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Fic: A Good Day (or: The War in the Medusa Cascade). Chapter 6
And this is where everything gets turned upside down... I don't really know what else to say. It's strange to post something after having planned it for years.
Previous parts here for anyone who is wanting to catch up:
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5
And Master post for the whole 'verse here.
Summary: "Why is it only ever the bad guys who have a proper plan?" The Master's son finally meets the Daleks. And he thought it a good day. (TSE/JE rewrite with Eleven and Clara and a host of extras.)
Setting: Future AU TSE/JE.
Spoilers: The Name of the Doctor (S7.13)
Rating: PG-13.
Characters: The Seeker (OC, the Master's son), Eleventh Doctor, Clara, the Master, Jack, River, Roda (OC), Davros, others.
Beta: The always lovely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathyh. (Any mistakes mine!)
Thank yous: Tothe_redjay for the loan of Roda.
Feedback: I am not too proud to beg...
Chapter 6
As the whole ensemble stared at the Master in mute shock, Roda carefully made sure that she melted into the shadows. All her instincts had been telling her to run ever since the Seeker had let them out of the holding cells (and this latest, very unwelcome, development only reinforced that impulse) but her long and often painful life had taught her a very important lesson: If possible, keep your enemies in sight.
And one look at the Master had ensured that she wasn’t going to let him out of her sight until she knew exactly what he was up to…
She still had nightmares from the time he’d tried to execute her by hanging, waking in the night, the memory grasping her with cold, hard hands; looking at him now she could once more feel a noose tightening - although one of a very different kind.
During The Year That Never Was, she and Jack (and the Jones family too, of course) had learned to differentiate between the Master’s moods to the point where something as simple as a raised eyebrow could indicate what kind of day they were in for - knowledge that she was now grateful to have.
There was Angry!Master, who - despite having a tendency to lash out at whatever was nearest - was generally unfocussed in his fury, more concerned with whatever had gone wrong than the hurt he was inflicting.
There was Bored!Master who could be casually cruel, but would lose interest soon enough.
But worse than both these combined was Happy!Master. Happy!Master wanted to celebrate and could usually think of no better way of celebrating than causing more pain to his enemies. Happy!Master was always focussed outwards, paying attention to them with the care and attention of a sadistic lover.
Worst of all was Happy!Master-with-something-up-his-sleeve. Not because the pain itself was quantitatively worse - no, it was the absolute knowledge that pain he was currently inflicting would be overshadowed by pain still to come - his pleasure came not from the immediate moment, but from the future developments he was contemplating. In such moments there was no use in thinking ‘This too shall pass’ because something worse was coming... Something unknown, which by the very nature of being unknowable and unspoken, lurking in the dark shadows dancing in his eyes and the corner of his smirk, was too terrible to contemplate.
As she watched him now, she shuddered.
He was holding out a cigar to his son - to match the one he was holding himself - explaining that it had been a gift from Fidel Castro and he’d saved it for a special occasion.
The Seeker took it greedily, exclaiming that he needed something like this more than he could explain, and his father’s appearance seemed like a godsend - possibly literally?
The Master smiled and brought out a lighter, and as the light fluttered across their faces Roda's fists clenched and unclenched unconsciously, the strain of keeping her frustration to herself only showing in little physical signs.
There was no doubt about it. This was Happy!Master-with-something-up-his-sleeve. He was pleased with what had happened, but he was very clearly looking ahead to something else, something which had him practically humming with joy. She’d not seen him like this since The Year That Never Was - the sheer swagger and confidence was hard to miss - and the sight made her want to run so fast and so far that no one would ever find her.
Yet she couldn’t - not without first finding out what he was hiding.
The Seeker was smiling, happy and relaxed and surprised, not understanding the danger Roda could see, and the Doctor was practically hugging his TARDIS, clearly too overwhelmed to notice the things unspoken. River looked sceptical, but she had never had the Master as adversary, and didn’t know his hidden depths.
Poor Clara had obviously met him before and had scooted over next to River, eyeing the Master warily. (Clever girl, Roda thought - River was probably the one person the Master wouldn’t challenge.)
But Jack had also stepped back, shooting Roda a look. He saw it too. But what could they do?
“Go on Dad - spit it out. How did you survive?” The Seeker took a drag of the cigar, the nicotine clearly helping him calm down after the recent emotional upheavals, and an easy, open smile on his face. (No, he didn’t see it at all...)
“All in good time, son,” the Master replied, half-turning to let his eyes pass over the Doctor and doing a mocking double-take.
“Doctor - goodness gracious me, you look rather peaky. I thought I might at least get a thank you for saving your wonky box.”
There was a beat as the Doctor just watched the two of them, silent, his face closed and cautious, and the Seeker sighed.
“I broke his hearts...” He waved a hand around, encompassing the destruction, the Toclafane, the war displayed on the screen, before continuing: “He’s... not feeling too good.”
“Oh really?” the Master replied, raising an eyebrow. “Well done boy, it was way past time. So sentimental, the silly old fool. Although speaking of fools - is that Davros I spy?”
As he sauntered over to the trapped Kaled, Roda had to forcibly stop herself from killing them both there and then. She’d thought she’d been rid of the Master, and she was still trying to process the fact that he was back. And Davros... Well, he most certainly would not leave the Crucible still alive.
The Master leaned forward, tapped the holding cell.
“Hello there Davros. How do you like my son? Rather a chip off the old block, don’t you think? A question for you: How many Time Lords does it take to beat the Daleks?”
He smiled wickedly, before answering himself:
“Only one, presuming it’s the right one.”
Inwardly Roda sighed deeply, and then muttered, so quietly that only Jack could hear:
"Oh good, pleasantries aside now we're onto terrible jokes. Makes a change from all the heartbreak I suppose. Let’s have fun with the slavery and genocide."
Jack shot her a dark look, but didn’t offer a comment of his own. He knew her moods very well indeed by now.
Davros began ranting again, more furious than ever, but the Master merely laughed. If he’d been in his previous regeneration he’d probably have skipped or danced at this point, but the new incarnation was a touch more sober.
Stroking his beard, he eventually shrugged and turned his back on the raging lunatic, and seemed to practically glide back over to his son.
“Since you asked so nicely about my very fortuitous case of continued existence, Lord Seeker, I shall let you in on a secret: Self-preservation can overcome almost anything. In the wonky box’s case, it meant that she chose to let me out so I could help her escape, rather than be immolated. Got out of Dodge with no time to spare and decided to stay out of the fray - figured if they’d immobilised a TARDIS once they could do it twice. And it’s rare that the Doctor doesn’t think of some way of blowing them all up... Of course, I was still planning on riding to the rescue if necessary, but - just as I was busy trying to tap into the Crucible’s systems - suddenly they started broadcasting! And whom should I see but my very own beloved son, singing my tune...”
The Seeker’s cigar paused halfway to his mouth.
“You saw?”
“Son, never has a father been so proud, trust me. It was... beautiful.”
He looked around, beaming.
“Truly, I shall have to declare this the Best Day Ever!”
The Seeker smiled, clearly delighted, even as his eyes narrowed somewhat as he carefully took a drag of the cigar, slowly letting the smoke escape from his lips.
“You been waiting for this since I was sixteen, haven’t you?”
The Master smirked, eyes filled with malicious satisfaction.
“Good things come to those who wait.”
The Seeker’s smile was by now a far too close echo of his father’s and Roda wished she could steal him away for good. Things had been going... if not well, then at least towards some sort of serious discussion of the issues. But with the Master’s reappearance she began to worry about her lover (former lover, she corrected sadly) in earnest - of course she trusted him, and yet... What did his father have planned?
“Well I’m glad someone appreciates today,” the Seeker said, voice neutral, yet Roda’s face hardened. She cared too much to let this go. She’d have to say something-
At that point the whole of the Crucible suddenly shook, and the Seeker swore loudly.
“Dammit! Harvey, what’s happening?”
Within seconds he’d hooked up ‘Bonnie’ and ‘Clyde’ to a terminal as he opened up more screens, getting an overview of the situation, face growing serious.
“Princess - go blow up the Supreme Dalek. It’s getting clever and I don’t like it. Harvey, if you move more than five inches away from me, I’m throwing you in the nearest black hole. Now - information. There are billions of you, how the hell-”
The Crucible shook again, and they could see Davros cackling to himself in his silent prison.
Scanning all the information, the Seeker’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes, very clever. Davros, I salute you. However I’ve been preparing for this my whole life, so don’t you worry, I’ll exterminate you yet...”
He looked around at them, calculating.
“River - keep an eye on this for a moment? I just need you to hold them back, very straightforward. Harvey, do whatever she says.”
A beat, then River shrugged acquiescence and after a couple of pointers seemed happy enough.
The Seeker then turned to Jack:
“Give me your wrist.” As he held it out, the Seeker aimed his laser and then focussed on Jack carefully:
“Right. I’ve fixed the vortex manipulator so you can get out of the time pocket easily. I need my TARDIS and the weapons from Plan 27 and 48. Wait - is Princess back yet?”
He turned, just as the Toclafane in question popped back into the gloomy vault.
“Mission accomplished? Excellent. Jack - take Princess with you, she’ll be able to explain the modifications.”
For a moment Jack didn’t move and the Seeker frowned, studying him with evident confusion.
“Jack?”
A beat, then Jack seemed to snap out of whatever had been bothering him, and Roda could see the friend disappearing beneath the Captain. (And Captain Harkness followed orders...)
“Yes. Of course. Be right back.”
He vanished in a flash, leaving the Seeker scratching his head, before swiftly rejoining River.
She smiled.
“This is fun.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying all along!” he replied, smiling back, eyes dancing. “And in a second Jack’ll bring the big guns. I think you’ll like them.”
“I’m sure I will,” she purred before being interrupted by the Master who was now busy pulling a deck chair out from the TARDIS.
“Don’t mind me,” he said, opening it with ease and settling himself down. “I’m just here as a spectator.”
But Roda didn’t miss the look he sent the Seeker’s way once the younger Time Lord was busy again. The sheer intensity of the gaze made her almost forget the battle outside, and she took another step back, bumping into the wall behind her, wishing she knew what to do...
Right now she was sure of only one thing - the worst was most definitely still to come.
