On the tables were the unconscious forms of the two Doctors
The Master had already taken their outer garments from them, tossing the scarves, great coats, hats, coats, and blue velvet waistcoats in an unobtrusive corner.
The Doctors bound electronically, with no visible constraints, lay sprawled on the wide tables on their backs, their bodies stretched out spread eagle.
As the two personae slowly came to, their gazes were riveted on a single spot directly above them.
"Hullo, anyone about?" the Doctor inquired to the ceiling.
"Yes Doctor," the little Doctor replied. "Are you unhurt?" She also addressed the ceiling.
"Yes, I think so, though there is much of me I can't see. And I can't see any of you." The Doctor attempted a struggle. "Ah, I don't seem to be able to move much of anything either."
"That's a big ten four, Doctor."
"Oh dear," the Doctor sighed deeply.
"Doctor?" the little Doctor asked greatly concerned.
"My nose itches!"
"What a terrible itch. But things could be infinitely worse. You could require the services of a necessary room."
The Doctor crinkled his nose. "I told you to make that pit stop before we left!" he griped.
"I did," the little Doctor balked. "That was only an attempt to make light conversation."
"Hump," the Doctor snorted. "Very light." He struggled again. "If only ... I could ... move ..." he strained. "Enough to get to my sonic screwdriver. Maybe then I could short circuit this force field that apparently has us ...
Chuckling softly, interrupting him, the Master thrust two sonic screwdrivers in his face.
"Oh dear, bad plan," the Doctor sighed.
"Anything to do with us recognizing that laugh?" the little Doctor asked.
"A pair of black leather gloves is in possession of not one, but two sonic screwdrivers."
The Master laughed, tucking them into his dark cloak.
"So much for the up front, direct approach type arrest," the little Doctor sighed. "I suppose it is a bit too late for subterfuge, hey, Doc?"
"Oh, yes old girl, quite. If one is to use deviousness successfully, one must start with it."
"Did you truly expect me to come willingly to Gallifrey with you, my dear?" the Master hissed. "I have no desire to follow in the footsteps of Morbius."
The little Doctor crinkled her tiny nose. "That was the plan, Master, to save us all much sorrow and effort."
"But my dear Lady of Time, due to the company you keep, your sorrow and effort have only begun."
Turning abruptly the Master was confounded. "As for you Doctor, I killed you, you regenerated! Yet here you are hounding me still!"
"Just can't seem to stop myself," the Doctor replied tersely.
"Then it will be up to me to see that you turn from this tumultuous life of constant strife, Doctor," the Master insisted.
The Doctor shrugged. "Needn't go to any trouble on my account, Master."
"Oh, no trouble at all, Doctor," the Master grinned. "I'm really rather enjoying this."
"I bet you are. Humiliating me has always been your second favorite indoor sport."
At the Doctor's implication the Master grinned widely, turning towards this intriguing female.
He was very interested in this newest of companions.
The Master slowly walked towards her. "As for you my dear, as ridiculous as the Doctor's attire has always looked on him ..." the Master glared towards the Doctor.
His eyes journeyed back to the female. "I find it twice as repugnant on you."
Obviously the Master's own dapper dress sense was deeply offended by the white braces, festooned with blue question marks, worn by the two.
"So everybody's a critic these days," the little Doctor sighed. "You have something against knickers and argyle socks? They were good enough for George Washington."
The Doctor giggled in spite of himself.
"Who?" the Master glared with his question.
He shook his head. "No matter. More to the point, who are you?" he demanded.
"Correct," she answered flatly.
"What?" the Master's eyebrows narrowed.
"No, not What, Who, The Doctor Who at your service," she iterated, with formal emphasis.
The Doctor snickered, finding it hard to contain himself.
The Master growled, turning towards the Doctor. "Silence, Doctor," he hissed a warning.
The Doctor stifled himself, but his brain continued its silent recall.
He'd given up referring to himself as Doctor Who centuries ago. After first going through all the puzzled expressions and jokes. Since then, he'd simply been the Doctor. Apparently this regeneration had rediscovered the name game, and saw it as a challenge all over again. Well, it was her regeneration, the Doctor reflected, he, just the court appointed body guard, he continued his thoughts in silence.
The Master turned back towards the little Doctor, clearing his throat. "As for you Madame, do not try to confound me. You will find it detrimental to your long life and well being. Who are you?"
