Chapter Text
Once upon a time, the planets and the fates
And all the stars aligned
You and I ended up in the same room
At the same time
— Mastermind
THE GREAT WAR
PROLOGUE
The Master shoves her into the cell before the Doctor can figure out his plan. She tries the door, but she knows he would never be sloppy enough to leave it unlocked. He’s been planning this since Gallifrey — maybe even since the beginning — and she was stupid enough to fall right into his trap.
Why didn’t she listen to Yaz’s warning? Clever Yaz. Brave Yaz. Stuck in a volcano with a load of Daleks Yaz. She’ll be fine. The Doctor has led her into worse situations a hundred times over — and she has the TARDIS.
The Master climbs into the twin cell opposite her, that manic grin on his face all the while. “Forced regeneration, Doctor.”
She swallows, failing to dislodge the lump in her throat. She isn’t ready to change yet. There’s so much to do, so much for this face to see. She needs more time.
Maybe she would be less worried if she had stopped for five minutes to explain how this worked to Yaz years ago, when she saw the ruins of Gallifrey. Will Yaz trust her, when every cell in her body is different? Would she even accept that the new Doctor about to arrive is the same one as her?
There’s something she’s missing, some aspect of the Master’s plan yet to be revealed. He’s always been one for monologuing, so she’ll know soon enough. Focusing on one thing at once has never been the Doctor’s strong suit, but as the panic begins to rise and her hands begin to tremble at the prospect of the pain she’s about to experience, it becomes impossible.
Focus. The Cybermen and Daleks hate each other, but they had worked together to defeat her at Stonehenge, when they believed she would be the one to end the universe. It’s strange, but not what’s got the hairs on the back of her neck standing up; that’s the rogue Dalek, truly believing she would commit genocide on an entire race when she has denied that opportunity so many times. Did it genuinely want to end its own race, or was the entire thing a scam to bring her here?
Stars, she hopes Yaz is alive.
“Forced regeneration,” The Master repeats. He leans towards her, the palm of his hand splayed against the glass. “To force you to regenerate… into me.”
Bit of a conversation stopper. He doesn’t want her dead; that’s too easy. He wants to rip her personality to shreds, to tear away everything that makes her the Doctor.
She refused to be broken by her lost memories, so he is choosing to fracture her identity so completely she could never fix the fragments.
The machine above them whirs, drawing power from the metal planet. There’s always a plan, always a way out… but there’s no time. If she had her sonic screwdriver, if she stuck the nano-implant on Yaz in time, if she hadn’t been so stupid.
Her hands begin to glow that familiar fierce yellow and she realises there’s nothing she can do. The regeneration energy sinks into her skin and slithers through her veins, shredding her hearts. The regeneration has already started; she can feel the fire under her skin, the burning adrenaline that slashes through every cell in her body and minces it into something foreign.
Yaz’s name ruptures from the Doctor’s throat, a broken and desperate cry. Her life is over, that she can do nothing about, but her worry for Yaz is worse than the pain of regeneration.
It’s the last act of free will the Doctor does.
The Master roars next to her, both of their screams echoing around the Winter Palace in unison. Her vision whites out and she falls to her knees, but she can’t feel the hard tiles beneath her.
Although she tries, she can’t move. Her brain is surrounded by an inky black fog, and only one voice can pierce through it.
“It worked.” The Master sounds impressed with his own handiwork, and she wonders what will happen to her next. “I am the Doctor.”
As the blackness drags her to unconsciousness, she hears the familiar sound of her TARDIS engines. Five minutes ago, that would have given her hope.
Now, it’s the sound of a dinner bell being rung.