~~~
The Doctor felt the TARDIS against his back, the hum of ancient power seeping into him like life itself, even as a single thought had become unavoidable:
'The war is won, but the child is lost'
The words had gained new meaning - unintended by the original poet, whoever he or she or they had been - yet relevant. He watched River and the Seeker, effortlessly working together... Watched Jack return with the Seeker’s TARDIS (it had a preference for looking like a tree, the branches now scraping the vault’s low ceiling awkwardly), watched the Seeker smartly and skillfully ordering his troops as if it was all he’d ever done, as well as deploy the weapons Jack had brought with surety and expertise, and - with River and Jack’s support - successfully battling back the Dalek onslaught - calm, competent, in control.
’A child is not a weapon…’
Except he had become one. Little Melody had been stolen and manipulated, but his Alex (not his, not his, never his, the Master never missing an opportunity to remind him of this)... He had tried his utmost to raise him with love and support and an understanding of right and wrong, in spite of the Master’s poisonous influence - an influence the boy had always distanced himself from...
How had he gotten it so wrong? How had he never seen this coming?
Because this wasn’t sudden. This wasn’t opportunistic. This wasn’t something isolated. This was meticulous planning and careful preparation. For war. ‘His whole life’ he’d said... The almost casual deployment of other (older) weapons bore this out, as did his clear expectation of Jack’s co-operation and knowledge. And the quips they traded pointed to a rich history of fighting…
"Yes, from the back, but… sideways - you know, like that time on Persimmon 3? But without the purple baboons, obviously."
"Purple baboons?" River asked, curious and charmed, and the Seeker laughed.
"The baboons were... incidental. But we took out two legions in less than five minutes. I'm sure you'll recognise the move..."
Comfortable. That’s what he was. Comfortable being in charge, comfortable killing his adversaries. No hesitation or moral worries, he was manoeuvring and deploying his troops and weapons with ease, laser in one hand, cigar in the other (except when he needed a free hand)...
What could the Doctor do, but watch?
The Master interrupted his thoughts, looking up from his deck chair, yet uncannily echoing his musings.
"Marvellous, isn't he? Makes me feel old, truth be told, watching the next generation. Mind you, if he keeps this up you could retire, Doctor. Come, grab a chair..."
The Doctor shook his head mutely.
He knew that war would always be his sign. Trenzalore hung over him, and his death would come on a battlefield... Retirement wasn’t an option. He rubbed his face, tired. Had he been blind, foolish? Had this always been where the boy would end up? He remembered thinking how the lad had seemed to bring himself up, always going his own way - had he taken the wrong cues, misunderstood something along the way?
(Nature versus nurture... Had he been fighting a losing battle from the start? The Master was so quiet that he knew he should be worried, but he didn’t have the mental capacity to wonder why the other wasn’t gloating more.)
Clara had scooted along to him as he stood there, watching silently next to him, eyes wide and giving little away. When she eventually spoke, voice barely above a whisper so the Master wouldn’t hear, he found that she, too, echoed his thoughts:
“Is this what that prophecy meant? ‘Don’t trust him, he is his father’s son’... That thing about his birthright...”
(The unspoken question beneath the words clear enough: Is this good or bad? You seem unhappy, but if it’s bad why are you not doing anything?)
Why wasn’t he?
“I suppose so,” he replied lightly, “Prophecies are… tricky things.”
She frowned, still not happy.
“But he’s killing the Daleks. Surely that’s good? Even if those… sphere things…” She stopped briefly, biting her lip. “Were those what the woman was thinking of? She said ‘God save you’.”
He didn’t have an answer. Maybe it had all been a veiled message for him? They had known who he was, after all. Had known that he would probably run. But no gods could have saved him from this...
Eventually, victory came. Yet the Doctor felt no joy, no satisfaction.
(Jack and River and the Seeker were laughing and highfiving, elated, saying how they needed some champagne. The Master called out to them, saying he’d throw a party, with dancing girls and everything.)
The child he’d known (or thought he had known) was gone for good. He had done what he thought was his best, yet had somehow failed. And it was much, much too late for regrets...
All he could do now was to deal with the man he felt he was seeing for the first time.
When the Seeker walked up to him, beaming, he slowly laced his fingers together, studying him calmly.
“Congratulations Seeker... I believe you have just committed genocide.”
The Seeker took a drag of his cigar, almost smirking.
“I have, haven’t I? Do I get a club card? Is there a secret handshake?”
The Doctor’s face darkened.
“Don’t be flip with me. Genocide is a burden that is not easy to carry. Blood and anger and revenge... They will soak into you in ways you cannot imagine, stains that will never come out. All I ever wanted was to spare you that.”
He spread his hands, a bitter smile on his face. “But it’s too late for that now... I hope you enjoy the spoils of war, you’ve certainly earned them.”
The Seeker seemed concerned at his words, even as he slowly shook his head, the elation visibly reducing.
“But what else could I have done? Please, Doctor, tell me - what can you possibly do with Daleks except kill them?”
“That’s not the point and you know it!” the Doctor snapped back, and the Seeker’s eyes narrowed, as he took a slow drag of the cigar, clearly weighing something in his mind.
Then, having made some sort of decision, he deposited the laser screwdriver in a pocket, ignoring (or unaware) of the Doctor’s suppressed flinch. The instinctual way in which the young Time Lord used the weapon spoke of long and continuous use, to such an extent that he obviously no longer called to mind its origins.
The Doctor - for a single, wistful moment - recalled the vivid red of Amy’s hair, and how the Seeker had in some ways echoed his Pond in his previous (second) regeneration, with his copper hair all aflame. But the colourful sharp brightness (with attendant sharpness of clothing and temperament) had somehow given way to someone mostly dressed in black, the only colour to leaven the ensemble the cool green of his eyes… The Doctor had accused him of looking like a villain when he’d first picked him up. How little he’d expected this outcome...
The Seeker sighed, disturbing his train of thought.
"Listen Doctor - about before... We got interrupted, and I think we often... talk past each other. I know you’ll be beating yourself up right now, but it’s nothing you said, or anything you could have done differently. It’s just that, with me, ‘Do as I say, not as I do’ was never, ever going to work. Because when it comes down to it, you are the man who’ll throw the child in the volcano to save the village-”
As the Doctor opened his mouth, the Seeker held up a hand.
“And no, this isn’t about Gallifrey, or the Daleks, or whatever other example you can drag up. It’s about me. You did it to me.”
“You...” he said softly, not understanding. “When did I ever-”
The Seeker was holding his eyes, voice oddly gentle.
“I was born in a paradox. You broke it. Time reversed. It was nothing but pure luck that those of us in the very centre were protected.”
Everything had gone very quiet, and the Doctor felt as if time had suddenly come unstuck. He could still remember the Master’s rage, the pure fury that lain dormant for centuries now...
“You could have killed him - unmade him! You nearly destroyed my son, Doctor - I swear I’ll get you for this! I wish I’d killed all your precious humans and you too! Just wait - one day... one day I’ll get my revenge! Do you hear me?”
He glanced at the Master now, saw him savour this moment, the silently malicious satisfaction somehow worse than any spoken words.
The earlier shock had been out of the blue - but this was something he'd done his best to push out of his mind for so long that he thought he might have escaped... It had driven a new wedge between himself and the Master, unspoken enmity deep below the surface that could be communicated in its entirety in a single look or gesture. (You could have killed him. Like you killed your own family, everyone you loved. And you dare call yourself a hero?) He’d wondered when the other would play the card… Never guessing it’d be the boy himself.
But there was nothing for it.
"There wasn't another way," he said, and the Seeker's face registered something between relief and exasperation.
"That's what I've been trying to say!" the Seeker replied, with more feeling than usual, then continued, green eyes no longer cold or angry:
"Sometimes there is no choice. I won't pretend that it wasn't a harsh lesson to take on board - it's not all that easy for an eight year old to face up to the fact that he's expendable, that the man he loves like a father would sacrifice him if necessary... But maybe I needed it. Considering that daddy dearest here would probably burn galaxies for me. Doctor - your way was the sane, sensible option. Relatively speaking I mean. I might not have taken from your lessons what you intended, but when I say you taught me well - teaching me to disregard emotions and do what needs to be done - I truly mean that as a compliment."
Before the Doctor could reply to this (it wasn’t an apology, but maybe they could still mend the bridges he’d thought torn down, maybe he could still reach the boy beneath the man), the Master yawned with great exaggeration.
“Well this has all been... Incredibly dull. Well the fighting was fun, but drivelling on about the past quite frankly makes me wish for more Daleks to show up. Son, could I have a word in private?”
The Seeker studied him blankly.
“Um, sure... Not sure there is such a thing as private - unless you want to nip into a TARDIS. Will a corner do?”
“Oh yes,” the Master replied, not put out in the least, and the Seeker followed, as the Doctor (with silent, but deep, satisfaction) noticed that the young man’s face had instantly adopted the long-suffering look he always wore when either the Doctor or the Master wanted to ‘have a word’ - meaning that he’d do his best to stay polite whilst silently counting the rels until they’d said their piece and he could tell whichever one it was that he definitely, absolutely, would think about it, yes, honestly, before escaping. When he’d been young he’d not coped very well with the two of them fighting over him, but age had allowed him to view the whole business with weary detachment.
Somehow it was more reassuring than anything else that day. Despite the heartbreak, the youngster had engaged with the Doctor, tried reasoning and explaining…
As he smiled at Clara, feeling optimistic that everything would yet work out, somehow (the boy might have grown into a man he barely recognised, but it was a man willing to at least listen) Roda stepped forward, grim faced and wary, with swift motions gathering them all.
When she spoke, voicing her fears, the Doctor’s brief spell of happiness vanished.
River looked unconvinced by Roda’s words of warning, but Jack was resolutely in Roda’s camp, and the Doctor could feel the pieces fall into place - after all he’d wondered why the Master had been so placid…
“Do you have any idea what exactly he might be planning?” he asked, as Clara hugged herself closer and clearly wanted to just go home. He couldn’t blame her - this was not what he had planned or promised.
Roda shook her head.
“It could be anything… Maybe he thinks the Toclafane can still be used as a fighting force, he probably isn’t aware of the paradox. Or he could have rigged something up in your TARDIS, you should double check everything. Twice. Or he might have sent a message to his lackeys on Earth - he’s been plotting something for a long time, posing as a politician. There’s a good chunk of unaccounted for time… He’ll probably want the Seeker to join in, today must have been like a godsend...”
But as Roda spoke, laying out possibilities, the Doctor found that her words faded away into a blur as he looked up and saw the Master and his son.
The Seeker’s weary resignation was evaporating as his father spoke, the look on his face slowly morphing into a strange breathless excitement that the Doctor had only seen once before, back when the boy had been sixteen and his father had gifted him his own planet.
