This was really not going well. Ancient Rome was just fine, he liked ancient Rome! In small doses, anyway. Visiting some friends, staying clear of people being fed to lions, lavish banquets, it could all be a grand old time.
This wasn't quite his idea of that. There were entirely too many chains involved. More importantly, his plan for getting to the Master's fobwatch really hadn't actually included getting caught. It also really hadn't involved being accused of thievery and no possible scenario ever included all of his talking just leading to being brought in front of the Master and ordered to kneel by a really unfriendly guard.
"I will not." That was said with a lot of pride, but it also led to getting pushed to the ground and held there, which didn't make it one of his more triumphant displays of defiance. If only he could get to the sonic screwdriver, but with his hands chained that was rather out of question at the moment. So he just focused on the Master, tilting his head a little. "Hey you."
This man was mad. Totally and utterly mad. What kind of foolish ingrate tried to steal from him of all people? And those clothes, how strange they were. Where did a slave ever get themselves such fancy garments? Not like they had the money for it. The whole thing struck him as strange and while the guards had been very insistent that this one had to be one of his, he didn't remember him being here.
But, well, he did remember him somewhat. Kind of. He knew that face. So maybe he was and he'd just missed him. Couldn't know everyone.
"You dare try to speak to me?" he asked in disbelief, part of him almost in awe over how defiant this one was. Slaves rarely raised their head to look at him and this one? He had the audacity to greet him? One of the guards rather promptly and viciously hit the Doctor around the head as a stern reminder of who's presence he was in. "You have committed a great offence, you're not doing yourself any favours."
"Very rarely do myself any favours, really. Doesn't pay off. I'm an ungrateful bastard." The Doctor rested on one leg so he could raise the other and rub his knee reassuringly. "Sure, they look nice, but I'm not quite sold on marble floors as far as comfort's concerned."
He did try to go for his pocket and get the screwdriver, but the guards caught his arms and forced them back down. This was going to get old really fast.
"Well. This is nice and all and I'd love to stay and chat, but I feel like we have to clear up some misunderstandings first. What do you call yourself again?"
There was a very firm and unimpressed look as he leaned forward, watching the slave with a mix of fury and a strange level of awe. What guts this man had. "Gauis Marcus Augustus. And it's not a name that I should ever hear come from a slave."
Maybe this one wasn't his. Maybe he was a stray slave who had run off or someone who had worked on his senate and he'd merely forgotten the name. It was the only way to explain the strangeness of the situation. Perhaps this one was indeed a free man. Once. It wasn't much like anyone could stop him if he just so happened to want to keep this one. And he rather did, actually.
He was very amusing. Why, he even managed to coax a small smile from Marcus. "Don't you know, my foolish friend. You should call me your Master."
"So, your name can never come from a slave? Don't you reckon that could get confusing? I mean, just imagine two slaves running into each other at the market, exchanging recipes, best aftercare treatment for whipping, the usual, than asking each other who they work for and they all just go 'my master'? They'll end up going to the wrong household half the time, terribly inconsistent."
Master. Of course. Terribly unoriginal, but that was hardly surprising. The Doctor smiled at him and held out a hand. Well, both hands, given that they were chained together and he also made the guards yank him back again, but the gesture was made. "I'm the Doctor, by the way. Nice to meet you."
"You speak too much," Marcus insisted as he pulled a face of dismay, this man may have been strange and amusing but he didn't have time for endless rambling. He didn't much care for chatty people. And this man was like a walking mouth. He very much doubted he was a slave, most slaves had it beaten into them never to act like this. And that title? The Doctor. Was he a physician? He could use his own private doctor actually.
The last one he had was useless, he had to execute him. And the one before. And the one before that. What kind of doctor couldn't help his headaches? Only useless ones. Useless ones had to die.
"Have we not met before? I've been rather reliably informed we have. You're my property, if I recall. My property isn't allowed to just go and give themselves such showy titles," He did, however, move off his the chair he had been sitting on, moving down the steps to get a better look. The guards rather helpfully yanked the Doctor's head back so he could look properly at Marcus. "Are you actually a doctor or are you lying to me? I don't care for liars."
"Oi! Will you leave my hair alone? That hurts." Spoken to the guards before he addressed the Master, whatever he was called again, Marcus Blabla. "Sensitive scalp." He bit down on his lower lip thoughtfully as he tried to think of how best to answer the question. "I am actually a doctor. And I try to be a good one." Most of the time at least, even if in recent time the success rate had dropped considerably. "I try to help people." Like the Master, although right at the moment he seemed to be doing damnably fine. Messing about with history.
