kore_logs | A Meeting of the Minds

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A Meeting of the Minds

Who: the Master, the Doctor
Where: Mina's house
When: Day 83
What: A mentally unstable Doctor requests the aid from an old friend.
Warnings: None yet, but plenty of Time Lord angst

Mina was awfully trusting to keep the Doctor at her house, but the truth was, he wasn't able to be on his own. The impulse headaches weren't stopping, and his head pounded, like his skull was being cracked open so very slowly. He couldn't focus on any particular thought very long, and his regenerations and time lines blurred faster than riding a bullet train.

The scientists hadn't taken lightly of the Doctor's attempt at escaping, and he couldn't decide if it was out of retaliation or fear, that they explored his mind. He couldn't remember details or anything that happened, and he wasn't sure if he even wanted to.

Skin hot and feverish, he waited until Donna had gone away to send a message with the little energy he could muster to hold onto his sanity. "I need... I need to see you... now." He hoped he sent it to the right person -- or correctly -- Time Lord.

For a while he paced the room, but the pain continued to defeat him, where he stayed in the corner of the room, bent over on his knees, short nails digging into his scalp. He would find him. The Master always, annoyingly enough, found him. The Doctor just hoped he wouldn't ignore him, as he was his only hope of settling this.

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This was swiftly turning out to be a headache of a detour from reality. He hated this place, he really did, there was nothing much to do and every now and again? Well, they decided to rattle everyone's cages and make things worse. The Master had no desire to get involved and rise to anything they set in front of him. Hence why most of his time was spent outside, scavenging and generally being a nuisance, avoiding the idea of 'roommates'.

He was just about to start looking for lunch when he something shot through him and he came to a halt, eyes wide in confusion. Psychic messages, bit like an unwelcomed text message when not warned beforehand. His teeth nearly vibrated from the pitiful wave of desperation! Wincing, he looked up with a frown on his face. The moron was back then. He'd had a feeling the Doctor had returned, he could sense a Time Lord back around but part of him was hoping it was someone new. He could use some alternative company.

But, sadly, the Master found himself incapable of avoiding the man or ignoring a call either. He loathed the Doctor on so many levels but he always came. That really said it all about him. Plus why miss out on an excuse to gloat at the Doctor needing him? Oh that would be beautiful to see.

He followed the trail of the missing Time Lord all about and over Kore till he came to the little house that contained his 'damsel in distress'. He didn't fancy barging in, just in case this was some form of a trap, so instead? He knocked four times. Gently, not too loud, just enough to indicate he was waiting outside.

Pulling his hands away, the Doctor remained crouched on the floor. Blinking his eyes, the realization of a Time Lord nearby hit him and he scrambled to his feet and to the window, pushing it open.

"You came!" He's leaning out of the window and with a laugh, scrubs at his face with one palm. "Thank Rassilon..." The hand slides into his hair and he lingers there, half out the window, accepting the cool breeze on his face before looking back down to the Master.

The pain was triggered again, and he tugs at the strands of his hair, much like he would see of the Master if his time line were to run properly and they would meet in the correct order.

The Master stood there, grubby and unshaved, his face the picture of an annoyed man who really didn't want to be here. As the Doctor chirped excitedly at him, he found it a great contrast from their last meeting. What happened to the angry creature that snarled and snapped at him? Belittled his life and ignored his warnings? So, just in case the idiot had forgotten, he decided to remind him a little. "What happened to 'I don't want to see you'? Remember that? Someone's changed their mind, you do that a lot lately."

He seemed to be just as shattered and broken in that pathetic excuse for a mind as the Master was. And, for whatever reason, that brought a small smile on his face. It was a little victory for him, that was all. "It's nice to know I'm not the most fucked up Time lord, though I am running a close second."

Not saying the Doctor was forgiven for being an annoying prat but he wasn't going to break his nose just yet. Hey, he was feeling generous. May as well see what's up. "So am I coming in or are you coming out? Either way, you best bring me something to eat. I'm starved."

"No food. No..." He inhales sharply, holding onto his breath, "No... jelly babies. Pockets empty. All gone. Just like the Time Lords. Gone. Hidden away. Or murdered... It shouldn't have happened, not him, he was just a boy!"

He disappears as he struggled to hold onto his sanity as he stepped out into the hallway. Donna didn't seem to be near, thankfully; however, it took a long time for him to make it down the stairs as each step reverberated through his body, flashing a plenitude of memories upon each step.

Once at the door, he presses his forehead to the wood, inhaling and releasing a shaky breathe as he turned the knob. "I can't..." He swallows before turning an eye upon his friend, "I can't... keep hold of who I am."