And if the Doctor knew one thing is was this - the boy should never look like that when looking at his father.
The others noticed his silence and turned to see what he was looking at.
“What the hell is he saying to him?” Jack asked, as disturbed as the Doctor, as the Master reached out, kindly and concerned, laying a hand on his son’s arm, clearly making sure he was OK. The Seeker nodded, although he still looked so stunned that a feather could probably knock him over.
The Doctor, by now both deeply worried and angry, decided to take matters into his own hands and walked forwards.
“Master,” he said, voice low and serious. “Enough. I’m happy that you survived, obviously, but you could at least have the decency to wait more than 5 minutes before putting some new plan into action.”
The Master turned, studying him coolly - almost pityingly.
“Plan? What plan? Doctor dearest, you are completely misunderstanding the situation. I have no plan whatsoever. Indeed, I’ve thrown all the old ones out the window. You see, what I do have... is a son.”
Switching their attention to the younger Time Lord, the Master held up a hand.
“Please, give him a moment. I’ve just made all his dreams come true, I think he’ll need a minute or two to take it onboard.”
Indeed the Seeker was leaning against one of the dead Daleks, staring into nothingness, clearly a million miles away. Then, eyes narrowing a fraction, he whispered ‘Jerusalem’ to himself as the tiniest smile graced his lips. This made little sense, except the Doctor noticed how Jack seemed struck by the word... And then slowly shook his head, even as he swallowed, pale.
“No,” he whispered, eyes suddenly going wide. “No. No it can’t be. That’s… not possible.”
But he looked more disturbed than the Doctor had seen.
“Jack?”
But Jack was already striding over to the Seeker.
Reaching out, he almost shook the youngster, the hint of despair that the Doctor could see immensely unnerving.
“Seeker. Please. Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”
The Seeker slowly focussed on him, as if seeing him from far, far away, and then smiled. A wide, bright happy smile, almost breathtaking in its pure joy.
“It is - and it isn’t. It’s...” he looked up and round at them all, as if suddenly noticing that they were there:
“Let me show you!”
He jumped up, and in two strides was by the control panel where a swift tap freed Dalek Caan of its holding cell. It took them a moment to realise that this was what had happened, and by then the Seeker was almost skipping across the central space, before he knelt down by the deformed creature, one knee on the floor, as they all looked at each other, puzzled and worried. What the hell had the Master said?
“Dalek Caan, you wonderful creature,” the Seeker said, voice brimming with emotion. “There is a prophecy, a golden prophecy, bright and shining - you spoke part of it earlier, and I silenced you. I’m sorry, I didn’t understand. I’ve been running from it for centuries, never imagining a day like today... Tell them - tell them my name, my destiny.”
He reached up his hand, and the Dalek wrapped one of its tentacles around his fingers as he smiled...
~~~
The Seeker felt the Dalek wrap its tentacle around his hand, and he wondered if maybe he could read its thoughts. You shouldn’t know your future, and yet… What incredible secrets did Caan yet hold? (The Dalek had seen time - not just what could be, but what would be… Golden futures, past and present. Knowledge that might burn, but oh, it was a price worth paying.)
Although first he needed to make the others see. Show them that he wasn’t going mad, that it was real. Real and wonderful and possibly magical. (He felt giddy, as if drunk on the sheer idea of possibilities… Had felt like this before when grasped by a new idea, but never like this. Never on this scale.)
And then Caan spoke:
“As you wish Tsesarevich - Child of Two Worlds, Son of Empire. I have seen many things, terror and beauty. I have seen your power lighting the sky - shining. Much, much power, and all the worlds will know your name. You are the Alexander the Great. A Mighty King and Ruler across the universe. Yes. That is your destiny."
He stood, still grasping the Dalek. A Dalek had shown him the way. He had never foreseen this. Time… truly was a wonderful thing. The others (even Jack) looked shocked and angry and scared, but all he could hear was the Toclafane, singing, their voices reverberating through the hull of the Crucible...
We are the Toclafane
We are the saviours of worlds
We vanquished the Daleks in the Medusa Cascade
Our songs will live forever
(They could sing? He hadn’t known that… New things, new wonderful things wherever he turned. Everything he had ever known turning upside down in the blink of an eye; in a handful of sentences from his father...)
Reflecting on the familiar words of the prophecy (he’d had nightmares for so long, waking in the night, terrified of what his future might hold), he realised that he had (until now) always seen the seizing of power as something violent, forcefully imposing his will on others and bending them to his will. Or alternatively as something sly and stealthy, like the Archangel network. Controlling. Manipulative.
Neither option one he relished or wanted to embrace.
But now...
He was the saviour of worlds. The universe would tell of him - the Last Child of Gallifrey, a hero as if out of a fairy tale; a golden prince. Waiting quietly in the shadows until the appointed hour.
The path to the throne was paved for him, all he needed to do was step forward. Here I am, what do you want? It was his choice and they would welcome him.
Slowly re-focussing on the present, he found himself looking into the Doctor’s face.
The Doctor looked more serious than he could remember, his grey eyes watchful and dangerous. The way he looked at adversaries, unspoken threats filling the air between them. (Why would he look like that? Didn’t he understand? Couldn’t he see?)
“Seeker. Please tell me you’re not seriously considering taking over the universe.”
But in his mind the Seeker could see new time lines fanning out, too many to count, too many to grasp. It was so simple - he just had to stretch out his hand, and peace, prosperity, order would ripple out across all the worlds from his fingertips. The vision was seared into him, indelible and so stunningly beautiful that it almost hurt. (Truth hurts, that had been his first real lesson. But better pain, than a lie. Truth might hurt, but it also set you free.)
Time - all there was, all there would be. And his.
He met the Doctor’s eyes head-on, bright golden purpose filling him so completely he could barely breathe from pure joy.
“Why not? After all, it is my birthright...”
Chapter 7.
Previous parts here for anyone who is wanting to catch up:
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5
And Master post for the whole 'verse here.
Summary: "Why is it only ever the bad guys who have a proper plan?" The Master's son finally meets the Daleks. And he thought it a good day. (TSE/JE rewrite with Eleven and Clara and a host of extras.)
Setting: Future AU TSE/JE.
Spoilers: The Name of the Doctor (S7.13)
Rating: PG-13.
Characters: The Seeker (OC, the Master's son), Eleventh Doctor, Clara, the Master, Jack, River, Roda (OC), Davros, others.
Beta: The always lovely
kathyh. (Any mistakes mine!)Thank yous: To
the_redjay for the loan of Roda.Feedback: I am not too proud to beg...
Chapter 6
As the whole ensemble stared at the Master in mute shock, Roda carefully made sure that she melted into the shadows. All her instincts had been telling her to run ever since the Seeker had let them out of the holding cells (and this latest, very unwelcome, development only reinforced that impulse) but her long and often painful life had taught her a very important lesson: If possible, keep your enemies in sight.
And one look at the Master had ensured that she wasn’t going to let him out of her sight until she knew exactly what he was up to…
She still had nightmares from the time he’d tried to execute her by hanging, waking in the night, the memory grasping her with cold, hard hands; looking at him now she could once more feel a noose tightening - although one of a very different kind.
During The Year That Never Was, she and Jack (and the Jones family too, of course) had learned to differentiate between the Master’s moods to the point where something as simple as a raised eyebrow could indicate what kind of day they were in for - knowledge that she was now grateful to have.
There was Angry!Master, who - despite having a tendency to lash out at whatever was nearest - was generally unfocussed in his fury, more concerned with whatever had gone wrong than the hurt he was inflicting.
There was Bored!Master who could be casually cruel, but would lose interest soon enough.
But worse than both these combined was Happy!Master. Happy!Master wanted to celebrate and could usually think of no better way of celebrating than causing more pain to his enemies. Happy!Master was always focussed outwards, paying attention to them with the care and attention of a sadistic lover.
Worst of all was Happy!Master-with-something-up-his-sleeve. Not because the pain itself was quantitatively worse - no, it was the absolute knowledge that pain he was currently inflicting would be overshadowed by pain still to come - his pleasure came not from the immediate moment, but from the future developments he was contemplating. In such moments there was no use in thinking ‘This too shall pass’ because something worse was coming... Something unknown, which by the very nature of being unknowable and unspoken, lurking in the dark shadows dancing in his eyes and the corner of his smirk, was too terrible to contemplate.
As she watched him now, she shuddered.
He was holding out a cigar to his son - to match the one he was holding himself - explaining that it had been a gift from Fidel Castro and he’d saved it for a special occasion.
The Seeker took it greedily, exclaiming that he needed something like this more than he could explain, and his father’s appearance seemed like a godsend - possibly literally?
The Master smiled and brought out a lighter, and as the light fluttered across their faces Roda's fists clenched and unclenched unconsciously, the strain of keeping her frustration to herself only showing in little physical signs.
There was no doubt about it. This was Happy!Master-with-something-up-his-sleeve. He was pleased with what had happened, but he was very clearly looking ahead to something else, something which had him practically humming with joy. She’d not seen him like this since The Year That Never Was - the sheer swagger and confidence was hard to miss - and the sight made her want to run so fast and so far that no one would ever find her.
Yet she couldn’t - not without first finding out what he was hiding.
The Seeker was smiling, happy and relaxed and surprised, not understanding the danger Roda could see, and the Doctor was practically hugging his TARDIS, clearly too overwhelmed to notice the things unspoken. River looked sceptical, but she had never had the Master as adversary, and didn’t know his hidden depths.
Poor Clara had obviously met him before and had scooted over next to River, eyeing the Master warily. (Clever girl, Roda thought - River was probably the one person the Master wouldn’t challenge.)
But Jack had also stepped back, shooting Roda a look. He saw it too. But what could they do?
“Go on Dad - spit it out. How did you survive?” The Seeker took a drag of the cigar, the nicotine clearly helping him calm down after the recent emotional upheavals, and an easy, open smile on his face. (No, he didn’t see it at all...)
“All in good time, son,” the Master replied, half-turning to let his eyes pass over the Doctor and doing a mocking double-take.
“Doctor - goodness gracious me, you look rather peaky. I thought I might at least get a thank you for saving your wonky box.”
There was a beat as the Doctor just watched the two of them, silent, his face closed and cautious, and the Seeker sighed.
“I broke his hearts...” He waved a hand around, encompassing the destruction, the Toclafane, the war displayed on the screen, before continuing: “He’s... not feeling too good.”
