the case, Bertram pulled her into an alcove and sat her down on a metal bench that guards typically sat atop during their watches.
Of the three or so guards that kept watch at Selene's guard, Bertram was the newest and, surprisingly, the kindest. Kind in the ways he was allowed to be. He talked to her––at her––about things other than her appointments with the Master. He inquired about her health. It was only surprising because, between Bertram and Colin, one would have expected Colin to be the kinder of the two; what with his floppy hair and soft features. Bertram was, to put it bluntly, the ruggedly handsome sort. He had a strong jaw and carefully groomed scruff, he was tall, and he had a scar cutting through his right eyebrow. His hair was buzzed on the sides but held more length on the top, in a style that had been becoming popular again; Selene thought that, perhaps, he'd grown it out of a military cut, but she'd never asked. He never failed to appear intimidating, especially in his black uniform that was heavily laden with bulletproof vesting and baggy cargo pants. Like all other guards, he was also always armed, with a pistol at his hip and a heavy duty automatic machine gun slung across his back. But Bertram was a kind-hearted man; it was only a shame that he worked for such a vile man.
Crouching down before her, he reached into a pouch attached to his belt and extracted a silver flask. He extended it towards her, an expectant look on his face. Selene clenched her eyes shut and hung her head, still consciously trying to slow her breaths down.
"It's water, I promise," Bertram said softly, a natural gruffness rumbling in his voice. He pressed the flask into her hand and unscrewed the top; Selene drew the opening to her lips and tilted her head back to sip at the liquid inside. It was to her surprise when the 'water' inside burned with the tell-tale tingle of rum. Coughing and swallowing, Selene placed a hand against her chest and shot Bertram a very potent 'what the hell' look.
"You said it was water!" she exclaimed. Bertram's lips quirked to the side and he shrugged his shoulders.
"But you're breathing normally now," he pointed out. Selene lifted the flask and tilted it from side to side, letting the alcohol inside slosh around.
"Who keeps straight-up rum in a flask?"
"Me, apparently." Bertram reached out to take the flask back, but was stopped by Selene throwing back another sip. It burnt the back of her throat, but it wasn't anything she hadn't felt before. Clearing her throat, she handed the flask back and let the alcohol pool warmly in her stomach. "Feeling any better?" he asked whilst screwing the flask's top back on.
"Yeah…" Selene murmured, rubbing at her stinging eyes. "Just… take me back to my cell."
Bertram rose to his full height and took her by the elbow as he typically did, his grip courteously loose. "As you wish."
"Aren't you a regular Westley?" Selene deadpanned with a wry smirk. Bertram chuckled as they walked back down the steps. It was moments like that––when Selene was reminded that she wasn't totally surrounded by power-mad assholes––where imprisonment didn't feel so bleak.
OOOO
The Doctor glared at the Master, who was tucking into his steak as though he hadn't just destroyed an entire city. If there could have been an image put beside the definition of 'seethe,' it would have been of the Doctor in that moment. His chest rose and fell with uneven, angered breaths, his hands clenched the armrests of his wheelchair like talons, and his eyes were narrowed into slits. There hadn't been a single day that the Master had left Selene alone. For three-hundred-and-fifty days, the Master had pestered her and prodded her for information she couldn't give him, not without––at least––tearing a hole in the universe; or without damaging her mind permanently. Now he had gone and destroyed the place she'd grown up, the place that she'd called home and loved so dearly. And, judging by what he'd said not but a minute ago, he was planning on trying and tearing that door in her mind open.
Glancing over at the man who had once been his friend life times ago, the Master paused with his fork hovering just in front of his mouth. Well, that wasn't a pleasant look to be receiving while trying to eat dinner. Slamming his fork down and tossing his napkin aside, he crossed his arms and matched the intensity of the Doctor's look.
"What?" he asked pointedly.
"You… can't do that to her…" the Doctor panted. It was hard for him to speak as fluidly as he was used to being able to speak; the accelerated aging process had put a weight in his chest that made it hard for him to gain the proper amount of breath that allowed him to do so. But he was trying his best, and it would seem his anger was fueling the accuracy with which he spoke. The Master's brows inched up his forehead as he scoffed, reclined in his chair, and then spread his arms out.
"Uh, yes, I can."
"You have to listen to her… she can't tell you… what you need to know. Even if she could… she wouldn't… and it would destroy… the universe," the Doctor labored to explain for what must have been the thousandth time. The Master rolled his eyes and then dragged his hands along his face, fingers momentarily drawing down his lower eyelid in a dramatic expression of exasperation.
"Stop being so dramatic! Good god, I don't remember you being so intent of the drama; or is that something Selene taught you?"
"Listen to me––"
The Master launched out of his chair and he grabbed hold of either arm of the Doctor's wheelchair, spinning him around so he could loom over the severely aged man. "No, you listen to me, Doctor. I'll do whatever I damn well like. Selene's got a gold mine of information up in that pretty little head of hers. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made, you know that… and if she has to be sacrificed… no matter how much of a shame that would be… it'll be done."
"Don't you dare," the Doctor hissed, drooping cheeks twitching as his aged muscles pulled his lips into a snarl. The Master dropped his forehead against the Doctor's and made a tutting sound.
"Rage doesn't suit you, Doctor," he drawled.
