Chapter Text
Ten little soldier boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were Nine.
Nine little soldier boys sat up very late; One overslept himself and then there were Eight.
Eight little soldier boys traveling in Devon; One said he'd stay there and then there were Seven.
Seven little soldier boys chopping up sticks; One chopped himself in halves and then there were Six.
Six little soldier boys playing with a hive; A bumblebee stung one and then there were Five.
Five little soldier boys going in for law; One got into chancery and then there were Four.
Four little soldier boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one and then there were Three.
Three little soldier boys walking in the Zoo; A big bear hugged one and then there were Two.
Two little soldier boys sitting in the sun; One got frizzled up and then there was One.
One little soldier boy left all alone; He went and hanged himself
And then there were None.
- And then there were None, Agatha Christie
Something was off with the Doctor.
Hex couldn’t exactly pin point what it was— maybe the subtle changes in their mannerisms or the way they looked at him and Ace, but something was definitely not alright.
- Doctor? Is everything okay? - Hex asked them every time he had the chance to do so without being too suspicious.
And the answer always was: - Of course, Hex.
After that they brushed their fingers against his cheek, gave him a slight smile and went back to operating the TARDIS’ handles. It almost looked like they knew what they were doing, which was another novelty for the Doctor: they had become a much better pilot in the last month or so, and Hex had never even fallen out of his bed in the middle of the night once because of their terrible piloting skills.
Maybe he was just paranoid. Hex knew he wasn’t the most coolheaded person in the world and that he could fall into a pit of bad thoughts at record speeds.
But those little particulars weren’t what had really ticked him off. What worried Hex was the dismissive way the Doctor had started to act towards strangers. Every time they landed to explore or to unknot a couple of twisted time threads, they left things worse than how they had found them.
Hex had started to have doubts about what they were doing as soon as he had realized just how bloody of a deal it was: injured and dead people, creatures damaged beyond repair in ways that didn’t regard only the body — those were just a few of the horrible things they had done. And the worst of if it was that Hex couldn’t fix it nor stop it, even if he desperately wanted to.
There used to be warmth in the Doctor’s eyes once, even after they had manipulated someone into doing things that confined in the (very) morally grey; but, now, all there was in them was something sly and sickly sweet that Hex didn’t know what to make of. When the Doctor tried to comfort the people who had been involved in one of their masterplans, it didn’t feel as genuine as it had in the past. They smiled a lot more, but it didn’t reach their eyes, nor it made them twinkle in that familiar way Hex had become fond of.
Hex often wondered if he was just going insane, if he was making it all up. But his intuition was right more often than wrong, and the hair on the back of his head stood up every time he was left alone with the Doctor. He didn’t even remember what it had been like to feel safe around them. He had used to trust the Doctor with his life. When had that stopped?
Hex stirred in his bed, incapable of falling asleep. He didn’t know what to do. He had tried to talk about this with Ace, but she seemed to be completely fine with what was happening. Well, not completely— but she excused the Doctor’s worst tendencies, which wasn’t good. She was refusing to see the bad turn their travels had taken.
Hex had no allies to rely on, and the TARDIS’ comforting atmosphere had turned sour. He had never felt so alone, and he didn’t have the courage to confess his doubts to the Doctor, because— what if he was wrong? What if he was just not made to travel in the TARDIS?
Hex had asked that to himself more than once. He wasn’t able to give his back to suffering people as easily as the Doctor and Ace did. He wasn’t able to ditch the small picture in the name for the big one. Maybe that made him short-sighted, but when Hex looked at the Doctor and Ace he really, really hoped he wasn’t going to become like that. The way in which they did “the math” to justify themselves made him shiver.
Hex bit his lip. Maybe he should have gone home. He often wondered how his gran was doing, and he still hadn’t sent her his letter - he never had had the chance to drop in his time again to do so.
Maybe he should have just told the Doctor, even if the idea of disappointing them was horrifying. Hex didn’t want them to look at him in the way they usually reserved for the people who weren’t worthy of traveling with them. He didn’t want them to think that he was leaving because he was weak, but he couldn’t go on like this. He hated the sight of his own face in the mirror, and he felt nauseous every time the TARDIS was about to materialize. If this was how things were always going to be, Hex just couldn’t keep up with the Doctor’s pace. He couldn’t stand behind their cruelty, their lies, and so much more he wasn’t even aware of. The Doctor had many, many secrets, so many not even pockets that were bigger on the inside could contain them— and the constant manipulation had exhausted Hex.
Without even realizing, Hex slid out of bed and put on his slippers. His room was already half-empty, his one bag waiting for him on a chair, already filled with his possessions, except for a couple of hoodies and his mother’s framed photo, resting on the nightstand nearby. He hadn’t resolved to put those last things in the bag yet. They had made his heart feel too heavy.
