How strange it had been to stand before my wardrobe, to decide what would be an appropriate outfit for something like that. In the end I had picked dark blue jeans, a red plaid shirt and a black hoodie. I had never been one for fashion anyway and now was not the time to start with it.

Where did the Doctor's confidence come from, I wondered. Diving head first into dangerous situations, smiling. I felt no joy and no excitement when I strode through the streets towards a place that might mean my end. Or worse.

The city was moderately tempered this time of the year, but since I had been walking a while now I slightly regretted the hoodie. There was a smudge on my glasses and I wiped them clean while watching the blurry people around me. Nothing indicated that they were scared or more careful than one would think. They chatted and laughed, went shopping and drank together in cafés.

Maybe they were just used to it by now. The planet's recent history - from the snippets I had gathered - hadn't been the easiest.

To my luck, the way wasn't far and not complicated either. Otherwise I would have gotten lost in this unfamiliar place faster than one could turn around. Maybe I took a bit longer than was strictly necessary, though and when I finally reached the broken monument, I was promptly met with armed guards. They wore a black, armoured suit and held machine guns, their eyes hidden by equally dark visors.

Well, fuck. But we had expected it. I slowly raised my hands and stood still, heart pounding madly in my chest. The Doctor had been absolutely certain that they would know my face and not shoot. I myself wasn't that sure, not at all. It took everything in me to keep my eyes open and even more not to turn around and flee.

I'm not a brave person, not at all. Doing this was as much out of character for me as anything could be. And yet I felt not the same kind of terror I was used to. It wasn't the same as during the years I had been almost literally crippled by social anxiety. It wasn't the same as being scared of doing anything wrong and fearing to get beaten or humiliated for it. It also wasn't the same as being scared while doing something incredibly dangerous and stupid; and that concerned me the most, because dangerous and stupid were exactly the words to describe this very situation.

"You will follow us and you will stay calm. Any hasty movement and we will shoot. Understood?"

One of the guards aimed their gun at me while the other spoke and I nodded. There was no use in fleeing the situation now, so I did what they demanded and walked a few steps behind them, my hands hanging loosely by my sides after they had started hurting. In movies it always looks like no big deal to hold your hands up for minutes, but it's really exhausting.

What a weird detail to think about.

Why the fuck was I not running?

Could my time with the Doctor and the others have made me like that? Could it have an effect on me still, even without remembering any of it?

We didn't walk far, only around the now crumbled and charred monument. It looked strangely innocent now, without the flames and the thick smoke hanging over its debris. Behind it rose another building in the air, the mansion the Doctor had mentioned. It stood proud, yet not too tall, more an afterthought compared to its surroundings. Or what was left of them. The flames had charred even this place; black trees now sat where green must have once dominated the garden.

I followed the guards inside without either of us ever losing a single word. What for anyway? They knew their orders and I knew my goal. And now that we had reached what looked like a spacious office they sharply saluted and then left.

The Master sat on the end of the table, one leg on the ground, the other propped up on a chair. A posture of casualness, but his look was piercing right through me. He wore black clothes and a leather jacket, almost casual and somehow it still managed to give him some sense of authority.

"You," he muttered.

I nodded and looked away, at the ground, at my shoes, at the walls and the chairs. It scared me too much to look directly into his eyes. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what I would find there.

"Cowards," The Master spat. "Pathetic that they send you who isn't even involved."

Now he sprang from the table and walked closer, making it hard not to look at him directly. I peeked up and noticed surprised that I didn't find the disgust on his face that I had expected. He looked angry, but the emotion didn't seem to be directed at me. Not really.

"Th… they… I…" I stammered, for the moment unable to get my thoughts in any order. "You would kill them. If… they came here, I mean."

"Does he think that now?" The Master huffed. "And his pet just babbles whatever he says." He towered over me, his look dark. "And you? If they think I murder anything in reach then why send you? A sacrifice?" He barked out a laugh and shook his head.

"Because… cause I don't know…" My heart was racing way too fast. "The Doctor thinks… he said you wouldn't harm me. A-and I don't know why he thinks that, but…" I swallowed when I met the Master's burning gaze. "I'd appreciate it if you don't kill the messenger."

"No?" He walked even closer, making me back away and against the now closed door behind me. "Tell me one reason, little light," he growled, "to let you get out of here alive."

I opened my mouth to shoot out a response, only to snap it shut again. My mind blanked. Because… there was no reason, really. It wouldn't make a difference. He followed with a slow step, raising his hands to my throat with a cold, dark look, almost hungry. Fingers closed around my skin, thumbs laying on the exact spot he would need to indent.

