(Part One of a loosely connected series that I haven't named yet)
Notes: Let's switch off our physics brain for a second, yeah? I'm pretty sure if something like i'm about to describe would cause a nuclear reaction, similar to what a sun is doing every second. So, yeah, let's just ignore that for a while and just enjoy the image i'm trying to paint here :D
As a kid the weekends with your family in the Scottish Highlands were your favourite. Your grandparents' house was cold, but mysterious and lovely in its own way. It was your favourite place in the world.
It was located at the edge of a small village and there was nothing around but Scottish Highlands for miles and miles. Nobody else, just trees, and forests, and lakes, and hills, and animals and the sky and you. You were often allowed to play outside by yourself and you went exploring the world. Back then everything seemed possible.
Apart from your numerous adventures, your fondest memory were of the weekends with thunderstorms. There was something about the power and chaos that seemed so alluring to you, and it was magical in its own right.
For hours you sat at the windows and watched the dark clouds as they approached, swallowing up the bright blue sky, towering over the hills.
And there in the middle were the tiny houses with their smoking chimneys, desperately trying to fight against the coldness that accompanied those clouds.
But the storm would always come, and the clouds would build up higher and higher, getting darker by the second, turning the sky a threatening purple. The wind would pick up, howling through the old house and making the old wood creak. The birds would stop singing, occasionally fleeing south on particularly dark days. The rabbits would hide in their burrows in the fields, the larger animals would hide out in the forest.
Rain would patter against the windows, getting heavier and stronger as closer as the storm got. Lightning would illuminate the dark sky for the fraction of a second, throwing grotesque shadows over the town.
And then finally, the storm was there. The air was charged, and your skin was tingling in anticipation as you waited for the chaos to begin. There was the lightning, barely giving a forewarning before the thunder would drown out all sounds, vibrating through the house and your bones. The feeling was absolutely electrifying. You had long blocked out the steady pitter-patter of the rain against the windowpanes, and were instead anticipating the next strike, the next electrifying bolt charge to the earth, the next crash that would make you tremble in both fear and awe.
Those weekends were your favourite as they ignited a flame within you, made you crave for more, made you crave for the chaos and power and noise.
They made you feel alive.
"You once mentioned you like thunderstorms."
You looked up from your book in surprise as the hour long silence was suddenly broken. The Master was leaning against the console, a contemplative look on his face. He seemed to be waiting for a reply.
"I did?" You scrunched up your forehead in thought. "I mean, yes, I might've mentioned it sometime." You hastened to add when the frown lines of his face deepened at your non-answer.
Immediately the lines lightened again, and a gleeful expression took over. "Perfect. You're going to like the next bit then."
He whistled happily and spun around, putting in some coordinates immediately, making the time rotor move with a deep groan.
You perked up. "Where are we going?"
"Just wait and see." He threw a smirk over his shoulder at you, making you huff and close your book as you were too curious to even pretend to be reading now.
"Now, for the fun part," was all the warning you got before the TARDIS was suddenly lurching oddly to the side. You barely could hold onto your seat that was luckily screwed tightly to the floor.
"If that's your idea of fun, I can tell you that I've had my fair share of this while travelling with the Doctor!"
"That's just her bad driving!"
The Master had one hand on a keyboard, tipping in a sequence of buttons while the other hand was white from his tight grip to the console. His wide eyes showed manic glee as he stared at the monitor in front of him. "Oh, this is going to be much more interesting."
He pushed a lever and then started running – albeit a bit shakily – to the doors, throwing them open.
In a heartbeat you understood why the TARDIS was still shaking so badly – you seemed to be right in the middle of meteoric debris and sheer luck (and some lurches at the right time) prevented the TARDIS from crashing into them.
Curiosity made you walk closer to the doors, but you were still mindful enough to keep on hand attached to the railings or walls at all times.
In the distance you could see some... clouds? No wait, nebulas. Nebulas that illuminated the all encompassing darkness with bright colours.
With the rapid speed of the TARDIS these nebulas seemed to be headed right at you.
The Master was still standing in the doorway, arms out to the side, a wide grin on his face, his eyes sparkling in madness and childish glee.
You barely had time to think, so you crouched down near the doors by instinct of self-preservation, and shouted "Get down, you bastard!".
You were clenching your eyes together, braced for the inevitable impact, waited for the space particles to be catapulted into the interior of the spaceship, took a deep breath and flexed your muscles.
And then... nothing happened.
You heard the Master laughing and as you looked up, you saw lights swirling around the TARDIS' entrance, warping closer, almost touching you, then flitting away. It almost looked like they were dancing, and you were lucky enough to witness their grace.
There were also comets and little showers of sparks, large asteroids crashing together and yet no sound would carry through the emptiness of space.
You just guffawed and stood beside the Master, looking at the spectacle.
"There's nothing like travelling through a space storm!"
You looked back into his eyes. There was the usual chaos brewing in them but something tiny was also mixing into it. Just a spark, a trick of the light, and in the blink of an eye it was gone again.
You realised that another emotion was warring with the chaos, not anger or sadness, as you would've recognised them instantly. Something positive maybe, you thought, and then it returned in full force and you could finally name it.
Those eyes, usually so pained and dark, were now glittering in joy as the stars exploded and the meteors crashed and nebulas formed around you; a tiny space ship floating though space, experiencing the wonders of the universe.
And with the chaos illuminating his eyes, you saw him laugh. A real, genuine, proper laugh.
A laugh born out of pure happiness.
It wasn't cold, or calculating. It wasn't obscenely wide as the manic one. It was just unadulterated happiness shining on his face, smoothing the lines of the lonely years, the years of planning and frowning, the years of destruction and hatred and rage.
In his place was a carefree man with glittering in his eyes, the crow's feet showing this regeneration was made for laughing and happiness.
You had never seen him so beautiful before.