But it was time.
- Hex? What are you doing up?
Hex felt like the floor had just opened under his feet. He turned around to see a small shape standing in a dark spot of the corridor. Hex cursed the moment in which he had chosen that his room was going to be in a more dimly lit area.
The Doctor walked out of the darkness, their cane tapping on the floor. They were wearing their usual brown suit, but they had switched to a blue jumper instead of the eyesore they had used to wear. Hex missed the old one.
The Doctor leaned on their cane more than they had used to do with the umbrella, as if it were actually painful to put their entire weight on their left leg. At some point, they had just decided to change the accessory - even if the red question-mark handle was still the same.
Hex tried to hide the bag with the clothes behind his back, but it was a rather pathetic attempt, and the Doctor had already noticed it. They poked the bag with their cane.
- Tired of your clothes? - they asked, even if they knew that it wasn’t the case. - You could have just told me, I would have helped you to choose something else. There’s no need to be so sneaky.
Hex swallowed hard. - I’m not tired of my clothes, - he said, even if a part of him was enticed by the idea of peeking in the Doctor’s centuries-old closet. He wondered how many skeletons could fit in it.
- Then, what’s wrong? You seem troubled, - the Doctor’s low voice said, taking on a comforting tone. - Something’s on your mind?
Hex opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it. He lowered his gaze on the bag. Then, he finally found the courage to look at the Doctor in the eye. Old alien eyes those were, inscrutable depths. There was a distant sort of worry in them. Maybe they already knew what Hex was about to say.
- Um. Actually, yeah. Something is on my mind.
- And that would be? - the Doctor asked, getting closer.
They put a hand on Hex’s arm. Their grip was gentle but firm. They guided him further down the corridor, looking at him in the eyes all the while.
Hex followed them, words getting caught in his throat.
- Well… uh, - he mumbled. He had revised his speech many times, but it was suddenly hard to put his thoughts together. - Do you remember when I asked you if I was made for TARDIS travel?
The Doctor nodded. - Yes, - they said, turning left.
Hex’s feet followed them automatically. - I’m… yeah. So. - He blinked, wondering what he had been talking about.
- Are you having doubts about that again? - the Doctor asked. They sounded sad. Guilt tied Hex’s insides into knots.
- I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but— yeah. I think— I think you’re amazing, Doctor, and Ace is incredible too, but I’m not sure I can continue doing this for much longer. I’m— I just— We’re always surrounded by suffering people, and it’s not like I’m not used to that, but at least when I was in St.Gart’s I could do something about it? Now, instead, I always have to leave them behind and it makes me feel horrible.
The Doctor looked at him in silence for a long time, pondering something.
- I can make you feel better, if you want me to, - they said, in a strange tone. - I could take that pain away.
Hex furrowed his eyebrows. - What do you mean? How?
He looked around and, in that moment, he realized they were back in his room. He thought they were walking away from it, but the corridors had twisted onto themselves, against every logic. Not that there was much of that in the TARDIS.
- Oh, Hex. You had already packed everything? - the Doctor said, as if they were scolding a young child. They put a hand on his shoulder and Hex sat down on his bed, unsure of why he had put all his things away to begin with. - So you were really set on leaving, this time.
An alarm rang in the back of Hex’s head. Had he already tried to leave?
The Doctor’s cold fingers untied Hex’s grip on the bag, and they took the luggage under their arm. - For starters, let me put this away for you, - they said, still eyeing him from time to time to make sure he was still there. - Then, we’ll have a nice, long chat about this over a cup of tea, alright?
Hex nodded robotically, staring at a point right in front of him. As he watched the Doctor climbing on a footstool to reach the top of Hex’s closet, the nagging voice whispering in his ear became more persistent.
What are you doing? Why are you just sitting there?
Hex didn’t know. He had been so determined just a few minutes before. He had finally made up his mind about this. About… something. He couldn’t remember about what exactly, only that it had been urgent, and that he was upset with the Doctor.
Hex groaned, bringing a hand to his head. Why was it so hard to think? His thoughts were as slow as molasses and they didn’t make a lot of sense.
Whatever was going on in his head, it wasn’t right. If only he could have gotten away from the Doctor, Hex knew all the pieces would have fallen into place.
Get up, he ordered to his legs. He only managed to fall off the bed, which made the Doctor turn around to look at him, their eyes shining in the dim light of the room. The Doctor’s expression had turned stern, but there was still a hint of amusement in it.
- Careful, Hex. You’ll hurt yourself like that.
The pain of hitting his knees on the ground, however, was enough to clear Hex’s mind for a fraction of a second. He avoided the Doctor’s gaze, looking at his feet instead as he stood up.
