Chapter Text
“Announcing The Doctor,” the herald called, his ringing voice cutting through the low buzz of conversation.
The answering hush that followed was succeeded by a wave of shocked and scandalous whispering. Every pair of eyes in the hall turned in his direction.
The Doctor paused, resisting the strong urge to turn on his heels and bolt.
A long time had passed since he last visited the citadel, but the vivid memories of the disastrous circumstances still regularly haunted him.
He forced himself to keep going, head held high and expression carefully neutral. He kept a fierce grip on his mind, raising his shields high enough to keep his thoughts firmly in-check. It wouldn’t do for somebody to hear half of the things his mind conjured up when he was forced to encounter the frankly ridiculous pomp and arrogance of his fellow Time Lords. Who knew what they might do to him if they knew what he was thinking.
“Doctor!” A deep booming voice called out a moment before the Doctor felt a heavy slap against his back.
He stumbled but managed to right himself without falling on his face. He forced a smile on his face as he looked up at one of his oldest friends.
“It’s been an age. How have you been?” the Corsair asked.
For the briefest of moments, his eyes rested on the thin metal collar encircling the Doctor’s throat, before his gaze settled on the other Time Lord’s face.
“Hello Corsair,” the Doctor replied, with a great deal more enthusiasm than he felt. He was happy to see his old friend, and it was comforting to have something to focus on instead of having to pretend the entire citadel wasn’t staring at him, but it was difficult to feel anything but dread at what he was sure he was about to endure. “I’m splendid, thank you. You?”
“You’re splendid?” The Corsair asked, affecting a knowing expression. “It’s going well then? Your work?”
“Oh yes, excellent stuff. Wonderfully exciting.”
“Is that why you’re here?” The Corsair asked as he casually threw his arm over the Doctor's shoulders and steered him forward.
It was the first time anyone had touched the Doctor in even a remotely affectionate way in such a terribly long time that he couldn’t help but melt into the Time Lord’s embrace. “They wanted my advice on a few issues they’re experiencing. Apparently the -” He broke off, almost unable to finish the sentence. “The slaves are not adapting very well.”
“So I hear. You have a theory I take it?”
“I have several,” he said and realised a moment later that his tone was too dark and accusing. “It’s no surprise though, not really,” he said, much more brightly. “They’re only apes, aren’t they? Hardly the most durable of species.”
“Just apes, hey? So you’ve no interest in their health?”
“Beyond how it impacts their usefulness to serve us? No, of course not.”
The arm around his shoulders squeezed once before disappearing. “They’ve finally managed it then,” he said, more of a statement than a question.
The Doctor felt something cold in the pit of his stomach. “Managed what?”
“They’ve finally managed to stop you from saying everything that pops into your head. Subtlety was never your forte, Doctor.”
“Perhaps I don’t feel like being even more restricted,” the Doctor hissed, his patience worn thin. “Or perhaps I’ve finally started to see reason. Maybe I’m starting to think like everyone else.”
“Or maybe you’re just trying to convince everyone that you’ve finally learned your lesson. The renegade Doctor, brought to heel at last,” he smiled darkly and leaned forward until his lips were pressed against the Doctor’s ear. “I don’t believe it for a moment, old friend.”
He straightened, slapping the doctor on the back again before he disappeared down a side corridor. The Doctor watched him leave with a sad smile before he straightened up. He had already delayed enough. It was time to face the citadel.
Two guards were stood on either side of the entrance, their expressions dark as they stared quite openly at the collar around the Doctor’s neck.
“Are you expected, my lord?” the elder of the two asked, his tone respectful but stern.
“Yes, by invitation of the Other,” the Doctor said, looking bright and pleasant. Pretending that he didn’t care that the younger guard was still gawking at his throat.
The guard checked the communication device on his wrist, typing in data before before abruptly stepping aside. “Please continue, my lord.”
The door was open. He was already late. He should move.
“My lord,” the guard said, staring at him slightly aghast. “You may pass.”
“Yes!” the Doctor said, a little too enthusiastically. He grinned at the guard. “Yes, of course. Off I go.” Except he wasn’t moving. People were staring at him now. He could feel their eyes, hear their heated whispers.
Why wasn’t he moving?
He startled when a hand gripped his arm, tightening to the point of pain. “Enough loitering, Doctor. You’re making the guards nervous.”
His shields were so high he’d managed to practically blind himself. Otherwise he never, ever would have allowed the Master to get close enough to touch him. And now, unless he wanted to cause a scene, there was nothing he could do to shake off the Master's hold.
He allowed himself to be tugged forward, through the doors and into the main hall. His feet felt like lead. His legs were shaking. The urge to run away was almost impossible to ignore.
“Courage, Doctor,” the Master muttered, leading him to the centre stage before releasing his hold and stepping away. He sounded faintly delighted.
“You’re late, Doctor,” Rassilon accused the moment the council had quietened down and all eyes were fixed on him. Their founder wasn’t even trying to disguise his distaste. Had the Doctor been inclined to lower his shields, he was fairly certain that Rassilon would have been telepathically projecting his hostility and annoyance. “When you are summoned you are expected to come immediately. Not appear when it suits you.”
“Please forgive me, my lord,” the Doctor said, pleased with himself when his voice didn’t shake. “It won't happen again.”
“You’re right, it won’t,” he answered in an unforgiving tone. “Because next time you’re summoned you will receive an escort. Understood?”