"Don't you dare hurt her… not more than you already have."
"I haven't touched a hair on her head."
"You have forced her… to meet with you every… single… day… since the Toclafanes have arrived… don't you see the pain… in her eyes? How she took to silence… as a defence? To protect herself… from you?" the Doctor ground out, fingers curling around the arms of the wheelchair with even more ferocity. The Master drew back and thoughtfully rubbed at his chin, apparently taking a moment to consider the Doctor's words.
"Hadn't thought of that," he admitted blasély. His fingers drummed themselves against his jawline, and he began to pace back and forth right in front of the seething Time Lord. "Yes… I do suppose she has purposefully distanced herself from me… You know… I should just give her a couple days time, shouldn't I? It will give me time to plan out my memory extraction process…" The Doctor's eyes tracked the other Time Lord back-and-forth, back-and-forth, back-and-forth… The Master then stopped pacing and turned towards the Doctor with a smile on his face. Whether it was genuine or fabricated, he couldn't tell; and he didn't really care to know. He snapped and waggled a finger in the Doctor's direction. "You've convinced me, Doctor. I will give our dear Selene a couple days to rest… to recuperate… to let what I've told her sink in… and then we'll dive right back in; and there's nothing that you can do to stop that."
OOOO
Day 360
It had been four days since the dinner from hell, four days since the Master had burned Boston to the ground, four days of quiet and peace. Those four days had caused a sense of unease for Selene, who had spent the majority of those four days paranoid about whatever it was the Master was planning. But it had given her ample time to continue working on a special device she'd been attempting to assemble for a better part of the year. The Jones family had been able to quietly sneak messages between the split group of time travelers in form of hastily scribbled messages on scraps of paper. It had become a unanimous decision between Jack and the Doctor that Selene needed to get off the Valiant; that way, she could find Martha, join her, and assist on the ground, and, more importantly, she'd be out of the Master's clutches. So piece-by-piece, message-by-message, day-by-day, Selene was given vague instructions on how to build a teleporter. Unfortunately, parts were hard to come by and she still only had a quarter of what she needed.
She was fiddling with a couple of wires when the lock on her door clicked. She scrambled to hide the pieces of scrap metal and wires under her pillow, lying herself flat across the mattress to appear as though she'd been resting. Bertram appeared in the doorway, stern faced as usual. He nodded towards the hall with a twinge of regret sparkling in his eyes.
"You've got an appointment," he said simply. Selene nodded and pushed herself out of bed, not bothering to swap out her slippers for shoes, not bothering to grab a sweater to throw over her grey tank top. Bertram's fingers gently curled around her elbow as he lead her towards the split in corridors that would tell her where she'd be going that day. This time they turned left; it was to the Master's private sitting room, then. As they walked, Selene looked up at Bertram and quietly cleared her throat. Looking forward again, she asked,
"Why?"
Bertram, surprised that she spoke without prompting of any sort, looked down at the imprisoned woman with a crinkled between his brows. "Pardon?"
"Why do you work for him? The Master?" Selene asked as they climbed the stairs. "Forgive me for saying… but you just don't seem like the kind of guy who would work for someone so inherently evil." Bertram remained quiet as they hooked their first corner. His eyes were cast to the floor and his full lips were pursed as he thought over how to respond to her question. Finally, looking back up, he gave a simple reply.
"It's not as simple as you might think," he told her.
"Is anything ever simple?" Selene murmured. The two fell silent as they passed two other guards, who nodded to Bertram in a sign of comradeship. Bertram bobbed his head in a slight manner, returning the gesture. As they turned another corner and started their trek down the long corridor, Selene thought over Bertram's reply. 'It's not as simple as you think.' Those words held so much possibility that Selene's mind started to spin with all the possibilities. Perhaps Bertram had been something of a military commander down on earth and the Master, hearing of his excellence, threatened to kill his family if Bertram didn't join his security detail. Perhaps Bertram was having a conflict of interest––he willing served the Master but wrestled with the morals of it all. The possibilities created a web of curiosity and imagination in Selene's head, one that she carried on thinking about as they climbed the stairs and approached the sitting room.
The Master was seated in one of the two plum colored winged armchairs, elbows resting on the armrests, fingers threaded together in front of his mouth, eyes watching the door. His gaze tracked Selene as she was brought to the second armchair, which was positioned a couple of feet in front of his. Once she sat down, the Master nodded solemnly to Bertram, who exited with some slight degree of hesitance, his eyes flicking towards Selene before he shut the door behind himself. The Time Lord simply stared at the American woman for a good quiet moment. The sound of the grandfather clock on the other side of the room was the only loud enough sound that both of them could hear.
"How are you this morning, Selene?" the Master inquired. Selene looked towards the windows, which were framed by russet colored drapes. "I take it you enjoyed your days off?" Selene looked down at her fingers and began to pick at a hangnail. "Would you care for some coffee? I'll have some coffee brought in." He clapped his hands and in strode Francine, carrying a sterling silver serving tray. She sat it down on the coffee table that sat between the two and only left when the Master waved her away. The Time Lord shifted to the front of his chair and leaned forward, beginning to fix the two mugs of coffee. "Let's see… you like… three packets of sugar… a generous amount of cream… and…" he picked up a small brown bottle and tipped it so a splash of the liquid inside slipped into the mug, "a drop of vanilla." The Master beamed and held the mug out to her, waiting for her to take it. Selene didn't even look up from her hands. The Master set the mug down and cleared his throat, reclining back into his seat again. "Stubborn as ever, I see. Well, I thought that today we might try something different. You keep telling me that all of your memories are locked behind a door inside your head. And, you see, Time Lords just so happen have the ability to see into one's mind."
