Not The Kind of Reunion

Not The Kind of Reunion

“Um,” he said, “hello!”

Nyssa turned around at those words and slowly stepped backwardly away from her tormenter whilst shooting him that ice-cold glare that he was afraid of: “Hello?” she said through her teeth working her way slowly to a basic clay pot. Taking a deep breath, she closed her fingers around the body and picked it up: “HELLO!” she yelled throwing it at him, he flinched as some clay wound up on the top of his velvet shoulder, before he had time to clean himself up she picked up another and threw that at him: “HELLO!” she shouted again emphasising the o with a third smashed pot in his direction. “HOW!” smash, “DARE!” crash, “YOU!” clonk! That last sound caught the Master off guard as Nyssa picked up a very nice looking glass object … “YOU!” she was about to throw that too but the Master lunged at her wrist and managed to wrestle it out of her hand before she could. It did not stop her stride though as, with her free hand, Nyssa picked up another clay thing and smashed it on top of his head! The Master buckled but he had managed to save the only beautiful object (Nyssa aside) in this mud hut: “KILLED!” she kicked his shins as he had grabbed her other wrist to stop her from throwing things at him as well as not to land in a heap on the floor: “MY FATHER!” The Master held her wrists gently whilst they clenched around them he pulled her down on the floor and just as the Master thought she was subdued she bent her head and dug her teeth in deep inside his flesh, causing him to release her grip enough for her to break a clay plate. Nyssa picked a particularly lethal looking shard and brandished it as a weapon: “MY PLANET!” she continued yelling. Now the Master tried to stand up but she was not to let that happen with a snarl she aimed for his groin with her knee as her hands held his shoulders down: “and you have the audacity to behave like none of it happened?” she sneered in his ear as she now gazed into his eyes before pushing him on the floor with one last act of contempt as she spat in his face before standing on his abdomen waving his TCE in his face, “and this,” she hissed, “is trash!” she exclaimed making him watch as she threw it at the far wall - a few sparks of electricity sizzled and flashed as it landed on the floor. “Now lets see how big you really are!” she smirked.

Stepping on the Master’s body she walked over him digging her heel where she knew it would cause the most pain to pick up the mangled TCE and walked up to a very stunned Time Lord, “At least this can be fixed!” she hissed as she threw the mangled corpse of a weapon, by his side. Exhausted, Nyssa collapsed on the floor next to his quivering body and stared around the dust and debris surrounding her: “Why did you come?” she sobbed. “Why can you not leave me alone!”

The Master rolled his eyes - being kind was not in his nature but he understood that if he was his usual self more of her meagre supplies would be flung at him - at least she shoots straighter than a Dalek, he thought. Once he realised the crockery storm was over he rolled onto his side, mourned the loss of his TCE and turned towards the sobbing young woman. Helping himself up he stood up to observe where Nyssa was living. Closing his eyes he felt something - no, someone. Why would … not that he was certain but the initial gut reaction made him realise why he had to deal with this rather than the Doctor. Gazing at the sobbing girl amongst the shattered remains of the very few items she held in this galaxy the Master actually felt a small pang of pity well up inside him. Steadily, with confidence the Master stepped around her and, with a sigh, he decided he was not going to leave until Nyssa: Formerly of Traken, daughter of Tremas, probably would have been a Keeper; had much better than this! With a cough the Master hitched up his trousers, bent down and, disdainfully picked up some of the shattered pieces and tossed them aside with another roll of the eyes: Remember, be kind! “My TARDIS told me you were in trouble,” he said truthfully.

“I’m supposed to believe that,” she sniffed.

“My TARDIS likes you, apparently,” the Master said with a grin.

Nyssa stared at the Greco column in her main living quarters: “I don’t believe you!”

From nowhere The Master whipped out a black silk handkerchief. It still bore the monogram T, in silver - this was her father’s, Nyssa smiled, she had sewn in the T, it was her gift to him when she was 9. Closing her eyes and with a smile Nyssa held it to her nose. “Oh father,” she sighed. Carefully, she blew her nose and wiped her eyes.