“Oh really?” the Master replied, raising an eyebrow. “Well done boy, it was way past time. So sentimental, the silly old fool. Although speaking of fools - is that Davros I spy?”
As he sauntered over to the trapped Kaled, Roda had to forcibly stop herself from killing them both there and then. She’d thought she’d been rid of the Master, and she was still trying to process the fact that he was back. And Davros... Well, he most certainly would not leave the Crucible still alive.
The Master leaned forward, tapped the holding cell.
“Hello there Davros. How do you like my son? Rather a chip off the old block, don’t you think? A question for you: How many Time Lords does it take to beat the Daleks?”
He smiled wickedly, before answering himself:
“Only one, presuming it’s the right one.”
Inwardly Roda sighed deeply, and then muttered, so quietly that only Jack could hear:
"Oh good, pleasantries aside now we're onto terrible jokes. Makes a change from all the heartbreak I suppose. Let’s have fun with the slavery and genocide."
Jack shot her a dark look, but didn’t offer a comment of his own. He knew her moods very well indeed by now.
Davros began ranting again, more furious than ever, but the Master merely laughed. If he’d been in his previous regeneration he’d probably have skipped or danced at this point, but the new incarnation was a touch more sober.
Stroking his beard, he eventually shrugged and turned his back on the raging lunatic, and seemed to practically glide back over to his son.
“Since you asked so nicely about my very fortuitous case of continued existence, Lord Seeker, I shall let you in on a secret: Self-preservation can overcome almost anything. In the wonky box’s case, it meant that she chose to let me out so I could help her escape, rather than be immolated. Got out of Dodge with no time to spare and decided to stay out of the fray - figured if they’d immobilised a TARDIS once they could do it twice. And it’s rare that the Doctor doesn’t think of some way of blowing them all up... Of course, I was still planning on riding to the rescue if necessary, but - just as I was busy trying to tap into the Crucible’s systems - suddenly they started broadcasting! And whom should I see but my very own beloved son, singing my tune...”
The Seeker’s cigar paused halfway to his mouth.
“You saw?”
“Son, never has a father been so proud, trust me. It was... beautiful.”
He looked around, beaming.
“Truly, I shall have to declare this the Best Day Ever!”
The Seeker smiled, clearly delighted, even as his eyes narrowed somewhat as he carefully took a drag of the cigar, slowly letting the smoke escape from his lips.
“You been waiting for this since I was sixteen, haven’t you?”
The Master smirked, eyes filled with malicious satisfaction.
“Good things come to those who wait.”
The Seeker’s smile was by now a far too close echo of his father’s and Roda wished she could steal him away for good. Things had been going... if not well, then at least towards some sort of serious discussion of the issues. But with the Master’s reappearance she began to worry about her lover (former lover, she corrected sadly) in earnest - of course she trusted him, and yet... What did his father have planned?
“Well I’m glad someone appreciates today,” the Seeker said, voice neutral, yet Roda’s face hardened. She cared too much to let this go. She’d have to say something-
At that point the whole of the Crucible suddenly shook, and the Seeker swore loudly.
“Dammit! Harvey, what’s happening?”
Within seconds he’d hooked up ‘Bonnie’ and ‘Clyde’ to a terminal as he opened up more screens, getting an overview of the situation, face growing serious.
“Princess - go blow up the Supreme Dalek. It’s getting clever and I don’t like it. Harvey, if you move more than five inches away from me, I’m throwing you in the nearest black hole. Now - information. There are billions of you, how the hell-”
The Crucible shook again, and they could see Davros cackling to himself in his silent prison.
Scanning all the information, the Seeker’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes, very clever. Davros, I salute you. However I’ve been preparing for this my whole life, so don’t you worry, I’ll exterminate you yet...”
He looked around at them, calculating.
“River - keep an eye on this for a moment? I just need you to hold them back, very straightforward. Harvey, do whatever she says.”
A beat, then River shrugged acquiescence and after a couple of pointers seemed happy enough.
The Seeker then turned to Jack:
“Give me your wrist.” As he held it out, the Seeker aimed his laser and then focussed on Jack carefully:
“Right. I’ve fixed the vortex manipulator so you can get out of the time pocket easily. I need my TARDIS and the weapons from Plan 27 and 48. Wait - is Princess back yet?”
He turned, just as the Toclafane in question popped back into the gloomy vault.
“Mission accomplished? Excellent. Jack - take Princess with you, she’ll be able to explain the modifications.”
For a moment Jack didn’t move and the Seeker frowned, studying him with evident confusion.
“Jack?”
A beat, then Jack seemed to snap out of whatever had been bothering him, and Roda could see the friend disappearing beneath the Captain. (And Captain Harkness followed orders...)
“Yes. Of course. Be right back.”
He vanished in a flash, leaving the Seeker scratching his head, before swiftly rejoining River.
She smiled.
“This is fun.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying all along!” he replied, smiling back, eyes dancing. “And in a second Jack’ll bring the big guns. I think you’ll like them.”
“I’m sure I will,” she purred before being interrupted by the Master who was now busy pulling a deck chair out from the TARDIS.
“Don’t mind me,” he said, opening it with ease and settling himself down. “I’m just here as a spectator.”
But Roda didn’t miss the look he sent the Seeker’s way once the younger Time Lord was busy again. The sheer intensity of the gaze made her almost forget the battle outside, and she took another step back, bumping into the wall behind her, wishing she knew what to do...
Right now she was sure of only one thing - the worst was most definitely still to come.
The Doctor felt the TARDIS against his back, the hum of ancient power seeping into him like life itself, even as a single thought had become unavoidable:
'The war is won, but the child is lost'
The words had gained new meaning - unintended by the original poet, whoever he or she or they had been - yet relevant. He watched River and the Seeker, effortlessly working together... Watched Jack return with the Seeker’s TARDIS (it had a preference for looking like a tree, the branches now scraping the vault’s low ceiling awkwardly), watched the Seeker smartly and skillfully ordering his troops as if it was all he’d ever done, as well as deploy the weapons Jack had brought with surety and expertise, and - with River and Jack’s support - successfully battling back the Dalek onslaught - calm, competent, in control.
’A child is not a weapon…’
Except he had become one. Little Melody had been stolen and manipulated, but his Alex (not his, not his, never his, the Master never missing an opportunity to remind him of this)... He had tried his utmost to raise him with love and support and an understanding of right and wrong, in spite of the Master’s poisonous influence - an influence the boy had always distanced himself from...
How had he gotten it so wrong? How had he never seen this coming?
Because this wasn’t sudden. This wasn’t opportunistic. This wasn’t something isolated. This was meticulous planning and careful preparation. For war. ‘His whole life’ he’d said... The almost casual deployment of other (older) weapons bore this out, as did his clear expectation of Jack’s co-operation and knowledge. And the quips they traded pointed to a rich history of fighting…
"Yes, from the back, but… sideways - you know, like that time on Persimmon 3? But without the purple baboons, obviously."
"Purple baboons?" River asked, curious and charmed, and the Seeker laughed.
"The baboons were... incidental. But we took out two legions in less than five minutes. I'm sure you'll recognise the move..."
Comfortable. That’s what he was. Comfortable being in charge, comfortable killing his adversaries. No hesitation or moral worries, he was manoeuvring and deploying his troops and weapons with ease, laser in one hand, cigar in the other (except when he needed a free hand)...
What could the Doctor do, but watch?
The Master interrupted his thoughts, looking up from his deck chair, yet uncannily echoing his musings.
"Marvellous, isn't he? Makes me feel old, truth be told, watching the next generation. Mind you, if he keeps this up you could retire, Doctor. Come, grab a chair..."
The Doctor shook his head mutely.
He knew that war would always be his sign. Trenzalore hung over him, and his death would come on a battlefield... Retirement wasn’t an option. He rubbed his face, tired. Had he been blind, foolish? Had this always been where the boy would end up? He remembered thinking how the lad had seemed to bring himself up, always going his own way - had he taken the wrong cues, misunderstood something along the way?
(Nature versus nurture... Had he been fighting a losing battle from the start? The Master was so quiet that he knew he should be worried, but he didn’t have the mental capacity to wonder why the other wasn’t gloating more.)
Clara had scooted along to him as he stood there, watching silently next to him, eyes wide and giving little away. When she eventually spoke, voice barely above a whisper so the Master wouldn’t hear, he found that she, too, echoed his thoughts:
“Is this what that prophecy meant? ‘Don’t trust him, he is his father’s son’... That thing about his birthright...”
(The unspoken question beneath the words clear enough: Is this good or bad? You seem unhappy, but if it’s bad why are you not doing anything?)
Why wasn’t he?
“I suppose so,” he replied lightly, “Prophecies are… tricky things.”
She frowned, still not happy.
“But he’s killing the Daleks. Surely that’s good? Even if those… sphere things…” She stopped briefly, biting her lip. “Were those what the woman was thinking of? She said ‘God save you’.”
He didn’t have an answer. Maybe it had all been a veiled message for him? They had known who he was, after all. Had known that he would probably run. But no gods could have saved him from this...
Eventually, victory came. Yet the Doctor felt no joy, no satisfaction.
(Jack and River and the Seeker were laughing and highfiving, elated, saying how they needed some champagne. The Master called out to them, saying he’d throw a party, with dancing girls and everything.)
The child he’d known (or thought he had known) was gone for good. He had done what he thought was his best, yet had somehow failed. And it was much, much too late for regrets...
All he could do now was to deal with the man he felt he was seeing for the first time.
When the Seeker walked up to him, beaming, he slowly laced his fingers together, studying him calmly.
“Congratulations Seeker... I believe you have just committed genocide.”
The Seeker took a drag of his cigar, almost smirking.
“I have, haven’t I? Do I get a club card? Is there a secret handshake?”
The Doctor’s face darkened.
“Don’t be flip with me. Genocide is a burden that is not easy to carry. Blood and anger and revenge... They will soak into you in ways you cannot imagine, stains that will never come out. All I ever wanted was to spare you that.”
He spread his hands, a bitter smile on his face. “But it’s too late for that now... I hope you enjoy the spoils of war, you’ve certainly earned them.”
The Seeker seemed concerned at his words, even as he slowly shook his head, the elation visibly reducing.
“But what else could I have done? Please, Doctor, tell me - what can you possibly do with Daleks except kill them?”
“That’s not the point and you know it!” the Doctor snapped back, and the Seeker’s eyes narrowed, as he took a slow drag of the cigar, clearly weighing something in his mind.
