Scampi

[The Master]

The name of the restaurant was "Steak and Stuff", and it looked far more like the sort of place you would take a family than a date. It was well-lit and slightly noisy, with patrons ranging from extended families taking their grandparents out to young couples.

It also didn't look like the sort of place Jake Hill would be seen at. Or the man that now owned his body. Jake had been a layabout and a hooligan, a drunk, and a petty thief. The man who had replaced him in his own body? Well, that man was the Master. And anyone that knew his reputation would be stunned to know that he frequented a family-friendly restaurant.

Of course, based on his reputation, most people would assume that he ate babies and drank the blood of the innocent...

The Master was dressed to impress, today. He wore a white linen suit with a pale blue - almost white - oxford shirt. He wore no tie, but understated cufflinks gleamed at his wrists. The effect, set against his black skin, was striking - although the way he kept fidgeting and carefully examining each car that arrived tended to slightly offset the impact.

This is absurd, he thought, I've spent decades slowly implementing plans, and I can't wait calmly for ten minutes?

Struggling not to tap his feet (tap-tap-tap-TAP), he watched and waited.

[Sarah Jane]

She'd almost worn the leather. Just in case things went sour. Still, she could see the odd spots that the Master had some integrity, and she dressed simply for dinner instead. She shot a twitter off to Owen to say that if she had not twitted again in a couple of hours, he should come find a letter for him with her whereabouts on her kitchen table. There he could also make use of Mr.Smith if need be. Don't worry, ta -ta later.

K-9 she left in the car.

The heavy silk knit aqua sweater over a dully shimmering stiff silk bodice. Knit stripe skirt to mid thigh, heavy leggings down to soft mary janes. It clung softly to her thin frame and was made family friendly by the soft sweater fell smoothly over her hips. She stood outside the place and chuckled a moment. Well, she hadn't expected an Alien to get it right. It's not like she was here for the food. She was here to get a clear, calm look at pain and evil and be looked upon in return. She felt the better she understood, the better she could not destroy it, but begin to try to evolve it into something else. Something that left less pain in the world. She was aware of the complex relationship between the Master and the Doctor, and hypothesized that the Master was a complex reflection of Darkness indeed.

She entered, and saw him. Sizable and neat as a pin. Handsome as sin. There were less appealing choices she could have made for this conversation. At least Jake would be easy on the eyes. She watched his eyes as she approached, wondering if she'd be able to tell how well their truce was holding.

[The Master]

He felt a strange sense of relaxation when he saw her. To be honest - and it was rare when he was fully honest - he had more than half expected her not to show up. She had spent years in the company of the Doctor, across the two incarnations that had spent the most time thwarting his plans, and she certainly knew of him just from that.

And, of course, there had been the fiasco in Romania. That alone would certainly not have endeared him to her.

But here she was, and the sight of her made his hearts feel light. (Out of sheer reflex, the ghost of the drums welled up out of a place of darkness in his mind - thump thump thump THUMP. Ruthlessly, he suppressed the sound.)

"Kamali!" he called, stepping forward and taking her hands. "My radiant Princess, you are indeed a gift and a blessing to we mere mortals." His smile was dazzling, although a bit strained - as if from the effort of trying to let it be genuine instead of trying to make it appear genuine.

He had also noticed the amused look she had given the restaurant - she controlled her expressions well, but he had spent centuries learning to read body language. "I had considered a more... intimate environment. But the food is excellent here, and it is both well lit and quite public." He shrugged. "And, of course, I am the Master. I thought that you would prefer an environment both well lit and public for our first evening out." His smile was self-deprecating, and held at least the appearance of sincerity.

"But come," he said, offering her his arm, "Let us not waste the evening standing on the sidewalk. We have reservations, and passable wine, good food and excellent conversation await within."

[Sarah Jane]

She recognized his court manors and went with them easily as a dancer, giving up first her hands to his measured affections.

"You clean up well yourself, Jake." She said, her words informal, but her tone gently regal. He was more perceptive to human emotion that she would have guessed, and he called her gently out.
"Well said, Jake, I rescind my hasty judgment." She smiled at him. She took his arm and his lead to the table. "At least until I try the lobster tail. It does smell wonderful in here. Ohh look" The were going by a family seated at a round table with their 4 small children. I bet those baskets of bread are endless." She gently teased him.

[The Master]

"You clean up well yourself, Jake." She said, her words informal, but her tone gently regal.