“I actually told my TARDIS that the Doctor could come and help you instead.”

“I have not seen him since… ” she sighed, “though you could have passed the message on.”

“The TARDIS said only someone like me could help you. So,” the Master smiled, “why did you say goodbye to the Doctor?”

“We landed somewhere called Terminus, it was a hospital ship before it crashed, that held patients that needed me more than he did,” Nyssa said still tracing the T on the handkerchief. “I did get a vision before you were coming but,” she sighed gazing down into her lap, “why you would come I have no idea - and now you say I am in some sort of trouble,” now her fingers were twirling themselves into knots.

“The Universe is,” the Master replied deciding to sit on the floor as she was. Knees up, wrists laying on them and hands joined - their shoulders were touching. Not that he cared if he was standing over her he just felt that she would respond more readily if he was level with her and at this point he would do anything to gain her trust, “what is happening could affect the entire Universe - it’s existence and everything in it!”

Nyssa laughed bitterly through her tears and stared away from him: “Why would you care what happens to the Universe?”

“I care when it is my existence in trouble - when it’s … It’s Gallifrey’s and when it’s the Doctor’s!”

Sharply she turned her head towards his: “The Doctor’s!” she hissed again. The cold glaze stare she shot him was made more frightening through her icy tears that stood in the rims of her eyes painting them an indigo blue. The Master gulped wondering if Nyssa was actually capable of beating someone to death: “The Doctor’s!” she stood up and glared down at him. There was something about her proud Queenly stance that made him squirm where he sat: She may be tiny but, as the desolation surrounding them showed, she was not cowardly. With a throw that could certainly aim to kill. “Since when have you cared about the Doctor’s?” her tone matched the winter of her eyes. Seemingly calm and measured on the surface but the Master knew her heart was broiling deep within her: “As if killing my father was not enough you plotted to kill the Doctor using Adric’s mathematic skills to do so.” The Master used that tone in the past, he fully understood the emotions that went with the clipped tones: “As for Gallifrey - why would a Planet Killer care about another Planet?” the Master was about to answer: “DON’T insult me by calling it your home - TRAKEN was my home - you destroyed it! You who lived there for all my lifetime at least,” with rising anger inside her Nyssa continued as coolly as she could, “you were respected by us! By me,” her eyes were now going so dark The Master actually shivered where he sat, “So why should you care about what happens to the Doctor or to Gallifrey or especially me?”

“I may be a renegade but I am still a Time Lord with two hearts!” the Master replied and was about to continue but Nyssa snorted.

“Are you sure they are hearts - I thought yours were hardened balls of poison slowly releasing chemicals into your brain making you more evil by the minute!”

Wow, the Master was surprised at how Nyssa had changed. The TARDIS promised no harm would come to him: “Look, Nyssa, I have not the patience to discuss with you the whys and wherefores!” the Master rose to his feet, it was unnerving being looked down upon like he was dirt beneath her feet. “I came here because you seemingly are in trouble and my TARDIS assured me I was the best Time Lord to help you out of it,” he held up his hands in surrender, “but if you wish me to leave. I shall leave. Let you get on with what little is left of your life and not get in your way. It was a smashing time reuniting with you!” he gazed around the broken clay and kicked some of his shoe disdainfully and swept the dust out of his hair and clothes. “This is me going!”

“Fine,” Nyssa sighed. “Do one favour for me!”

“Gladly!” the Master sneered.

“Make sure you find the nearest black hole - get sucked into it - and never plague the Universe with your foul stench again!”

The Master bowed as he stepped inside his TARDIS and sat down flicking his viewing screens on: “AND STOP WATCHING ME!” Nyssa yelled at him as she kicked the Column.

The Master giggled as he switched on his brakes - the TARDIS only moved to a small hallway and the cloaking device switched on to disguise itself as an item much like a Welsh Dresser and he continued to watch Nyssa through his viewfinder.

