RP for the Tenth Doctor and the Master

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

The Little Green Apple was as good a neutral spot as any in Hogwarts, and comfortable to boot. The Master was still making at least a token effort to seem nonchalant and sardonic, despite the intense longing he was sure kept creeping into his gaze. If he could make a show of ignoring it, perhaps the Doctor would allow him the dignity of doing the same.

It helped that there were so many utterly ridiculous bits of trivia in what made up daily life at Hogwarts. Even the rather skimpy outline he'd given was enough to distract anyone with a modicum of curiosity... a mad hat dictator with a penchant for forced marriages, hexed chocolates with the most alarming (if temporary) effects, and the sheer variety of residents from a seemingly limitless pool of potential universes was fuel for plenty of conversation.

There was, however, a matter of personal importance he needed to settle, and the sooner the better. He'd thought he'd had the help he needed lined up, but that seemed less certain than he'd thought. Alternate measures might be called for.

Which, damn it, meant lowering himself to asking for help, to asking the Doctor for help, again.

"And there's a personal project I'm working on," he said, changing the subject abruptly. "Alone, it's not something I'm comfortable... letting anyone else into... but I've reached a point that I won't be able to manage entirely on my own."

Comments

[bitmagnificent.livejournal.com]

The Doctor had in fact noticed the nature of the gaze on occasion during their stroll and sitting, but failing to consciously connect it to its intent, he paid it no mind, chalking it up to some brand of madness or other he wasn't yet familiar with.

He took in the information with as much good grace as could be expected from a man like him - that is, with a great deal of interruption, questioning and scoffing.

By the time the Master had pulled up the gumption to breach the subject of his project, the Doctor was on his second ginger beer (thank goodness he had a decent level of tolerance to the stuff) and was challenging something else entirely.

"No. No, no, no. Brooms. You lot fly brooms here? Sod a project, you're trying to tell me you... have you got a pointy hat to go with it?"

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

Well, at least he was coming to accept the nature of his surroundings, even if he still seemed to consider it utterly ridiculous.

Well, it was a fairly ridiculous place. And the Doctor's mood seemed to be heading towards exuberant. How long had it been since he'd been able to see him in such a state of simple, giddy cheer? How long could he stretch it out, and how much could he get out of it?

"I don't have a pointy hat," he said, rolling his eyes. "I have flown a broom, though. I could take you for a ride if you wanted."

Cold night, clinging together on a broom as they whipped through the clear air, stars bright above them with no light pollution to hide them... oh, yes, there were possibilities there.

[bitmagnificent.livejournal.com]

"Course not, I don't drink and fly," he retorted, waving his hand. "I wouldn't dare go without a pointy hat, anyway. Be breaching some sort of protocol, I'm sure."

He snickered at his own jokes, and then remembered that the Master had, in fact, mentioned something else. Maybe it was time to stop before he actually did get pissed. But the idea... was really tempting. If it weren't just a joke, he wagered it'd be easy to learn how to fly one of those things. He wondered where the console would be on something like that, or if it was telempathically controlled, the way some functions of the TARDIS were. If he could get the hang of that, how far could he go? How high could he get before the lack of oxygen would effect him? Six minutes out of the atmosphere, distance depending upon the speed...

And then he blinked, realising the Master was waiting for a real response. "Sure, I fancy a race. But tell me about this project of yours. I doubt you need someone to hold a ladder steady for you; you're more capable'n that."

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

"No, not a ladder." The delightful prospect of luring the Doctor onto a broom, of being perhaps a smidgeon too zealous at holding on as they flew, faded rapidly as the Doctor brought up what he'd steeled himself into mentioning.

"I... I've had echoes. In my mind. Be odd if I didn't, I suppose, given how long my mind was infested."

He sat in silence. This had been hard enough to ask the first time.

"I've been making sure. Picking through my head, ready to root out anything that doesn't belong there. Being good at self-hypnosis helps. But what I need to do now..."

He exhaled sharply, and closed his eyes. "Basically, I need to shut down my autonomic nervous system, to flush out anything hiding there. I can get into a deep enough trance to manage that, but..."

