The Notorious Child

Later – much, much later – when the worst of the grief has eased and she begins to think logically again, the Doctor wonders whether she ought to have seen it coming. Whether Gallifrey wrote its own destruction into the psyche of a child.

Its most notorious child.

If nuture is as responsible as nature, then it surely did. She knows. She was there. It's possible she should have done something, but she was a child herself. Children the universe over are raised to believe that adults are right, that they know what they're doing. She was no different.

And neither was the Master.

His tone haunts her. The look on his face. She needs to know what he could have discovered that would break him like that, but at the same time she's afraid of it. Twice before she's seen the result of Gallifrey's manipulation of him – the betrayal which turned him into the very thing they'd tried to avoid, and their poor attempt at control during the Time War – but both fade in comparison with this. She's never seen him so far gone.

He could be beyond her reach, and that frightens her even more. At least he'd been focused on Rassilon last time, and the damage limited to the Lord President and himself. The Doctor assumes that's where Missy came from. She's not completely sure.

That's a wholly different riddle, and not one that truly needs solving. The Timeless Child, on the other hand, very much does. No matter how much the answer scares her.

Her thoughts spiral back to the hologram message. His expression. His eyes.

"They deserved it."

There'd been no glee. Just hurt and anger and grief. She needs to know more, but he's the only one with answers and right now he's beyond her. Not just physically, but mentally. Emotionally. Still so much the damaged child Gallifrey made him, over and over, and perhaps the Council did deserve its fate.

The children hadn't. She can't forget the children.

She can't forgive him the children, even if she can the rest.

He'll escape the netherworld. It's jst a matter of time. Like their paths crossing again. She'll need the answers before then. To be prepared, if such a thing is possible. Her fingers touch the disc. Close around it.

She is not alone. This time she knows it from the outset, and abruptly recalls the moment she told him that Gallifrey was gone. He'd handled it better than she had. Not a helpful thought, but one that was still true. She has been a little hypocritical.

Her eyes focus on the console. If she's to understand what happened, she needs to unravel his lies. Begining with O. There'll be files. A history. He'll have left breadcrumbs, because he's too arrogant not to.

Too desperate – she knows he needs her to understand, as much as it pains him. She shakes her head. Forces a smile because she's suddenly very aware of Graham watching her, and seeing more than she'd like. Whatever she does, she'll have to do it on the side. It means lying to the people she loves, but the alternative could be worse. She throws the handbrake with one hand.

The other remains tightly wrapped around the disc.