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“Look, maybe we can, I don’t know, find some kind of common ground? Compromise? Anything?” Yaz tried without much hope; all the answer she got was a growl and a quick hit aimed at her face, and she had to make an even quicker dodge to save herself from having nose punched right into skull.
It wasn’t supposed to end like that. Well, it never did, to be honest, she should probably get used to things going sideways. They usually did with the Doctor. With Clara, now, that was rarer, so perhaps that’s why she didn’t expect their little trip to Ellen’s Garden to end like that.
(Ellen Whittle, extremely talented botanist, known in the entire Pinwheel Galaxy; Garden was a planet named in her honour, a place where almost any flower could thrive due to its perfect conditions. Evergreen and ever-blooming, cared for by an entire army of gardeners, it was a popular place for tourists, and totally worth seeing it at least once. All that according to the short lesson on this planet the Master gave her while Clara was flying the TARDIS there.)
Well, Yaz would lie if she said that Ellen’s Garden wasn’t breathtakingly beautiful. However, at this very moment the planet wasn’t the only thing taking her breath away. There was also, of course, this centaur-like – if centaurs had real feet, scales that ran across their spine and disappeared towards the front of the body, and fists twice the size of average human one – creature that was currently doing its best to knock her out while she was doing her best to avoid the hits and run past it, to the exit. Yaz was quick and, thanks to her reflex, able to predict the upcoming hits so somehow she was still standing, however the centaur was blocking her only way out and seemed somehow immune to any kicks she managed to land, his skin much tougher than human one even where it wasn’t protected by scales.
It looked like if nothing changed any time soon, she’d end up with her head punched through a wall. What a lovely perspective, she thought sarcastically, nearly avoiding having it happen too soon.
“Look, you really don’t want to do this, it won’t end well for you. My friends are nearby and if they find out you hurt me–”
“Do not worry, little human.” Centaur said, their voice so loud it resonated within her skull. “My friends will take care of yours.”
“Come on.” Yaz grabbed a nearby chair, trying to use it as a shield of sorts; but they simply took it and threw away, nearly sending her along with it before she let go. Wooden pieces scattered across the room. “How about you tell me your grand plan before you kill me. Or at least what brought you here and where are the gardeners.”
“Fertilizing the garden. Just like you will, in a moment. Stop running away, it’s pointless.”
“I have a mate that could make an entire speech based on disagreeing with that statement. Oi!” Once again, she nearly managed to avoid a giant fist flying at her, then, in hopes of distracting her opponent, she asked: “Why all this? What did those poor gardeners do to you?”
When they landed on the planet, they discovered that the flowers, while unchangeably beautiful, seemed quite unkept, with no one around; of course, they decided to split up and investigate (although one of the trio wasn’t too happy about it; the Master was never enthusiastic about doing good deeds). Yaz very soon discovered a building, big and painted green, that must’ve been the house of people working on this part of the planet – except it was empty, almost; she went through most of it, looking in every corner and calling out to see if anyone would come out and respond and the only living creature she found was that centaur. Which immediately jumped to attacking her; good thing their size meant they were pretty slow. Bad thing it also meant they could easily block the entrance to the room they were in.
The centaur didn’t respond, apparently done talking to her; so Yaz stopped wasting her breath as well and focused on trying to come up with some plan. The room was small, bed taking up most of the space; nothing she could use to fight, except maybe throwing a trashcan at them. Or the few things from the desk that were probably dead gardener’s personal items. Doubtful it could help though, she already broke the heaviest thing from there, a ceramic mug that she threw at them – and missed; broken pieces were on the floor, mixed with the wooden splinters of the chair.
There was a window, too, and currently Yaz tried to calculate if she’d have enough time to open it and jump through before getting hit. If she did… Well, jumping from the first floor didn’t seem as bad as being turned into a pulp. Even with floors being about one and a half height of ones in her own apartment building.
All those thoughts took a second too long to go through her head; she got distracted, enough to notice the next hit too late. It landed on her stomach, punching the breath out of her and sending her stumbling back – and down, on her knees, arms wrapping around her midsection as the wave of pain ran through her intestines. Fuck, they hit hard, she thought dizzily, watching a triumphant smirk appear on their face, so sure they got her. She tried to crawl away, refusing to give up that easily, but the pain, intense and burning, slowed her down and numbed sharp senses, taking away all her advantage and chances of survival.
“Finally.” The centaur growled, effortlessly picking her up by the collar of her leather jacket, ignoring nails she tried to dig into their fist, a desperate attempt to free herself; but they were too sturdy and she felt so weak with the pain running through her in waves, numbing and nauseous – huh, maybe if she managed to projectile vomit at them she could set herself free?... “You shouldn’t have ignored the signs about the Garden being temporarily closed for tourists, stupid human.”