"I know," Selene said in a firm voice. Head still turned towards the window, her gaze slipped towards the Master, a hardness gleaming in her blue irises. The Master stared at her, surprised she'd answered, and then chuckled whilst he laced his fingers again.
"Good; I'll spare you the tedious explanation, then. So, you must have already figured out that I'm going to go find that door, and I'm going to pry it open," he told her with laughter lacing his voice. Selene narrowed her eyes at him and let her hands sit on either arm rest.
"I'll fight you," she bit out. The Master smirked at him.
"I'd like to see you try."
"Alright, then. Come at me."
"Oh-ho-ho! You're quite the Chatty Cathy today, aren't you?" the Master chuckled, shaking his head. "But, I did suspect you'd want to not cooperate, as usual, so, I brought in some incentive." He snapped his fingers and, the guard who was standing inside the door, nodded and tugged said door open. In stepped Bertram, escorting none other than Captain Jack Harkness in. The Captain had been stripped of his coat long ago, leaving him with his limp, worn out button down, t-shirt, and soon-to-be threadbare trousers. His face was streaked with dirt and grease, and his wrists had been worn raw by the restraints he wore on a daily basis. The Master nodded for Bertram to bring Jack to his left-hand side, leaving him standing at one end of the coffee table. Jack, ever chipper, smirked and nodded at the steaming mugs on the rosewood table in front of his knees.
"Any of that for me?" he asked. He then turned his attention to Selene, smirk growing into a full-fledged smile. "Selene, it's good to see you again. I see you're still wearing prisoner chique––and look positively ravishing." Jack winked at her and clucked his tongue. Selene smiled and ducked her head; the captain had made a habit of making her smile every time he saw her. And she was appreciative of it because, for a moment, not everything seemed so grim. Bertram remained positioned behind Jack, who was cuffed at the wrists, ready to intervene if necessary. The Time Lord snorted and rolled his eyes heavenward.
"Do shut up, your commentary isn't as witty as you think it is," the Master dismissed, waving a hand. Leaning forward so his forearms were on his knees, the Master made direct eye-contact with Selene. "You see, if you don't cooperate, dear old Jack here is going to die. Again. And this time 'round, you'll be directly responsible; and you'll have to watch." Each time the Master had tortured or killed Jack previously, Selene had only heard audio from Jack's cell. That in itself had been scarring enough, but this was taking it to an entirely new level. Selene's eyes flicked towards Jack with worry beginning to bloom across her face. Jack caught her gaze and, with a stern face, shook his head, eyes silently pleading with her. "Well, it's not like you have a choice, anyway." He picked up a small, square remote and clicked a button. Two metal cuffs poked out of each arch of Selene's chair and clamped down on her wrists. "There we are. Can't have you getting up, can we?"
Selene glared at the Master as he slipped out of his chair and sat on the edge of the coffee table. Jack took a step forward but Bertram settled a hand heavily on his shoulder, warning him not to move. The Master tugged down his sleeves and reached his hands out towards Selene's temples. Selene craned her neck backwards so her head was pressed flush against the back of the chair, but she knew that there was no fighting him off now. Even if she kicked and screamed and bit and spat, he'd still get his way. She had learned to pick her fights; and she understood that this one needed to be battled mentally.
"You won't find what you want," Selene said flatly. The Master smirked as his fingers hovered over her temples.
"Oh, I'm sure I will. Now, it's probably best you don't struggle…" The moment his fingers touched Selene's temples, both of them instinctively shut their eyes. Selene recalled the Doctor's words from so long ago… if there was ever anything she didn't want someone to see, just think of a door. So, that was exactly what she did. She shut off memories of happy times, memories of home, memories too sensitive to have prodded. The Master chuckled as dozens of doors appeared, slammed shut, and locked themselves along the corridors of her mind. "What a lovely mind you have here, Selene." Before one door could fully slam itself shut, he stuck his foot in it and pushed it back open, which made Selene's facial muscles twitch with discomfort. "Let's see what we have in here…" After rifling through a couple memories, it became perfectly clear that these were memories of adventures past––some of them she wasn't even there for. And, oh, did they stretch back… so far back into the Doctor's past… "Oh, god, you remember me when I was all charred and burnt up? Let's not relive that…" Just to annoy him, Selene drew up what she could recall of that period of the Master's life. It had the desired effect, which was the Master slamming that door shut before he moved on.
The Master took a sauntering trip through her mind till he came to a stop before an ornate wooden door. With a grin, he realized it was the door that he'd been looking for. Reaching out, he jostled the metal handle, only to have nothing happen. His smile began to fall as he jostled the handle a bit more; when it still refused to open, he threw his shoulder against it. Selene hissed as a stinging sensation rose to her right temple.
"Stop it…" she muttered. The Master threw his shoulder against the door again and then proceeded to bang his fist against it. He was close… he was so damn close!