"Go ... away," she sighed. "For once just let us die in peace, all right?"
The Master was enraged.
Stepping closer he slapped her across the face, leaving the reddened imprint of his gloved hand on her cheek. "Answer me straight girl, or you'll regret it," he threatened.
The little Doctor, by now quite bored with the Master's outbursts,. chose to ignore him. Her soft, hazel eyes slowly closed.
No longer patient with the little Doctor's noncompliance, the Master punched a button on a small wrist device sending painful shock waves through out her slender body.
The little Doctor grimaced. "Oh," she forced a breath. Through clenched teeth she spat the words at him. "Very well I'm tweedle-dee, he's tweedle-dum ... dumb dumb!"
"All right my dear, have it your way," the Master replied, very calmly punching in a sequence that only increased the level of her pain.
Though she hadn't planned on it little Doctor began to scream!
The Doctor closed his eyes, wishing in his hearts he were able to so easily close his ears.
"No!" the little Doctor cried out, fighting doggedly against the continued onslaught. But in time, the pain proved too intense. "All right ... already," she gasped. "You win. Doctor ... Doc ... tor!" she choked out her whispered name.
The Master spoke very softly, with a velvet smoothness. "He is powerless to assist you, my dear. So why not make it easy on yourself. A simple question. Who are you?"
"Master!" the Doctor angrily interrupted. "You misunderstand. Her response was not a call of assistance, it was her admission!"
The Master looked puzzled, glancing from the Doctor to the gasping companion.
"Doc ... tor. Doc ... tor," the little Doctor muttered, trying to remain conscious. What more did he want from her?
But her ongoing struggle proved mercifully brief.
All at once, the little Doctor lie still, silenced by the strength of the Master's newest toy.
The Master turned from her with a growl, and a hiss of disgust.
Directing his wrath towards the Doctor now, he aggravated punched off the wrist controller. "Your companion foolishly refuses to answer a simple question Doctor, so perhaps I can persuade you to answer for her."
"What would be the point?" the Doctor said dejectedly. "She did answer you. Several times. Is it our fault you won't believe her?"
"Though you do it very well, don't play the fool with me, Doctor. And do not try to make me out to be the fool."
"I don't have to do either," the Doctor sighed. "You do well enough ... solo."
The Master started to angrily direct his wrist device at the Doctor, when he heard the little Doctor moan.
The sounds of her returning consciousness gave him another idea.
The Master grinned in sinister anticipation.
The Doctor sighed deeply, grateful he didn't have to face the Master's device, at least for the moment., But his concern quickly turned to this other self.
"Look into my eyes child," the Master soothed. "Deeply into my eyes."
"Why would I wish to do something as stupid as that, Master?" the little Doctor answered flatly.
The Doctor caught the chuckle in his throat, before it could escape his lips, and get him even further into trouble than be already was.
Closing her eyes, the little Doctor quickly threw up a mental barrier against the expert hypnotist.
As the Master continued to concentrate on her, assaulting her consciousness, he abruptly turned to the Doctor, dripping with venom. "Stop it! Back off Doctor! Quit shielding her with your mind!"
The Doctor was at first puzzled, but quickly realized the reason for the Master's wrath, and grinned. As the little Doctor had stated earlier, they were basically the same mind, even if there were a couple of subtle differences in it.
"But I'm not doing anything, Master, honest Injun!" said the Doctor very sincerely. And he would have crossed both his hearts, had he been able.
"Yes, your are! I'm reading nothing but your thoughts, Doctor!" the Master screamed. "I'm receiving nothing but impressions from you!"
The Doctor found it hard to contain his smile. "Of course, what else would you expect from, the Doctor, but the Doctor's mind?"
The Master growled.
Angrily he punched the button on his wrist device hurling the Doctor into a fitful spasm of pain.
The little Doctor lay so near the Doctor, and yet was helpless to assist him. Even though her body maintained an even temperature of sixty degrees Fahrenheit, she felt as though her blood was boiling, being forced to listen the Doctor's anguished cries. The little Doctor knew in her twin hearts the Doctor must have felt the very same emotions when their roles had been reversed ... was it only a hand full of minutes before?
The Doctor fought against the unyielding ripping of his mind until he too was unable to continue.
And he too lay still and silent.
The little Doctor knew, he like her before, had been forced to retreat within. The little Doctor chuckled at the old parody. "A waist is a terrible thing to mind!"
