alex

You pressed the palms of your hand against your eyes and let out a grunt. You didn't even have to open your eyes to realise that the radiating source of warmth next to you had vanished. You turned your body to the bedside table and glanced at the clock. 3:49 am.

The Master and you had been sharing his (now yours too, you supposed) bedroom for a few months. Somewhere between the aftermaths of adventures and off-days, you'd accidentally established a habit of spending a lot of time in his bedroom.

It had started off with seeking comfort after nightmares. Then you found yourself wanting to catch a glimpse of the things that made him who he was, as he was as closed as an iron gate on the topic of his home planet. Lastly, it had evolved into yearning for his presence.

When the nature of your relationship evolved into something more serious, The Master was the one who suggested you move your stuff from your TARDIS-assigned bedroom to his. He'd made it sound like a casual comment, rather than something big, as if it felt natural to both of you.

Most nights, the Time Lord crawled into bed too, even though his physiology, quite literally, didn't need sleep. The fact that he'd gone out of bed was therefore a bit alarming to you. Either he was working on an extremely well-detailed scheme he didn't want to involve you in, or he was sulking. You'd hoped it wasn't the latter.

With a lot of difficulty, groaning and yawning, you managed to get out of bed. You opened the door, no sign of The Master in near rooms either. Immediately you felt the ship guiding you to wherever your partner was.

You walked into the observatory. The first thing you noticed was the chilly air inside, maybe you should’ve put on a dressing down. From the see-through roof, you had a breathtaking view of space (he must've parked the ship somewhere else again when you were sleeping soundly).

Those small shining stars, now bright, were scattered everywhere. And there he was, The Master, sat at a bench, but it wasn't the big, smug and fearless version of him. Instead, he looks almost… lost, defeated.

You didn't dare overstep his boundaries. Your arms leaned on the door. The Master seemed to be stargazing, though he had that absent look like he was disconnected from reality. He had a book on his lap, probably his way of getting through this night.

“Long enough to have gone through half of Gallifrey's so-called ancient history.” He slammed the thick book shut. His face turned, his eyes travelling to yours.

“No snooping in my mind, remember?” You pouted and crossed your arms, “I thought we'd agreed on that.”

He scoffed, though there was that faint evidence of a smile on his face. “Your mind is loud, my dear. Not my fault it practically screams to me in a room full of quiet.”

You'd try to store that useful piece of information in your mind for next time. Your arms loosened and dropped down next to your hips. You took a few steps until you were just behind the bench. Without warning, you settled down on the bench next to him.

The Master was a hard egg to crack; it was the first thing you'd learned when you started accompanying his adventures. Talking to him, coaxing things out of him, was something he loathed. Instead, you did the opposite. For a while, in the middle of the night, you sat there with him. There was no talking, no asking questions, nothing. The Master's eyebrows furrowed, though he didn't comment on your strategy here, he understood. This was a sole reminder to him that you were there, and you wouldn't disappear on him if you were able to help it.

After some time, your sleepiness got the best of you. Your head started leaning on his shoulder. The Master tensed, but softened as he realised what was going on. He wrapped an arm over your waist. “Tired?” He murmured.

You snorted slightly, “You make a very comfortable pillow, you know.”

“Ah, wonderful. That's exactly as far as my romantic partner abilities go,” The Master scoffed.

You'd accepted that he probably won't talk to you about what's bothering him tonight. Maybe he will at another time. There's a comfort in knowing that at least you can reduce the clogging wheels in his mind. “Come back to bed.”

He gave you a knowing look, which told you everything. He was not coming back to bed voluntarily.

You tried again, “… Please?”

That seemed to do it. His lips twitched obviously. “Fine. Only because you asked so nicely.”

His arm on your waist travelled to the back of your knees, and the other arm to your back. You didn't notice your eyes were closing slowly as he lifted you up. By the time he'd settled returned to the bedroom, settled on the bed, you dozed off.

The only evidence that this moment had happened was in the morning when you woke up. He had stroked your hair carefully, kissed the top of your head and murmured a faint thank you.