"I am glad you approve," he answered. "I had considered wearing black - it's been something of a tradition for me, and I've always believed that it suited me well, but it seems... redundant, now."

He was more perceptive to human emotion that she would have guessed, and he called her gently out.
"Well said, Jake, I rescind my hasty judgment." She smiled at him. She took his arm and his lead to the table. "At least until I try the lobster tail. It does smell wonderful in here. Ohh look" The were going by a family seated at a round table with their 4 small children. "I bet those baskets of bread are endless." She gently teased him.

"They are," he assured her. "It's one of the things I find absurd and yet intriguing about your civilization. The owners of this establishment are in the business of selling food, and yet they give away all the food one can possibly eat. As long as the patron lays down a few pounds sterling for even a salad." He shook his head in astonishment, then chuckled. "Of course, it took me nearly a century to understand money..."

The Master led Sarah to a table by the windows, one that offered a view of the ocean. He pulled out a chair for her, then seated himself. As he did, a pleasant-looking woman in her middle thirties approached them. "Jacob," she said, "I see your date has arrived."

He nodded, smiling. "Indeed she has, Ms. Macey."

"Fay," she chided him, "I've told you that before, Jacob. Call me Fay." She looked at Sarah then looked at the Master, mentally contrasting the difference in their apparent ages.

Something cold flickered in his eyes at the subtle slight. His hand clenched reflexively, like a gunslingers, and began to move towards the edge of the table. You would dare, he thought, offer insult...

And then he stopped himself, and considered his actions. He decided that Sarah would simply not be impressed by Fay's death, no matter how chivalrous his intentions. And so he forced himself to relax.

"What?" he asked with a lifted eyebrow, pretending to just have noticed her expression. "Surely this isn't the first time you've seen a man dating a younger woman?"

[Sarah Jane]

"Jake, they're not really selling food. That is one of their least expenses. What we're paying for is not having to pay for it or clean up after it. And to have a nice place to sit while we do. We're paying for the view It's a lovely view." she said, looking out the window to appreciate it.

Fay brought her attention back, as did Jake. She saw the anger hit him and reached casually across the table to take one of her hands in both of his, giving him a small shrug and a grin as if to say "It is nothing" She got Fay off the hook by changing the subject. "Fay, will you start us off with some white wine please?"

She let her hands slide away from Jake's as she saw him do his best to control his temper. She suddenly wondered what she was doing here among all these innocents. It was uncertain if she could stop Jake if he decided to fly off the handle.

[The Master]

"I've made you uncomfortable," the Master said as Sarah pulled her hand back. His tone was questioning, as if he wasn't certain why. "I... I apologize."

He watched Fay retreat. "She's one of the owners," he said, changing the subject. "It turns out that Jake worked here for a few summers as a dishwasher, and she and her husband tried to put him on a different path. They saw potential - wasted, certainly, but there - in the young man. They are so happy to see that I've turned my life around, after the terrorist incident four years ago."

A pause. "When I called to make reservations, Carl was ecstatic to hear that I was bringing a date." A chuckle. "I don't think either one of them is more than ten years older than Jake was, but they seem to treat me like their son."

He looked back at Sarah, and smiled. "Interestingly enough, it seems that I have more than one connection to this restaurant. The previous owners were a middle aged couple, named Saxon..."

He chuckled at her expression. "Yes, the parents of our late, lamented Prime Minister."

Fay returned with a bottle in a bucket of ice, and two glasses. She poured, handing one to the Master and the other, with a curious expression that seemed to settle on cautious friendliness, to Sarah. Then she laid two menus on the table. "Just let me know when you're ready to order."

[Sarah Jane]

Jake's apologize was stunningly sincere in his gentle hesitation. You could have knocked her over with a feather that moment. It was a good thing she was sitting down. She gave Ivy the warmest smile she had to help put the woman at ease.

This was even more fascinating that she had first thought it might be. She'd seen violence in Jake's eyes a moment for this same woman he'd been seeking by making reservations here. The way he spoke of the family, of this place. It sounded so very complex and hinted at a certain fondness. For humans? Really.

Surely he seemed truly fond of herself, but she was a Traveler. Not a standard human, not really anymore.

"I'll have the lobster tail, with vegetables on the side instead of potatoes, please, Jake, will you order for me? Now that you're walking around in human skin, does anger feel different to you now?" She asked, sipping her wine and peering over the rim at him.