The Master thought it would be painfully ironic to mock the Doctor for being unhinged when he himself could barely grasp a thought half the time. His mind had been torn and shredded by the drums and he only saw reason in rare glimpses. This was his time, his chance to be the reasonable one. Hell, he could show that he could be stable if needed. Because he was done being looked down on as the crazy man who talked to himself on the streets.

Outward monologuing doesn't always give the sanest appearance, he'd be honest.

Once the door was open, the Master looked over the Doctor with dismay. He had expected to mock and belittle the moron for all he'd done but seeing him looking all feverish and distraught sort of killed his ability to feel overly smug. Not entirely but where was the victory in winning over a sick man? "Care to explain? Though I will be perfectly clear here and point out I'm not a therapist nor someone who you should call for help."

With a forward momentum, the Doctor grabs a fistful of the Master's hoodie. He sways a moment, regaining his balance before pressing an index finger to his lips. Standing there listening, he's trying to figure out where Donna might be. Mina was in bed for the day, that he knew about, but he wasn't sure about Donna's location just yet.

"Come with me." The idea of retreating back up the stairs appalled him, but being outside meant people to see them, could see him and he had enough sanity to remember he wasn't favored by anyone anymore.

With a bit of a tug, the Doctor brings the smaller Time Lord across the threshold of the door, though now his fingers were curled around a bicep, as if he needed something to hold onto. A foundation. "Upstairs. Now."

"Oi!" the Master snapped, pulling a face as the Doctor ushered him into the house. He really didn't appreciate this and he made it very clear by letting his fingers flicker blue in a threatening manner. He wasn't actually going to shock the Doctor this time but a fair warning that he would if he had too. "Stop telling me what to do."

He shrugged in an effort to get the Doctor off but as the other Time Lord had clutched on needlessly tight, the Master could get little purchase to yank himself free. Hence why he gave up and merely hurried upstairs, the Doctor holding on still.

Honestly, what was his life lately? Once he ruled planets and defeated any enemy in his face, obvious exceptions excluded. Now he was a nothing more than a homeless lunatic with a psychotic enemy clinging to his arm like a lost child. Oh life had it's poetry, didn't it?

As they reached the top of the stairs, the Master turned to the Doctor an gestured for him to lead the way to wherever they were heading.

Edited 2013-06-19 22:26 (UTC)

Fingers slipped away and traced the walls of the hallway to a room with an adjacent door where the Doctor sat himself on the bed. He waited for the door to be shut behind the Master before speaking.

"They were in my head." He comments with a shaky voice and he resumes tangled fingers in short locks, "They were in my head!" The Doctor squeezes his eyes tightly shut, breath coming out in heaved pants.

"Pain, so much pain... I can't... keep hold of me." Perhaps his statements were vague, but it was quite difficult to recall which of his selves he currently was. He had been struggling the entire time of being back to hold onto his sanity, but the intense pain severed the connections. "Please... I need you..."

The Master shut the door firmly behind him and leaned against it, watching the Doctor carefully. He understood the source of his distress to an extent and why he might be as he was but one thing alluded him. "Why me? No offence but have you met me? How can you be this dense? We don't exactly have the best history and my ability to hold onto sanity waned at the tender age of eight."

So what purpose could he serve? What could he do? He was not the sort of man who would be summoned in a crisis so clearly the Doctor was desperate. Not a shock since he'd isolated himself from everyone before his grand departure.

"And, dear Doctor, lets say that we forget all those factors and pretend I can help. Tell me why I should want to help? I've saved you once before, I don't see why I should again," he wasn't exactly feeling generous lately and he had his own share of annoyance with the Doctor.

"Besides Mina or maybe Castiel, you're the only one able to look inside my mind, and I... I can't subject them to Time Lord knowledge. I wouldn't be able to hold back... barriers, walls, barricades, me." It was all far too complex and wibbly-wobbly in his current state. He could hold down his current lucid thoughts but a short while.

"My only other option... would be to regenerate." It hadn't been the first time for him to dwell on the thought, as he was so very close to forcing it in hopes it'd work and the energy heal his mind.

The Master, as much as he annoyed the Doctor and all the horrendous things he put him through, was still his oldest friend. The only remaining connection to his history, his people, his past, only he would know how to muddle through this fragile and fragmented mind.

"Please, Koschei."

"Do you think I can hold back my barriers? Going into your mind is opening a whole flood of crazy on both ends. To go into your head allows us a link and the drums will ride that link into your head, not exactly what you need. If you think you can bear them then we can try," otherwise the Doctor was alone on this one. The Master was an expert on this kind of thing, mental manipulation and telepathy were always his strongest attribute but even his own barriers could crumble in a psychic link.

And he wasn't sure adding a bridge between their minds would benefit either one of them. If anything, it'd probably do more damage.