"It won't open…"
"I said stop it!" Selene exclaimed as he, again, threw himself into the door. She let out a yelp of pain as the Master growled and rattled the solid door, intent on trying to break it down somehow.
"Open!"
"Stop!"
Suddenly, the Master completely disappeared from her mind. His hands were ripped away and an almighty thud shook the room. Jack, having shoved Bertram back into the wall, leapt forward and tackled the Master to the floor. A headache was pounding behind Selene's temples and the inside of her head felt raw, like something had been shaken around and then forcibly extracted. Jack's hands were harshly gripping onto the Master's collar, and the Master was roaring and clawing at Jack's arms.
"Get him off, get him off, get him off!" the Master exclaimed, feet kicking out against the coffee table. "Don't just stand there!"
"You think it's funny to hurt people, huh?" Jack ground out, a year's worth of hidden frustration finally boiling over. "Think you can kidnap people's families, torture their friends, and mess with their minds?"
"Get him off!"
Bertram grabbed the back of Jack's shirts and hauled him off of the master, the brunette captain struggling to get free the entire time. The Master, still sprawled out across the floor, extracted his lazer screwdriver and, in a single, smooth move, aimed and shot at Jack. He went slack in Bertram's arms when the lazer met its mark in the center of his chest. Bertram lay a motionless Jack across the floor before he assisted the Master in standing back up. The Time Lord angrily fixed the fit of his tie and straightened out his rumpled collar; he then turned a very unhappy glare on Selene as he scooped up the remove he'd previously held and pressed another button. The restraints around her wrists were released and the moment her hands were free, she placed them both on her forehead. The Master vaguely gestured at her as he stalked across the room.
"Get them out…" he growled. Bertram, without asking whether or not she could walk, slung Selene over his shoulder and made for the door, leaving the other guard to deal with Jack's body. Selene shut her eyes as she was carried off, her head bouncing against Bertram's lower back. Her upside down positioning only made her headache worse, and she lamented the fact that she didn't have access to painkillers of any sort.
About an hour and a half later, the headache had gone down, and Selene had taken to working on the teleport to distract herself. She felt like she should've felt more shaken over the experience, but, then again, perhaps she'd gone numb. She'd been through so much in the last year, so much in the ways of the Master's mood swings, his forms of persuasion, his threats… and what had just happened was another one of those incidents. What bothered her the most was that she'd let it happen. She didn't fight back as much as she could have. C'est la vie, she supposed… Holding the half-assed teleport device close to her eyes, she squinted and tried to force a wire into a tiny, tiny hole. Her hands were shaking too much to allow her to do so. With a frustrated sigh, she tossed it aside and covered her eyes with both hands. She just wanted this hell to be over and done with. She wanted to be back in the TARDIS, zipping about time and space at the Doctor's side, exploring different times and different planets, and getting into an acceptable amount of trouble.
"You wired that wrong," said a gruff voice. Selene's head snapped up, eyes wide, when she noted that Bertram had entered the room. The door was shut and he was leaned up against it, arms crossed and head cocked to the side. He nodded to the quarter-built teleport. "You put the blue wire in the wrong spot."
"It… it's not what… what you think it is it's, um… it's…" Selene stuttered out, grabbing hold of the pieces and holding them close to her chest. This was why she hid it in a hollowed out book. This was why she rarely worked on it. Because one day she knew she would likely get caught, and she knew that it wouldn't end well for her, the Jones family, or Jack, or the Doctor. Bertram pushed off the door and sat himself down on the edge of the bed; Selene pushed herself farther away from him, her back pressed against the wall.
"It's a personal teleport is what it is."
"I…"
Bertram reached out and pried it out of her hands, propping up one knee to use as a sort of work table. Selene watched with wide, concerned eyes as he refitted wires in their proper holes with steady fingers. He held it up in a 'see' sort of manner before setting it down on the bed between them. Silence settled between them before he shifted sideways so he could face Selene directly.
"I can get you off the ship," Bertram told her in a quiet but confident voice. Selene blinked and confusion crinkled her brow.
"What…?"
"I can get you off the Valiant, Miss Thomas. I commend you for taking measures into your own hands, but that teleport isn't going to work, you don't have the right parts. But I can get you off, I promise," Bertram reiterated. Selene shook her head.
"No… no, you work for the Master," she reasoned.
"I regret that I couldn't tell you earlier, but I had to blend in. I had to make them think I was with them, I was one of them. I can get you back down to earth, and I can get you to a group of people that'll keep you safe," he scooted closer, watching as conflict began to grow on Selene's face. She shook her head again, hugging her knees to her chest.
"I… if you're telling the truth… I still don't understand why you'd go through all this trouble."
"There's a resistance, working down on earth, trying to combat what the Master and the Toclafane have been doing. We heard stories, stories of the Doctor, stories of you, told by this woman named Martha. Heard that you'd been imprisoned up above, here in the Valiant; my sector of the resistance thought that if we could get you out, spring you free… you could help us. You'd be of much more use on the ground than up here in a cell. So I volunteered to join the Master's security detail. Heaven knows how I slipped past their radar, but it's worked. And I really do sincerely regret I couldn't have told you sooner, but… it would've just been too dangerous. That, and it took a little while to work my way up through the ranks."