Then, having made some sort of decision, he deposited the laser screwdriver in a pocket, ignoring (or unaware) of the Doctor’s suppressed flinch. The instinctual way in which the young Time Lord used the weapon spoke of long and continuous use, to such an extent that he obviously no longer called to mind its origins.
The Doctor - for a single, wistful moment - recalled the vivid red of Amy’s hair, and how the Seeker had in some ways echoed his Pond in his previous (second) regeneration, with his copper hair all aflame. But the colourful sharp brightness (with attendant sharpness of clothing and temperament) had somehow given way to someone mostly dressed in black, the only colour to leaven the ensemble the cool green of his eyes… The Doctor had accused him of looking like a villain when he’d first picked him up. How little he’d expected this outcome...
The Seeker sighed, disturbing his train of thought.
"Listen Doctor - about before... We got interrupted, and I think we often... talk past each other. I know you’ll be beating yourself up right now, but it’s nothing you said, or anything you could have done differently. It’s just that, with me, ‘Do as I say, not as I do’ was never, ever going to work. Because when it comes down to it, you are the man who’ll throw the child in the volcano to save the village-”
As the Doctor opened his mouth, the Seeker held up a hand.
“And no, this isn’t about Gallifrey, or the Daleks, or whatever other example you can drag up. It’s about me. You did it to me.”
“You...” he said softly, not understanding. “When did I ever-”
The Seeker was holding his eyes, voice oddly gentle.
“I was born in a paradox. You broke it. Time reversed. It was nothing but pure luck that those of us in the very centre were protected.”
Everything had gone very quiet, and the Doctor felt as if time had suddenly come unstuck. He could still remember the Master’s rage, the pure fury that lain dormant for centuries now...
“You could have killed him - unmade him! You nearly destroyed my son, Doctor - I swear I’ll get you for this! I wish I’d killed all your precious humans and you too! Just wait - one day... one day I’ll get my revenge! Do you hear me?”
He glanced at the Master now, saw him savour this moment, the silently malicious satisfaction somehow worse than any spoken words.
The earlier shock had been out of the blue - but this was something he'd done his best to push out of his mind for so long that he thought he might have escaped... It had driven a new wedge between himself and the Master, unspoken enmity deep below the surface that could be communicated in its entirety in a single look or gesture. (You could have killed him. Like you killed your own family, everyone you loved. And you dare call yourself a hero?) He’d wondered when the other would play the card… Never guessing it’d be the boy himself.
But there was nothing for it.
"There wasn't another way," he said, and the Seeker's face registered something between relief and exasperation.
"That's what I've been trying to say!" the Seeker replied, with more feeling than usual, then continued, green eyes no longer cold or angry:
"Sometimes there is no choice. I won't pretend that it wasn't a harsh lesson to take on board - it's not all that easy for an eight year old to face up to the fact that he's expendable, that the man he loves like a father would sacrifice him if necessary... But maybe I needed it. Considering that daddy dearest here would probably burn galaxies for me. Doctor - your way was the sane, sensible option. Relatively speaking I mean. I might not have taken from your lessons what you intended, but when I say you taught me well - teaching me to disregard emotions and do what needs to be done - I truly mean that as a compliment."
Before the Doctor could reply to this (it wasn’t an apology, but maybe they could still mend the bridges he’d thought torn down, maybe he could still reach the boy beneath the man), the Master yawned with great exaggeration.
“Well this has all been... Incredibly dull. Well the fighting was fun, but drivelling on about the past quite frankly makes me wish for more Daleks to show up. Son, could I have a word in private?”
The Seeker studied him blankly.
“Um, sure... Not sure there is such a thing as private - unless you want to nip into a TARDIS. Will a corner do?”
“Oh yes,” the Master replied, not put out in the least, and the Seeker followed, as the Doctor (with silent, but deep, satisfaction) noticed that the young man’s face had instantly adopted the long-suffering look he always wore when either the Doctor or the Master wanted to ‘have a word’ - meaning that he’d do his best to stay polite whilst silently counting the rels until they’d said their piece and he could tell whichever one it was that he definitely, absolutely, would think about it, yes, honestly, before escaping. When he’d been young he’d not coped very well with the two of them fighting over him, but age had allowed him to view the whole business with weary detachment.
Somehow it was more reassuring than anything else that day. Despite the heartbreak, the youngster had engaged with the Doctor, tried reasoning and explaining…
As he smiled at Clara, feeling optimistic that everything would yet work out, somehow (the boy might have grown into a man he barely recognised, but it was a man willing to at least listen) Roda stepped forward, grim faced and wary, with swift motions gathering them all.
When she spoke, voicing her fears, the Doctor’s brief spell of happiness vanished.
River looked unconvinced by Roda’s words of warning, but Jack was resolutely in Roda’s camp, and the Doctor could feel the pieces fall into place - after all he’d wondered why the Master had been so placid…
“Do you have any idea what exactly he might be planning?” he asked, as Clara hugged herself closer and clearly wanted to just go home. He couldn’t blame her - this was not what he had planned or promised.
Roda shook her head.
“It could be anything… Maybe he thinks the Toclafane can still be used as a fighting force, he probably isn’t aware of the paradox. Or he could have rigged something up in your TARDIS, you should double check everything. Twice. Or he might have sent a message to his lackeys on Earth - he’s been plotting something for a long time, posing as a politician. There’s a good chunk of unaccounted for time… He’ll probably want the Seeker to join in, today must have been like a godsend...”
But as Roda spoke, laying out possibilities, the Doctor found that her words faded away into a blur as he looked up and saw the Master and his son.
The Seeker’s weary resignation was evaporating as his father spoke, the look on his face slowly morphing into a strange breathless excitement that the Doctor had only seen once before, back when the boy had been sixteen and his father had gifted him his own planet.
And if the Doctor knew one thing is was this - the boy should never look like that when looking at his father.
The others noticed his silence and turned to see what he was looking at.
“What the hell is he saying to him?” Jack asked, as disturbed as the Doctor, as the Master reached out, kindly and concerned, laying a hand on his son’s arm, clearly making sure he was OK. The Seeker nodded, although he still looked so stunned that a feather could probably knock him over.
The Doctor, by now both deeply worried and angry, decided to take matters into his own hands and walked forwards.
“Master,” he said, voice low and serious. “Enough. I’m happy that you survived, obviously, but you could at least have the decency to wait more than 5 minutes before putting some new plan into action.”
The Master turned, studying him coolly - almost pityingly.
“Plan? What plan? Doctor dearest, you are completely misunderstanding the situation. I have no plan whatsoever. Indeed, I’ve thrown all the old ones out the window. You see, what I do have... is a son.”
Switching their attention to the younger Time Lord, the Master held up a hand.
“Please, give him a moment. I’ve just made all his dreams come true, I think he’ll need a minute or two to take it onboard.”
Indeed the Seeker was leaning against one of the dead Daleks, staring into nothingness, clearly a million miles away. Then, eyes narrowing a fraction, he whispered ‘Jerusalem’ to himself as the tiniest smile graced his lips. This made little sense, except the Doctor noticed how Jack seemed struck by the word... And then slowly shook his head, even as he swallowed, pale.
“No,” he whispered, eyes suddenly going wide. “No. No it can’t be. That’s… not possible.”
But he looked more disturbed than the Doctor had seen.
“Jack?”
But Jack was already striding over to the Seeker.
Reaching out, he almost shook the youngster, the hint of despair that the Doctor could see immensely unnerving.
“Seeker. Please. Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”
The Seeker slowly focussed on him, as if seeing him from far, far away, and then smiled. A wide, bright happy smile, almost breathtaking in its pure joy.
“It is - and it isn’t. It’s...” he looked up and round at them all, as if suddenly noticing that they were there:
“Let me show you!”
He jumped up, and in two strides was by the control panel where a swift tap freed Dalek Caan of its holding cell. It took them a moment to realise that this was what had happened, and by then the Seeker was almost skipping across the central space, before he knelt down by the deformed creature, one knee on the floor, as they all looked at each other, puzzled and worried. What the hell had the Master said?
“Dalek Caan, you wonderful creature,” the Seeker said, voice brimming with emotion. “There is a prophecy, a golden prophecy, bright and shining - you spoke part of it earlier, and I silenced you. I’m sorry, I didn’t understand. I’ve been running from it for centuries, never imagining a day like today... Tell them - tell them my name, my destiny.”
He reached up his hand, and the Dalek wrapped one of its tentacles around his fingers as he smiled...
The Seeker felt the Dalek wrap its tentacle around his hand, and he wondered if maybe he could read its thoughts. You shouldn’t know your future, and yet… What incredible secrets did Caan yet hold? (The Dalek had seen time - not just what could be, but what would be… Golden futures, past and present. Knowledge that might burn, but oh, it was a price worth paying.)
Although first he needed to make the others see. Show them that he wasn’t going mad, that it was real. Real and wonderful and possibly magical. (He felt giddy, as if drunk on the sheer idea of possibilities… Had felt like this before when grasped by a new idea, but never like this. Never on this scale.)
And then Caan spoke:
“As you wish Tsesarevich - Child of Two Worlds, Son of Empire. I have seen many things, terror and beauty. I have seen your power lighting the sky - shining. Much, much power, and all the worlds will know your name. You are the Alexander the Great. A Mighty King and Ruler across the universe. Yes. That is your destiny."
He stood, still grasping the Dalek. A Dalek had shown him the way. He had never foreseen this. Time… truly was a wonderful thing. The others (even Jack) looked shocked and angry and scared, but all he could hear was the Toclafane, singing, their voices reverberating through the hull of the Crucible...
We are the Toclafane
We are the saviours of worlds
We vanquished the Daleks in the Medusa Cascade
Our songs will live forever
(They could sing? He hadn’t known that… New things, new wonderful things wherever he turned. Everything he had ever known turning upside down in the blink of an eye; in a handful of sentences from his father...)
Reflecting on the familiar words of the prophecy (he’d had nightmares for so long, waking in the night, terrified of what his future might hold), he realised that he had (until now) always seen the seizing of power as something violent, forcefully imposing his will on others and bending them to his will. Or alternatively as something sly and stealthy, like the Archangel network. Controlling. Manipulative.
Neither option one he relished or wanted to embrace.
But now...
He was the saviour of worlds. The universe would tell of him - the Last Child of Gallifrey, a hero as if out of a fairy tale; a golden prince. Waiting quietly in the shadows until the appointed hour.
