Child of the void (Doctor Who)

Part IV (VII)

A/N: Whooops... is it really been that long since the last chapter? *cough*

I've been on a holiday for one of those weeks and didn't write a single word... :VAnd now it's hot outside and my body hates me. But here we are!!!!!!!!!!

A long shower helped only half as much as I had hoped. The smell of smoke and the feeling of soot on my skin still lingered. Not literally, of course, but that didn't matter.

We had fled through the still smouldering ruins the explosion had created. The area wasn't that big, but the damage painted it clearly into my mind. The Doctor had tried to sonic the surroundings to see where the Master might have gone, but it was no use. There had been too much static noise. Whatever that might be.

All we could do now was to wait and hope he would show himself again.

Waiting.

I sighed at the mirror in my bathroom and wiped away the coating of humidity, only to stare at the ever changing and moving mark that sat on my chest, mocking me with its presence and the unsolved mystery behind it.

Void particles. A place that held nothing itself. But how could nothing decide to form a circle? How could it burn itself into skin? I placed a hand over the symbol, trying to feel anything. But it neither had texture, nor did it emanate any form of perceivable energy. And, as always when I did this, the slight purple colour seemed to be a little brighter for some seconds.

There was nothing left to do but to get some rest. The room invited me with its cool temperature, perfect for snuggling under the blankets and getting comfy.

I couldn't sleep.

Of course I couldn't. Stupid of me to even try. After an hour of tossing and turning I slipped out from under the covers again and... stopped.

There had been a thought in my head, an idea. Something so automatic that I hadn't even questioned it. To go to the Master's room. To bug him for a while, as if I had done this already. Many times, in fact.

A memory?

Maybe more of a habit. I ran a hand over my face and tried to conjure up more, only to be met with a headache. Groaning, I fell back into the cushions, waiting for the pain to ebb away. I could go nowhere. Donna slept, surely exhausted by the day's events and the Doctor... as much as he tried to be kind and understanding, I never quite felt understood by him. A barrier too high or maybe too strange lay between us. And right now the only thing I wanted was to be understood. And there gnawed a feeling on my insides that I had experienced exactly that. Once, although I had been convinced that it was impossible.

But tonight I would not find any comfort.