Selene searched his face for any indication he might've been lying. But there were no over embossed details, no nervous twitches, no flinching, nothing. His words from earlier came to mind––it's more complicated than she'd think. Well, being part of an organized resistance and then deciding to work undercover under the reign of the man they were resisting to free a prisoner would certainly be complicated. It would also explain why he'd been so kind to her, why he'd made it a point to be on watch at her door at least once a day. Tucking hair behind her ear, she slowly met Bertram's eyes and cleared her throat.
"You said… the woman was named Martha?" she asked cautiously.
"Yeah."
"Martha what?"
"Jones, I think it was––the rest of her family is on board, yeah?" Bertram asked, looking thoughtful. Slowly, Selene nodded, still treading carefully on this shaky ground she'd been presented with. But everyone knew that the Jones family had been arrested, it had been all over the news… it was easily accessible information. "Keep asking questions if it makes you feel better."
"Where is the resistance based?" Selene asked, massaging one of her aching temples.
"The branch I'm part of is based in Dublin, Ireland. But the whole of it is spread across the globe."
"If you are part of the resistance and are here to save me… does anyone else know?"
"No."
"So if I trust you… I trust you on blind faith and put my life in your hands?"
"I guess so," Bertram nodded.
Selene gnawed on her thumbnail, thinking over the prospect. Her gut instinct told her to trust him, and her gut instinct was typically correct. But there was always the possibility the Master was playing her for a fool. A decision had to be made. She needed to make it. And she had to do it now, or the moment would slip away.
"If I were to agree… how would I be brought back down to earth?" she asked in a tone of voice that pretty much solidified the fact she was agreeing to trust him. Bertram pulled his sleeve back to reveal what looked like an old fashioned leather bracer. On it was a small keypad and a screen, much like Jack's vortex manipulator; but, she supposed, that this only worked within the parameters of the earth. He tapped a small red button and the screen lit up, showing a diagram of the globe. He punched in a set of coordinates and the screen zoomed in on the island known as Ireland.
"I'll give this to you and it'll teleport you to Dublin. Say this phrase to anyone you meet––an fhriotaíocht domhanda. If they respond with Seasann le chéile, they're part of the resistance," Bertram told her, the Irish words flowing off his tongue effortlessly. Selene stared at him with a hard gaze before clearing her throat and pointing at him.
"W-what was that first one? The one that I should say?"
"An… fhriotaíocht… domhanda," Bertram repeated slowly. Selene murmured the first code phrase a couple of times, knowing that she was probably butchering most of it, but at least it sounded vaguely similar. Bertram looked her dead in the eye and extended one hand for a handshake. "Before we continue, I need to know if you're willing to carry through with this."
"I will," Selene said shaking his hand. "The… code phrases in Irish sort of did it for me. I'm not saying anything stupid, am I?"
"No, it's all quite honorable, I assure you," Bertram chuckled. Selene's lips quirked up into a smile that had been practiced very little since she'd been locked up. Bertram removed the teleporter from his own forearm and then placed it around Selene's. He began fastening the straps so it was fitted to her much smaller forearm. "You're saying 'the global resistance' and the reply is 'stands together.' See? Honorable."
"How're you going to play off me not being here? Surely they'd expect you of having a hand in it if you're on guard," Selene figured. Bertram nodded with a smirk on his face, clearly having thought the whole of this escape plan out.
"My shift ends in ten minutes. The next guard will check in on you and give you dinner. Eat, let it settle, wait a couple minutes and then pop off to Dublin. Could you remember coordinates if I gave them to you?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I could."
"Alright. Dublin's coordinates are 53.3478 North, 6.2597 West. But, don't worry, I wrote them out for you, just in case," Bertram said, smirking cheekily as he produced a sticky note with said numbers on them. Selene smiled and took the note, slipping it into her bra for safekeeping.
"If… I gave you something to give to the Doctor, would you give it to him for me?" Selene asked hopefully.
"Of course."
Selene pushed herself off the bed and grabbed the volume of Shakespeare's Complete Works. She flipped to the sonnet section, skimming through the pages till she found the page she wanted. It was just a little something to let the Doctor know she'd be back for him. She tore out the page that contained Sonnet 73, folded it up and passed it to Bertram, who smiled as he accepted it.
"You're a bit of a romantic aren't you?" Bertram asked rhetorically, pocketing the sonnet. He stood up and tugged down his sleeve. Selene chuckled under her breath, smiling wider than she had in weeks.
"More than a bit."
Bertram picked out one of her sweaters and handed it to her. "Here, put this on, it'll hide the transporter. Also, it might be a bit chilly when you get down there." Selene gratefully accepted the sweater and tugged it on over her head as Bertram made for the door.
"Thank you," she said before he could open the door. "Really… thank you." Bertram smiled over his shoulder at her, nodding to her respectfully.
"You're welcome, Miss Thomas."
OOOO
Once Bertram had been let off his watch, he made for the flight deck, where the Doctor had reside for the whole of the year. When he pushed the door open, he found that the Master and Lucy were talking in hushed tones at the top of the stairs; an argument of some sort. Lucy had become progressively less radiant and chipper as she'd once been. She had started to realize her husband wasn't who she thought he was. He was the Master, yes, but there was something about him that just didn't settle well with her. Bertram spotted the Doctor seated in the corner, staring down at his lap despondently. Moving towards him, Bertram slowed his pace so it looked like he was just making his rounds. Stretching his hand into his pocket, he took hold of the paper and withdrew it, pinching it between two fingers. When he was close enough, Bertram slipped the folded up sonnet into the Doctor's hand. The aged Time Lord shakily looked up at the guard with confusion set into his lined face.
