The Unexpected Hero

Break Ins and Foot Massages

I left Lacey's place with a mega-watt smile on my face. I can't believe I flew the Tardis! Without crossing our time lines or something. I seem to remember that that is something you should never do, because then you cancel yourself out? Or something?

I directed my steps back to my apartment, the one that cost me an arm and a leg, but I loved it to bits.

I stopped and bent over to slip my heels off, hooking them over the fore finger of my right hand. Then I continued to walk on my bare, very sore and aching feet.

I approached the stairs leading to my apartment with caution, knowing full well what the shadows could hide, or better yet, what the shadows themselves were capable of. I fumbled around in my handbag, searching for my keys, eventually finding them right down the bottom where they usually managed to worm their way by the end of each long day. I don't know why I wasn't used to it by now.

I found the right key, approaching the door with it held out in front of me like a weapon. The sound of the snick the keys made when they turned in the lock was satisfying, allowing me the comforting knowledge that no one but me had come and gone today while I was out.

So it was understandable that I panicked a little when I realised that the lights were on in the lounge room, when they shouldn't have been.

I grabbed an umbrella from the umbrella stand, hoping it would do to scare off any potential attackers.

Why was there singing coming from the lounge room? Especially in a man's voice, considering I no longer owned any cds, let alone one with a man singing, rapping sure. But not singing. And this voice was far too deep to even remotely resemble Neyo's voice.

I reached with a shaking hand to turn the knob on the door to my lounge room, and turned it. Pressing an eye to the subsequent gap that this revealed, I allowed a tiny gasp to escape my lips that were slackened with shock at the sight before me.

What was the Master doing here? Especially with his shop as the backdrop to his extraordinarily melodic singing?

Silently, I closed the door and returned the umbrella to the umbrella stand, relieved I hadn't rashly attacked the Master, considering he probably had a quite reasonable explanation for being here.

I took a deep breath to calm my frazzled nerves, then spun on my heel and tried to walk more confidently in the direction of the lounge room.

As my eyes were directed at my feet, I has no warning except for the snick of the door and then the potentially terrifying feeling of strong arms around me. Then I realised it was the Master and I snuggled closer.

"I was so worried about you!" the Master's arms tightened around me, and I could barely breathe, but I didn't mind.

"Why is your shop here?" I asked, my voice muffled by his chest.

"Oh. Ahh, it's my Tardis, only spelt backwards, to blend in better. The perception filter wouldn't work if it had such a well known name," he explained, his hold gradually loosening as he realised that I didn't mind his sudden appearance here.

"What do you say when people ask you what SIDRAT means, normally?" I asked, as his arms loosened enough for me to step out of his arms entirely and lead the way to the lounge room, even though he already knew.

"Just some bullshit explanation about how I had a dog called that or something."

I laughed as I walked into the lounge room, collapsing onto the couch to give my poor sore feet a break. The Master sat down next to me, much more gracefully.

I tucked my feet up under me, hoping to ease the ache in them, under the pretense of looking more graceful.

"Do your feet hurt?" the Master asked softly. "I can get some cream for them if you want?"

Oh my god, he is so amazing! "Yes please," I practically moaned.

He chuckled and got to his feet, heading straight for the bathroom, like he'd lived here his whole life. I tried to find it creepy, but couldn't. I mean, he was offering to massage my feet! Who is their right mind would complain about that? Not me, thats for sure.

He walked back in, a container of hand cream in his hand, a grossed out expression on his face. "Do you know how much weird stuff you have in your cabinet?!" he asked, clearly hyperventilating.

"No, not really. Half of it is from my old roommate who forgot to take it with her when she moved out," I answered, laughing at his facial expression. "What did you see in there anyway?"

"You don't want to know," he said ominously, shuddering in disgust as he sat down beside me. "Are you ready for the best foot massage you'll ever have?" he imitated a commentator's voice, causing me to laugh as he pulled my feet into his lap.

I lay back on the couch, readjusting the cushions so I would be more comfortable. Then I closed my eyes and relaxed, waiting.

The sensation of the cold hand cream touching my feet nearly made me kick the Master in the face, but he preempted my movement and grabbed my feet an inch before his face.

"Spoilsport," I muttered, knowing he would hear.

He chuckled and rubbed the cream into my feet thoroughly, warming both my feet and the cream. And me, he was warming me with each rhythmic stroke of his hands on my feet.

My head fell back and I let him soothe me into a deep sleep.