A hand appeared in his field of vision. It was soft and pale. Hex remembered the Doctor’s hands to be more callous and rough than that; the hands of someone who had the unhealthy habit to work without gloves on while they were handling dangerous chemicals or fixing something deep in the TARDIS. The Doctor’s hands weren’t very careful, but they were much more caring than the one that was being offered to him at that moment.
Hex didn’t know where he found the strength to slap it away.
- Don’t… don’t do that… - Hex mumbled softly.
- Oh? - the Doctor’s voice seemed more amused than hurt. - Do what?
Hex shook his head. His skull was filling up with cotton again. He stumbled backwards, blindly looking for the door’s handle. - You’re doing something. You’ve been doing it for a long time now… at least since when there was that flash in the TARDIS. You said…. You said that we had stumbled on a point in the vortex that… ah… - Hex didn’t know how to put it into words, but he remembered that day, even if it was surrounded by a thick fog and the details were unclear. Hex was sure something had gone very very wrong. They had been traveling in the vortex, and the gravity stabilizers had turned off— there had been a bright flash, and— and the Doctor had disappeared. No. Not disappeared, but substituted by someone who was the same only outwardly.
Hex let out a frustrated groan. It was like trying to get out of a ball pit without bottom. Every time he managed to get a hold of something, he found himself stuck again.
- I thought I had convinced you of my act with my, um… persuasion skills, - the Doctor said, fascinated, as if Hex were a rare piece of art they had the luck to find. - I wasn’t thorough enough, though. Age has made me too soft after all.
Hex froze in horror. - You’re not the Doctor, are you?
Hex could almost feel the horrid smile stretching across the stranger’s face.
- I’m afraid not, Hex. Oh, well. It was fun until it lasted, wasn’t it? If you’re too stubborn to follow my little suggestions to forget, I’ll have to take a different kind of approach—
Hex didn’t have any intention to stay and listen to the rest of their speech. He went for the door and ran through the corridor, even though his vision was swimming and he kept bumping against the walls.
- Hex, come back, - the stranger said, somewhere far away behind him, their voice bouncing on the walls. - There’s no point in this. Just spare yourself some heartache and give in, would you? I have no intention to hurt you, whatever you might think of me. I can promise you that.
Hex had a bitter answer on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. He didn’t want to give his position away.
The stranger sighed. Their voice came from everywhere. - You’re in my TARDIS, young man. There’s no place for you to hide, here.
They were wrong. This was the Doctor’s TARDIS, not theirs. And she would have never betrayed the Doctor, nor their companions,
Hex heard steps getting closer, accompanied by the ‘tap-tap’ of the stranger’s cane against the metallic floor, and he slowed down in spite of the approaching threat. He was exhausted. There was something deeply wrong with him, still. He had thought his mind would clear if he got away from the Doctor — no, not the Doctor, the stranger -, but he still felt groggy.
He had to rest somewhere for a moment and breathe. His head was heavy, and it lolled on his chest a couple of times, as he dragged himself through the shelves of the library. He found a remote enough place and he slid against the wall, letting his heavy, heavy head rest against a bookshelf.
The low hum of the TARDIS helped soothe his nerves. It was getting stronger, it reverberated through his very bones. Hex swallowed and found himself smiling.
The Doctor… the stranger couldn’t possibly find him in there, could they?
He could rest a little longer. Just for a couple of minutes. He didn’t hear their steps anymore, they had probably taken the wrong way.
Hex let his eyelids lower and he lost track of time. He thought of Ace and that he had to warn her about what was happening. She couldn’t see this coming. She was too attached to the Doctor to be critical of them… or had the stranger been messing with her head too? Yeah, that sounded more like it. Even if Ace loved the Doctor very much, she wouldn’t have let them do all those bad things without batting an eye. It was definitely their fault, if she had yelled at Hex every time he had tried to explain his doubts to her. They had told her what to think, and she hadn’t been able to resist. What could a human really do against a Time Lord when they had decided to mold their mind into another shape? Would the human even realize it was happening?
Hex stirred. He had rested enough. He had to go and tell Ace, drag her away from the TARDIS, if it was necessary - or at least try to. She was abnormally strong, in a way that was completely disproportionate to her size, much like the Doctor. But she would have thanked him later.
When Hex’s consciousness settled back into his body, he realized he wasn’t slumped against the hard surfaces of the library anymore. He was resting against something soft and cold.
Hex let out a feeble groan. - I have to warn Ace… I have to tell her, - he slurred, trying to focus, to open his eyes. The hum of the TARDIS was like a lullaby.
He needed a while to understand that the wall in front of him was slowly moving to the right. Wait. No, he was the one moving. Or being moved, to be more precise.
- You’re determined to make this harder than it has to be, - a voice said, close enough that Hex felt a cold breath brush against his face.