"You know, I was going to have you beheaded and display it as a warning to never touch my property ever again but I think I might just change my mind," why waste a perfectly good doctor? If he could help, let him help. That was exceptionally important. But he couldn't just let such a crime to without punishment. That part was already set in stone, this doctor would been to be punished but the severity would depend on just how useful he could prove to be. Marcus crouched down so he could see the Doctor better, curiosity obvious on his face.
"If you're such a good doctor and you're successful at your job, why did you try to steal from me? Surely you don't need the money," And if he did, why not seek employment? Why throw his life away to piss off Marcus of all men? "If you're lying or do lie to me, be assured that I can make you long for an execution."
"I wasn't trying to steal from you." This conversation couldn't go well, he knew that. He desperately wished that they could be alone for it. "I came to remind you of some things." Sometimes certain words could trigger memories, but how was he to know which ones? He wet his lips as he thoughts, taking a deep breath. Something the Master couldn't have forgotten, something that would give him some credibility, however flimsy.
It had been two days since that strange man had been brought to him and it still left Marcus exceptionally unsettled. To his knowledge, he hadn't mentioned those drums in his head aloud in a very long time so how that fraudster knew of them, he couldn't understand. Unless... unless he heard them too? He wished he could make sense of the strange, to know if he could trust him or even talk to him more. But sadly, it wasn't easy. The more he thought about these things, the more they hurt his head.
And as much as he loathed a headache, he couldn't help himself. The morning of the second day, he had the Doctor returned to him so they could talk properly. He had requested the strange doctor be bound as tightly as possible and that the guards stood outside while they spoke this time.
This was all fine and dandy, only he couldn't feel his hands. He had to look to make sure they were still there and even as he saw his fingers move about he wasn't entirely convinced. But at least he was back with the Master and, perhaps even more importantly, it was a break from the endless boredom. He just had to do this right this time, because he'd rather avoid this ending anything like last.
"Hey. How are you?" He shifted as much as possible, which really wasn't very. He just hoped his nose wouldn't start itching. Of course, as soon as he'd thought about it it infallibly did. Damn it. "Overdoing it a bit, don't you think? Skinny guy like me, I'm not that much of a threat."
"Anyone is a threat given the right opportunity. You don't strike me as harmless," it was obvious by how much distance was put between them just how Marcus felt about the Doctor. Last time they'd spoken, he'd said things he couldn't of known or understood. That lead him to believe this man was either a conman or had some kind of supernatural gift. Perhaps he was a seer or mind reader? He didn't know. Though either of those could be just as handy to him as a doctor.
"What do you know of the drums?" Marcus asked bluntly, not moving any closer, just watching the Doctor unblinkingly, not even moving to engage him any better. He just wanted answers before he decided on what to do. If he got the wrongs ones, he was going to think of a fittingly slow and painful death for this man. If he got the right ones? Maybe just a slow and painful punishment. "No more double talk or strange words, Doctor. I'm warning you now, I have little patience today."
Oh yeah. That question. Didn't seem to matter whether he was fobwatched or not, it all too often boiled down to this. "I know that you hear them." That much he did actually believe. He decided to leave out the part where he thought that the Master only heard them as a sign of his ever increasing madness. No need to delve into that, after all, not really. "I know that sometimes they pain you. I don't know where they come from or what they mean."
He glanced down at his hands again. "Er. Also, I think my blood flow's restricted."
But how did he know that? He couldn't know that. They were private, he'd only ever told his doctors and they were all dead now. With a confused frown, he tentatively approached this strange magical man who knew so much he shouldn't. Debating it for a moment, he pulled the knife he kept hidden under his robes and held it up in display. He could easily kill this man as quick as he could unleash him.
"How do you know? Why won't you explain anything? You just say things, you never back them up."
He wasn't releasing the Doctor until he knew more. How could he trust someone who simply guessed accurately what afflictions had plagued him all his life? And why should he free him anyway? He was rude, disrespectful and clearly had to learn his place. He was only alive because Marcus was curious.
"Careful with that, those things are really sharp, you know?" The Doctor kept his eyes on the knife, just in case, holding still and trying to reach for the right words. "My explanation wouldn't make a lot of sense to you." But he didn't really want to spin an elaborate tale either. Damn this. "The thing is, Master, in another life, you and I knew each other." He'd have to be careful here. Too many details and he'd make his head hurt worse again.
