Chapter two:

The Bond

It had taken Delta only a few days to get better from the mind-rape of the Time Lords. Once better, she was taken to the Untempered Schism and forced to see the secrets of time and watch the Vortex. It raced through her mind, her eyes swirling at impact, and her future mate watched from beside Rassilon. As her mind closed, her eyes colored and reflective of the whirl of said Vortex, she was put in front of the Lord President. Slowly, her mate stood beside her.

In the distance stood their cell which was a broken TARDIS that would never work. It was tattered and beaten and completely dead in every sense of the word. Delta felt sick at the thought. They were somehow protected from the total power of the Lord President as he spoke to commence the ceremony.

With his hands, he forced the couple's arms up; hands intertwined, he reached what miniscule power the TARDIS had left and aided the bonding, more strength enforcing the soul-union. Lights encircled them, a flurry of colors, and it was as if the Vortex intensified the connection of the two.

Koschei saw into her mind, the heritage and violation the Time Lords committed. She was strong, but did not give herself any credit. He saw her teaching, a proper professor on her own planet. Then he saw her mother. The progenation machine, past that, her mum's adventures. Past that, the Doctor and his words that led Jenny to run and save worlds. The Doctor who, unintentionally, made Jenny want a child and make the Professor. Forbidden, he found her name, and likewise, she saw his mind.

She saw Koschei, later known as the Master; grow up on Gallifrey, in the House of Oakdown. He and his one-time friend the Doctor, in their youth, would play in the fields near Koschei's home. Like most Gallifreyans taken as Time Lords, Koschei was taken at the age of eight for his training. During the ceremony where he gazed into the Time Vortex, through the Untempered Schism, he began to hear constant drumming and slowly began to go mad; the drumming worsened as time went on. At the Academy, Koschei and the Doctor and other future rivals, people called the Rani and War Chief, belonged to a clique of young Time Lords with the collective name of the Deca. After the Doctor fled Gallifrey, Koschei was forced to pursue and apprehend him. His unstable obsession with order however, prompted the Time Lords to plant a spy. After the Doctor trapped him in a black hole Koschei, the Master, swore to take revenge on him. The drumming itself was later revealed to have been implanted retroactively into the Koschei's mind by Rassilon as a link free the Time Lords from the time-lock imposed upon them. Of course, she saw more. So much more, but felt the agony and deeper emotion with each memory. She heard his name, very distantly, but quickly shoved it away kindly and for each of their benefit. She felt the metaphorical blood soak his hands.

Finally, the bond was completed, and they fell to their knees. Emotions were strong, high. She could feel the strain of each of their memories. He was so full of life. He had lived. And she had only three years of life, but now she felt older. He took her into his arms, a move he wasn't sure why he had made, but all the same, comforted her with whispers.

She could feel the ground taken from under her and half wondered if she had died again, but that was not the case. Koschei had lifted her and was slowly walking to their TARDIS. It took the breath out of her lungs when they entered. She had seen it before the ceremony, but now it looked absolutely breathtaking. The trigger of power in which the three of them were bonded, the once broken, scattered jail cell looked more like a Gallifreyan home for the two of them.

"For the record," Koschei said, setting Delta down softly on a nearby couch, "We are not consummating this like some stupid human ceremony."

She grinned up at him before relaxing. Her body ached both in sympathy and in her own torture. These were a terrible people right now.

Weeks turned to three months, and Koschei had seemed to be more capricious than anyone she had met. And she had met quite a few people. Often, he would question her about her home-life and find the subject boring before changing topics.

Now, he found a fun topic.

"So, the Face of Boe!"

She looked up from where she was staring, her eyes distant in reliving an old memory of she and her mother. "What?"

"The Face of Boe," he said slowly, getting up from his sitting place and sitting at her feet. It was a move he did when he was interested, like the younger pupils she had once taught. "What was he like? I've heard legends."

With a small smile, she shrugged, hands slowly starting to play with his hair as it grew in their time together. "He was old. A great, big ole face in purple glow and juice in a big incasing. He said he was ready to go, when he had met me, but said he wanted to teach me things before he passed on." She was smiling at the new topic. "He was a wonderful man-face. He was smart and kind." Her hair was longer and she started to play with it instead as she continued her story. "He only taught me a little bit when I mentioned my heritage," she let the word drip with anger. He understood. "He said he was in a hurry and that he had to go. But before he did, he asked me to touch his casing. I did, because he was the Face of Boe and my friend. I didn't have many friends as a professor." Delta looked down when Koschei moved his head to look up. She gave him a weak smile and again shrugged, hair falling over her shoulders. "Anyway, I did. A purple light flew from his casing and consumed me. It spilled so many thoughts in my head and old knowledge."

He rose an eyebrow at her, watching at how her eyes glazed over in memory and how that very knowledge tinted her eyes and lighted them. He remembered how her eyes had done the same thing when she looked into the Schism, how they had twirled like the Vortex. Koschei lifted himself from the ground and picked her up easily to hold her against him. He wasn't sure if he liked the fact that she was so nearly weightless, and that she seemed to bring out an almost nicer part of him. Of course, he was sort of kind to Lucy Saxon, but with Delta there was something else. She was something else.

She kept her place, quiet and not loud. She didn't pry. She wasn't rude or intrusive and didn't try to make Koschei angry. More often than not, she would find the smallest gap and force him to talk. Delta had a very particular way she moved, walked, looked. She wasn't picky. No, Koschei would have minded that. Instead, in deep contrast, she was someone of habit. Her hair, without even thinking, was braided in a certain fashion. She walked with small steps. Her eyes showed her distance to the real world she lived in to the intricate but simple life she had once had.

However, even if she didn't get in his way, Koschei was Koschei, drums or not, and he was still an angry sort of man. Not angry, she had said once in reply to his retort to someone speaking – arguing, actually with him and name-calling – Koschei was just a notch or so over rude. He had given her a glare, a very cold glare, and marched away, leaving her to finish the rest of gathering their robes and supplies. Delta hadn't minded. She was the gatherer anyway; for fear that Koschei would get himself into trouble or into a harsh tiff. The bruises were gone, the cuts healed, and the scars were sort of fading. She had once traced a scar on his arm when he had napped. He had snapped at her, slapping her hand.

She looked over at him, finally realizing her position, and realizing that he was the one caught in a memory. She smiled and, in a very unlike Delta move, carefully caressed his face.

He stood immediately, face flushing in anger or embarrassment she wasn't sure, putting her roughly back on the chair where she once was. "I'm finished with the conversation about Boe. You're too soft, Delta. It's infuriating." He marched off, movements coarse.

Delta simply watched with wide eyes from both surprise and shame. She knew better, but was caught in some weird thought that maybe, sitting so close and him comforting her, he would not be mean. "It's Koschei," she whispered to the TARDIS and herself, "he's still a bit thick-skinned."