The path to the throne was paved for him, all he needed to do was step forward. Here I am, what do you want? It was his choice and they would welcome him.
Slowly re-focussing on the present, he found himself looking into the Doctor’s face.
The Doctor looked more serious than he could remember, his grey eyes watchful and dangerous. The way he looked at adversaries, unspoken threats filling the air between them. (Why would he look like that? Didn’t he understand? Couldn’t he see?)
“Seeker. Please tell me you’re not seriously considering taking over the universe.”
But in his mind the Seeker could see new time lines fanning out, too many to count, too many to grasp. It was so simple - he just had to stretch out his hand, and peace, prosperity, order would ripple out across all the worlds from his fingertips. The vision was seared into him, indelible and so stunningly beautiful that it almost hurt. (Truth hurts, that had been his first real lesson. But better pain, than a lie. Truth might hurt, but it also set you free.)
Time - all there was, all there would be. And his.
He met the Doctor’s eyes head-on, bright golden purpose filling him so completely he could barely breathe from pure joy.
“Why not? After all, it is my birthright...”
Chapter 7.
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Bloody INTJs
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He learned all the right lessons from the wrong person and all the wrong ones from the right person - and then surrounded himself with those who would never naysay anything he did. After all...he's ALEX.
Oh gods...sometimes it isn't (exactly) WHAT you do, but how it is DONE. This is cold. Detached. Calculated.
MY heart is breaking. I can only imagine the heartbreaking and isolation the Doctor felt. And with Eleven's already horrifying lifetime and expressive eyes...I can see this. See how he carries this extra weight and is galvinized by it. Gorgeous and terrifying and -
Ohh, gods, child WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!
You are playing right into your Father's hands and all without him lifting a digit. His vengeance is complete but hardly sated. And you are only making it WORSE...omg...
*SOBS*
thankyouforthisomg...
And I second any Master/Doctor shenanigans. Unnngghh. *drools a bit* Oop! Sorry.
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:D :D :D (That's exactly the reaction I was after!!!)
He learned all the right lessons from the wrong person and all the wrong ones from the right person - and then surrounded himself with those who would never naysay anything he did. After all...he's ALEX.
He doesn't like being told what to do...
Oh gods...sometimes it isn't (exactly) WHAT you do, but how it is DONE. This is cold. Detached. Calculated.
He's been waiting a long time. Not about to ruin it. (Love your wording. <3)
MY heart is breaking. I can only imagine the heartbreaking and isolation the Doctor felt. And with Eleven's already horrifying lifetime and expressive eyes...I can see this. See how he carries this extra weight and is galvinized by it. Gorgeous and terrifying and -
It's funny, because I kept thinking that I ought to add more descriptions, yet they wouldn't fit anywhere and oh, everyone knows how Eleven deals with things... Am v. happy you could picture it vividly.
Ohh, gods, child WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!
What he was born to do... (No one can run forever.)
You are playing right into your Father's hands and all without him lifting a digit. His vengeance is complete but hardly sated. And you are only making it WORSE...omg...
The thing is, this is far beyond anything the Master envisaged. (I'll explain more in the next chapter.) It truly is Christmas. (And yet - nobody knows what he will do. He never does as people want him to.)
thankyouforthisomg...
♥ ♥ ♥
And I second any Master/Doctor shenanigans. Unnngghh. *drools a bit* Oop! Sorry.
Don't be sorry. I'm sure I can rustle something up! :D
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I maintain that I love how clever this particular bit is.
with the care and attention of a sadistic lover.
Wonderful metaphor.
a gift from Fidel Castro
Would love to know how THAT happened...
Clever girl, Roda thought - River was probably the one person the Master wouldn’t challenge.
Yep, that's very Roda. There is a LITTLE bit of soldier in her that knows how to strategise.
let his eyes pass over the Doctor and doing a mocking double-take.
Of course this regeneration still had to be a BIT of a cariacture. That's the Master, after all. By the way, is there a story to how he regenerated?
And Davros... Well, he most certainly would not leave the Crucible still alive
FORESHADOWING.
“You been waiting for this since I was sixteen, haven’t you?”
The Master smirked, eyes filled with malicious satisfaction.
“Good things come to those who wait.”
Ie. Quietly not answering the question, he's been waiting for this since the Seeker was BORN. Devious bastard.
Roda wished she could steal him away for good.
It's funny, because in a way Roda is both similar and different to the Doctor and the Master in this regard. Yes, she knew how she wanted the Seeker to be, and tried to subtly show him that, but she was never heavy-handed and can... deal with him choosing another route, after all, she never lived up to anyone's expectations nor did she want to. Whether she can deal with it without the pain, that's another story, but - like in her honesty that she would interfere if not kept locked away - she won't try to change him from his final decision (unless it goes against everything she holds dear).
“Dammit! Harvey, what’s happening?”
STILL PICTURING THE RABBIT.
Roda could see the friend disappearing beneath the Captain. (And Captain Harkness followed orders...)
And is infatuated by the Seeker, and submissive in that regard. If it's the Seeker vs. anyone else, everyone knows whose side Jack will take.
I wonder if there's "moods" for Roda. And I like how this idea you've had that she almost classifies people by them, almost as though they're different people.“I’m sure I will,” she purred
Now if someone writes Roda/River, she can flirt with all the remaining Time Lords and I can rest happy.
(it had a preference for looking like a tree, the branches now scraping the vault’s low ceiling awkwardly)
For blending into his planet?
And the quips they traded pointed to a rich history of fighting…
Now, this is interesting! I hadn't realised this angle.
The baboons were... incidental.
^ possibly my favourite out of context quote ever.
Had he been blind, foolish?
Modus operandi, Doctor.Is this good or bad? You seem unhappy, but if it’s bad why are you not doing anything?
She and Roda would get along nicely. But I love this - Clara, who doesn't quite understand, but has her guts to go on and her own code of what is right and what is wrong, and this is all over her head and she won't let it get any more so because if she can do impossible things, then things can impossibly fix.
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And shall keep feeling clever!
Wonderful metaphor.
Late addition, but one I liked.
Would love to know how THAT happened...
Oh me too, but there are limits to what I have time to write... /o\
Yep, that's very Roda. There is a LITTLE bit of soldier in her that knows how to strategise.
Yay. Also Clara was so absent this chapter I wanted to make people remember she was there. *g*
Of course this regeneration still had to be a BIT of a cariacture. That's the Master, after all. By the way, is there a story to how he regenerated?
Absolutely can't help himself. And no, I've not even thought of it. Any ideas?
FORESHADOWING.
*whistles innocently*
Ie. Quietly not answering the question, he's been waiting for this since the Seeker was BORN. Devious bastard.
Well yes - but I was referring to Alien Abduction. Read the start of Chapter 4 (presuming you remember what the Master asked him then...) Or I'll message you.
It's funny, because in a way Roda is both similar and different to the Doctor and the Master in this regard. [...] - she won't try to change him from his final decision (unless it goes against everything she holds dear).
In a funny way it sort of mirrors Jack's conundrum last chapter? She wishes she were different, but can't help being what she is. And I wanted to show people that she cares, but that that kind of interferences would not be her at all.
STILL PICTURING THE RABBIT.
*dies*
And is infatuated by the Seeker, and submissive in that regard. If it's the Seeker vs. anyone else, everyone knows whose side Jack will take.
But then it goes both ways. The Seeker spent three years at Cambridge because he refused to let the Doctor blame Jack...
I wonder if there's "moods" for Roda. And I like how this idea you've had that she almost classifies people by them, almost as though they're different people.
I used it for the Master, because he's insane & changeable, but exploring it further could be nice.
Now if someone writes Roda/River, she can flirt with all the remaining Time Lords and I can rest happy.
I don't know if I can write Roda well enough. But it certainly happened. A female Time Lord for River to have fun with? It happened.
For blending into his planet?
That also. Plum tree.
Now, this is interesting! I hadn't realised this angle.
You get snippets here and there. The Seeker's big rug, the way he'll come help Jack... Not warfare, generally, but they know how to fight together.
^ possibly my favourite out of context quote ever.
I was v. pleased with it! :D
She and Roda would get along nicely. But I love this - Clara, who doesn't quite understand, but has her guts to go on and her own code of what is right and what is wrong, and this is all over her head and she won't let it get any more so because if she can do impossible things, then things can impossibly fix.
Yes, there is a sense of Clara very much being a spectator - this is all very old, and she can't quite work out what's happening, because things keep shifting. I'll get back to Clara & her impossibleness, trust me. <3
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2/2
Spoilers.
The Master called out to them, saying he’d throw a party, with dancing girls and everything.
"Hello, is this the Medusa Cascade Party Planning Company? Yes, I'd like a hundred bottles of champagne and seventeen dancing girls."
“I have, haven’t I? Do I get a club card? Is there a secret handshake?”
Please, Doctor, tell me - what can you possibly do with Daleks except kill them?”
There's one thing Roda can agree on. And given time, the Doctor would surely find a solution to avoid his own guilt on the subject.
the Seeker had in some ways echoed his Pond in his previous (second) regeneration, with his copper hair all aflame.
No wonder he's taking this 'betrayal' so badly.
The Seeker was holding his eyes, voice oddly gentle.
“I was born in a paradox. You broke it. Time reversed. It was nothing but pure luck that those of us in the very centre were protected.”
The Seeker is very, VERY clinical about serious business.
I swear I’ll get you for this! I wish I’d killed all your precious humans and you too!
I don't know if it was intentional, but I'm now reading this line as 'I didn't kill your children, I didn't cross that line and you did' and 'and it would have killed you, taking your children, do you understand that?'.
but maybe they could still mend the bridges he’d thought torn down, maybe he could still reach the boy beneath the man
This whole story is about everyone realising there's a side to the Seeker they didn't know, and rebuilding their relationship with him. So much bridge-building...
Roda stepped forward, grim faced and wary, with swift motions gathering them all.
In a less serious fanfiction, everyone would double-take and go 'ah I forgot you were there don't scare me like that'.
When she spoke, voicing her fears
Wondering what the exact words were.
He couldn’t blame her - this was not what he had planned or promised.
Is it ever?
he’s been plotting something for a long time, posing as a politician
This whole thing, if made public, actually WOULD help his plans in that regard!
Jack was resolutely in Roda’s camp
Probably more than anyone else.
Jack sort of belongs to two outlier Time Lords.And if the Doctor knew one thing is was this - the boy should never look like that when looking at his father.
*shudder*
I’ve just made all his dreams come true,
YOUR dreams for him, eh Master?