"I know because you told me. You wanted me to know. And I want to help. I still do. Because I remember."
It was insane. Truly insane. Marcus couldn't help but laugh because why would anyone say something so mad? He only had one life, one existence and this was it. This man was clearly trying to con him into something and while he had to applaud the effort, he didn't buy it. With the laughter dying down, he dropped onto the lowest step he could opposite the Doctor, knife dangling in his hands. The smile on his face wasn't a nice one.
"Whipped, I think. I'm going with whipping. As punishment for these lies and your bold defiance of authority. I would normally kill you but you amused me so," Marcus informed him bluntly. He had a very dull life a lot of the time, most of it was pressure and stress. He wanted to have a laugh every now and again. And besides, at least he believed the drums were real. So maybe he could help. "How does 20 strikes sound? I would say more but you might lose too much blood. 20 works. Then, after that, you can come assist me. Or amuse me. Either one. Depends how much maddening nonsense you have left to share."
At the word 'whipped' the Doctor's face froze and then he tried to struggle, which was about as effective as he'd have imagined. He knew that he shouldn't actually show anything akin to fear, that had only ever encouraged, but... Whipping? That was just brutal. He blinked twice as he glanced to the side, trying to think of the best way to talk himself out of this one. "I'd rather no strikes at all, if it's all the same to you. And I promise, I have as much maddening nonsense to share as you want to hear. Probably quite a bit more. I'm a fund of maddening nonsense."
By this point the Doctor had no idea what brought this on. Probably something about freedom as a concept, maybe he'd smiled too much or perhaps it was simply one of these days the drums could only be drowned out by his screams.
He hated to give in, he hated showing weakness. But while he was stronger than many gave him credit for, there was no way he could bear hot iron against his shoulder without screaming.
The Doctor's arms were raised above him, shackled together with a chain running to the ceiling. It was hot in here and he was thirsty. There was some kind of crude leather bit tied between his lips. It wasn't enough to silence his screams, but he figured it was mostly to keep him from biting his own tongue.
When the iron was finally removed, he was shaking, only the chain keeping him from falling to his knees. He turned his head to the side to press his face against his upper arm, desperately trying to get his breathing under control. No crying, that wouldn't do.
Once the iron was placed into cold water, hissing loudly, Marcus finally moved from his watching position to get a closer look. He would have liked to be closer but he didn't like the risk of being accidentally burned himself, he wasn't that mad! Even he knew that hot things could be exceptionally painful. At the stifled and pained breaths the Doctor was taking, Marcus reached out to him and helped to remove the leather from his mouth. Then, finally, he cupped his loyal servants face to steer it towards his own.
"That went well, didn't it?" The smile on his face certainly didn't match the situation. But then that was Marcus, his idea of fun and 'romantic' just seemed to clash with everyone elses.
Stroking the Doctor's face in a comforting manner, he pulled a look of pity that one might mistake for mocking. Because truth was, he could have been. It was very hard to tell. "You did so well. The last one I had branded screamed for hours... then died on an infection."
Lessons had been learned. Which is why he was making moves to let the Doctor down, rather than leaving him standing for the next two days.
The Doctor flinched away, but there was nowhere to go anyway, so he just looked at the Master, at Marcus, with red-rimmed eyes, not quite mustering up a glare and definitely not bothering with a smile. Nowhere near. Empty, sad, something like that. His legs did give in under him and he ended up on the ground once the chain gave enough slack, closing his eyes when dizziness hit.
"Woah, woah, easy! Steady him first, you moron," Marcus snapped at the guard that had loosen the chains. And, like that, Marcus was on the floor besides his personal doctor, helping to pull him up a little so he could look at the burn. What did his last doctor say to do with these things? Clean, bandage and then let it heal. Well, he could do that. "Go get water and bandages. And don't take too long, you're already underwhelming me today."
The servant scampered off as fast as he could while Marcus gently pulled the Doctor upright, careful not to touch the wound. "It had to be done, I didn't have an option. You're mine and I can't have you leaving me. I need you," Marcus confessed, eyes closed as he bumped his forehead against the Doctors. "They're so quiet when you're here."
"I'm not sure how that's going to keep me from leaving you anymore than everything else already does." The Doctor looked down at his hands, inspecting his wrists as well as he could with the chains still wrapped around them. It would bruise, but it shouldn't be too bad. Good, he didn't like being injured. He didn't like being slowed down. Never knew when he might have to run.