The Master clenched his fists, lips curled into a near-snarl. "I can put myself into a trance like that, but I can't bring myself out of it."

[bitmagnificent.livejournal.com]

It was a strange struggle to watch, that of a man with himself. He noted the pleased tinge to the Master's impassive expression fall away, and wondered what had gone south so suddenly, even if that tinge had only been there a few moments.

The request itself explained the roundabout fashion in which it was approached, at any rate.

"So you want to put yourself into a coma." So much for leaving the rest of this drink alone; he drained it, vaguely agitated by the risk such an idea bore. "And you want, what? You want me to set an alarm clock for you? Stick you with a pin when you're ready?"

He hadn't meant to sound angry about that. He wasn't at all happy about having lost the Master - again - to begin with, and to be brought here, to find him again and lose him all over again - again - was the last sort of welcome party he wanted. Call him selfish, but he figured he deserved a bit better than that.

"What d'you think is in there that you need to do all that, anyway?" he demanded, scowling at his empty bottle.

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

"I can't risk there being any... remnants. Any nasty little holdovers of a certain rhythm." His mouth twisted in a sour grimace. "It's too important. I have to be sure that everything in my head is mine. If I didn't think you had the skill to jump-start my system again, do you think I'd have humiliated myself by asking?" Despite the angry slant of his words, his tone was frustrated, even despairing. "After so much time... I have to, I have to be sure I'm clean."

[bitmagnificent.livejournal.com]

"It'll be there as long as you remember it," the Doctor pointed out, tapping his own temple. "Like telling yourself not to think about something. Are you planning on a mind-wipe too? Don't tell me you've got one of those lying around."

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

"Give me some credit," he snarled. "It's not as if I'm utterly clueless where subtle hypnotic implants are concerned. And believe it or not, I know the difference between a memory and a plant. Especially when I know what sort of plant I'm looking for."

He hunched in on himself again, staring dully into the middle distance. "Are you going to claim you'd be letting it rest if it had been your brain hosting a subtle little parasite for centuries?"

[bitmagnificent.livejournal.com]

He snorted, bursting into a defence without noticing when the source of his agitation was revealed through it.

"I never told you to let it rest, and I never meant you to, or else I wouldn't have offered to help. But did you know I've seen members of at least thirty-seven different sentient species claw parts of their own bodies off trying to rid themselves of something like that? D'you want to know how pretty, how enlightening any of that was? None of it. Have you got any idea what it was like every time I was made to watch you die? How can you trust me after any of that? How can you expect... how's it even fair?"

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

The Master could only stare, dumbfounded, taking in his words, trying to come up with ways he might be misinterpreting them. Because if he took them at face value and they turned out to be more metaphorical or impersonal than that, it would be, well, it would be a nasty little emotional bitchslap he didn't want to set himself up for.

"I'll pretend you never lowered yourself to using the word 'fair'," he said lightly. "Instead, I'll focus on two things you seem to be overlooking. One, I'm not some random sentient species, and second..."

He reached out and took the Doctor's hand and forced a grin, as if he weren't leaving himself open for rejection. "Who else would I trust?"

[bitmagnificent.livejournal.com]

He stared at their hands a moment, picking apart the panic and anger welling up as if they were so much pod fluff.

"You're not fair," he finally grumped. "What have I got to do?"

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

"I need you to... watch. You won't need more than a light rapport to monitor me."

Not even that, necessarily... when he'd asked this Doctor's predecessor for help, he'd rigged a mechanical method of keeping track... but the rapport would be easier, and...

...and he wasn't about to admit why else he'd want that contact.

"You've kicked up a dreadful amount of drama, but it should be quite dull. I've already got a posthypnotic trigger in place. I'll be under in seconds. The organ systems will shut down, and I'll be making sure there's nothing piggybacking that shouldn't be, but I'll be too far under to wake myself up, possibly too far to get things going again. So I'll be relying on you to kickstart me." He laughed, and for all its bitterness, there was genuine warmth in it as well. "I'll have swept it all clean then."

[bitmagnificent.livejournal.com]

"You want to scoop out your brain and assume I can put it back. I'm entitled to a bit of drama." It seemed he'd calmed about it, though, once given a few minutes to sort through it in his mind to make sure he felt himself capable enough - and, of course, being the Doctor, he was.

