The moment that the Master had locked eyes with Jack, he was ready to jump up to punch the Master into silence, but when the Doctor got up to pick up the bucket, Jack decided maybe he had it under control. He certainly seemed calm enough to. Still, he hated the Master talking about the Doctor like that. It wasn't okay with him.
The Doctor had a point. If it weren't for his sentiment toward the Master, they wouldn't be in this position. The Master would be dead, Jack would be back in Cardiff, and all would be right with the world. But that wasn't the decision that the Doctor had made, and now they had to deal with the consequences.
"You are who you are, Doctor. You can't help but want to try and save someone who doesn't want to be saved. That's not like you. You help people. I get it." He turned to face the Master.
"But you. I am so damn sick of you bitching and complaining about your circumstances. No, you're not where you want to be, yes, you were denied the death you chose, but you know what? At least you HAD a choice to begin with. Not like the thousands of people you mercilessly slaughtered. I don't care if you didn't see them as worth having a life, NO ONE gets to make that choice."
He rose from his seat, jaw set tight. "This... What you're complaining about, not being able to die? Welcome to my world. That is the hell that I faced EVERY TIME you killed me. Do you think I liked it? That I had fun?! Who the hell would like waking up after having been pulled apart by dogs to see the man who put it together standing over you with a pair of pliers, wondering what he's going to do with them?!" Jack began to shake and firmly planted his fist onto the table to hide it. "Do you know what it's like to come back to life after immolation before your skin even grows back and get to feel it grow back cell by cell? You of all people should be lucky that this is what you came back to. I would have killed my own mother just to have this even one of the times I woke up from what you did to me."
"I'm a Time Lord, I have that right," the Master responded bluntly to Jack because who cared about those worthless lives, the Master had the most authority therefore he had the choice. And he didn't regret the one he made. No, he felt justified in everything he'd done. Nothing struck him as overtly wrong. But then, it was hard to hear his conscience over the drums, he could never be sure how he truly felt about anything. "Isn't that right, Doctor? We pick who lives and dies, we earned that."
Then, hands in pockets, he slid out from where his seat was to move around the Doctor, eyes on him the whole time even if he was addressing Jack because he knew, he just knew, that the Doctor thought he was right. Somewhere, deep down,that God complex agreed with him.
"I do know, actually. The Doctor set me on fire, remember? Didn't kill me right away, I lay there for days in agony. Only it didn't heal back, I didn't have that luxury, I could feel the pain that soon faded into one horrendous blur of pain. I had to drag myself miles to get help," the Master remarked with an unsettling look in his eyes. Oh yes, the Master had suffered. The Master had died in so many horrible repulsive ways... but honestly, he'd always deserved them. Well, most of the time. Unlike Jack, the Master brought it on himself, he just never saw it. "Then there was that black hole you sent me too, Doctor? Remember that? Tore me to piece again and again and again. All because of what? You. Ruining what I had. And you took her away from me! Cause see, that's the thing, I do get to look at the man who killed me. Constantly. I'm doing it right now."
The Doctor, through accident, circumstance and impulsive thinking, was his executioner and torturer. It was ironic really. "It's not my fault he made you a freak then dangled you in front of me. He should have known better."
"I don't pick who lives and dies. I just sometimes wish I could." The Doctor turned around, his back to Jack so he could keep an eye on the Master. It was clear who he trusted, whatever else he might feel for both of them. Guilt most of all and first Jack's recounting of the things he'd suffered through and then the Master's tale... Yeah, the guilt wasn't going anywhere.
"...let's go to your room, Master." The 'I'm sorry.' almost came out, but he managed to hold it back. Barely. Too many things to apologize for and no ways of making up for any of it. But he couldn't give up. That's why he'd forgiven the Master, that's why he had brought him with him. He couldn't keep losing everything and everyone. "Do you need new books? Furniture to smash?"
Jack couldn't help it; the Master's tale had sent a bit of a chill through him. If he had suffered so, why had he been so eager to make Jack suffer the same? Was it just that he was a psychopath and had no empathy? Probably.
It seemed as though the Doctor had had enough abuse for one day and was dismissing the Master. Jack placed a hand on the Doctor's shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze before circling round to help bully the Master back into his pen.
"Come on, move it. We've had about enough of your mouth for one day, all right? No one cares and no one's listening."
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The Doctor had a point. If it weren't for his sentiment toward the Master, they wouldn't be in this position. The Master would be dead, Jack would be back in Cardiff, and all would be right with the world. But that wasn't the decision that the Doctor had made, and now they had to deal with the consequences.
"You are who you are, Doctor. You can't help but want to try and save someone who doesn't want to be saved. That's not like you. You help people. I get it." He turned to face the Master.
"But you. I am so damn sick of you bitching and complaining about your circumstances. No, you're not where you want to be, yes, you were denied the death you chose, but you know what? At least you HAD a choice to begin with. Not like the thousands of people you mercilessly slaughtered. I don't care if you didn't see them as worth having a life, NO ONE gets to make that choice."
He rose from his seat, jaw set tight. "This... What you're complaining about, not being able to die? Welcome to my world. That is the hell that I faced EVERY TIME you killed me. Do you think I liked it? That I had fun?! Who the hell would like waking up after having been pulled apart by dogs to see the man who put it together standing over you with a pair of pliers, wondering what he's going to do with them?!" Jack began to shake and firmly planted his fist onto the table to hide it. "Do you know what it's like to come back to life after immolation before your skin even grows back and get to feel it grow back cell by cell? You of all people should be lucky that this is what you came back to. I would have killed my own mother just to have this even one of the times I woke up from what you did to me."
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Then, hands in pockets, he slid out from where his seat was to move around the Doctor, eyes on him the whole time even if he was addressing Jack because he knew, he just knew, that the Doctor thought he was right. Somewhere, deep down,that God complex agreed with him.
"I do know, actually. The Doctor set me on fire, remember? Didn't kill me right away, I lay there for days in agony. Only it didn't heal back, I didn't have that luxury, I could feel the pain that soon faded into one horrendous blur of pain. I had to drag myself miles to get help," the Master remarked with an unsettling look in his eyes. Oh yes, the Master had suffered. The Master had died in so many horrible repulsive ways... but honestly, he'd always deserved them. Well, most of the time. Unlike Jack, the Master brought it on himself, he just never saw it. "Then there was that black hole you sent me too, Doctor? Remember that? Tore me to piece again and again and again. All because of what? You. Ruining what I had. And you took her away from me! Cause see, that's the thing, I do get to look at the man who killed me. Constantly. I'm doing it right now."
The Doctor, through accident, circumstance and impulsive thinking, was his executioner and torturer. It was ironic really. "It's not my fault he made you a freak then dangled you in front of me. He should have known better."
no subject
"...let's go to your room, Master." The 'I'm sorry.' almost came out, but he managed to hold it back. Barely. Too many things to apologize for and no ways of making up for any of it. But he couldn't give up. That's why he'd forgiven the Master, that's why he had brought him with him. He couldn't keep losing everything and everyone. "Do you need new books? Furniture to smash?"
no subject
It seemed as though the Doctor had had enough abuse for one day and was dismissing the Master. Jack placed a hand on the Doctor's shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze before circling round to help bully the Master back into his pen.
"Come on, move it. We've had about enough of your mouth for one day, all right? No one cares and no one's listening."