He sat up immediately as, again, there was that strange feeling creeping inside him. Whilst Nyssa was tidying up some of the debris - there was another knock on the door and Nyssa answered it, the Master noticed, to a Monk. Hmm, something odd about that Monk, the Master zoomed in on him and turned the volume up.

“Sister, I heard most ungracious yelling from your hut may I offer some peace to your tempestuous soul?”

“The nuisance has gone now,” Nyssa said to the Monk. The Master immediately pressed record, he wanted to research this Monk. Bizarrely, The Master felt as if he should have known this person.

“My oh my, one has had a fit of some sort,” the Monk observed the mess.

“I am well, Brother, a nightmare is all.”

“Well, in that case take some of these,” the Monk handed Nyssa something that looked like tea bags, “a medicinal herb I have found on this Planet enwrapped in a gauze material I managed to pulp from the trees - brew it for three to five minutes and drink with care. You should be sleeping peacefully within the moment the last drop has been swallowed.”

Ruefully Nyssa stared around the chaos; “I will if I can find a vessel to drink it from.”

“I shall set some patients to it immediately,” the Monk bowed to Nyssa and turned to leave but then smiled and laid a hand on Nyssa’s arm, “if you do not mind my saying so, your father must have been an extraordinary fellow.”

“He was,” Nyssa smiled at the kindly Monk. “Most wonderful man in the entire Universe,” with a sigh she hugged the Monk before thanking him for the drink bags, “You were right before, I do need a rest. Can I trust you for a few hours with the medicine and vaccinations?”

“I will do my best,” the Monk smiled stroking her cheek, “my dear Sister, please hope that when thy chastity is tested that thou doth not give into temptation. Please, stayeth the perfect flower thou already art.”

The Master scoffed: “Nyssa is a perfect flower,” he sighed, “and like a rose she has thorns and,” he gazed regretfully at the dishevelled TCE, “uses them to good effect!”

“There is no one around that can tempt me, brother Monk!” Nyssa said truthfully. The Master zoomed in on her eyes.

“Oh you want to be tempted though!” The Master chuckled.

“Good to know,” The Monk squeezed her bicep. “Any other problems I can help with?”

The Monk took his farewell. Once he had gone Nyssa walked around the corner and saw the Welsh Dresser. Strange, she thought, I must be tireder than I thought I was. I do not remember a cabinet here… with a shrug she took a mug off the shelf and walked to her little kitchen where she put a steel pan hammered out of broken ship to boil water in. Following the instructions of the Monk carefully she instantly felt soothed and becalmed as the scent wafted up her nose. Waiting the time she could she stirred the bag and threw it on the ground out of the window and turned her back to the sun sipping the brew. Oh, it tasted delicious. Now in a more relaxed frame of mind she walked past the dresser and to her room.

The Master watched her go to her small but functional bedchamber to a serviceable bed with itchy blankets. He frowned. That won’t do for a start, she must have a decent room with a proper bed. He was sure there was one somewhere in his TARDIS he could spare. After all, there was only one use he had for a bed, and he rarely used it for that. Not that he did not sleep but he did not need hundreds of beds. Quite frankly he could offer her a lot of things from this TARDIS that would improve her situation.

See, you can be nice.

“Shut up!” the Master said as he switched off the screens as she began undressing.

That’s not like you!

“Be quiet!”

You genuinely do like her, don’t you?

“Grow up!” he snapped.

My Time Lord and Nyssa Up A Tree …

I even pick up an adolescent TARDIS, the Master sighed to himself as he crept out of the TARDIS and decided to see if he could tidy up some of this mess. Then he would go to the kitchen and see if there were any remnants of those herbal tea bags in the kitchen. He may not be the best scientist Gallifrey ever had, being more into Political Manipulation - but he could do some and he wanted to know that Nyssa had not ingested something that could harm her. If I did, the Master sighed, I doubt even the good Doctor would not avenge her death.

