promethia_tenk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
promethia_tenk) wrote2011-08-28 11:21 pm
promethia_tenk) wrote2011-08-28 11:21 pm
Entry tags:
FIC: A Psychopath Walks into a Bar
So, Hurricane Irene proved mercifully short, but that doesn't mean I wasn't left stranded for almost 24 hours with no power, no internet, and trying to decide what I think of Let's Kill Hitler all by my lonesome. What's a fangirl to do? Well, besides bring River and Fry!Master together to do drinks and talk shop in the Meta.
Title: A Psychopath Walks into a Bar
Fandom: Doctor Who, River, the Master
Length: 1,000 words
Rating: PG
Spoilers: 6x08
Summary: Meta fic. River and Fry!Master talk shop after Let's Kill Hitler.
AN: This will seem a tad less bizarre if you've read Evilness vs. The Doctor first, but the essentials are this: Meta is a blank, white space that exists outside of the narrative, where characters can come to talk about their storylines. After The End of Time, the Master regenerated into Stephen Fry and decided to retire to the Meta because he was tired of playing narrative pawn to the Doctor's ideas of evil. He and River get on well.
Fry!Master is sitting in Meta, in front of a big, old-fashioned bar. River enters, and he jumps up to greet her.
MASTER: Well now, look who it is: his ‘own bespoke psychopath’! (Kisses her on both cheeks.) How are you, my dear? And here I thought I was special. I know a Gallifreyan who’s not getting a Christmas card from me this year . . .
RIVER: (laughs) It’s good to see you. And don’t take it too much to heart.
MASTER: No?
RIVER: Mmmm, well, you never could quite bring yourself to kill him, could you? (They sit.) I have to say, psychopath to psychopath, that shows a certain lack of commitment to the part.
MASTER: It’s just the worst sort of job security, isn’t it? Kill him, and then suddenly it’s all personal crisis this and lack of purpose that . . . But enough of these pleasantries, you must want a drink.
RIVER: Oh, thank you, I am knackered. Being crazy is hard work--did you know? Of course you knew. (considers) I’ll have a banana daiquiri.
MASTER: I just might join you in that. (Two glasses appear on the bar.) You like your drinks like you like your men, do you?
RIVER: (deadpan) Fruity and sweet.
MASTER: (chuckles) Cheers to that. (They drink.)
RIVER: Do you mind if I smoke?
MASTER: No, no, go right ahead. (waves) Are we keeping up appearances?
RIVER: It just so happens--I don’t know if you missed this bit--but I’m a psychopath now. (draws out a cigarette, very serious) But something tells me we’re about to commit a lot of sensible conversation, and then what would people think? But, see? (lights cigarette and blows a long plume of smoke)
MASTER: Oh, classic indeed, classic. I could tell you’re no good from forty paces. (She nods graciously.) I suppose I really ought to do the same. (takes cigarette too) Oh, my doctor keeps going on about how I need to quit but . . . No, wait, hold on. I’m supposed to be irredeemably evil. (calculates) I’d better take two. (He does so, lighting them and letting both dangle from his lips.) There, how do I look?
RIVER: Like someone who drowns kittens.
MASTER: (a bit garbled) Splendid, splendid . . . (gets annoyed with the dual cigarettes and takes them out) Although you did make a whole restaurant strip at gunpoint, my dear. I feel like that ought to earn you at least a few quiet drinks with a friend.
RIVER: Liked that, did you?
MASTER: Mmm, full marks for style. But I must say that, for a psychopath, there was precious little bloodshed. Now, I don’t like to criticize . . . well, rather, I do, but that’s hardly the point . . .
RIVER: It is a bit rubbish, isn’t it? I do what I can, but you know, I’m not supposed to be irredeemably evil, and that tends to limit the creative options.
MASTER: Christ, I hate a redemption narrative. (pinches the bridge of his nose) I’d wish you out of that if I could, my dear, I really would. I can’t help feeling it’s at least a little my fault, what with you having to take over my spot and all . . .
RIVER: (shrugs) I got off easy, all things considered. One episode . . . (dusts hands) Plus, it’s ultimately his redemption narrative, really.
MASTER: Does that make it better?
RIVER: I haven’t the slightest idea. (swirls her drink) Tell me, why do we keep doing this? The psychopath thing, I mean. We could . . . say 'no'?
