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It never quite got easier for the Master, living on a planet he thought of as nothing more than space pollution.
The year was now 1987, marking just shy of 45 years since the Doctor had stolen his TARDIS and left him to rot in places he wouldn't even dream of sending his friend — or foe. The Master could never pinpoint what they were anymore, at one time, they had been best friends. They had even come close to rekindling that bond, only for it to be ripped out of both their grasps.
The Master hated to admit it, but things had been hard, humans could be so cruel — and that was coming from him. Honestly, he'd respect their vile words if he wasn't the one being ridiculed. Things had fortunately gotten better in recent years, not as much blatant bigotry that made him want to rip their tongue out and feed it to them.
He lived in London now, though the Master was very fond of Paris and fully intended to stay, until he was ultimately chased out by a gaggle of military folk. He owned a penthouse flat on a bustling street and was the CEO of a company he couldn't care to name — of course having used his hypnotism to secure the gig.
The Master splashed water on his face to purge the thoughts of the past from his mind. Strands of hair sunk down across his forehead after being accidentally dunked in the water. When the Master looked at himself in the mirror, anger only began to boil in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to smash the glass to pieces, he hated seeing his reflection. He never liked looking in mirrors, because he never recognized who was looking back at him.
A cry can be heard outside the bathroom which makes the Master flinch in annoyance. Once of his employees had the bright idea to bring her newborn creature into work today because she had refused to take the maternity leave he'd so kindly offered. Now, the tiny human was everyone's problem because the damn thing wouldn't stop crying.
The Master swung the bathroom door open at such an aggressive velocity that the sound of the door slamming against the wall echoed throughout the office stares, which caused an abundance of workers to turn their heads like a group of seagulls.
Though he paid them no mind, he simply locked eyes with the new mother, "Don't make me ask you to shut that creature up again." The Master's voice boomed across the room and the tension that filled the room was so thick that you could choke on it.
When the brunette alien returned to his office, the sound of crying had ceased, or perhaps the distance made it impossible to pick up on the noise. It didn't matter to him one bit, all that he cared about was no longer hearing the piercing cries of human babies. They were high pitched and caused migraines, reminding him of the past and taunting him with memories of his daughter.
The Master's eyes flickered to a small brooch on his desk, it was surrounded by the other clutter the alien procrastinated on picking up, but the dark star alloy material was impossible to miss in the heap of other useless items.
It was a gift from the Doctor, after his daughter had been born. The brooch was for his baby girl, but after she passed, it fell back into the Master's hands — a cruel reminder of the things he had lost to the time war.
He wore it, during his last life, let it adorn her neck as she toppled cities, but now it hurts too much, even touching the blasted item made his insides burn. This body felt things so deeply, he hated it, it drove him even more insane than he already was.
The Master's fingers danced along his desk as he stared at the brooch, aching memories of his late daughter flooding his mind. She had been so different to him, with her mother's auburn hair and caramel brown eyes. She was gorgeous — she was kind, something life never afforded him the chance to be.
He missed her.
He would do anything to have his little girl back.
Did the Doctor spare his children the same thoughts? Or even Susan? Or did he treat them the same way he treated his little human pets, with a passing thought every now and again after abandoning them.
The movement of the time lord's fingers cease when his ears are assaulted by another violent cry from the infant. His nails screeched along the wood, an equally deafening sound, but one that he hardly flinched at as he stood up.
His patience for the creature and its mother had pulled his patience was worn past thin — it was about as thick as a strand of dental floss, now. Which in all honestly, wasn't at all different from his usual level of patience he tried so desperately to keep ahold of if he was to be stuck on a planet for an indefinite amount of time.
The Master appreciated what little freedom he had left and he wasn't going to toss it away and become imprisoned because he had decided to let someone get under his skin. He'd already escaped from a prison of sorts many years ago and had the mark to prove it. The Master refused to let another group of humans steal his autonomy from him.
He exited his office at a pace that made employees near the door freeze up and cease their mindless chattering. The Master paid them no mind, he had more important things on his mind — like shutting that incessant crying up.
He would simply tell the woman to go home or risk unemployment.
He would not kill this woman.
He would not kill this woman.
He would not….
She was nowhere to be found.
When the Master arrive at her work station, his employee was nowhere to be found. The only thing at the desk was her crying child, whose cries pierced his ears. The Master gripped ahold of the side of the baby's cot, looking around the room,
"Where is she?" He demanded, unable to recall her name as he pointed to the empty seat.
"Probably out to look for someone to buy the kid." An employee joked in response, a puff of air which could almost be considered a laugh leaving his nostrils as he muttered it.
The Master's eye twitched, he hated humans.
Once he got his TARDIS back he swore to make all of these people pay for making his time on this planet miserable, he would kill them slowly. Make them feel the pain their insignificant lives had caused him by simply existing in his vicinity.