[The Master]

"I'll have the lobster tail, with vegetables on the side instead of potatoes, please, Jake, will you order for me? Now that you're walking around in human skin, does anger feel different to you now?" She asked, sipping her wine and peering over the rim at him.

"One moment," he said, then gestured to Fay. "We're ready. Sarah will have the whole tail Whitby scampi, with both the salad and the seasonal vegetables, and without the potato. I will have..." He pursed his lips in thought.

"Your usual tuna steak?" Fay asked.

"I think not," the Master decided. "I find I have a craving for crustacean tonight. I think I'll have the salmon fillet topped with prawns, and a Caesar salad."

Fay smiled at them both, and left. As she did, the Master swirled his wine thoughtfully, then sipped at it. "The house wine is surprisingly good here," he said, "Fay's uncle owns a small vineyard."

Another sip, and he smiled at Sarah across the glass. "And you want to know if anger feels different, in human skin?" He sat the wineglass down, and looked thoughtful.

"Yes," he finally said. "It does, Kamali. Everything did. Anger, sorrow, joy, love, hate, they all felt muted. Something like the sensation of trying to view the world through fogged windows, or appreciate music through cotton padding." He fell silent again, thinking. "And, of course, there were the differences. Human neurochemistry is different from the Gallifreyan. The hormonal and chemical secretions trigger different receptors, with hard-wired instinctive responses."

He laughed. "Did you know that we do not have a fight-or-flight response? We replaced it long ago with an ability to rapidly analyze sensory input and probabilities. As a result, we cannot really make any claims to bravery or cowardice in any human sense. We simply do not react to fear stimuli in the same fashion as humans."

A pause. "Of course, that hasn't been an issue for me for over six months now." One corner of his mouth crooked up. "This isn't a human body. Not any more."

[Sarah Jane]

Sarah Jane settled in to some serious listening, and found herself uncomfortably sympathetic with Jake's hunger for the world as he experienced it through the "muted" senses of a human. It was clear to her that Gallifreyans had greater sensory input, she'd observed that often enough. Her mind turned briefly to Owen, who had so little of his senses in tact now that he was dead. The Master's experience was a pale shadow of Owen's deprivation, but she hated the idea that anyone felt less, experienced less, than what they were designed for. She, for one, reveled in her senses.

"I really am sorry that you . . .can't quite hear the music anymore, Jake"



She smiled and shook her head a little when he explained about the differences between humans and Gallifreyans in regards the 'fight or flight' response.

"I'd rather sort of noticed that. Sometimes I've thought that Time Lords seem to have a 'witty remark' response instead, though some are funnier than others." It was his last remark about not being 'human anymore' that caught her breath though. Somehow 'Jake' had seemed manageable due to his body's humanity.

"Jake, what happened six months ago? Why isn't your body human anymore?" This came out more breathless than she had expected, though she kept looking him in the eye with a gaze that had not gone hard. They were still just having dinner, and she was calm enough to keep playing a fingertip along the rim of her glass. The wine was quite good.

[The Master]

"I really am sorry that you . . .can't quite hear the music anymore, Jake"

That startled him. "How... how did you know? Even the Doctor only really learned about..." And then it came to him. "Oh! Oh, well, as to that... well, let me finish explaining."

He continued, and she smiled and shook her head a little when he explained about the differences between humans and Gallifreyans in regards the 'fight or flight' response.

"I'd rather sort of noticed that. Sometimes I've thought that Time Lords seem to have a 'witty remark' response instead, though some are funnier than others."

He made an amused sound as he drank his wine. "In truth, that is learned behavior. Most Time Lords are - excuse me, were - dry and humorless. Any 'witty remark' that would pass their lips would have to be laid down in days of yore, vetted by ancient lore, and part of Time-honored tradition."

"Jake, what happened six months ago? Why isn't your body human anymore?" This came out more breathless than she had expected, though she kept looking him in the eye with a gaze that had not gone hard. They were still just having dinner, and she was calm enough to keep playing a fingertip along the rim of her glass. The wine was quite good.

There was a touch of surprise in his response. "Surely you noticed... no? Or perhaps you simply aren't connecting the events?"

He sighed, and sat his wine glass down. "Six months ago, there is a blank spot about an hour long in the minds of every human I have spoken with. People woke up in different locations, and everyone in the daylight side of the Earth was looking up at a massive planet in the heavens."

Toying with the glass, he continued. "If you review any sort of photographic image from that hour - ATM cameras, webcams, CCTV, anything at all - you will rapidly learn that the entire human race had been transformed into a..." Here he looked embarrased. "A Master race. All of you, for an hour, were me."

