Date: 2007-10-07 04:47 am (UTC)
“I think it suits me,” the Doctor murmurs coolly.

He hardly feels safe here, in this unknown place with its broken lines and changed rules, but the stakes are different now, the anti is lower and his own hand is higher –and when did he start thinking in poker metaphors? Jackie and her love of George Clooney, probably…– And he knows that look in the Master’s eyes and she’s not the person he should be thinking about now, but it’s too late because the Master is there.

The Doctor throws up walls so fast and so hard he makes himself dizzy, and he scrabbles vainly with the other –outside their minds his hands, too, catch at the flesh and blood fingers against his temples– for a few moments before he’s pushed back and clawed aside and the Master’s grabbed something beautiful and –golden and– sacred from one of the most private parts of his mind.

Let her go, he snarls.
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A world of laughter. A world of tears. A world of hope. A world of fears.

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