The Doctor bowed his head, half convinced the collar around his neck was tightening by the moment. It took him a moment, but he eventually found his voice. “Of course.”
“Your findings, Doctor?” Omega demanded, leaning forward intently as he peered at the Doctor through the eye slits of his mask. “What can be done?”
Fifty years, the Doctor suddenly realised with a painful start. Fifty years had passed since he was last in the citadel, since he had been named renegade. Fifty years since his freedom and dignity was stripped away.
“Your findings, Doctor?” the Other boomed, startling the Doctor so badly that he jumped in shock.”What can be done about the slaves?”
“A great deal,” the Doctor relied, rocking back on his heels and moving his hands animatedly.
He needed to keep moving. If he kept moving maybe he wouldn’t freeze up again. “Their diet needs to be altered. I’ve collated a list of their nutritional requirements, along with a schedule for volume and frequency. It varies depending on age and gender. Dehydration is also a major issue. The people I diagnosed-”
“The people, Doctor?” Rassilon interrupted scathingly with a condescending smirk. “Surely you mean slaves?”
“Yes, yes of course. The slaves,” he floundered for a moment before he continued at an even faster pace. “The slaves I studied were all dangerously dehydrated. They need water regularly. Any variation on these requirements will have serious repercussions. And sleep - they need sleep every night, and the time varies by age. The schedule must be adhered to.”
“Is there anything else?” the Other asked, looking both curious and irritated. He had likely hoped fixing the humans would be a simple task.
“Yes, more! There is so much more. Their immune systems are perilously low and they can’t survive in squalid conditions. They must be kept clean and regularly exercised. I’ve seen the pens they’re being kept in and all it’s going to do is spread disease. I found three variations of sickness from the few pe-” he stopped himself, shuddering slightly when Rassilon shot him a sharp look. “From the few slaves I studied. I’ve collaborated cures, but the sickness will only spread and mutate if they aren’t properly cared for.”
“Is that all?” Omega asked from behind his impervious mask.
The Doctor hesitated. He knew he should finish whilst he was ahead. He had provided the necessary information to keep them alive. Millions of people would survive now because of him. And yet -
“To ensure their mental well-being I recommend that all families should be allowed to remain together. Human’s have active minds and should be kept occupied whenever possible. They already educate their children. I would suggest you continue to let them do so until the child reaches maturity. They -”
“Enough Doctor.” The Other said, raising his hand sharply. “We have the information we require to keep them healthy. We will study your findings and liaise with you if we require any further -”
“They can be extraordinary if you let them.” The Doctor blurted, desperately wishing he could pull back the words the moment they burst traitorously from his lips. Too late now, he thought with a sudden feeling of dread. “They’re capable of so much good -”
“Here he is.” Rassilon interrupted, looking truly and frighteningly angry. “The sanctimonious, bleeding heart Doctor. Tell me my lord, has the last fifty years in bondage done nothing to curb your incessant need to be different? Has it done nothing to show you the error of your ways?”
What was wrong with him. For the love of everything good and holy in the universe why couldn’t he just-shut-up? “No amount of imprisonment is going to make me forget, even for an instant, that we are destroying the lives of a sentient race of beings. What we are doing is wrong.”
“And what right have you to judge?” Rassilon roared, standing to his full and impressive height. His dark eyes bored into the Doctor’s. Pinning him to the spot with a knowledge that accompanied thousands of years of life. “Who are you to judge what is right or wrong? The apes were destroying themselves and their planet.We saved them -”
“We have condemned them.” The Doctor roared back in utter and total fury. “If you could see what we have done to them. If you could feel their pain you would not-”
“You wish to speak of pain Doctor?” Rassilon said, his voice quiet and calm and so much more terrifying because of it. “Very well. Your sentence was five hundred years was it not?”
“No,” The Doctor breathed, deflating as all of his earlier fear and terror came hurtling back. “Please, my lord -”
“Oh, so it’s back to formalities now is it Doctor? Well it’s too late for that. You’re still as pious as ever. You’re still as rebellious as ever.”
“I’m sorry.” The Doctor gasped, the words catching in his throat and coming out in barely more than a whisper. “I spoke out of turn but I’m not rebelling. I’ve done everything you’ve commanded. I’ve obeyed.”
“You call this obeying?” Rassilon hissed. “You can pretend all you like Doctor but I see the truth within your eyes. You will never obey. Not truly.” His gaze roamed slowly up and down the Doctor’s face before resting on the thin silver collar. “One thousand years.”
The Doctor’s legs collapsed beneath him. It took him a moment to realise that his respiratory bypass system had kicked in due to the fact that he didn’t seem to be able to catch his breath. He shook his head. A silent denial.
“It is perhaps too harsh a punishment.” Omega said, speaking softly but instantly commanding the attention of the room. “It is true that the Doctor is foolish and sentimental and he does not know when to shut up, but he has also obeyed without question since he was grounded. For his stupidity might not another punishment be more suitable?”
"What do you suggest then?" Rassilon asked, and by the stars he actually looked interested.
“Leave us Doctor.” The Other commanded. When the Doctor just say blinking up at him the Other sighed. “Now Doctor. You will be informed of your punishment in due course. Now go.”
The Doctor got unsteadily to his feet. He nearly begged. He almost screamed. But by the grace of some higher power he managed to take himself out of the room without causing any further damage.