He reached up his hand, and the Dalek wrapped one of its tentacles around his fingers as he smiled...
Well this is somehow horrifying imagery...
Tsesarevich
Composite word?
New things, new wonderful things wherever he turned.
I think I can safely say he's the only person feeling this way.
“Why not? After all, it is my birthright...”
And Roda goes "HAS NOTHING I SAID TO YOU WHILE WE WERE DATING ABOUT HOW YOU COULD BE YOUR OWN PERSON AND DIDN'T HAVE TO DO WHAT DESTINY TOLD YOU TO DO SUNK IN?!"
And I go: MORE. *grabby hands* I'll do anything!
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Indeed. But the thing about prophecies is that they're spoilers in plain sight. I love it. <3
"Hello, is this the Medusa Cascade Party Planning Company? Yes, I'd like a hundred bottles of champagne and seventeen dancing girls."
He would TOTALLY do it! :D *adds note for the next chapter*
Your sterile bandage picture cracked me up! I've been waiting SO LONG to use those lines... Am terribly happy people liked them. (Also I wanted to undercut the whole 'Ooooh, you committed genocide, you're not saaaafe!' from the original. *g*)
There's one thing Roda can agree on. And given time, the Doctor would surely find a solution to avoid his own guilt on the subject.
Yes, the whole argument hinges not on *what*, but *how*. The Seeker & the Doctor both feel perfectly justified in their positions.
No wonder he's taking this 'betrayal' so badly.
It's funny, but that's one of the lines that only came to me as I wrote. But it just made things click beautifully. (And shows how the Doctor has, in many ways, been projecting...)
The Seeker is very, VERY clinical about serious business.
He really is. It's partly because he's not comfortable with emotions. He was hurt when he worked it out, but knew that feeling sorry for himself - or angry with the Doctor - wouldn't help. So he tried to work out what he could learn from it instead... (Especially about the Doctor's MO.)
I don't know if it was intentional, but I'm now reading this line as 'I didn't kill your children, I didn't cross that line and you did' and 'and it would have killed you, taking your children, do you understand that?'.
*nods a lot* That's pretty much spot-on. (This is why I started writing in the first place - the child unbalances them, changes the dynamic. How could I resist?)
This whole story is about everyone realising there's a side to the Seeker they didn't know, and rebuilding their relationship with him. So much bridge-building...
And it's because when he was young, everyone wanted to mould him to their liking... So he went his own way. Now they finally realise how far he's travelled on his own.
In a less serious fanfiction, everyone would double-take and go 'ah I forgot you were there don't scare me like that'.
Totally! :D Although the Doctor was aware. He just wasn't focussing on her.
Wondering what the exact words were.
I could try to work it out for you? Oh and that bit was originally Roda POV. I can send you the draft.
Is it ever?
Oh no. But usually he can save the day. This time he's just... a spectator.
This whole thing, if made public, actually WOULD help his plans in that regard!
Mmm, yes. So it would. Although he probably sees those plans as far too small now.
Probably more than anyone else. Jack sort of belongs to two outlier Time Lords.
Yes! Yes he does! *claims him* ♥
YOUR dreams for him, eh Master?
That too. (He doesn't differentiate...)
Well this is somehow horrifying imagery...
IKR?
Composite word?
'Tsesarevich was the title of the heir apparent or presumptive in the Russian Empire. It is often confused with "tsarevich", which is a distinct word with a different meaning: Tsarevich was the title for any son of a tsar, including sons of non-Russian rulers accorded that title.'
I think I can safely say he's the only person feeling this way.
This was one reason this part *had* to be in his POV. The readers had to see what he saw... Cause no one else would. (If you remember the prologue, and the whole musing on 'a good day' you can see it echoed there.)
And Roda goes "HAS NOTHING I SAID TO YOU WHILE WE WERE DATING ABOUT HOW YOU COULD BE YOUR OWN PERSON AND DIDN'T HAVE TO DO WHAT DESTINY TOLD YOU TO DO SUNK IN?!"
To which he'd sing back 'I
didam going to do it myyyyy way!' *g*And I go: MORE. *grabby hands* I'll do anything!
As soon as I can, promise. I'm itching to write.
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Thank you for reading! ♥
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I'm not sure what I think about the ending. Guess I'll have to wait to see what happens.
Enjoying the Seeker/Doctor confrontation. Good stuff.
(This week. This week has lasted forever. And my fridge still doesn't work. Bleeaaaahhhhhhhhh.)
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It won't be what you expect. Trust me. (And how far are you in Dating? I've been laying down the basis for this development for years...)
Enjoying the Seeker/Doctor confrontation. Good stuff.
You talked me into it! (Well, the harshest part of it. And then all the AGMGTW stuff just... appeared all by itself. Remember when I said that the show (in S6) was playing with all of my ideas? You can see it here.)
(This week. This week has lasted forever. And my fridge still doesn't work. Bleeaaaahhhhhhhhh.)
*hugs* You've been missed. Hope you get some time to recover. And a working fridge.
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*scared*
*worried*
(… I can't remember your description of this Master, but for me it's definitely Charles Dance. Wasn't even trying to read the lines in his voice; it just happened and I did not want to resist.)
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Prophecies coming true... (God save you)
*scared*
*worried*
I... promise to update as soon as possible. (All writers are evil. Sorry. Trust me?)
(Posted too soon, darn it!)
(… I can't remember your description of this Master, but for me it's definitely Charles Dance. Wasn't even trying to read the lines in his voice; it just happened and I did not want to resist.)
I see that
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I really like the several POV's in this chapter, the different perspectives each bringing their own light. Roda's, at first, laying heavy emphasis on what the Master was planning; the Doctor's insight on the Seeker; then the Seeker himself, giddy with the revelation. Roda's tension and perceptions were very aptly portrayed, the scars from her experience with the Master still so very raw—and she knew him so very well, too. I just loved her insight on his various moods—perfectly accurate, and quite chilling as she could only appreciate the level of dangerous he was operating at. He was worst when happy… of course. ♥ Happy!Master was always focussed outwards, paying attention to them with the care and attention of a sadistic lover. This is perfect. And the very worst being when he had something up his sleeve, and one couldn't just push their way past the pain because something worse was coming… the anguish worse than the actual thing… nerve-wracking indeed.
Loved the way Roda made herself inconspicuous and just watched very, very hard—that made sense given all the points I've already mentioned, of course. She would need to figure out what he was up to, more than anything. The interaction between the Seeker and the Master chilled me, too—because he wasn't being careful, or wary, in the slightest. Of course it was his father, of course it didn't change anything, he was still in control, he had just learned that he hadn't lost his father after all and there was no reason whatsoever to believe the latter might represent a threat… From the Seeker's POV, it makes absolute sense to be nothing but joyful, especially as the Master expresses pride and is the only one who gets it—but we see from Roda's POV, and so it's really jarring. To Roda and the Doctor, the Master's approval means "wrong"—the Seeker wouldn't seek that approval, he's very lucid about what it means, but as he is so sure about his own actions and his father congratulates, even for his own different reasons, he can't very much not take it and be pleased. But seeing the Master gloat and the Seeker glow—it's just scary! ♥ We know the Seeker is a grown man and can't be influenced or manipulated that easily, we know he's in control… and yet there is that edgy feeling of danger, lurking. And the end proves us right in our dread ;)
And they were smoking cigars. Goodness. XDDD I also liked the way you depicted everyone's reactions at that point—the Doctor lost in the TARDIS, River wary but not knowing the Master well enough, Clara instinctively sensing the danger and edging near River (love that she picked River! :D It's right because River is currently more focused than the Doctor, because of what you said about the Master not picking her to antagonize, and because it shows Clara trusts her ♥). And Jack… Jack saw and feared the same as Roda ♥
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Did I mention that my original idea for this was written down 6 years ago? Patience is a virtue... And I've been building up to it since then. *g*
I really like the several POV's in this chapter, the different perspectives each bringing their own light. Roda's, at first, laying heavy emphasis on what the Master was planning; the Doctor's insight on the Seeker; then the Seeker himself, giddy with the revelation.
Yes it really needed them. I tried to make them as easy to follow as I could, and they made for fascinating insights - what was paramount for one, barely registered for another...
Roda's tension and perceptions were very aptly portrayed, the scars from her experience with the Master still so very raw—and she knew him so very well, too. I just loved her insight on his various moods—perfectly accurate, and quite chilling as she could only appreciate the level of dangerous he was operating at. He was worst when happy… of course. ♥
She has known him for centuries, and hates (and fears) him more than any other Time Lord, I believe. And because of that knows him very well.
And the very worst being when he had something up his sleeve, and one couldn't just push their way past the pain because something worse was coming… the anguish worse than the actual thing… nerve-wracking indeed.
The Master is such a twisted character - if he can play games, he will.
Loved the way Roda made herself inconspicuous and just watched very, very hard—that made sense given all the points I've already mentioned, of course. She would need to figure out what he was up to, more than anything.
Roda is on the whole a very active character, so this was an endurance test for her...
The interaction between the Seeker and the Master chilled me, too—because he wasn't being careful, or wary, in the slightest. [...] From the Seeker's POV, it makes absolute sense to be nothing but joyful, especially as the Master expresses pride and is the only one who gets it—but we see from Roda's POV, and so it's really jarring.
That's it, exactly. Of all of them, Roda hates the Master most (and he has hurt her the worst) - if you have a few minutes you could read the first chapter of Guileless Child, that should give you a good insight into their past. And why Roda would never, not for a moment, lower her guard around the Master.
We know the Seeker is a grown man and can't be influenced or manipulated that easily, we know he's in control… and yet there is that edgy feeling of danger, lurking. And the end proves us right in our dread ;)
Foreshadowing... It's a wonderful thing to play with. <3 (Much like the Master does - you can sense something is coming, you just don't know what.)
And they were smoking cigars. Goodness. XDDD
Some things are impossible to resist. Plus it's such an iconic thing... I wanted the Seeker to look/play the part, as it were. Of course it's only symbolic, and yet... He is comfortable with his father's symbols.
I also liked the way you depicted everyone's reactions at that point—the Doctor lost in the TARDIS,
Poor Doctor. But he does have a tendency to literally hug it when he thinks it's been lost.
River wary but not knowing the Master well enough, Clara instinctively sensing the danger and edging near River (love that she picked River! :D It's right because River is currently more focused than the Doctor, because of what you said about the Master not picking her to antagonize, and because it shows Clara trusts her ♥).