And time stood still.

The same moment his fingers closed around my throat, my breath slowed down to barely more than a halt, my heartbeat calmed, my thoughts stilled. I looked into the Master's eyes, as if there would lie an answer.

"What?" He narrowed his brows, noticing my confusion. He overplayed it with a grin, leaning down. "Scared?"

But that was the point. I blinked, waited. Nothing. "I should be, shouldn't I?" I muttered, each word making his fingers on my air tube more palpable.

Something in his gaze shifted, changed. A tingling scraped along the edges of my awareness, spreading from the point of our skin touching. Tendrils of consciousness, searching, prodding.

"That would be wise, yes." His voice verged on a growl.

An unspoken question lingered in the back of my mind. What was it that had changed so much of me?

"Then why am I not?"

The tingling vanished and with it the Master's hands. He stroked over his face, quietly laughing to himself. A laugh that slowly increased in volume until he threw his head back to let it out with full force.

Madness.

What else could it be? The Master was utterly insane.

And maybe so was I.

"You are hilarious," he proclaimed, lowering his hand just enough to peek at me, the laugh still vibrating in his chest. "Pathetic and hilarious."

Okay, that stung. I didn't want him to despise me like that. But before I could object or do anything at all he already calmed down and regarded me with a half smile and a half scowl.

"Well, since absolutely nothing is happening like I imagined for days now… Why not. Why not indulge this fucked up fate?"

"So… no harming me then?"

His smile grew and became weirdly soft, yet still amused. "Did I? Harm you, that is?"

I thought for a moment and then shook my head. He hadn't squeezed my throat, not even lightly. His hands had just… laid there. "No, just spooked me a lill'."

"Mhm. Don't try my patience, though. No fleeing, no damaging anything, no calling for help. Understood?"

"Uhh… why would-"

"I don't care what the Doctor and his redhead want you to tell me. And I'm not going to let you go back to them. You're my prisoner now." He stabbed a finger at my chest.

In hindsight, I should have expected it.

"Oh. Okay."

The Master scrunched up his nose and huffed. "You'll stay in here. The office is big enough and I can keep an eye on you. Or let my cameras watch you. That door over there has a bathroom. Don't dare and smell around me. Humans are disgusting enough already."

I pursued my lips in protest, but said nothing.

"You can sleep on the sofa. I'll get you a blanket."

"No pillow?"

"You never use those anyway." How the heck could he know that? The Master rolled his eyes. "Fine, I guess those come in pairs anyway."

"And uhm…"

"What?"

I shrunk under his gaze, but the turned situation gave me an unfamiliar boldness. "What about food? I guess you won't cook."

"I've got better things to do, indeed. I'll get you something. And since you're the only person I know who manages to get bored while being a prisoner-" he pointed at a shelf with books and at a part of the long table that had electronic components lying around– "there is plenty to occupy yourself with. So don't dare and annoy me."

Damn, he really knew me too well.

"Maybe I can find something to make you more useful, but for now, shut up and be invisible."

I wanted to retort something mean, I really did. But his warning was threatening enough, despite the strange and sudden lack of fear in me.

.

For the next couple of days nothing much happened. The Master mostly wasn't even in the office room, probably letting his cameras do the babysitting, as he had called it once. A guard brought me food three times a day and there were all necessary toilet articles in the small bathroom. Even new clothes. And, spiking a new wave of wonder, those were all things I actually liked.

It wasn't only the clothes, however. The food was foreign, consisting of ingredients that mostly weren't found on earth, yet the meals tasted surprisingly familiar to me. Two days in, a few men brought a screen and more books and movies. Stuff that definitely was made by humans or at least species that created things I understood or found interesting.

I had enough time to think. No matter how much the Master despised me and my species he knew surprisingly much about the things I enjoyed. Of course he had to know something after a year in the TARDIS close to each other. But spending time in proximity to another person did not necessarily mean that you learned much about the details of their way of being.

Thinking didn't help. I couldn't get any answers like that and my memories also didn't bother to return. The few times the Master actually came here he avoided speaking to me and evaded any question with dark looks and snarls. One time he even shot up from his chair and almost was at my throat again, just to stop a few centimetres away from me, his hands sinking, defeated by something I had no knowledge of.

"You should be scared," was all he said then, before leaving the room to never return.

But how could I? Now that I was aware of it missing, I couldn't simply return. This state… some years ago I would have given a lot to be that fearless. Now, however, I shivered when I thought about the implications.