“She must have allowed Tegan to rub off on her for that I am thankful at least,” he sighed, “Tegan may have had her faults but at least she has the caution of a snake and the temper of a Norse God!” with a tut he swept past the debris back to his TARDIS and found a broom and a dustpan. As quietly as he could he swept up the broken pottery allowing it to become some sort of random feature at the back of her hut. Somehow she had already managed to tame it into something like a garden. He forgot Traken was a particularly florabundant Planet.

Tiptoeing he went back to the Kitchen and picked up a teabag. That herb was definitely not any sort of tea he had smelled. The Master put a bag in his pocket. Once back in the TARDIS he made his way to his little laboratory to begin dissecting the components in the herb. There was something about that Monk that disconcerted even him. If he disconcerted the Master then why was Nyssa so trusting of him? He picked up a dry bit of leaf with some tweezers and dropped it in some acid.

Immediately it puffed up and turned the acid blue. Hmm, he thought, I wish if I could remember if that was good or bad? This was the rare time he could do with the RANI - she knew what was what with these matters. Even the Doctor excelled at this sort of thing more than he ever could: “All right,” he sighed, “let me think rationally - maybe the best way is if I drink some myself!”

He had only taken one bag and he could not risk creeping out again as Nyssa may wake up any moment due to a medical emergency. Sighing again he decided to just risk something for once in his life and he boiled some water in the laboratory - found a little sieve and poured the boiled water into the tub with the leaves. Immediately he felt light as a feather like he had no care in the world. Blinking he tried to resist that feeling. The Master followed the Monk’s instruction and let the leaves brew for the minutes the Monk said to. Relaxing aromas wafted up his nasal passages causing the Master to yawn and rub the sand from his drooping eyes. No, he must resist, The Master blinked hard to resist the dust clouds of exhaustion in his eyes as his jaw was breaking trying not to express the aching urge to sleep that he suddenly had. Minutes up he strained through with the sieve into another pyrex pot and cautiously held some to his lips and sipped gently, his feet - where were his feet? Another sip - shins? What? The more he sipped the less he could feel of his muscles, his joints - there were about five more sip’s to go when he suddenly stopped by throwing it against the wall. How much of this had Nyssa had in her time here? Suddenly, he recognised what it was! That was impossible though, he tried to shake some feeling back into his lower body - as from his hips down they felt lead like.

He could not go and wake her up - as he sunk to the floor of the lab as he had inhaled it in a puff of smoke and drunk it too. Right now it had coursed through enough of his system for him to fall to his knees then on his back in a slumber.

Nyssa - his last thought - Nyssa save me from this clock! With the sound of ticking ringing in his ears he went to sleep. Ominously the sound of a Grandfather Clock rang inside the Master’s head: Tick! Tock! Tick! Tock! Tick! To-o-o-ock! Ti-i-i-ick! Nyssa, help me - a warm, kind, bearded face floated in front of the Master - help meeee! The face and the clock became one in a swirling vortex as the sounds and images haunted his mind. In a weird kind of ghostly way the Master sat bolt upright and blinked, drenched in cold sweat, before flopping back on the floor his arms spread out like he was a fallen Angel … Tremas was his last conscious thought!

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The TARDIS decided to continue to watch Nyssa - she was tossing and turning in her bed: “No, Doctor, do not leave me. Do not leave me, Doctor. Stay here. Help me. Tegan can too, Turlough - all of you, stay. Stay, stay please, stay!” her thin sheets had become transparent due to the heavy sweat, showing every curve of her body. “DOCTOR, PLEASE, PLEASE DON’T - ADRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC!” she screamed sitting bolt upright clutching onto her sheets. Breathing heavily she stared wildly around before suddenly flopping on her back her arms spread out, blank eyes stared up at the ceiling: “Adric.” she murmured before sleeping in the position of a fallen Angel.

🌸🌸🌸

The Monk mopped his brow and smiled as he looked at his stock of the herbs he held in his own kitchen. Behind his own hut he had a good crop growing and had bunches drying up from the roof in a small square building. Shame, he sighed, Nyssa was a sweet young girl. Too sweet and far too young. Still, something had to be done. Something had to be unfixed. He had seen the future and he did not like it. So he had to do this. There was no other choice. She had good memories - ones that helped in his endeavour.