“Come with me” / “You know I can’t”

“Why do you keep trying to save me?”

"We're both pretty terrible people. At least we're terrible together”

“I didn't know where else to go”

“Did you just hiss at me?”

“Why are you here?” / “Why are you here?” / “Well, I live here!”

“You make a very comfortable pillow”

“Is that my jacket?”

“This was your plan? Seriously? This was your so-called groundbreaking masterplan?” / “I never claimed it was a good plan”

“Come back to bed”

“Why is there a moose in my kitchen?” / “I have a perfectly reasonable explanation”

“Just kiss me already, you fool!”

“This is a bad idea”

“Yes, I made you tea. Don't make a big deal out of it”

“Tell me what you're thinking”

“We have about ten seconds before this place is blown to smithereens, any brilliant ideas?”

“I don’t need you to coddle me”

“Your heartbeats are calming to listen to… Sorry, was that weird?”

“We've been married for five years” / “Dude, I’ve only known you for four days” / “That’s time travel to you”

“Is that blood?”

“We're not friends” / “I never claimed we were” / “Good, just so we're clear”

“I know you had a bad day, so I have a surprise for you”

“I can't believe I'm stuck here with you” / “The feeling is very much mutual”

“You heard me”

“I can hear you purring. You are literally purring right now”

“Did you steal my cookies?”

“If you leave this time, don’t expect me to wait for you”

“I don't share well”

“Quick question... Hypothetically speaking, how good are you with poison?”

“We have only 5 minutes of oxygen left”

“Since you gave me reasons to doubt you, I started checking where you go when you say you’re 'busy'”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You’re not dying, you just have a fever”

“One more word and that knife is going down your throat”

“Bite me”

“You are my forever, my future, my one and only”

“I’d rather die than owe you anything”

“You’re shaking. Sit.”

“You stole all the blankets, again”

“Did you just say that? That… that’s on my arm”

“That’s not an animal, it’s pretending to be one”

“Do you want me to put on some tea?”

“Why are you running?”

“Essentially, you’re my emotional support human”

“Look at me”

“Jesus Christ, how did we fall asleep like this?”

“Wait, don't go. Please”

“What the hell happened?”

“Stay back”

“You should talk to them” / “No, I couldn’t. What would I even say?”

“Endurance is a virtue, my dear”

“Seriously?” Yaz burst out. “We asked you to only do one thing, which you still screwed up somehow.” The Doctor had asked for something easy after the rough adventures lately. Plans for a peaceful picnic on the planet Marsale had ended in an ambush by elves. They'd tried killing you all.

All you had to do was translate a particular letter that somehow materialised in the TARDIS, but amidst translating, you noticed something was off. You'd gone out to warn the fam, who were preparing the picnic, a little too late.

Yaz never yelled at anyone, let alone you, without good reason. The alarm bells rang in your mind quite quickly.

Graham stood up from the console seat. “Yaz-” Graham warned her, stepping between the two of you. Your shoulders eased slightly; without him, she might have shoved you against the console.

“No!” She'd interrupted him, pushing him aside. “It's time they hear this!”

“Hear what?”

“Seriously, you’re slacking off, (y/n),” Yaz spat. “Not even The Doctor’s jumping in to defend you here.”

From the peripheral vision of your eye, you saw The Doctor's hesitation. You weren't sure what stung more, her indecision or the fact that all those years spent together had meant so little to her.

Your fingers twitched. No, not here. Get yourself together.

You let out a shaky breath and put your hands in your coat pockets. “Yaz”, you said, forcing your voice not to crack, “what’s wrong? This isn’t about me, I know this isn't!”

“It’s always about you!”

“You act like you don’t think you’re special, but you do,” Yaz barked. “You're not better than us just because you've been here longer.”

The air never felt so stifling, you feared you might choke in there.

Ryan's eyes widened, unable to believe the cruelty of his friend. Graham, still protective, reached for your arm. He'd hoped to pull you back from Yaz and this argument entirely.

