(Untitled)

[moldedoffaults]

William Masters has never been in the Nexus, but in the past two years of traveling he's seen many places, some of them far more exotic than the Nexus, and so he doesn't look particularly impressed by it. It looks like a nice enough place, he just doesn't see anything all that different about it. It's like many of the others

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[laser_not_sonic]

The Master has encountered men like William before, and as a rule, he disdains them utterly. Human, the remnants of some alternate Self forced into circumstances dire enough that use of a Chameleon Arch became necessary- or worse, some alternate Self whom the Doctor had decided would make a better life as a stunted ape than as a Time Lord.

So he regards William coolly, his attitude that of a landowner, perhaps, perusing a piece of property which doesn't quite come up to snuff. Because he is his, this man, he belongs to the Master, to his true self.

'Having trouble deciding?' he inquires, just the barest edge of nastiness lurking under the cool words.

[moldedoffaults]

William opens his eyes to respond and stops short, seeing the Master. He's had no experience with doppelgangers and the sight of him is unsettling, to say the least.

His mind has apparently decided he needed to confront himself, in the most straightforward way possibly. He's sure his doctor (not the one taking him across the universe, but the one back at the hospital, the real Doctor Smith) could psychobabble a better explanation, or at least a better sounding one, but at least he can see what's going on here.

"Yes." He hadn't mean to answer so bluntly, but he can't think to say anything else looking at the familiar face.

[laser_not_sonic]

For now, the Master keeps his distance, just watching, and the corner of his lip curls in a sneer. 'Didn't go quite so well with you, I see,' he mutters. He's thinking aloud, but he doesn't particularly care if William hears him.

Lips pursed and eyebrows delicately raised, he lifts his chin, meeting the man's eyes. 'And which one are you now?'

[moldedoffaults]

William straightens up under the Master's gaze. He doesn't like the way he's being watched but despite that -- or maybe because of it -- he doesn't look away. He hears the quiet comment, but he doesn't say anything in response, though confusion registers on his face momentarily.

He considers the question briefly before running a hand through his hair with a sigh and a shake of his head. "At the moment, neither, but usually, happy."

[laser_not_sonic]

It's a morbid fascination that keeps the Master's eye pinned on him. A sort of magnetic disgust that leads him to want to examine him, peel him apart to see who this sad little... screensaver of a man thinks he is.

'The happy madman, hmm? And why not happy now-?' He pauses when he realises that he can't employ the proper, mocking addition of the man's name to the end of that, and sighs, before drawling, 'I suppose you must have a name.'

[moldedoffaults]

"William Masters."

He glances around before returning his gaze to the Master with a wry smile. "Why not now? Well, this conversation for one. I thought by now my subconscious was a little more subtle than to try this route. Besides, are thoughts like this generally happy things?"

[laser_not_sonic]

Masters? Oh, come on, Doctor- because it has to be the Doctor, the Master wouldn't botch up something like this himself- couldn't you come up with anything better than that? But then, he is the wonder who goes around calling himself John Smith, so perhaps originality is a bit much to ask for.

William's making an effort to act as if this is all normal- as if he's normal- but the Master can tell better than that, and he chuckles. 'What, you think I'm a hallucination? Couldn't be more the reverse, Billy-boy; I'm the realest thing you'll ever meet.'

[moldedoffaults]

William has a tendency to forget to use his last name, to forget it even exists on some days, but nobody got much choice in the matter. His name is one of the last fights the Master managed to put up, the only name his mind would allow for his new identity.

He raises an eyebrow at the comment. This is another new trick. While there have been moments with Doctor Smith where he starts in on something more, usually, his hallucinations never outright deny that they are, in fact, hallucinations. "Right, of course. People meet strangers with their face in rooms that weren't supposed to be there all the time. How silly of me to think otherwise."

[laser_not_sonic]

'They do here,' the Master corrects casually, widening his eyes in a fashion that's either comical or quite mad. Possibly both. 'Multiversal nexus, anything can happen.'

And speaking of not supposed to be there... Scrutinising, the Master walks a slow circle around William, one fingertip trailing over the curve of a shoulder as he finishes it off. 'You, for example,' says the Master, drawing the syllables out in a continuation of his words from before, as if he'd never fallen silent. 'Human, William Masters. Mad, and occasionally happy. And what else? Oh, he is going to pay hell for this.'