Oh so that’s why the planet was so empty, Yaz thought, trying to catch her breath, perhaps her last one. And then she also thought they must’ve missed all the signs by landing directly on the planet instead of flying there through space. And then, as she watched the giant fist rise to another hit, she considered: were the centaurs some sort of space criminals, temporarily hiding in a spot no one would suspect them to be?
But before she could decide how probable her deduction was, she heard a familiar, angry scream and then the grasp on her loosened – the fist aimed at her disappeared – and she fell down on the floor, right at – no, there were no centaur’s feet she could lay at anymore. What happened?
A pair of hands, definitely not as strong as the ones she was just fighting against, forced her into a sitting position. “Yaz?” No more anger in this voice, just worry. Yaz forced herself to focus on the face in front of her and saw the Master, a little blurry and examining her own face with a frown. “Are you alright? What did they do to you?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but all that came out was her breakfast and some unintelligible groaning as her body forced her poor, cramping stomach to empty.
“Oh, okay, we’re doing that. Fine.” Yaz was vaguely aware of the Master doing his best to avoid being puked on, then gently pushing hair out of her face and holding it up to keep it relatively clean. “I’m going to aim my TCE at you now but it’s in scanning mode, don’t panic. Just, ugh, keep doing what you’re doing I guess.” He was clearly uncomfortable and in any other circumstances Yaz would laugh at him but right now she was too busy writhing in convulsions as her body still tried to make her puke despite stomach being empty already. “Okay. Just a punch in the stomach, then. Not just, of course, it's an awful thing but– I was worried it would be something much worse.” Okay, now he was rambling, almost in a way the Doctor would when she got nervous. Was he nervous? Why was he nervous? “Mmh. Take your time, right. I can wait.”
So she took her time, retching, trying to survive through wave after wave of stomach cramps and being soothed by the Master of all people. That was bizarre of him, he didn't seem like the kind of person to just silently offer emotional support; and yet there he was, gentle and patient, offering her his handkerchief once she finally straightened her back, hoping to be done with vomiting.
“You might wipe your tears first.” He suggested when she raised the handkerchief to her mouth.
“Wha–” Oh. She didn't even notice she was crying, too distracted by all the other things her body was going through; but yes, her cheeks were wet and her tears were a pretty good explanation to the Master's blurriness. Must be another thing the pain forced out of her. “Thanks. How did you know?...”
“Met another one of those.” After a short search on the floor, the Master picked up a tiny item and showed her. Centaur figurine, which he smoothly hid in his pocket after she had a look. “Figured there were more so I went looking for you two and found you first. Lucky shot, you're the most vulnerable of us.”
“Right.” Yaz muttered, the reminder of how fragile she was adding more pain on top of the current one. But the Master didn't seem to notice, focused on pulling her away from the nasty puddle she left on the floor; Yaz let him drag her, currently having no strength to even cooperate. “Thank you. For saving me, it was a close one.”
“If they got you, they'd wish to be killed that quickly and painlessly.” There was an angry tremble to his voice, arm that helped her stay up tensing. “You're mine. I won't let anyone hurt you.”
The way he said it, so firm and possessive, made the blood freeze in her veins; it was wrong, those words were wrong and she needed them corrected immediately, before he perpetuated the wrong picture.
“No.”
“What?”
It was difficult to talk, pain worse with every breath she took in, but she forced those words out anyway. “No. I'm not yours.”
“Of course you are, and I won't let anyone take y–”
“No!” It hurt as hell to shout, to push him off her, but she couldn't stand his touch until he understood. “You don't own me, no one does. We can be friends but you can't call me yours like I'm just an object in your possession.”
“You call Clara your girlfriend though. Isn't that the same?” The Master asked with a quizzical expression on his face. He didn't follow her but Yaz could tell he wanted to, by the way in which his hand curled, as if wishing to grab her own.
“Do you seriously not see the difference between saying she’s my girlfriend and she’s mine? We can be together but that doesn’t make us each other’s property. Would you like me to call you mine or do you enjoy your freedom?”
“I do.” He admitted, a little deflated. “Although in certain circumstances I could like it if you–”
“Don’t be gross.”
“Well, aside from that, I suppose I understand what you mean. I just…” A pause; he looked so hesitant for a moment, weighing the next words like he wasn’t sure they could pass his throat. “Well. Guess I got a little too defensive of you when your life was threatened.”
That was more honest than she’d suspected him to be; and he looked so vulnerable too, his shoulders dropping and face turned away like he couldn’t dare to look at her. Yaz felt like he just exposed to her his soft flesh and waited in anticipation to see: will she stab it?
The words themselves weren’t even that exposing, it was the meaning behind them. The Master saw her life being at risk and his immediate thought was – I can’t lose her. Yes, he acted on it in the most Master way possible, killing the person threatening her and getting so possessive but Yaz wasn’t sure he knew any better. And yet, even if he didn’t, he found it in himself to help her when she was recovering from the attack and checking her vitals when she couldn’t speak to say what happened. A tiny part of him managed to show her kindness, despite clear discomfort he felt in that moment and despite his entire nature being constructed out of the opposite of kindness.