He lifted his gaze, and his blood ran cold, when his eyes met the stranger’s. They were blue, dark, bottomless depths where one could lose themselves so very easily without a thread to lead them back up. And Hex stared, transfixed.
How could they have found him so quickly? The TARDIS’ library was immense, and the TARDIS wouldn’t have let the stranger take him. The TARDIS was his friend. She wouldn’t have helped the stranger find him—
- Oh, Hex. I’m sorry you had to go through all that turmoil, but— you see, there was never a chance of escape. I’ve done a good job with the Doctor’s ship, and she’s mine now. I’m not that bad of a technician. Not to brag (well, maybe a little bit) -, but I was at the top of my class, even though the Rani was the teacher’s favorite. But don’t tell her I said that, I’d never hear the end of it.
Hex had no idea what they were talking about. - The… The Rani? Who’s she? - he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. He knew he should have tried to fight, to run away, to do something— but he couldn’t move. All he could do was look in the stranger’s eyes. Their voice was comforting, and it enveloped him like a blanket. It didn’t matter that he barely understood what they were saying anymore. Hex’s body felt cold, especially where their hands and arms were holding him, but his mind was warm, and it was getting warmer by the second. Hex didn’t even know why he had been so scared before.
- No one you should be worrying about, - the stranger said, holding Hex a little tighter.
Hex blinked hazily. His eyelids were so heavy. He hadn’t felt so safe in a long time. It was almost like having the Doctor back, even though he knew that creature wasn’t the Doctor. They couldn’t have been… but it felt so much like them. He was so confused.
- If… if you’re not the Doctor… - Hex mumbled. - Who are you?
The stranger’s smile widened. It reminded Hex of the slightly manic smile the Doctor got when they were about to topple down a government or had found a new puzzle to solve.
- Just like the Doctor, I have many names. But where I come from I’m mostly known as the Master, - the stranger said.
The Master. Hex had heard that name somewhere, in a conversation between the Doctor and Ace, while he was dozing off on the sofa of the library. It had been something about furries? He had preferred not to pry in the Doctor and Ace’s interests, but now he wished he had paid more attention back then.
- The Master, - Hex whispered, hoping the name would evoke something more. Nothing.
- Not the one you’re all familiar with, though. I’m what could have been, from the point of view of your timeline, - the stranger scrunched up their nose. - I’ve had fun wearing your Doctor’s clothes (metaphorically, of course, because that jumper was dreadful). I had forgotten how nice it could be to have someone look at you with adoration instead of fear— and with that they smiled to Hex, their expression becoming a little sweeter, but hungry too, as if Hex had something they really wanted to take -, and it would be a shame to ruin all this now. I’m starting to get why the Doctor keeps all those pets around.
Even in his altered state, Hex found that insulting. Pets? They weren’t the Doctor’s pets! They were friends… right?
- But you’ve proved more than a little hard to control, Hex, and I’m too busy to try to push you back in line all the time, - they said, in a regretful tone, as they pouted. An automatic door swung open, and they entered another blank, white room, somewhere deep in the TARDIS, where Hex had never been before. - So, what we’ll do now is put you to sleep, while I think about what to do with you.
Hex swallowed, his heart speeding up. - No… -, he whispered, as the Master deposited him in some sort of pod.
It was comfy, the comfiest bed Hex had ever rested his body on, but it was also a prison and he didn’t want to be anywhere but there. What would have been of Ace if he didn’t warn her about the danger she was going to face all alone? What of the Doctor? Where had they ended up, if the Master had taken their place?
And what was going to become of him, in the Master’s hands?
Hex tried to move, but his body didn’t respond. He was too tired to stop the Master, or to even defend himself.
- Please, - he choked out, meeting the Time Lord’s eyes as they inserted strings of code in the computer next to the pod. - Don’t…
The Master’s features softened and they inserted the last commands. They got closer and rested their arms and head on the edge of the pod, looking down at him.
- Don’t worry, Hex. I’ll take good care of you, and of Ace, too, - they said, as they lowered a hand to caress Hex’s cheek. - Now, we wouldn’t want you to have some nightmares while you’re in stasis, right? So, think of something nice, before you sleep. I’ll check in on you very soon.
A wave of comfort and warmth washed over Hex, and he closed his eyes, sighing in relief in spite of himself. The transparent screen of the pod silently slid over Hex’s head, and the Master took their arm away.
They tapped on the glass, looking at Hex’s pale face underneath it. He was deeply asleep, and he didn’t look scared anymore. The Master really had gotten the hang of the whole ‘human’ business, hadn’t they?
They smiled to themselves and they grabbed their cane, walking out of the Zero Room. Now that Hex had been taken care of, they had to find Ace and have a chat with her too.