Maybe he was regressing. That was a tactic from at least five centuries before, he was sure.

"That why you need the rapport?" he enquired, studying the hands again. "So you can tell me when to pull you back up? And you'll show me how before you even go?"

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

"Honestly, Doctor, it's about as complicated as the most straightforward biofeedback techniques," he groused. He found the concern a good deal more heartening than he wanted to admit, but he also wanted the damned thing done with. "These are healthy organ systems. They'll want to be functioning. You'll just need to give it all a little nudge."

[bitmagnificent.livejournal.com]

"Nothing with you is straightforward," he corrected grimly. "Unless it is, which isn't often enough to count. When are you planning to do this?"

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

"Damned either way, aren't I?" he said, and shook his head. "I'm planning on doing it as soon as I have the help I need. So, Doctor, do I have the help I need?"

[bitmagnificent.livejournal.com]

"Aren't we both?" And there was a spark of amusement in a grin before he disengaged and slid off his stool. He patted himself down and rummaged in his pockets, pulling out what looked like a glowing rubber hexagon and leaving it on the bar. "Yeah, I'll help, long as nobody's hurt. Come on, then."

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

"A pair of old monsters like us? Oh, I think we're quite solidly damned whatever we do. But it'd be quite something for you to manage to drag innocent bystanders into this, so you don't need to fret about people being hurt for my benefit this time." He stood, a bit of bounce in his stride... eagerness? Nerves? Irrelevant. "My room's this way."

[bitmagnificent.livejournal.com]

"Nice of you to exclude your own credit to that repertoire." A short bark of a laugh; most people wouldn't be able to tell a nerve had been struck but for the twitch under his eye most people wouldn't see. He took a step toward the door with a brief nod. "Lead the way, then."

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

"Well, for one thing, my contribution to this involves being unconscious, and even I generally can't manage slaughter without some degree of awareness." He seemed almost revitalized now, his stride loose and bouncy as he lead them from the bar to the Slytherin halls, ignoring the occasional cat-call from an ill-mannered painting. "Also, it's not possible to die on campus."

Now, he could have just told the Doctor that flat out, but then he wouldn't have had the satisfaction of convincing him to take a risk.

[bitmagnificent.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, you mentioned that actually," the Doctor interjected, distracted by the paintings. "But how well's that gonna help with brain death? Or does it envelop the physical neuro... what in..."

And he couldn't help but wander off, screwdriver at the ready again, to inspect a painting of an indignant-looking woman. Ignoring the plaque below it completely, he started inspecting it instead, tapping at the canvas and using the tool to scan the frame, oblivious to her protests and insults all the while.

"How's this work, then?" he called over his shoulder.

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

"Worth the risk," he muttered, watching the Doctor's utterly predictable glee at the paintings.

"It's the composition of the paint, I think," he explained. "They have a similar trick with photographs." He clenched his fingers, determined not to tap out a rhythm.

[bitmagnificent.livejournal.com]

"Paint and photographs? Interesting... there a darkroom here by chance?"

He leaned closer to and up against it on tiptoe, narrowing his eyes and then sniffing the canvas. "Oh, shut up," he muttered absently to the protests before stepping back to squint at it again and then turn on his heel to return to his friend, hands in pockets.

"Either a scentless chemical, or a flexy-screen display, by my guess," he mused. "Just smells like paint and wood to me; talks too much though... not comfortable tasting something that reminds me of someone's gran."

[theregothedrums.livejournal.com]

The Master eyed him with exasperation and, oddly, a touch of fondness. The Doctor wouldn't be himself without intense curiosity.

"The library has books on how it's done," he pointed out. "Paintings and photographs. Ask nicely and I'll help you find them, if that's really where you want to start studying."

[bitmagnificent.livejournal.com]

Scoff! "Studying's no way to learn anything useful, you know that. Got to go and do, or nothing..." He glanced over his shoulder at the painting again, and then around them further through the corridor either way, before nodding ahead.

"But I'll take you up on a trip to the library sometime if I don't find it myself first. Lead on, then."