The Master, seething, turned towards the little Doctor.
"You're quite alone now, my dear and powerless against me, so again I ask you: who are you? And how does this persona of the Doctor still exist?"
"I've often wondered the same about you, Master," she egged him. "Last time we parted company, I'd just made a mess of the Matrix, and you should have come out of it pretty well minced. Both you and the Valeyard (my keening clever twelfth persona) that is."
The Master looked at her intently. Her knowledge of the affair between he, the Valeyard, and the Doctor was uncanny. Yet, what she and the Doctor were suggesting was impossible. It was then the Master realized, they were trying to throw in a Norfolk capon, for reasons known only to the two.
"Answer me straight girl, or I promise to shred your mind into a million fibers!" the Master promised.
"Pish-posh, I've heard it all before," the little Doctor said wearily.
"Then hear it all again!" the Master screamed.
"Why?" the little Doctor screamed back. "You obviously won't believe me or the truth!"
The Master snarled. "Try me."
"I am the one called, Doctor. For one regeneration I called myself the Valeyard. Actually, to be more specific, I am Theta Sigma of the College of Prydonians ... citizen of Gallifrey ... a Time Lord ... the former President of the High Council ... and considered by some a renegade."
"Very entertaining, my dear." The Master applauded her. "But your story has one flaw in it."
"Only one ... must be improving," she mocked.
"You are a female."
"Who blabbed? Actually, no matter, that matter you'll have to riddle out with Rassilon himself."
"Rassilon?" The Master's eyes narrowed. "What has Rassilon to do with this?"
"Oh ... just that he's the one who had the nerve to tamper with my last regeneration to begin with: with this, ah, me, being the result. Rassilon by the way, is also the one responsible for the cloning of my companion. Sort of a 'Dolly' Doctor."
"So ... you aren't in violation of either the First Law of Time, or the Second Law of Time?"
"No ... not this time."
"Very neat ... very tidy little story, my dear," the Master contemplated. "A spin as complex, and worthy, of one of my own. But a lie nonetheless."
"Grrr ... I'm not lying!" she screamed in frustration.
The Master looked at her thoughtfully; and chuckled as it occurred to him. She was lying ... laying on the table ... actually.
The Master started to speak again, when he heard the Doctor moan.
"Doctor, are you all right?" the little Doctor asked anxiously.
"No, but I am alive, so I shouldn't complain, Doctor," he mused.
The Master looked first to one, and then to the other, trying to riddle out just what really was going on.
Punching a few buttons on his wrist device, the Master backed away from the two, withdrawing his T. C. E., aiming it at point between the two.
Very quickly the two Doctors discovered they were no longer bound.
The Doctor grinned. "I can move, I can move!"
"Said Sutekh from the tomb," the little Doctor added in a gravelly voice. Pouting, she had to agree. "And apparently so can I."
The little Doctor turned her head towards the companion. "You 0. OK., Doc?"
"Yes. But I would fare even better if you would stop calling me, Doc!" he blustered.
The Doctor carefully stood, offering his hands in assistance to the little Doctor.
Slowly tugging her to her feet, his stern countenance dissolved into a crooked smile. "Here, let me assist you, Doc," he said with a sigh, as if the effort on his part was considerable.
"Move Time Lords," the Master commanded, embellishing his weapon.
"Of course, Master," the Doctor bowed.
The little Doctor looked at him puzzled, she was primed and ready for a fight.
"Well," the Doctor sighed, rubbing his nose. "He does have the Tissue Compression Eliminator, Doctor."
The Master had directed the two to a sparsely decorated chamber.
"All right Doctor, be so good as to place your companion's
wrists in the manacles," the Master instructed.
The Doctor obeyed without argument, or question.
"Now your own," the Master insisted.
"But of course," the Doctor nodded, complying.
"Satisfactory?" he shook the manacles at the Master.
The Master checked the Doctor's wrists carefully. Then moved to
the little Doctor.
"Very good, Doctor," he said, lightly stroking the little
Doctor's cheek.
The little Doctor drew back at the Master's touch.
The Master laughed in her face.
Turning at The Way Out, the Master grinned. "Know I shall
return, Time Lords."
The Master was as big with his exits, as his entrances, the
little Doctor ruefully observed in silence.