"She's safe with the fhiotaíocht. She's off the Valiant," Bertram whispered before he kept moving. The Doctor stared after him with a pinch between his brows. Fhiotaíocht. Irish for 'resistance.' Realization dawned in the Time Lord's head, and a shaky smile appeared on his face. She would be safe now… He unfolded the paper with weak, shaky fingers and read the sonnet he'd been presented with.
Sonnet 73
That time of year thou may'st in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day,
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by-and-by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
The Doctor's smile was shaky and his eyes had begun to sting. He had seen Selene for a grand total of six times in the last year; they hadn't been allowed to talk, but being in the room had been good enough. The sonnet reaffirmed the relationship they'd started before this whole hell had reigned down on them; it promised that, once it was all over, they'd pick up where they'd been forced to left off. Folding the sonnet back up, he slipped it into his right breast pocket so it would sit over his right heart. Just then, the door flew open and Colin, Selene's other regular guard, came storming in with panic on his face.
"Sir!" he called, approaching the steps. The Master whirled around and snapped,
"What?" The stress of his day had built up to a boiling point, and the Doctor had a feeling this would send him over.
"Miss Thomas, she's… she's… gone."
"What do you mean… gone?" the Master demanded to know in a dangerously quiet voice. Colin swallowed thickly and pushed his floppy fringe out of his face.
"Gone as in… escaped. I don't know how, but she's gone," Colin repeated. The Master growled and kicked one of the railings. He whipped out his lazer screwdriver and, quite literally, shot the messenger; as Colin hit the floor utterly motionless, the Master inhaled slowly and exhaled even slower. He grabbed hold of the stair rail with both hands. Turning to address the rest of the guards in the room, the Master pocketed his weapon and curled his fingers into tense fists.
"I don't know how you do it… and I really don't care how you do it… but find and bring back Selene Thomas. Alive. Do it! Go!" the Master shouted, spurring the guards into action. As Bertram jogged from the room, he winked at the Doctor, who smiled at him gratefully. The Doctor then looked to the Master, who looked like he was about to go on a rampage; and the Doctor hadn't felt better in an entire year.
OOOO
It would seem that teleportation was only marginally less unpleasant than time travel without a capsule. She rematerialized in Dublin, the middle of it, presumably. Like Bertram had warned, it was decidedly cool since the sun had gone down god knew how long ago. She spun around in a circle on shaky legs, thankful that the transport hadn't left her feeling nauseous. The streets were barren. Not a single soul lingered on street corners, and all of the lights were off, even the street lamps. It felt like a ghost town. Hugging her arms around her middle and started off down one of the streets, trying to walk as silently as possible, not daring to utter a sound. She wondered if, maybe, she should have waited till morning when people might've been milling about. The air was chilly, but that brought a smile to Selene's face; she'd only known the stale air of the Valiant for so long that fresh air, no matter how cold, was the best refresher she knew. Deciding that walking in the middle of the street probably wasn't such a good idea, she moved to the sidewalk and hugged the building, which kept her in the shadows. Just as she was about to pass an alley, someone hauled her into it. She was pulled flush against a wall by a man dressed all in black.
"What're you doin' out after curfew?" he demanded with quiet concern. His voice had a lovely Irish lilt to it, present even as he spoke in hushed tones. Selene's brows puckered together and stared at the man in surprise. The last thing she had expected was for someone to have pulled her into a dark alley with concern plain on their features.
"There's a curfew?" she asked. She supposed that made sense, what with the deserted streets and no lights. The man nodded and bounced on the balls of his feet, looking just a tad anxious.
"'Course there is! It's world wide––people off the streets at eight, lights out at nine," the man replied, looking at her as though she might've gone mental. "Where've you been? Underground?"
"Try up in the air," Selene replied in an equally hushed tone. The man's blue eyes widened and he suddenly leapt backwards, pressing his back flush against the narrow alley wall. He threw out an arm to bar Selene from moving forward; he mouthed the words 'stand still' at her as a humming sound approached. Through the mouth of the alley, they watched as a Toclafane patrol hovered down the street, blades spinning, lights flashing. Selene, taking the 'stand still' to heart, held her breath and didn't dare to move a muscle. They bobbed past slowly, giving the two in the alley a few heart-wrenching moments of tension. Once the humming had disappeared, they cautiously relaxed; the man held out a hand to signal Selene to stay put until he checked the street. He poked his head out of the alley, looked left and right, and then slipped back into the alley.
The man Selene found herself in company with was truly pulling off the all-black clothing ensemble. He wore black jeans, black sneakers, a black jacket, black fingerless gloves, and a black beanie covered his sandy colored hair, which poked out from under the edge. To top it all off, he was even carrying a black backpack. In her head, she quickly reasoned that anyone who was out past curfew, dressed all in black, and was worried about someone else's well-being could very well be part of a resistance. Attempting to recall how the code phrase was pronounced, she splayed her hands out through the air.