Clara has of course met River before (even if it was only as a ghost) and knows she is calm, knowledgeable, and that the Doctor trusts her more than anyone else. Also she's obviously not averse to a bit of violence, so Clara's instincts are spot-on. (River herself... I'll get to her next chapter.)
And Jack… Jack saw and feared the same as Roda ♥
They've been in the same boat. He understands.
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…and right when she was going to speak up, trouble began. I love how the Seeker handled this crisis, really—“Princess - go blow up the Supreme Dalek. It’s getting clever and I don’t like it. Harvey, if you move more than five inches away from me, I’m throwing you in the nearest black hole. Now - information. There are billions of you, how the hell-” :D Love his relying on River and Jack, love his smooth leadership, love the Captain taking over Jack himself. All business. And it all went easily, the Master watching in his deck chair (:D :D :D), River being epic and all guns blazing, Jack helping, until all three of them were united in the excitement of the moment, no longer second-thinking at all. And we switched to the Doctor to see that—after the concern about the Master's possible influence, it became about the Seeker and what he had become… love the parallel with Melody, with the reuse of the weapon-child theme. Very clever. Clever with the parallel, but most of all the differences—Alex hasn't been manipulated and stolen away, the Doctor was there in every step of the way, and it leaves him positively agonizing over what he has done wrong, what he hasn't seen… Because indeed, this isn't a one-time thing. This is a whole constructed side of the Seeker that he hadn't seen, and he's discovering here… so, so painfully. And the Master would choose that moment to twist the knife in the wound, hahaha. I died at his telling the Doctor to come and grab a chair :D Love the latter's tiredness, and his vaguely noticing there was something off with the Master but not being able to focus enough to deal with that. Clara's unspoken question and her wondering if the Seeker's actions were good or bad were very interesting, too. It all came together with the discussion that followed with the Seeker, about the greater good, doing morally wrong things for the right reasons.
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Some levity was needed... *g*
I really liked the way you handled the Master and the Seeker discussing the latter's actions—and once more, I felt that chill at the Seeker obviously being fine and pleased at making his father's proud and meeting the latter's expectations. Because we know what the Master's expectations are like… and yet the Seeker feels so secure, he just takes the approval and glory and basks in it…
When he was younger he rebelled quite a lot (both against the Doctor & the Master), but he's long since grown out of that. Plus he's pragmatic - he doesn't please his father very often, so he's happy to make him happy. It won't last...
Loved Roda's concern, of course, and her thinking that they had actually been close to managing to communicate before, but the Master's appearance had ruined it all…
The Master really has a talent for that.
I love how the Seeker handled this crisis, really— Love his relying on River and Jack, love his smooth leadership, love the Captain taking over Jack himself. All business. [...] River being epic and all guns blazing, Jack helping, until all three of them were united in the excitement of the moment, no longer second-thinking at all.
It is something he's been preparing for, for years and years. And he's a good leader when he needs to be. And River & Jack are the natural people to call on. They're fighters, people who do what needs to be done.
And it all went easily,
Didn't it just? That was almost a clue in its own right. If the war is easily won, why so much doom-laden talk? Why prophecies?
the Master watching in his deck chair (:D :D :D)
A late addition, but one I enjoyed very much. :D
And we switched to the Doctor to see that—after the concern about the Master's possible influence, it became about the Seeker and what he had become… love the parallel with Melody, with the reuse of the weapon-child theme. Very clever. Clever with the parallel, but most of all the differences—Alex hasn't been manipulated and stolen away, the Doctor was there in every step of the way, and it leaves him positively agonizing over what he has done wrong, what he hasn't seen…
Come S6, all the whole Melody storyline, I was flailing pretty hard, because the show was playing with all the ideas I'd been working on for years. Not in the same way, but - a Time Lord child, gifted far beyond humans, and dangerous. It was as if the show was written just for me and the themes I wanted to play with. And then the whole nature/nurture thing. River was Pond, and the Seeker... is his father's son. The Seeker knows this about himself, and uses it to his advantage.
Because indeed, this isn't a one-time thing. This is a whole constructed side of the Seeker that he hadn't seen, and he's discovering here… so, so painfully. And the Master would choose that moment to twist the knife in the wound, hahaha. I died at his telling the Doctor to come and grab a chair :D
Poor Doctor... There has been some willful blindness on his part, and a lot of lying (mostly by omission) by the Seeker. And oh, the Master thinks he's won the battle over the boy, just as the Doctor fears he's lost it... (They always saw it in terms of somehow winning the Seeker over to 'their' side. Which is why he rebelled. He did not like that.)
Love the latter's tiredness, and his vaguely noticing there was something off with the Master but not being able to focus enough to deal with that. Clara's unspoken question and her wondering if the Seeker's actions were good or bad were very interesting, too. It all came together with the discussion that followed with the Seeker, about the greater good, doing morally wrong things for the right reasons.
Setting this between NotD and DotD was very deliberate - the Doctor is... not in a very good place, but good things will come. However at this point he's feeling the weight of his future. Clara of course acts as the thing that speaks the thoughts he does not want to voice...
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AND THE MASTER BROKE THEIR MOMENT. RIGHT WHEN THEY COULD HAVE BEEN TRYING TO ACHIEVE SOME COMMUNICATION. FOR HIS "PRIVATE WORD". xhsixss I love that moment of the others quickly moving together, Roda expressing her concerns, but the Doctor realizing right as she was speaking—seeing the expression he had recognized before, that had reassured him that the Seeker was very much not under his father's influence, turning into a kind of astonished elation that was not good. The Doctor's reaction, the Seeker's, the Master's sarcasm, Jack's horror—that was so breath-taking, that suspended moment of everyone trying to pick up the pieces and understand what was going on. The Seeker bounding for Dalek Caan, his words, how utterly carried away he was… Goodness. His POV was needed to close this, of course—the sheer elation was so powerful, that feeling of things being so wonderful and right, and along with Caan's words, the Toclafanes singing, the Seeker's epiphany about taking power, his letting go of old fears, old moral considerations to embrace new knowledge and a role that was rightfully his… it was an incredibly epic, intense and mind-blowing mix. The timelines, the painful perfection of that golden vision, the Doctor standing there and the Seeker finding it incredible that he couldn't see the rightness of what he saw. OMFG. Perfect.
Perfect perfect perfect! *reels*
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Yes, it's a switch, and a necessary one. In the previous chapter he was on the back foot, reeling, as if on quicksand. Now he's managed to pull himself together and deals with what's in front of him, instead of what he thinks ought to be there. And Eleven can be dark... (When I had the original idea, it was with Ten, and he of course bled man!pain & guilt all over everything - Ten bled so prettily - but with Eleven I could go a different route.)
Loved his brief thought about Amy, the contrast between the Seeker's former incarnation and this one too. Cooler, more aloof, more distant, more unreadable.
Second Seeker was... blunt. Direct. (A reaction against the first one, who was very laid back and manipulative.)
Love the Seeker's simply stating "what can you do with Daleks except kill them?", his acknowledging that he and the Doctor often misunderstood each other, and most of all, how he had actually taken in, valued, and followed the Doctor's example over his lessons, even when it hurt—how it wasn't about Gallifrey or those great examples that always got thrown back in the Doctor's face, but something much more personal, his very existence.
He wasn't stolen like Melody, but that doesn't mean he is damaged or scarred. (He never even mentioned the Schism - there's piles of stuff he could have dug into...) If/when you get to Dating you'll see a lot of the effects of the damage close up. (The Seeker doesn't blame the Doctor as such, but nor does he make excuses for him.)
It was great reminding of the Master's rageful reaction, of the contrast between the two of them at that point, giving the Seeker that odd sense of balance—the father who would have done any horror for him, and the father figure who loved him so much and was ready to sacrifize him all the same. Plus, of course, how this episode left a bridge between the Doctor and the Master.
It's the place the Seeker has been caught his whole life - stuck between two extremes, trying to forge his own way.
I love how all the Doctor can say is "There wasn't another way" and the Seeker goes "That's my point!". Indeed it is, indeed. But there is a difference between doing what needs to be done, feeling it, and hurting over it, and doing it in a cool-headed, righteous and triumphant way. The pain doesn't lessen the necessary destruction, one could argue that it's almost counter-productive… but it's a safety net so one doesn't lose control, doesn't fall down the dark path or get drunk on their own power.
M-hm. The Seeker has always been very wary of this trap (has seen his father, obviously), but on the other hand his temperament is very different from the Doctor's, and will not try to fabricate feelings of guilt where there are none...
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Of course he did. He knows the Doctor's power is in words.
I love that moment of the others quickly moving together, Roda expressing her concerns, but the Doctor realizing right as she was speaking—seeing the expression he had recognized before, that had reassured him that the Seeker was very much not under his father's influence, turning into a kind of astonished elation that was not good.
Too late. Always has been, always will be... Too late. (Have you read The Naming of Things? 'Too late' is what has always hung over Doctor/Master...)
The Doctor's reaction, the Seeker's, the Master's sarcasm, Jack's horror—that was so breath-taking, that suspended moment of everyone trying to pick up the pieces and understand what was going on.
Everything has changed, in an instant... (And he thought it A Good Day.)
The Seeker bounding for Dalek Caan, his words, how utterly carried away he was… Goodness. His POV was needed to close this, of course—the sheer elation was so powerful, that feeling of things being so wonderful and right, and along with Caan's words, the Toclafanes singing, the Seeker's epiphany about taking power, his letting go of old fears, old moral considerations to embrace new knowledge and a role that was rightfully his… it was an incredibly epic, intense and mind-blowing mix.
I just love your wording of this, the breathlessness of it... That's exactly what I was going for, an unstoppable momentum. And the Seeker is unstoppable, in that moment, lost to his vision. Will anyone be able to reason with him now?
The timelines, the painful perfection of that golden vision, the Doctor standing there and the Seeker finding it incredible that he couldn't see the rightness of what he saw. OMFG. Perfect. Perfect perfect perfect! *reels*
*flails* The thing is... The Master struck far more lucky than he ever knew. He thought he'd be hold up something desirable in front of his son, hoping that he'd grasp it. But he tapped into something much older, much richer, much more powerful than he could have guessed. Truly, it's Christmas... Because for the Seeker, this is a specific thing, something he's known, but rejected, for almost his whole life. And to suddenly see possibility instead of ruin - he's practically drunk. :)
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ETA: From their point of view he saved them, improved them, and turned them into universal heroes. They're happy.