Without much thought put into it, the Master's hand begun rocking the cot, something he hadn't noticed he was doing until he looked down to glare at the infant who couldn't seem to stop whining.
How did babies never grow tired of this?
Surely it must be exhausting, crying for hours on end.
Though what does he know, he doesn't remember his infant years — perhaps they're utterly miserable. The Master couldn't imagine regenerating into a baby, he'd throw himself into a fire, he realized while his glare at the little human softened.
"How did your species ever grow to be as big as it is? you tiny creatures are as maddening as the screaming willow trees of Lianshu." The Master spoke, but there was something about his tone that was softer than the way he spoke to his employees, or anyone for that matter.
When the baby's crying only worsens, the alien sighed in annoyance, grinding his teeth together as his eyes fell shut — though not due to comfortability. It was taking everything in the Master's body to not pull out his TCE he kept in his right pocket and shrink the baby into nothing but a bedside table decoration.
"I'm starting to understand why your mother ditched you." He huffed under his breath, the cot slowly coming to a stop as his hand ceased its movement.
The Master looks around the room, everyone had returned to their work, no eyes on him — it was like he wasn't even in the room. He took a deep breath in and leaned over the cot, letting his arms rest against the smooth wood as he stared down at the screaming baby.
Then, he begun singing. A quiet melody, in Gallifreyan. It was a lullaby, something he sung his daughter time and time again. It was a tune the Master would never be able to wrack from his memory, no matter how many lives he lives, how much time has passed since he's last seen his daughter. This song is engraved in Koschei Oakdown's soul, and that is something that he can never scrub clean, even despite his best efforts.
The baby's crying ceased, at first, out of confusion, then, out of content. The baby stared up at the Master as if he had strung the stars up in the sky instead of burning them to the ground. It made the time lord nauseous, a reminder of something he once had. Something so young, so innocent, looking at him not out of pity or disdain, but amazement.
His hand slowly moved down to the infant's belly as he sung under his breath. The young human was in a white onesie with little yellow ducks adorning it, which the Master ran his fingers over, the texture of the embroiderment bringing him comfort.
He remembered a time in which he spent hours embroidering a batsnake onto his daughter's jacket — she was obsessed with the damn things. She begged him for years to capture one, he always vehemently refused, pets were no good — they'd only tear the house up and then he'd have to kill them.
If she could ask again, he wouldn't refuse now.
The baby's hand wraps around the Master's pointer finger and for a moment, the alien tensed up, before relaxing upon realizing there was no immiment threat, just a small creature wanting to explore the man helping her to gain her composure.
The Master lets the baby hold onto his finger as his lullaby devolved into a series of hums and the baby yawned — so she had worn herself out with all of that annoying jabber.
"Go to sleep now, little one." The Master urged, two fingers falling over the infant's temple which caused her to fall soundly into a comfortable sleep, allowing for him to pull his finger away and tuck the baby into the blanket she had been laying on top of.
The Master gently caressed the baby's soft golden hair as he stood, only to be immediately greeted with the mother of the child, almost colliding with him — clearly not expecting him to stand up so suddenly.
"I'm so sorry — I was just in the bathroom." The woman stuttered out an apology, fear seeping into her bones as she stepped away from her boss, who wasn't much taller than herself, but carried the confidence of a much larger man.
"I don't care much for apologies, dear. It all goes in one ear and out the other. Just get back to work, or I'll be forced to fire you and you your mini creature will starve." The Master said pitifully, but there was an air of cold, unadulterated, rage surrounding him. Whether that be from being caught in a vulnerable position or simply due to the fact he found her to be incompetent — in all honesty, it doesn't quite matter, the anger is still there all the same, and it was terrifying.
"I can't believe you managed to get her to fall asleep, all she seems to want to do is cry." She responded to his threats in stride, changing the tune of the conversation as she stared down at her child, who was surely going to grow into her mother's twin, if the platinum blonde hair was anything to go by.
It reminded him of the Doctor.
"Well, I'm a man of many talents." The Master shrugged off, signature grin on his face as he moved around the cot to exit the small cubicle — too many humans around him at once, it was beginning to stink up the area.
Though, as he begun his return to his office, three words stop him in his tracks.
"Are you a father?"
The Master's entire body seems to tense, unable to take another step forward, so he simply turns his head back towards the girl, "Excuse me?" His voice is low, threatening.
"You had that look in your eyes, I can tell."
"I wasn't aware I had someone so perceptive on my team," The Master spits, venom laced in his words, which almost makes the woman backtrack on her comment completely, until the alien cuts her off, "Once, long ago."
He forced himself to walk away, his hand lifting to pinch his nostrils as tears built up in his eyes, an often occurrence. Less common, though, was the Master allowing them to fall down his cheeks.
When your daughter dies, how long does it take before you are no longer considered a father?
The Master thinks he crossed that line long ago,
He's simply not that kind of man anymore.
Perhaps he doesn't deserve to be.