Of course, she could never make him aware of that tiny speck of goodness he showed, he’d despise it entirely; but for Yaz it was something that made him look more human, closer to Earth. Someone warmer than she expected him to be. She quite liked that image; so, she closed the distance between them to touch his hand lightly, accepting the apology that never came. “It’s okay. Thank you for understanding.”
He didn't answer, still refusing to look at Yaz; she understood. Looking into her eyes would mean facing how bare his soul was in that short moment and she supposed he could combust on the spot upon full realization. The Master wasn't a good person. He could act right, if he saw his own profit in it, but that was it; she wouldn't expect more. She already came to terms with that when she agreed to enter that peculiar relationship triangle with him and Clara.
“Do you think you can walk?” Finally the Master spoke, avoiding the sensitive subject by changing it entirely. “I don't want to push you, but I also can't leave you here alone and Clara is still out there. Immortal or not, she can still experience pain.”
“And those creatures are strong enough to inflict a lot of it.” Yaz took a careful breath in. Pain was still there, but she was pretty sure she could deal with it; she'd rest once they found Clara, stopped those centaurs and got off the planet. “I can do this. Let's go.”
As they left the building to search for their companion, the Master took her hand and refused to let go, the gesture more protective than controlling; she appreciated it. It told her not only that he cared for her, in his own way; but also that he was willing to work on their relationship to shape it into something that would make her comfortable.
That thought actually made her smile.
***
“They did what?” Clara’s tone was more than alarmed.
Yaz sighed. She didn’t plan on mentioning to her girlfriend what happened to her, but it was quite difficult to hide the paleness of her skin that came with puking out the entire contents of her stomach, or the way she was instinctively covering belly with her arms, the pain fading away with time but still present. At first Clara didn’t notice, too busy solving the centaur problem (how exactly did she manage to trap two of them before they even found her remained mystery; she even called for Judoon troop already so they could catch the runaway criminals and inform the poor gardeners’ families about their terrible deaths); but once the fugitives had been sent back to prison and Judoons finished their interrogations, she noticed that Yaz wasn’t as lively as usual and the Master – damn him – didn’t hesitate to brag about his heroic rescue.
Hoping to de-escalate Clara’s worry, she forced a reassuring smile onto her lips. “It’s nothing. As you can see, I’m fine, just a tiny bit sore.”
“Fine? I thought you were going to puke out your stomach along with a few other organs.” At that comment, Yaz sent the Master a deathly glare but he ignored it, a worry threading through even that snide comment.
“And if he arrived just a little too late…” Clara didn’t finish that sentence, just shook her head.
“But he did and it’s fine. Nothing to worry about, really. Please.”
“At least that.” Still, the wrinkle in between Clara’s eyebrows didn’t disappear. “Anyway, I insist that you take a rest for the rest of the day.”
“But I’m–”
“We will take care of you.”
Yaz was ready to argue even more with that; she was not used to just laying around and being fully taken care of and she wasn’t sure if that was the treatment she’d even be comfortable with, as the guilt coming from doing nothing while others would jump around her would be too much. But then she noticed Clara’s lips pushing into a thin line, for a short moment, before she spoke again: “Please. Let us treat you like a princess for an evening.” And those few words made her realize that refusing to comply would be much worse as it would just deepen Clara’s worry; if all she had to do to ease her and the Master’s anxiousness was to let them be nice to her for an evening then surely, she could survive that. For their sake.
So she nodded shortly, not entirely happy with that decision but having come to terms with it. “Okay. But just for today.”
And just like that, Clara’s face relaxed. “Great! Come on, you can rest in my bed, it's comfiest. I will make you souffle, what do you think?”
“I would love that.” That was true; her souffles were the best Yaz ever had, really, and she knew it was something Clara really liked to do, which was enough for her to agree to eat one, just to lessen her girlfriend’s worry more. Even if she wasn’t entirely sure her stomach could have anything just yet. Hopefully it would ease before the dessert was ready. “Can I watch you make it though, before bed? I don’t want to lay there while you work your ass off in a completely different part of the ship.”
“Sure, babe. And the Master will make you tea too, so you can sip on it while you sit and watch. Right, love?”
"Anything.” His tone was almost neutral and Yaz could feel that he was hiding his anxiety behind it, along with echoes of that possessiveness he expressed back in the house. Yeah, she definitely had to let them do as they pleased with her tonight and hope that it was enough to make them stop with that ridiculous worry that was strong enough to make even the Master bare part of his soul to her.
Some souffle, tea and perhaps cuddles in bed were not too high of a price for that at all.