Your voice stammered, “I never said, nor thought I was special-”

“Yaz, stop it-” Ryan butted in.

“I’m surprised The Doctor hasn’t left you yet. Wouldn’t be the first time she’s ditched someone when they become useless.”

That was a low blow. If her intent was to hit you where it hurt the most, then she'd succeeded. It was one of your bigger fears, The Doctor leaving you for a new, bright, and shiny companion, like an over-welcomed old toy being discarded.

The tears pricked in your eyes, you blinked quickly to stop them from coming.

“Look at you,” Yaz said, almost laughing. “You overreact to everything, feel everything. You can’t even handle something simple without falling apart.”

For a moment, you weren't on the ship, surrounded by your friends. Instead, you were back in your hometown in your teens. Your heartbeat picked up, moving faster, threatening to burst out of your chest if you didn't get out of here any time soon.

The loop of 'don't cry, don't cry, don't cry' was screaming in your mind, so loudly you were surprised neither the TARDIS nor The Doctor had caught on yet. Your desire to be anywhere but here only grew. You rushed to the TARDIS door and opened it, not caring whether the ship was in orbit or not.

Against your rational thinking, you ran and ran until you couldn't. The TARDIS's humming, Graham's murmuring and Yaz's yelling dissipated like dark clouds after a storm.

The chirping of birds, a splash of water from a nearby river and the wind rustling through leaves entered your ears instead. You were back on the planet Marsale; the TARDIS hadn't left the planet before the argument exploded.

If the elves returned and took revenge on you, you were sure you'd do nothing but let out a shrug. Your legs threatened to betray you if you didn't sit down. You found a tree log and hunched down. You forced your eyes shut, blocking out your troubled childhood.

The memory from earlier had returned, this time playing fully as if it were on the big screen. You froze, like a deer in headlights.

You couldn't have been older than fourteen. You unlocked the door with your key and entered your home. Your mum stood in front of the staircase to go up to your room.

A kind of dread, maybe even panic, hit you quickly. Subconsciously, you knew what was going on; call it a habit. She looked mad, even though you didn't remember doing anything wrong.

Your thoughts scattered into a maze, What did I forget?, What did I do?, Why is she so angry?

“(Y/n)! Where have you been? I told you to do the dishes and take out the trash!” she demanded. “You'd better explain yourself!”

You were confused. Why didn't she remember what you'd told her over breakfast? You'd talked over your school day and your schedule.

“Mum- I told you that I had this very important test today in maths. It affects my end grade. I didn’t want to be late,” your voice quivered. You were trying not to offend your mother and hoped it would suffice. She'd been running on fumes lately, taking on more shifts and taking out the stress on you.

Your mum let out a sharp sigh. “God, (y/n)!” She was holding onto her towel, probably since she did the dishes. “Sometimes I wonder what you're so useful for! You never do anything in here,“ Your mum had vented. She tossed the towel at you. “I do everything here. You're just slacking.”

You grabbed the railing of the staircase, hoping to leave. Your mother yanked you by your backpack and scolded you further. “What do you think you're doing? No. You're grounded.”

Your lips parted, “What?”

Your eyes started burning. It was unreasonable; you hadn't done anything worth grounding for. “That's so unfair! I didn't even do-”

“You know what's unfair?” Your mother challenged you, “Going to the arcade when your father and I are working our arses off. It's about time you began to be useful in this household.”

The local arcade was a way of forgetting about your problems and connecting with the few friends you had. It was your go-to hangout spot. After all, you couldn't exactly invite them in here at home, with your parents. So now you were not only being punished for something you didn't do, but your friendships were going to suffer because of it. When your mum's grip faltered a bit, you ran up the stairs to your room. You slammed the door shut.

You put the backpack near the door. You shrugged off your jacket and put it over a chair. You lowered yourself to the floor and sat next to your bed. Tears trailed down your cheeks, and your lip quivered. You shook your head. You refused to cry; your parents shouldn't hear you cry. If they did, it'd worsen your situation.