MASTER: Well, there is always making Nazis strip.
RIVER: (laughs) There is that.
MASTER: (blows smoke, thinks) I suppose because it pays the bills. Good luck to you getting hired for anything else.
RIVER: There must be a better way of getting into narrative.
MASTER: If you have any suggestions, I am entirely open to them. I shall throw you a parade, even. With streamers. And polka bands.
RIVER: How about . . . not being broken? (leans back, feigning casual) Just a thought.
MASTER: (laughs) My dear, will you listen to yourself? You are being thoroughly uncharitable!
RIVER: Oh?
MASTER: Now, think it through: if we weren’t broken . . . (leans in, conspiratorial and slightly tipsy by this point) . . . then who would they have to fix?
RIVER: (acts appalled) Dear lord, we can’t have that!
MASTER: We will forget you ever brought it up.
RIVER: Very selfish of me, really . . .
MASTER: (sudden thought) Remind me, what was the method of your madness anyway? These things do matter.
RIVER: Kidnapped in infancy and brainwashed.
MASTER: (pulls a face) What an exquisite abrogation of responsibility . . .
RIVER: I hate it too.
MASTER: (studies her) Have you something in mind, then?
RIVER: (taps ash off cigarette, slowly) Time . . . (carefully folds hands) can be rewritten.
MASTER: (surprised) Your own timeline? You are playing with fire, my dear.
RIVER: (sadly) But . . . it’s mine. It’s mine.
MASTER: (considers her, nods) So what about ‘not one line, don’t you dare’ then?
RIVER: Well . . . (laughs) And what were the chances of him every following that himself? You have to lay down a hard line, sometimes. (shrugs) And if we’re very lucky, he’ll pay some bit of deference to it from time to time. But there’s worse yet coming, and I don’t know if I can let it stand . . .
MASTER: River . . . (warning) That is a fixed point.
RIVER: (bites her lips)
MASTER: (glares for awhile, then clears his throat, letting it go) Ok, now, we all know you’ve got yourself an in with the big man in charge, so give a retired supervillain a hint. What’s the end game, here?
RIVER: (shaking it off and taking on a conspiratorial tone) Jim the Fish is the Rani.
MASTER: Well, now you’re just having me on . . .
RIVER: Probably. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have 20 quid on it anyway.
MASTER: (pause) I’ll call my bookie . . .
Title: A Psychopath Walks into a Bar
Fandom: Doctor Who, River, the Master
Length: 1,000 words
Rating: PG
Spoilers: 6x08
Summary: Meta fic. River and Fry!Master talk shop after Let's Kill Hitler.
AN: This will seem a tad less bizarre if you've read Evilness vs. The Doctor first, but the essentials are this: Meta is a blank, white space that exists outside of the narrative, where characters can come to talk about their storylines. After The End of Time, the Master regenerated into Stephen Fry and decided to retire to the Meta because he was tired of playing narrative pawn to the Doctor's ideas of evil. He and River get on well.
Fry!Master is sitting in Meta, in front of a big, old-fashioned bar. River enters, and he jumps up to greet her.
MASTER: Well now, look who it is: his ‘own bespoke psychopath’! (Kisses her on both cheeks.) How are you, my dear? And here I thought I was special. I know a Gallifreyan who’s not getting a Christmas card from me this year . . .
RIVER: (laughs) It’s good to see you. And don’t take it too much to heart.
MASTER: No?
RIVER: Mmmm, well, you never could quite bring yourself to kill him, could you? (They sit.) I have to say, psychopath to psychopath, that shows a certain lack of commitment to the part.
MASTER: It’s just the worst sort of job security, isn’t it? Kill him, and then suddenly it’s all personal crisis this and lack of purpose that . . . But enough of these pleasantries, you must want a drink.
RIVER: Oh, thank you, I am knackered. Being crazy is hard work--did you know? Of course you knew. (considers) I’ll have a banana daiquiri.
MASTER: I just might join you in that. (Two glasses appear on the bar.) You like your drinks like you like your men, do you?
RIVER: (deadpan) Fruity and sweet.
MASTER: (chuckles) Cheers to that. (They drink.)
RIVER: Do you mind if I smoke?