"An… fhrio… fhriot… an fhriot-aí––" Selene stuttered out. The man stared at her, watching her struggle for a moment before he flawlessly recited,
"An fhriotaíocht domhanda?" Selene pointed at him and nodded, looking excited. Slowly, he nodded, and continued forward with the coding. "Seasann le chéle." He extended a hand to her, proffering a handshake. "Name's Jack."
"Selene," she replied whilst accepting the handshake. His eyes widened a fraction at hearing her name; she'd forgotten that her name had been spread around the globe.
"As in…?"
"Selene Thomas? Yeah, that's me."
"That would explain why you didn't know there was a curfew!" Jack smiled and shook his head, staring at her as though he was meeting a celebrity of some sort. Selene gestured up to the starry sky with her thumb.
"I was told by Bertram Crawford that––"
"Bertram!" Jack exclaimed, voice jumping out of a whisper for a brief second. His face had brightened at the mentioning of undercover resistance member. It had been months since they'd heard from him, and it looked like he'd carried out his mission. He winced, however, when he heard the slight echo of his voice and dropped back into a whisper. "Good to know he's still alive. Hard to keep any correspondence with him while he's up there. Right, sorry, what were you sayin'?"
"That Bertram told me I would be safe down here, with the resistance… that I could help," Selene prompted. "And I'd like to help." Jack nodded excitedly and whacked his forehead with the heel of his hand, as though he hadn't thought of that a moment ago. He slipped his backpack off his shoulders and unzipped his jacket, only to reveal he was wearing a black hoodie underneath it. He offered her the jacket and picked his bag back up.
"Put this on, it'll be easier to blend into the shadows. I'll get you to base camp without being seen. We'll give you a nice warm meal, some clothes, a place to sleep, and then we'll get started on saving the world tomorrow," Jack explained as she took the jacket. She slipped her arms through it and zipped it all the way up, thankful for both the camouflage and the warmth that it provided.
"Right, then––lead the way." Selene gestured to either end of the alley, waiting for him to take the lead.
After double checking the street was still clear, the two jogged across on their toes, trying to make as little sound as possible. From there, they stuck to alleys and climbed a few fences, winding their way through the abandoned streets of Dublin. They'd run into two more Toclafane patrols, masterfully hiding from the first one and nearly got caught by the second. By the end of their journey they had approached a tenant building, all of the windows of which were dark. Jack insisted they take the back way in, which would prove less of a risk of them getting caught. So that was how they found themselves scaling the fire escape at the back of the building. Extracting a pocket knife, Jack jimmied open one of the window locks and slipped it open, revealing a small rectangle of warm light. Jack slipped his legs through first before the rest of his body slid through, disappearing into the room beyond the window. Selene, with a slightly furrowed brow, slipped in after him, leaving behind the cool fresh air behind. She found herself standing in a warmly lit kitchen, and, turning around, she noted that the windows had been blacked out with multiple layers of black paint. Jack shut and locked the window before turning around to face Selene.
"Welcome to H.Q.!" Jack said with a chipper smile, gesturing to the small kitchen. He whipped his beanie off and revealed a hairstyle similar to Bertram's––buzzed on the sides, longer on the top. "Well, it's more than a kitchen, but the sentiment is still the same. C'mon, I'll take you to meet Aoife––she's our fearless leader." Selene followed Jack into what had once been a living room, but had been re-outfitted with four or five beds. A couple of people were curled up under threadbare blankets and others were awake and chatting; Jack nodded to a couple of them as they passed, patting a frail looking man on the shoulder. He led her to the flat's door, pulled it open, and revealed a narrow hall, in which a small group of people, all wearing varying degrees of black, were discussing something with passion. Jack lead her around a corner, and she noted that, like the other hallway, all of the doors to all of the flats were open, as though they were creating some sort of vaguely open floor plan. "This entire floor of flats is resistance headquarters. We've got other members living on other floors, but we deal with all of our business here."
"So… it's like a giant office?" Selene asked, gesturing to the open doors. Jack nodded slowly, considering her analogy.
"Yeah… yeah it sorta is. A vast majority of the rooms are just living quarters, but a couple of them are reserved for tech and correspondence and office-type work," Jack explained. "But at least one person lives in each flat, just in case we get some nasty fellow coming door to door for a check or somethin'."
"You guys have really got your shit together," Selene said with a smile and a tinge of laughter. Jack chuckled and tucked his beanie into his back pocket; he shrugged and made a sound that resembled 'ehh.'
"On good days." He then knocked on a partially closed door and then slipped inside, nodding for Selene to follow him. "Aoife? Aoife, you here?"
The room, like most of the other rooms they'd past, were dimly lit; Selene presumed that it was for precautionary measures, just in case any light leaked out after the designated 'lights out' hour. Computers, monitors, and consoles lined the walls and were propped up on desks, and thick coils and rivers of wires criss-crossed the floor. Tiny lights blinked every which-way, and papers cluttered numerous different tables. A woman with her hair twisted up into a bun was leaned over a table, marking out notations on a map on the table. She had a strong, graceful profile and her skin was impossibly fair. She and another woman were conversing quietly, pointing at different spots on the map between referring to different pieces of paper. The woman looked up and noticed Jack, capping her pen.
"Who's that?" she asked, gesturing to Selene with the pen.