He looked thoughtful. "Or, to be more specific, a different me. Myself, as I looked when I was your Prime Minister."

A shrug. "I was transformed as well, at least physically. My mind remained my own, although I was still part of the psychic gestalt. And we reached across space and time, and brought Gallifrey out of the Time War."

"We used the drums as a beacon," he said, sounding angry, "The endless, ever-pounding rhythm of the drum. The thundering roar I've heard since I was eight years old. The call to war, to conquest. The Drums of Rassilon."

He poured himself another glass to cover his anger, and offered Sarah a refill. "And then?" he said, growing calmer. "It stopped. Rassilon himself stepped onto Earth, and destroyed the Immortality Gate. And just like that the transformation of your species ended, and the entire human race was rendered unconscious."

He drank more wine. "I believe I was the first to wake up. And everything was different. Colors, sounds, scents, everything. Somehow, through sheer will perhaps, I had resisted transforming back. I was in the same body, I still looked like Jake Hill, but..." His grin was one of sheer joy. "It had become a Gallifreyan body."

He laughed, not madly or cynically, but with sheer good humor. "A 25 year old Gallifreyan body." He tried to keep a straight face as he looked at Sarah, and found he couldn't. "I'm a little over nine hundred years old, Kamali, and I'm going through the late stages of puberty again."

He shook his head. "And you know what else? The drums are gone. For the first time in five hundred years, I can think clearly. The Drums. the damnable Drums, are gone."

[Sarah Jane]

Boldly, she leaned forword against table and reached across it, holding out her hand in invitation to him and hoping he will take it with his own. She has seen madness in many forms, even in people she loved. Her own Aunt had gone poorly in the end, and Sarah Jane had been there for the rough spots. All she can do is look into his eyes and hear him; to try to imagine his journey only from the perspective of someone who had been haunted so persistently for so inhumanly long. For those moments that she looked deeply into his dark eyes, she let drop from her mind the terrible consequences of the Master's actions against her own species and endless others. When his transgressions came to her mind, she gathered it instantly and threw it to the Mu*.

Right now, she just took a moment to step into his shoes in first his torment then his glee, finding herself smiling at him, her hand slipping easily, casually from his as she leaned back into the comfortable booth to regard him and think through what he is telling her.

"Jake, if it had been me-" She broke off, took a breath, trying to imagine it, and honestly not knowing what the outcome might be. She expresses this simply with a sharp shrug that is almost a shudder. "Eight years old. Children shouldn't have to carry such burdens, but they do. I actually can't imagine anyone more deserving of your particular fate." She said quite honestly. "Of both the peace and the . . . ." Her eyes smolder quite intentionally. It isn't difficult, Jake was man-beautiful and blushing at her. " - tumult that lie a head for you, Jake."

*en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mu_%28negative%29

[The Master]

"Jake, if it had been me-" She broke off, took a breath, trying to imagine it, and honestly not knowing what the outcome might be. She expresses this simply with a sharp shrug that is almost a shudder. "Eight years old. Children shouldn't have to carry such burdens, but they do. I actually can't imagine anyone more deserving of your particular fate." She said quite honestly. "Of both the peace and the . . . ." Her eyes smolder quite intentionally. It isn't difficult, Jake was man-beautiful and blushing at her. " - tumult that lie a head for you, Jake."

The Master started to reach for her hand again, stopped, and used the gesture to pick up his wine glass. He drank, more to cover his consternation and confusion than anything else. He wasn't certain what sort of reaction to expect, but a degree of acceptance hadn't been on the list.

He addressed the least personal - and possibly most baffling - statement first. "Why shouldn't an eight-year-old carry such a burden?" he asked, genuinely not understanding her reaction. "I resent the High Council's decision to make a tool of me - I started a war over that action, and came close to overthrowing them - but that's because they used me. Us." There is a flash of dark rage and ancient hatred in his eyes, fading rapidly to something approximating sorrow. "All of us," he whispered, then shook his head. "But we're Loomed to lives of Duty, and eight is the age when we begin to assume that Duty."

He sipped at the wine, and found himself blushing at the look she gave him. He smiled, almost bashfully. "Peace, and tumult," he echoed, lifting an eyebrow. "What an appropriate description of where I find my life, now. For centuries, I've been driven by Gallifrey. To rule it, to destroy it, even to present it to the Doctor, prove to him that he was right."