You wiped at your inner corners with your fingers, refusing to let tears fall. Your hand covered your mouth, muffling a whimper.

You ended up crying the entire night.

A harsh “(Y/N)” echoed in your mind, dragging you out of the memory back to reality. Had the elves gotten to you? Were you hallucinating?

Someone called for you yet again, only this time the voice sounded familiar. A hand touched your shoulder and you flinched hard enough to nearly fall off the log.

A flash of purple. You couldn't believe it was him, The Master. He looked concerned, in his own way. Or bothered, at least.

He sat down next to you on the tree log.

“Hey, (y/n), you're okay. Or you will be,” The Master started. “I don't know what's happened to you, but I need you to do something for me right now,” he assured you. His voice sounded gentle and patient, two words you'd never use to describe The Master. You didn't even notice you'd been hyperventilating until he came around. His hand hovered near your wrists, his gaze flickering to it. “May I?”

He took your hand when you made no sound and guided it to where his hearts were. “You have to breathe for two heartbeats, hold in for two and breathe out for two.“ He instructed you. “Can you do that for me?”

You nodded frantically.

“Alright. You're doing great, beautiful.” The term of endearment didn't register to you while you were fighting for your breath.

Four beats passed: dum-dum, dum-dum. You followed his instructions, inhaling for four beats, holding for four beats and exhaling for four beats. You started repeating your actions. Eventually, your heart rate slowed and returned to its normal heartbeat.

How did he always know how to make you feel better?

Tears threatened to appear again as you thought about it; the most emotionally incapable person was here for you.

“How'd you know where I was?” Your voice cracked, the only evidence left of your breakdown.

“Would you believe me if I said I'm here purely by chance?”

Nothing was a coincidence in this life. You shook your head.

That earned you a chuckle from him. “Got me. Very well,” he straightened a bit, his hand let go of yours. “The Doctor called me, told me that you were upset and ran away. She was panicking. I didn't like that.”

He clarified, before you could smirk at him, “The 'you being upset and running away' part, not the 'The Doctor panicking' part. She could panic all day long, if she wishes to.“ He huffed and rolled his eyes.

It wasn't the first time he'd tracked you down. There was that time you'd gotten lost on New Earth, and he'd guided you back to the TARDIS, or another time when he'd used his TCE on a threat to you. The Master's intentions weren't exactly clear to you, however well- or ill-intentioned.

You noticed the birds were chirping again. You let out a deep breath.

“You want to talk about what upset you?” He coaxed, hoping to get you to open up to him. Usually you wouldn't, given the “being enemies” situation.

You asked a question in return, avoiding his question entirely. “You want to talk about how you're always there to save me?”

But The Master didn't relent. “Only if you tell me what happened. An answer for an answer,” he bartered.

Talking about your childhood trauma to a homicidal maniac, what was the worst that could happen?

Your eyes averted to the flowers planted on the grass; they were fresh daisies. The words lazily left your mouth before you could think about it. “Yaz started an argument. Made me remember my childhood, 's all,” you murmured, not sharing much beyond that.

He didn't seem to mind. If anything, his attention to you only seemed to increase. “You had a rough childhood?”

“I suppose so, yeah.”

“I-” Your voice wavered, “My parents worked all the time, you see. They were barely home, but when they were… Let's say it wasn't a party.”

That seemed to satisfy him enough, as he kept his mouth shut.

Both of you stared at the waterfall splashing continuously. There were also ducks in the water, grooming themselves.

His confession, his end of the bargain, came out of nowhere. “Essentially, you're my emotional support human.”

“Really?” You blinked, then you chuckled softly, clearly unsure what to make of that.

He smirked. “Clearly,” he cupped your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “You're the only one of her companions who's remotely interesting. Clearly I have good taste.”

“I am?”

He nodded and moved your head so it rested on his shoulder.

“Don't let them take your spark, buttercup. Alright?” The Master murmured.

You hummed at him and closed your eyes, forgetting about the world just for a while.