"I'd never leave you behind, Master." That was why he was still here, after all. For him. He would get him to follow him some time, get the watch and him onto the TARDIS. For that and for not being alone he could suffer through all this pain.
"It's not just a matter of what you want now. People will know you belong to me and return you. I'll put quite the reward on your head too so no one would even dare to hide you from me," Marcus was naturally lacking in trust, he didn't believe that someone would willingly stay with him. Hence his elaborate plans to keep the Doctor by whatever means it took. And hell, sometimes he wanted to remind the Doctor of just why he belonged with him.
"My wonderful doctor, you say that now but I can't promise you a thing," John seemed like the flighty type, he didn't like the risk. Stroking the Doctor's hair gently, he pulled back from him with a slight smile. "Now you can't leave me. Not ever."
"Oh, great. Great. What a relief." He bit down on his lip, hands clenching into fists because OW, his shoulder, damn it. Burns always hurt the worst and in a way that made him want to touch it, even though he knew that would only make it worse. "I really don't think there are any people out there that would want to hide me from you anyway. These days most are just glad to be rid of me, really."
A slightly wistful look on his face as he remembered a time not that long ago that still seemed so very far away when there had been enough people in the TARDIS to fly it properly. Times of travelling with Rose, Jack, Martha and Donna. All so far away now and all of them lost to him one way or the other.
"People who are glad to be rid of you are foolish people indeed," Marcus insisted as his servant returned, hastily dropping to the Doctor's side to attend to his wound. Of course, Marcus was as interested in that as he was in most of his duties. He just wanted to keep talking to him, even as the wound was cleaned. He sincerely hoped the Doctor didn't start whining and whimpering, he did want to have a proper conversation here.
"There loss is my gain, isn't it? Now no one else can have you, I've stamped my claim,"Marcus reached out to help hold the Doctor still, a smile on his face that was a little more content than the situation required. "You're the best physician I've had in a long time. You make me feel better."
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This wasn't quite his idea of that. There were entirely too many chains involved. More importantly, his plan for getting to the Master's fobwatch really hadn't actually included getting caught. It also really hadn't involved being accused of thievery and no possible scenario ever included all of his talking just leading to being brought in front of the Master and ordered to kneel by a really unfriendly guard.
"I will not." That was said with a lot of pride, but it also led to getting pushed to the ground and held there, which didn't make it one of his more triumphant displays of defiance. If only he could get to the sonic screwdriver, but with his hands chained that was rather out of question at the moment. So he just focused on the Master, tilting his head a little. "Hey you."
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But, well, he did remember him somewhat. Kind of. He knew that face. So maybe he was and he'd just missed him. Couldn't know everyone.
"You dare try to speak to me?" he asked in disbelief, part of him almost in awe over how defiant this one was. Slaves rarely raised their head to look at him and this one? He had the audacity to greet him? One of the guards rather promptly and viciously hit the Doctor around the head as a stern reminder of who's presence he was in. "You have committed a great offence, you're not doing yourself any favours."
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He did try to go for his pocket and get the screwdriver, but the guards caught his arms and forced them back down. This was going to get old really fast.
"Well. This is nice and all and I'd love to stay and chat, but I feel like we have to clear up some misunderstandings first. What do you call yourself again?"
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Maybe this one wasn't his. Maybe he was a stray slave who had run off or someone who had worked on his senate and he'd merely forgotten the name. It was the only way to explain the strangeness of the situation. Perhaps this one was indeed a free man. Once. It wasn't much like anyone could stop him if he just so happened to want to keep this one. And he rather did, actually.
He was very amusing. Why, he even managed to coax a small smile from Marcus. "Don't you know, my foolish friend. You should call me your Master."
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Master. Of course. Terribly unoriginal, but that was hardly surprising. The Doctor smiled at him and held out a hand. Well, both hands, given that they were chained together and he also made the guards yank him back again, but the gesture was made. "I'm the Doctor, by the way. Nice to meet you."
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The last one he had was useless, he had to execute him. And the one before. And the one before that. What kind of doctor couldn't help his headaches? Only useless ones. Useless ones had to die.
"Have we not met before? I've been rather reliably informed we have. You're my property, if I recall. My property isn't allowed to just go and give themselves such showy titles," He did, however, move off his the chair he had been sitting on, moving down the steps to get a better look. The guards rather helpfully yanked the Doctor's head back so he could look properly at Marcus. "Are you actually a doctor or are you lying to me? I don't care for liars."