"Aoife, this is––incredibly––Selene Thomas," Jack said with an excited smile on his face. Aoife glanced between Jack and Selene, stepping away from the table with slow, contemplative steps.
"Really?" Aoife asked dubiously. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her eyes were scanning Selene over with a calculating gaze. Selene swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling
"Yes! She just… materialized in the middle of the street; I caught sight of her when I was coming back from my supply run."
Aoife continued to walk forward till she stood about three feet in front of Selene. Her cool blue eyes swept over Selene again. Selene reached up and unzipped Jack's jacket as she began to speak, knowing she'd have to argue the validity of her identity to this woman. The suspicion was understandable; she would imagine that someone might try and fake being her to sneak into the resistance, which was a bizarre concept in itself.
"I was up in the Valiant, as the Master's prisoner for a year. A year of tedious silence and constant pestering. I spoke with Bertram Crawford before I left the Valiant, and he said I would be safe here. He gave me…" Selene handed Jack his jacket back and then pulled up the sleeve of her sweater to reveal the transporter, "this to get down here." Aoife reached out and took Selene's proffered arm, turning it this-way-and-that as she looked the transporter over.
"This is Bertram's," Aoife confirmed. She met Selene's eyes, but this time, her suspicion was gone. "You're really Selene Thomas, aren't you?"
"I have been since the day I was born. Look, Aoife, is it? I really want to help out in any way I can. I've been trapped in a flying hunk of metal for a year and I want to play my part in setting my friends free––setting the world free of that bastard's reign," Selene said in a deadly serious tone. She repressed the urge to wince at how dramatic that last bit had sounded, but it was, oddly enough, the blunt truth. Aoife stayed silent for a moment before a smile crept up the corners of her mouth; she extended her hand in a smooth movement, fingers outstretched in preparation for a solidifying handshake.
"Welcome to the resistance, Miss Thomas."
Afterword:
Translations according to GoogleTranslate:
an fhriotaíocht domhanda––the global resistance
Seasann le chéile––stands together
I wanted to get this up yesterday, but my internet went on the fritz. Again, I thank grapejuice101 for helping me out a great deal with this chapter! I had an absolute blast writing this chapter and coming up with characters and situations. I did face-cast the handful of characters I put in here and they are as follows:
Finn Wittrock as Colin
Tom Hardy as Bertram
JacksSepticEye as––you guessed it––Jack
And Caitriona Balfe as Aoife.
I'm also very impressed that this chapter is about as long as the previous chapters; I thought I wouldn't get that length! Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it, no matter how jumbled around it may read as.
Review Replies!
grapejuice101: Thank you so much for your help with this chapter! It really helped a lot with keeping me motivated and organized. I hope that you enjoyed reading the chapter! Thanks again!
ShadowTeir: I kinda figured that, even if she really wanted to escape in the moment, she would've stayed behind for the Doctor's sake anyway. I feel like I might've made the Master out a bit too insane, but it is what it is. And I have been toying around with the idea of Selene popping up in a Torchwood episode, I'd just have to figure out which one would make sense. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
NicoleR85: I'm glad that you enjoyed the previous chapter and hope that you enjoyed this one as well! thanks again!
Rainbow Quartz 14: I'm very glad that you were so excited for the last update! And I'm glad that me sticking to episode long chapters is coming off as the show in book form, it's kinda what I was aiming for. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
WhovianPotter: I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
FREYA ASTRID NOVA: I'm glad that you enjoyed the chapter as much as the previous one; and I'm glad that you're still enjoying the name Selene :) I hope you enjoyed! Thanks again!
The Yoshinator: That is, indeed, why the Master is so interested in Selene. And don't worry about not reviewing the chapter before the last one, it's totally fine! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!
Momochan77: I simultaneously hate and love the Master. Same with Moriarty. I hope that you enjoyed reading the original content of this chapter! Thanks again!
ash: I'm happy that this story gets you so excited! I always get very excited when I get to write my favorite episodes; I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
EGGS: Super impressed you chose to binge this story in two days! The Master/Missy is a great character to write, though I fear I might have missed the mark with him this chapter. I will be doing the Day of the Doctor, I already have ideas for it written up! Thank you for your lovely review! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
88dragon06: I'm very glad that you've found this story and have been enjoying it so much; and I'm very, very flattered that you consider this the best Doctor/OC story that you've come across! I found no reason for Selene to hate Rose in anyway, mostly because I was really a fan of Rose and her seasons, and figured that the Doctor loved her, and that's a major plot point, so there was really no reason to mess with it or beat the character up. I've been rewriting the Hal chapter 'cause I realized I had a couple of missed opportunities that I want to get in there; and the Decoy Bride, oh, god, I smile like an idiot every time I watch it. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter, and thank you, again, for your lovely review!
Audrie-13: I'm honestly impressed with myself for getting this chapter up within a week or so; and I hope that you're excited for this chapter as much as you were for the last two :) I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
Guest: I think that Selene and the Doctor are pretty cute together, too :) I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
And thank you to those who have added this story to their favorites/follows; it means a lot!
And that's that until next time! I hope that you all enjoyed the 21 pages of original content; I've got another chapter like this one planned for one of the next ones as a bit of a seasonal interval between season 3 and 4. But, I'm getting ahead of myself. I hope that you all enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again for taking the time to read!
~Mary