Child of the void (Doctor Who)

Part V - Prisoner?

How strange it had been to stand before my wardrobe, to decide what would be an appropriate outfit for something like that. In the end I had picked dark blue jeans, a red plaid shirt and a black hoodie. I had never been one for fashion anyway and now was not the time to start with it.

Where did the Doctor's confidence come from, I wondered. Diving head first into dangerous situations, smiling. I felt no joy and no excitement when I strode through the streets towards a place that might mean my end. Or worse.

The city was moderately tempered this time of the year, but since I had been walking a while now I slightly regretted the hoodie. There was a smudge on my glasses and I wiped them clean while watching the blurry people around me. Nothing indicated that they were scared or more careful than one would think. They chatted and laughed, went shopping and drank together in cafés.

Maybe they were just used to it by now. The planet's recent history - from the snippets I had gathered - hadn't been the easiest.

To my luck, the way wasn't far and not complicated either. Otherwise I would have gotten lost in this unfamiliar place faster than one could turn around. Maybe I took a bit longer than was strictly necessary, though and when I finally reached the broken monument, I was promptly met with armed guards. They wore a black, armoured suit and held machine guns, their eyes hidden by equally dark visors.

Well, fuck. But we had expected it. I slowly raised my hands and stood still, heart pounding madly in my chest. The Doctor had been absolutely certain that they would know my face and not shoot. I myself wasn't that sure, not at all. It took everything in me to keep my eyes open and even more not to turn around and flee.

I'm not a brave person, not at all. Doing this was as much out of character for me as anything could be. And yet I felt not the same kind of terror I was used to. It wasn't the same as during the years I had been almost literally crippled by social anxiety. It wasn't the same as being scared of doing anything wrong and fearing to get beaten or humiliated for it. It also wasn't the same as being scared while doing something incredibly dangerous and stupid; and that concerned me the most, because dangerous and stupid were exactly the words to describe this very situation.

"You will follow us and you will stay calm. Any hasty movement and we will shoot. Understood?"

One of the guards aimed their gun at me while the other spoke and I nodded. There was no use in fleeing the situation now, so I did what they demanded and walked a few steps behind them, my hands hanging loosely by my sides after they had started hurting. In movies it always looks like no big deal to hold your hands up for minutes, but it's really exhausting.

What a weird detail to think about.

Why the fuck was I not running?

Could my time with the Doctor and the others have made me like that? Could it have an effect on me still, even without remembering any of it?

We didn't walk far, only around the now crumbled and charred monument. It looked strangely innocent now, without the flames and the thick smoke hanging over its debris. Behind it rose another building in the air, the mansion the Doctor had mentioned. It stood proud, yet not too tall, more an afterthought compared to its surroundings. Or what was left of them. The flames had charred even this place; black trees now sat where green must have once dominated the garden.

I followed the guards inside without either of us ever losing a single word. What for anyway? They knew their orders and I knew my goal. And now that we had reached what looked like a spacious office they sharply saluted and then left.

The Master sat on the end of the table, one leg on the ground, the other propped up on a chair. A posture of casualness, but his look was piercing right through me. He wore black clothes and a leather jacket, almost casual and somehow it still managed to give him some sense of authority.