Looking at the Doctor, he frowned and tried to think of any other way they could do this but sadly, no, it seemed like they'd just have to put up with it. There was no other alternative. "Like I said, you have to be prepared that leaks will happen. But if we start to get anywhere near my mind? Then the link will be shattered before you have chance to readjust so be aware."

"Yes, yes, I'll do whatever.... it takes." He inhaled sharply, once again clawing at his head. It was any wonder how he hadn't ripped out patches of his hair as a result. "I can't take this!" He clenched his teeth and tried not to whimper.

"I won't probe, investigate, search... I won't. I WON'T." He was referring to the Master's mind, because personally being this broken terrified him of exploring that fragmented mind. Whatever the drums, the Time Lord high council, and a faulty regeneration had done to it; the Doctor wanted no part of it.

The Master moved further into the room and stood in front of the Doctor. If they were doing this, they were doing it now to get it over and done with. He seemed pretty together, he hadn't felt his body failing yet today. Better do it now than waiting for some new fuck up. "Open your mind and I'll open mine. We'll see how this goes, Doctor, but no promises."

He didn't so much need to touch the Doctor to do this, he'd long since honed his skills. It was all up to the Doctor if he needed that contact to do this. Closing his eyes, he opened his mind and pushed as much as he could behind the barriers. Only the drums seeped through, beating at the same old pace.

The Doctor's mouth opened, but nothing was uttered, only a silent cry as he felt the link open between the two Time Lords. The drums were certainly there, pounding and reverberating through everything he knew. Each dormant regeneration of his could hear them and it made everyone so angry.

Broken memories swarmed and leaked from every crack, like loud radio noise as the Doctor edged his way towards where the Master had to be. And exactly like radio noise, the Doctor's form flickered through various regenerations, never lingering longer than a minute before fading into another version. Despite being determined, when the Doctor finally held on to his form, he would be only a boy, desperate eyes focused upon the Master.

"Make it stop!"

The start of a mental link was always rough, a lot of noise and static, a struggle to latch onto some level of stability. The Master waded through the massive amount of awkward and loud angst, trying to find the Doctor. It was rather messy in here but nothing he hadn't seen, considering his own mind. Oh this was childs play.

But it wasn't reassuring. This was the Doctor, a man he considered relatively held together. All things considered, he'd seen him as someone who could remain sane in the worst of times. To see him this in pieces was a slight shock to the system. It was wrong.

"How?" the Master snapped to the -- child? Theta. It hurt to even look at him. Hence why he didn't make eye contact, merely looked around the harsh swarm of memories and noise. "I'm not a miracle worker! Just -- try to think of something and grasp onto it. Think of something that matters to you, the current you."

Gallifrey mattered. The stars mattered. As much as he didn't want to admit it, the Master mattered. The TARDIS mattered. Rose Tyler... He left her on the beach with the meta-crisis. All he cared about was her happiness, even if it couldn't be himself to give it. She had a part of him that could give her everything she wanted, and that was good enough for him.

His physical formed rippled and changed into his current regeneration, a long skinny streak of nothing, as Donna had said. "Push them back; seal the cracks," He spoke with a weak voice, answering the Master's previous question. "I think... I think if we can just do that, it'll be enough."

Once the Doctor looked more like himself again, the Master levelled him a look, hoping he was capable of keeping himself more together. Someone here had to be together and banking on him to do it wasn't likely. He didn't want to have to be the sane one, that really wasn't a good look for him.

"Well I can't do this alone, you know? Put your back into it," the Master shot back as he looked around the shattered memories, all colliding into each other. Each regeneration seemed to of splintered and half the memories, he didn't know. It was a little hard to organise events when he had been there. "You know, Doctor, I had no idea you were this screwed up. It's oddly refreshing."

He knew it wasn't permanent or consistent but it allowed him some brief gloating abilities. "It's quieter here... is this what a normal mind is like? Take away the drums and it's all memories, feelings and thoughts?"

"I'm not this screwed up!" The Doctor retaliates, his anger causing a ripple effect in the memories surrounding them. His body flickers, threatening to change once again, which forces him to breathe deeply - inhale and exhale.

"Right..." He pauses as the drums start to pound around him louder, causing him to cup his ears to try and ignore it. "We need to sort these out before you cause me to go mental!"

The Doctor stumbled off in one direction, hoping the Master would take the hint of following him through their first patch of memories.

"Even if we put aside your whole issue with someone tampering in your head, this place is quite the mess on it's own. Each regeneration is so different-- did you ever have yourself tested for a disorder? You probably should of. Consistency would be nice in here," All of the Master's had followed a similar pattern, most seemed to in his experience. But the Doctor was so radically different and each personality seemed to be fighting through the cracks to get out. All separate men.

No wonder he was so confused. This place was a headache even the Master didn't want. He followed the Doctor along, peering about to try to see some sense or order in the information he was getting.