After he had cut some of his precious crop, he used a strong bendy fresh twig from a nearby tree and bound the stems together before going to the hut to fasten it to the roof inside his preparation area just adjacent to the kitchen. With a smile he brought down a few bushels that were already dried and he walked to his little kitchen to prepare more ‘tea’ for his little Nurse.

Suddenly he heard a sound that made him catch his breath a little bit as he peered around the back of his house and looked aghast as something familiar landed within ten feet away from him.

A very well-dressed woman stumbled out in a cloud of smoke coughing and spluttering: “What did I ever do to you!” she yelled at the tree she stumbled out of. The Monk arched an eyebrow: “I asked you to take me to Nyssa, where is she?”

The Monk pressed his back against the wall of his house: “At least this one may help me,” the Monk sighed pouring his frustration into chopping the herbs. “Though how do I get her too?” mind you, I do not recall someone like her. Through his open window he could hear her still yelling cuss words in what seemed to be an Earth Scottish Accent to the tree: “Such language is not becoming of such a Lady,” the Monk tutted to himself carefully sewing the gauze bags up with the thinnest twine. “Dear, dear, dear.”

He heard the woman growl with disgust as she stormed off: “What do you want with Nyssa anyhow?” the Monk questioned as he was about to see where she had got to from the relative comfort of his own home the door demanded his attention. Gulping he yelled: “Who is it?”

“It is I,” said a familiar voice, “Lynard!”

The Monk sighed with relief: “Come in, Lynard, you do not have to be shy. All are welcome at my house.”

A tall, almost skinny man walked in with floppy dirty blond hair and brown eyes: “I was wonderin where Miss Nyssa was?”

“She is having a well earned rest, dear boy? Would you like a drink?”

“Yes please, I’m parched!”

“I will put the kettle on then, shall I?”

Lynard smiled in reply as he looked at the humble surroundings of the hut: “What do it take to become a Monk?” Lynard asked.

“Oh just dedication, humility and the belief that there are many more important things in the Universe than you yourself?”

“Like Miss Nyssa?”

“Yes, Lynard, like Miss Nyssa!” the Monk smiled, “your tea will be with you shortly. I need to read up on something. You can stay here for as long as you please,” the Monk bustled ready to go to his secret door: “Here Lynard, and be sure to drink every last drop!”

“Oh I will, Brother Monk. I will!” Lynard started to drink, the more he drank the more tired he became and the more his limbs felt like lead.

When the Monk had been satisfied the once sick peasant had supped every last sip of the beverage he hurried down his secret passageway.

🌸🌸🌸

The Master woke up with a fuzzy head and an even fuzzier tongue. What happened? He stared at the experiment: Oh, now he remembered. Ouch. His head ached. Slowly he got up and swayed and shuffled his way to his console unit where the TARDIS had kept an eye on Nyssa. She was lying flat in a paralytic shock. He wanted to get there to wake her up but his legs kept collapsing beneath him: “Wha - TARD - RD - ARD!” he could hear the word in his head but could not say it out loud. “Ne-eeeeee! Neeeees!” again he could hear the name in his head. The Master felt as if fur was growing on his tongue that was stopping his speech.

“Neeeeeee … Neeeeeeeessssssssssssssssssss!” blurble, drool was falling down between the corners of his mouth - he felt really odd, there were thoughts clear as day in his mind yet his tongue could not articulate them: “TAR-RD-RDDDDDRDDDDD!”

The Master was losing his grip on reality! To save Nyssa he had to get it back but how? His thoughts were clear as crystal why could he not voice them properly. He had gone perfectly senile it seemed!

The Master’s hands slipped off the control unit as his legs flailed beneath him again, “Neeeesssssssssssssaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” he gasped as he slumped on the floor. Nyssa, he breathed out mentally, as everything slowly grew dark around him with her beautiful smiling face blurring into the sharp contrast of … of … her …