Walk The Earth: Doctor Who/Studio C [Book 2]

Winding Down

Winding Down

Blue, blue caravan / Won't you drive away all of these tears? / For my true love is a man / That I haven't seen in years / He said, "Go where you have to, / For I belong to you, until my dying day."/ So like a fool, blue caravan, I believed him / And I walked away. -Vienna Teng, 'Blue Caravan'

A/N: Okay, really long author's note on this one. First is a warning: this chapter was... let's go with 'distinctly uncomfortable' to write. Matt and the Master are face to face and that was never gonna be pretty. Between that and depending on how squicky you find non-consensual telepathy, you may want to gloss over the last section of this chapter (after the second breakpoint.) I'll leave that up to your own discretion. I'll put a summary at the bottom if you don't want to read it.

Secondly, quick updating regarding my schedule—I'm working on a much cheerier Mattory short story for Wattpad's #fromtheheart contest which is why things have slowed down over here again. But, good news! Once that's finished I'm throwing myself right back into WTE, and we should only have one or two chapters left before the final episode, Last of the Time Lords. I'm going to write that episode out in its entirety before I start posting and give it to you guys in very short succession to make up for my previously sloth-like updates, so once that first chapter comes up, brace yourselves!

He'd failed again.

It was the only thought Matt could hold in his head as he struggled to put one foot in front of the other, Barton shoving him forward without preamble or regard for his injured leg.

Another chance to save her, lost. Though it had been almost an entire year since he'd laid eyes on the Master—waking or sleeping—the Time Lord's words rang in his head. Those four months of nightmares, he feared, had imprinted them in his mind for good.

Barton urged him, none-too-gently, down the stairs and past Sneed's unmoving body. Matt tried to look away but only found that image, too, forcibly at the forefront of his mind.

Too much had happened in such a short time.

Now, though, above the rest of his torturous thoughts, one stayed at the surface. Keep her safe. Give her time. If what ever he did now gave Mallory enough time to get away, he could not regret it.

"Not even going to put up a fight, are you?" Barton sneered. "How disappointing."

Matt almost wished it was still Rath on his tail—at least he hadn't had nearly a foot and at least a hundred pounds on him that Barton did, mountain of a man he was. Not that even the possibility of an even fight would have helped him now, not with half a dozen guns on him and cold steel digging into his wrists.

"Where's the girl, boss?"

Barton eyed the man who had spoken for a moment, before shrugging nonchalantly. "Ask him."

"Like I'd tell you."

Barton ignored him for a moment, ordering his men to stop dawdling and resume the search, before turning back to Matt. "Sure, we'd prefer her, but I think you'll tell us what we need to know soon enough."

"Again, you seem to be under the impression that I ever would." Come on, Mal, get yourself out of here.

"To me? No." Barton smirked. "But you'll tell the Master."

"Will I?"

"Whether you like it or not."

Matt swallowed hard and kept moving.