Once they were alone the Doctor remarked. "Strange, he doesn't
look anything like General Mac Arthur."
The little Doctor smiled wanly. Hopelessly at the disadvantage
the Doctor was still trying to cheer her.
For a long time there was silence between the two.
Finally, the little Doctor looked up to the bound companion
across from her. "Doctor?"
"Yes?"
"Why were we so cooperative?"
"Because I have a plan."
"A plan?" The little Doctor's face brightened. "Splendid. Would you be so kind as to share it with me, old thing?"
"Why of course, older thing. Just as soon as I finish formulating it."
"Aup!" she stormed. Then she realized. "Yes, I know, I know, that's the way with plans. They come to you a bit at a time."
The Doctor smiled warmly, nodding. His face then sobered.
Already the little Doctor's cheek was bruised from the Master's attack, and that made him both sick at hearts, and furious. The Master had no right to touch her. Let alone ...
Meanwhile the Master had returned to his gaming room.
With his eyes intent on the storage monitor, the Master was
delighted with the knowledge that the indicator had risen slightly. "Slow and steady, Doctor. Slow and steady will assuredly win
this race."
Hanging by the bonds, the little Doctor looked over at the companion.
"So how goes the plan?" she asked curiously.
The Doctor nodded his head evasively. "Oh coming along ..."
"Ever so slowly ..." the little Doctor interrupted. "You think I can just hang round like this forever? Doctor, it's beginning to smart the
wattles!" She sighed deeply. "Oh well," she brightened. "When beset with such odds and obstacles, we shouldn't be at each other's throats. Why not let Zygons be Zygons?"
The Doctor grimaced. "Oh, Sarah Jane was right, as the situation worsens, so do your jokes."
"Ah, ha!" the little Doctor cried. "But she said that to you!"
The Doctor glared. "Don't be so pedantic. At the time you were me!"
He shook his head, as if he were dizzy.
The Doctor then returned his mind to his mental task.
"What are you doing now?" the little Doctor continued to pester.
The Doctor looked at her very miffed for breaking his concentration, a second time. "Thinking. Thinking of ways to ... You should try it sometime."
"You really think you can think yourself out of these things?" she asked, rattling the manacles. "That trick never works." Then she remembered. "Of course," she sulked. "It did sort of work on Metebelis-3."
"Yes, it did," he hissed.
"But you had this most marvelous head of woolly white hair then." The little Doctor shook her head. "Don't think it will ..."
"What do you think I have now?" the Doctor interrupted, screeching.
She continued to shake her head. "Too many auburn highlights, still."
"Dokk-tor," the Doctor hissed, glaring at her menacingly.
"Oh, all right, being as you have your hearts set on it, go ahead and try. At least it will keep your mind busy while our bodies
s ... l ... o ... w ... l ... y die."
"Dokk-tor," he narrowed his eyes, repeating the Sontaran sounding threat. "You're provoking me."
"I know," she beamed. "Ain't it fun?"
The Doctor continued to glare at her.
The little Doctor snickered. But her expression quickly softened. "I'm sorry ol' chap," she began to apologize. "Please continue. I solemnly promise to expire in silence."
"I would appreciate it, ol' bean," he retorted with a snort.
"Best I leave you alone ... in case we ever do get out of here."
The Doctor chuckled, in spite of himself; finally resuming his mental exercise, only to have it rudely interrupted a third time.
This time however, the source was anything but friendly.
The Master walked over to the little Doctor, gruffly undoing her bonds. "This way," the Master gestured with his T. C. E.
Rubbing her wrists and shoulders the little Doctor slowly moved towards the doorway. "Where are we going?" she asked icily.
"To find out who you are, my dear," the Master said, with his commanding air, bowing curtly.
She stopped dead in her tracks. "Again?" The little Doctor whirled round. "But I told you that already!"
"I said move!" The Master shoved her, forcing her into the corridor, keeping the T. C. E. leveled at her. "Do you think you're my
only concern?"
"Divide and conquer, Master?" the Doctor heard her say. "Well, it won't work," the little Doctor's voice insisted.
"At least we hope not," whispered the Doctor.
The concern on his face was reflected well in his voice. "Tread gently, little self," he entreated. "The Master is not to be taken lightly. Especially when he does discover who you are. And uncovering that fact, if it is left up to him, you'll never make old bones."
With nothing else left to him, the Doctor returned to his sums.