MASTER: No, no, go right ahead. (waves) Are we keeping up appearances?
RIVER: It just so happens--I don’t know if you missed this bit--but I’m a psychopath now. (draws out a cigarette, very serious) But something tells me we’re about to commit a lot of sensible conversation, and then what would people think? But, see? (lights cigarette and blows a long plume of smoke)
MASTER: Oh, classic indeed, classic. I could tell you’re no good from forty paces. (She nods graciously.) I suppose I really ought to do the same. (takes cigarette too) Oh, my doctor keeps going on about how I need to quit but . . . No, wait, hold on. I’m supposed to be irredeemably evil. (calculates) I’d better take two. (He does so, lighting them and letting both dangle from his lips.) There, how do I look?
RIVER: Like someone who drowns kittens.
MASTER: (a bit garbled) Splendid, splendid . . . (gets annoyed with the dual cigarettes and takes them out) Although you did make a whole restaurant strip at gunpoint, my dear. I feel like that ought to earn you at least a few quiet drinks with a friend.
RIVER: Liked that, did you?
MASTER: Mmm, full marks for style. But I must say that, for a psychopath, there was precious little bloodshed. Now, I don’t like to criticize . . . well, rather, I do, but that’s hardly the point . . .
RIVER: It is a bit rubbish, isn’t it? I do what I can, but you know, I’m not supposed to be irredeemably evil, and that tends to limit the creative options.
MASTER: Christ, I hate a redemption narrative. (pinches the bridge of his nose) I’d wish you out of that if I could, my dear, I really would. I can’t help feeling it’s at least a little my fault, what with you having to take over my spot and all . . .
RIVER: (shrugs) I got off easy, all things considered. One episode . . . (dusts hands) Plus, it’s ultimately his redemption narrative, really.
MASTER: Does that make it better?
RIVER: I haven’t the slightest idea. (swirls her drink) Tell me, why do we keep doing this? The psychopath thing, I mean. We could . . . say 'no'?
MASTER: Well, there is always making Nazis strip.
RIVER: (laughs) There is that.
MASTER: (blows smoke, thinks) I suppose because it pays the bills. Good luck to you getting hired for anything else.
RIVER: There must be a better way of getting into narrative.
MASTER: If you have any suggestions, I am entirely open to them. I shall throw you a parade, even. With streamers. And polka bands.
RIVER: How about . . . not being broken? (leans back, feigning casual) Just a thought.
MASTER: (laughs) My dear, will you listen to yourself? You are being thoroughly uncharitable!
RIVER: Oh?
MASTER: Now, think it through: if we weren’t broken . . . (leans in, conspiratorial and slightly tipsy by this point) . . . then who would they have to fix?
RIVER: (acts appalled) Dear lord, we can’t have that!
MASTER: We will forget you ever brought it up.
RIVER: Very selfish of me, really . . .
MASTER: (sudden thought) Remind me, what was the method of your madness anyway? These things do matter.
RIVER: Kidnapped in infancy and brainwashed.
MASTER: (pulls a face) What an exquisite abrogation of responsibility . . .
RIVER: I hate it too.
MASTER: (studies her) Have you something in mind, then?
RIVER: (taps ash off cigarette, slowly) Time . . . (carefully folds hands) can be rewritten.
MASTER: (surprised) Your own timeline? You are playing with fire, my dear.
RIVER: (sadly) But . . . it’s mine. It’s mine.
MASTER: (considers her, nods) So what about ‘not one line, don’t you dare’ then?
RIVER: Well . . . (laughs) And what were the chances of him every following that himself? You have to lay down a hard line, sometimes. (shrugs) And if we’re very lucky, he’ll pay some bit of deference to it from time to time. But there’s worse yet coming, and I don’t know if I can let it stand . . .
MASTER: River . . . (warning) That is a fixed point.
RIVER: (bites her lips)
MASTER: (glares for awhile, then clears his throat, letting it go) Ok, now, we all know you’ve got yourself an in with the big man in charge, so give a retired supervillain a hint. What’s the end game, here?
RIVER: (shaking it off and taking on a conspiratorial tone) Jim the Fish is the Rani.
MASTER: Well, now you’re just having me on . . .
RIVER: Probably. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have 20 quid on it anyway.
MASTER: (pause) I’ll call my bookie . . .