A glance out the window. "And now Gallifrey is gone. The Drums are gone." A sigh. "For the first time in my life, I have no purpose. No real goal." Another sip of the wine. "I think," he said, "I sometimes think I miss the madness. At least then, I knew what I was doing."

He brooded for a moment, then placed his hand on hers. "I do have a few ideas, though," he said with a devilish grin, gently stroking the back of her hand with a fingertip.

[Sarah Jane]

She let her hand slowly stretch under his like a comfortable cat, fascinated by this expression of empathy he shared with her in tender boldness. Her hand made a slow roll over until she held it palm up under his, her fingers curling ever so casually around his, and sort of playing slow 'footsie' with their hands, a very human game. Her hand had one conversation with him while she spoke another out loud, She gave each conversation equal weight, one as casual and easy as a game of catch, the other full of the quiet fierceness of her objections to turning an 8 year old into a tool through torment. Objections like a guru, not as the mother of a girl who had been tormented in much the same way, though for months, not for eons as in the Master's case.

"Any culture that has to exploit it's most vulnerable members to maintain the status quo is out of balance like a tower built on a slant. The direction of imbalance becomes clear because it has an output similar to something on a positive feedback loop." She explained, as mathematically as she could, and then translated it into 'human', now catching his hand in her own, holding on with some verve, and drawing herself in near with that grip.

"They were picking on you." She is searching his eyes hard to see if he understands what she intends to say, and hopes as well that he sees her deep objection to that. She gives a small, negative shake of her head, increasing her grip a little wanting to be sure she is reaching through to the man beside her who was near twice her weight. "They were picking on you because they didn't have the guts to pick on someone their own size. If it wouldn't be the useless end of me, I'd find a way to get there and then and try to put a stop to it, as surely as I fight here against the Daleks and the Cybermen who have also torn the very concept of childhood out of it's own species like a weed."

[The Master]

"Any culture that has to exploit it's most vulnerable members to maintain the status quo is out of balance like a tower built on a slant. The direction of imbalance becomes clear because it has an output similar to something on a positive feedback loop." She explained, as mathematically as she could, and then translated it into 'human', now catching his hand in her own, holding on with some verve, and drawing herself in near with that grip.

There were two things clear from the Master's expression. The first was that he seemed to be enjoying the firm, gentle pressure of her hand on his. The second was that he didn't seem to comprehend what she was saying.

"They were picking on you." She is searching his eyes hard to see if he understands what she intends to say, and hopes as well that he sees her deep objection to that. She gives a small, negative shake of her head, increasing her grip a little wanting to be sure she is reaching through to the man beside her who was near twice her weight. "They were picking on you because they didn't have the guts to pick on someone their own size. If it wouldn't be the useless end of me, I'd find a way to get there and then and try to put a stop to it, as surely as I fight here against the Daleks and the Cybermen who have also torn the very concept of childhood out of it's own species like a weed."

He weighed his answer carefully, finding an almost absurd need to defend his own culture to this woman. "If you are referring to what the Council did to us - me, the Doctor, the Rani, the Timekeeper, the Mystic, the Meddler, the War Chief, the Watcher, the Architect, the Artificer, the Mentalist, the Psychologist, and the Archivist - then I would be inclined to agree with you. The Council perverted the Initiation, made a coming of age rite into a nightmare."

His eyes seemed to loose focus, then hardened to chips of diamond. "And we nearly destroyed them for it. They wanted weapons, and we showed them with what skill we had been forged."

The moment passed, and his eyes softened again. He squeezed Sarah's hand gently. "But if you are referring to the Initiation itself..?" He shook his head. "That is hardly the same as what the Daleks did, or the Cybermen."

He looked distant for a moment, trying to come up with a comparison. "Any number of human children sustain greater or lesser injuries every day, as they attempt to learn to walk. They skin their knees, bruise themselves, possibly even break bones. But would you say your society exploits them, or picks on them, because they expect children to pass through a harrowing education?"

He smiled a thin smile. "The Initiation is the same. We are Time Lords, Kamali, and we must be exposed to Time. If we are not, we are... crippled. Disadvantaged. We would be as adults in your society who never learned to walk, or to speak." A pause, and he allowed a fingertip to trace the lines of Sarah's palm.

"No doubt, if the Initiation were ended, the children of Time would have been spared a degree of harm, of uncertainty, and of terror. But at what cost?"

He might have said more, but Fay chose that moment to arrive with the salads.