He did, however, pause with a slight smirk on his face as a bunch of memorises flew by them, little flickers of information that lit up at their presence. And they told quite the story. "You fell in love with some blond thing, didn't you?-- Oh, you are pathetic sometimes. Tell me she wasn't human?"

The Doctor shoots him a steely gaze, full of warning, or so he hoped. "Don't start this with me. Don't you dare start!" Rose Tyler would always be an open wound to him, and he cherished those memories with her perhaps more than any other memories combined.

And taking this a step further, he turns and gets in the Master's space, as if the metaphorical feathers on his back were fluffing up to assert dominance, "I've asked you to help me, because you're the only one who possibly can. I didn't bring you here to insult me my memories, because I'm quite confident I could do the same in return. And don't pretend that Lucy didn't didn't mean a single thing to you, despite the manipulations you played on that poor girl."

His memories flickered and crashed around them, colliding and entangling within each other. "Now are you going to help me, or continue to insult me?"

The Master happily invaded the Doctor's personal space, getting closer than the Doctor seemed to dare and grabbing his jacket tight. It was strange how he could feel the fabric, perhaps he was really grabbing the Doctor in reality? It was strange how things worked in a mental link. "I'm going to keep insulting you because I can. You begged me for help, you let me in and I'm not leaving. Deal with it. I mean really, Doctor, how could you ever stop me?"

And, with that, he shoved the Doctor away from in as roughly as he could. After being mocked by this man, he felt like he'd earned a little bit of revenge. And in what universe was he ever someone worth to call upon for help.

The Master stormed off ahead, throwing memories off and about into where they should be, forcing his way through the chaos and mess. "If you continue to talk down to me like that, I will find the worst memories I can and mix them all up. Bring them to the surface and let you relive every moment," he came to a halt ahead of the Doctor and spun around, facing him with a confrontation glare. "I deserve respect for even being here to help you. If I want to make jokes, I'll make jokes because we both know it could be a lot worse."

He's unstable in his mind and his feet; the Doctor lands hard on his backside, where he remains for a moment. Fingers entangle in hair that felt much different than he recognized. Curls. There were long curls as he realized he wasn't able to grasp onto his current regeneration, as he was clearly in his Eighth.

Scrubbing at his face, he's trying his best to once again recall who exactly he was. "The Time Lord lives far to long. Why is that? Why must we?" He muses philosophically as he sits up and watches the Master walk around, poking around various memories. "Is your mind just as unstable? Those drums..."

"You wouldn't last five minutes in my mind without losing yours in the process," the Master muttered with a distinct and obvious lack of caring. He was more interested in watching what little glimpses of the Time War floated by. The Doctor looked like the man of that time now, it was both unsettling and interesting. There was so much he didn't know about the Doctor yet he was sure the Doctor knew most his definitive moments. The ones that changed his life anyway.

"Let's file these away as 'Time War' and try not to look too much into them. I hardly need you falling into PTSD mindset while I'm stuck in here," he had enough of that himself, thanks. No need to make the crazy Time Lord crazier. It would never bode well.

As he strolled ahead, he came to a halt at one particular memory and pulled a face. "Oh dear Omega, tell me I didn't look like this?" The early days of the Eighth regeneration had not been the Master's finest hour but he so didn't suit those stupid Time Lord robes. Dress for the occasion? Yeah right. Shoving it hastily aside, he moved onwards and tried not to focus on it. "And you're worried about your mind. This place hardly reflects me in the best light, all I see is defeats or embarrassing moments. Couldn't remember any of my victories?"

No, he'd much prefer to forget the Time War. If the Master knew a way to abolish memories, he'd gladly accept it in that case.

Right... What had the Master said earlier? Recall something that mattered? Focusing on something other than Rose, he faded back to his current self before returning to his feet. Already, he could feel some parts of his timeline beginning to make sense, but then it was difficult to keep them there.

"We need to move faster." if this is going to work, he mentally finished his sentence before following him.

Coming up behind him, and with a hand on his shoulder, he halts a moment's organization, "Wrong order." And changes it himself before moving past him. Right, he could do this...

"Really? You're rushing me to be quicker at ordering over a thousand years of memories?" He was clearly not impressed, this wasn't some slap-dash job he could do in a minute or two. He actually had to sort these and reorder them. It was beyond a headache, especially when the order was not something he was overly aware of. No wonder the Doctor had to tweak him.

"How far back are we going anyway? I can only go till-- the third, was it? That's the last one I remember vividly. You can handle Gallifrey alone, I'm sure," the Master dismissed, not wanting to even get into that mine field. Why would he want too? Gallifrey was a distant memory now, ruined and twisted horribly.

As far as he was concerned, he preferred the war scenes. Seeing them suffer suited him just fine, he could watch it all day.

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