[moldedoffaults]

Multiversal nexus? He's not going to comment, not even going to think on it. Fine. Now he has a label for it.

He shudders at the touch but other than that stands perfectly still, almost unnaturally still, watching the Master's circle out of the corner of his eye for as much of it as he can.

"I don't," he starts, his voice faltering, but he clears his throat and he sounds normal again when he finishes, if uncertain. "I don't know what you mean. What else? And who's he?"

[laser_not_sonic]

'The Doctor,' he bites out, lading the name with a millenia of devoted venom. 'The do-gooding idiot who thought it'd be a good idea to turn me into you.'

That reaction from William, though, that's good, even with the Master's anger. He should fear the Master. He should know him, and oh, he just bets he does, somewhere under there. Chameleon Arches never could compensate for occasional memory or personality leakthrough, and certainly not in a man like William Masters, by his own definition not precisely compos mentis.

The circle finishes, and the Master stands in front of William once again, but closer this time, enough that it might begin to be uncomfortable.

[moldedoffaults]

"Which doctor? I've experience with plenty of them."

William leans against the arm of the couch again to gain a little more distance. He's never liked touch or closeness, not even after he left the hospital, and he doesn't like this man. There's something about him that makes him think of nights in the hospital, lying there catatonic, listening to voices whisper things he could never remember once he started to move.

"And who, exactly, are you?" he adds after a moment, not sure he wants the answer.

[laser_not_sonic]

'Definite article, William. Not one of your average shrinks.'

Catlike, the Master closes in as William backs away, and his question prompts a smile with far too many teeth. 'And I think you know who I am.'

Quick, far faster than human reflexes, the Master's hand darts to William's temple, applying just the barest of touches with index and middle finger. It's absurdly easy to get into the man's mind, slipping in like diving into water, opening a door left ajar, and the Master floods his mind with the sound of his drums. That his who he is, William Masters.

[moldedoffaults]

He has questions still, he has questions about almost everything the man has said, but then the Master touches him and the drums fill his mind and everything else stops.

He knows that sound so well. The Master in his mind barely registers -- the feel of someone in his mind has been too familiar for too long without him knowing what it was for him to question the sensation now, especially next to the presence of that sound. The drums are familiar and unpleasant company, preceding and echoing through violent streaks and slides into catatonic states. It's not that he's free of them exactly, but it's been weeks since he's heard them for more than a moment, years since they've filled his mind like this.

"No." Out loud it's a denial, firm and unwavering, but in his head it echoes, an angry scream.

[laser_not_sonic]

'Yes.'

Never mind what he says, the Master can hear that scream, and oh, he thinks it good. He deserves it, this little upstart, for even daring to exist; he needs reminding of who he really is. The Master can feel, lethargic and buried in the back of his mind, some twisted remnants of himSelf, but that's all that's there; the rest of him will be locked away in a Chameleon Arch somewhere. Playing pet rock to the Doctor, most likely.

The Master's other fingers curl around to the back of William's neck, his thumb pressing hard into his cheekbone, and the drums thunder on, relentless. The call to war, neverending, the sound of blood and fire and death, thrumming against the inside of the Master's skull, and he lets William see all the cruel relish he takes in them, lets him see the Year, and before that, Logopolis and the Nestenes and planet after planet which had fallen to the Master's hand.

'My name, William.' His voice is nearly a whisper, a delicate, deadly purr. 'Do you know it?'

[moldedoffaults]

His eyes close as the Master's fingers press into his skin, his jaw tight, his hands absently twisting the fabric of his shirt between his fists. Images assault him, some with a familiar face, almost every one with faces that feel as though they ought to be familiar but aren't.

William's mind is open for anything the Master wants to see; he has no mental block and even if he could block at all, he couldn't stand against a determined Time Lord. All of it is there for the taking with the least attempt: the decade he remembers in the hospital, the utter blank concerning anything before that, his life at home when he was happy and sane with just one hallucination, the past two years of stars and space and planets and the Doctor and his ship.

He almost misses the question and, when it registers, he shakes his head. Maybe he should, maybe somewhere in there he does but he won't give the other the satisfaction of hearing yes. It feels like giving in and William is many things, but he's never been somebody who gives in easily.