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"If you're such a good doctor and you're successful at your job, why did you try to steal from me? Surely you don't need the money," And if he did, why not seek employment? Why throw his life away to piss off Marcus of all men? "If you're lying or do lie to me, be assured that I can make you long for an execution."
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"Do you still hear the drums, Master?"
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And as much as he loathed a headache, he couldn't help himself. The morning of the second day, he had the Doctor returned to him so they could talk properly. He had requested the strange doctor be bound as tightly as possible and that the guards stood outside while they spoke this time.
He didn't need lessers knowing his business.
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"Hey. How are you?" He shifted as much as possible, which really wasn't very. He just hoped his nose wouldn't start itching. Of course, as soon as he'd thought about it it infallibly did. Damn it. "Overdoing it a bit, don't you think? Skinny guy like me, I'm not that much of a threat."
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"What do you know of the drums?" Marcus asked bluntly, not moving any closer, just watching the Doctor unblinkingly, not even moving to engage him any better. He just wanted answers before he decided on what to do. If he got the wrongs ones, he was going to think of a fittingly slow and painful death for this man. If he got the right ones? Maybe just a slow and painful punishment. "No more double talk or strange words, Doctor. I'm warning you now, I have little patience today."
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He glanced down at his hands again. "Er. Also, I think my blood flow's restricted."
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"How do you know? Why won't you explain anything? You just say things, you never back them up."
He wasn't releasing the Doctor until he knew more. How could he trust someone who simply guessed accurately what afflictions had plagued him all his life? And why should he free him anyway? He was rude, disrespectful and clearly had to learn his place. He was only alive because Marcus was curious.
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"I know because you told me. You wanted me to know. And I want to help. I still do. Because I remember."
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"Whipped, I think. I'm going with whipping. As punishment for these lies and your bold defiance of authority. I would normally kill you but you amused me so," Marcus informed him bluntly. He had a very dull life a lot of the time, most of it was pressure and stress. He wanted to have a laugh every now and again. And besides, at least he believed the drums were real. So maybe he could help. "How does 20 strikes sound? I would say more but you might lose too much blood. 20 works. Then, after that, you can come assist me. Or amuse me. Either one. Depends how much maddening nonsense you have left to share."
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He hated to give in, he hated showing weakness. But while he was stronger than many gave him credit for, there was no way he could bear hot iron against his shoulder without screaming.
The Doctor's arms were raised above him, shackled together with a chain running to the ceiling. It was hot in here and he was thirsty. There was some kind of crude leather bit tied between his lips. It wasn't enough to silence his screams, but he figured it was mostly to keep him from biting his own tongue.
When the iron was finally removed, he was shaking, only the chain keeping him from falling to his knees. He turned his head to the side to press his face against his upper arm, desperately trying to get his breathing under control. No crying, that wouldn't do.
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"That went well, didn't it?" The smile on his face certainly didn't match the situation. But then that was Marcus, his idea of fun and 'romantic' just seemed to clash with everyone elses.
Stroking the Doctor's face in a comforting manner, he pulled a look of pity that one might mistake for mocking. Because truth was, he could have been. It was very hard to tell. "You did so well. The last one I had branded screamed for hours... then died on an infection."
Lessons had been learned. Which is why he was making moves to let the Doctor down, rather than leaving him standing for the next two days.
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His shoulder felt as if it was on fire.
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The servant scampered off as fast as he could while Marcus gently pulled the Doctor upright, careful not to touch the wound. "It had to be done, I didn't have an option. You're mine and I can't have you leaving me. I need you," Marcus confessed, eyes closed as he bumped his forehead against the Doctors. "They're so quiet when you're here."
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"I'd never leave you behind, Master." That was why he was still here, after all. For him. He would get him to follow him some time, get the watch and him onto the TARDIS. For that and for not being alone he could suffer through all this pain.
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"My wonderful doctor, you say that now but I can't promise you a thing," John seemed like the flighty type, he didn't like the risk. Stroking the Doctor's hair gently, he pulled back from him with a slight smile. "Now you can't leave me. Not ever."
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A slightly wistful look on his face as he remembered a time not that long ago that still seemed so very far away when there had been enough people in the TARDIS to fly it properly. Times of travelling with Rose, Jack, Martha and Donna. All so far away now and all of them lost to him one way or the other.
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"There loss is my gain, isn't it? Now no one else can have you, I've stamped my claim,"Marcus reached out to help hold the Doctor still, a smile on his face that was a little more content than the situation required. "You're the best physician I've had in a long time. You make me feel better."
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