Interlude: New Fic: The Ten Truths (part 3 of 3)
AN: I'm posting the third part, but I'm also posting the whole fic as one part here. It's long (about 6000 words), but that's how I wrote it originally.
His voice broke as he spoke … all the flippancy and façade has finally melted away into a moment of honesty … and tenderness. He is more vulnerable in this moment than he has been for more than eight hundred years. He can’t see anything but the Master, a vision of the Master floating in front of his eyes …
But there is a reason the Doctor locked this part of himself away, never let himself be vulnerable. And now he’s reminded of his reason, as the vision fades away into the harsh light of reality.
There is no tenderness in the Master’s voice … but there is at least honesty. “Then why did you leave me?”
“What?”
“You left me! All those years ago, all those years of you and me against the universe … all those promises … you just left me!”
Ah. The Doctor slumps, hunching his shoulders and closing his eyes tightly. He carries around so much guilt; and it’s only right, he thinks. He’s done so much to feel guilty about.
No matter how many times he tells himself he had no choice, the guilt he feels for burning Gallifrey is unbearable. Deaths … thousands of them. Genocide. It’s so wonder he rarely sleeps.
And it’s not just the Time War. For years he kept a running count in his head of the deaths he witnessed, telling himself those people should be remembered. He lost count centuries ago. The people he tried to save, but couldn’t.
His Companions. The ones he left, and the ones who left him. The ones whose lives were ruined … and those who died.
So much guilt. He can trace them backwards, the times when he failed … but none of them are as bad as the first time.
Because the Master is right. He did leave him. He left without looking back, broke every promise he’d ever made … and it’s the worst thing he’s ever done. He’s sure it’s the worst because he’s never mentioned it to anyone. He never intended to tell anyone about his role in the Time War. He didn’t think he’d ever need to … anyone who’d heard of the battle was dead. But still it had slipped out, here and there.
But his betrayal of the Master, of his best friend … he kept that locked inside. No-one ever needs to know about that.
But now the Master wants to know why.
“You didn’t need me any more,” he says, and although it’s corrupted, it’s still a version of the truth.
The Master narrows his eyes, and his fury is palpable. “I don’t know how you did that, because you know that’s not true.” To drive home his point, he holds up his wrist.
“It’s true. You think you still needed me, but you didn’t … not for what you wanted to do.”
“I was young. Like you. I didn’t know what I wanted. How could you have known?”
Caught out, the Doctor’s expression freezes, and he panics slightly as the truth fights its way to the surface.
“When I first got my TARDIS … last thing before the Test … we had to make a solo journey and return home safely …”
“I remember. I went to the founding of the Citadel.”
“I know. You told me. To go there never occurred to me.”
“Where did you go? You would never tell me.” The Master’s tone deepens again, revealing a grievance long held.
“I went to see you. I went into the future to find you. Or, more accurately, to find us together. I knew we’d still be together in the future. I wanted to see how we’d done … whether we’d achieved all those things we promised ourselves.”
The Master’s face falls. The Doctor thinks it’s impossible to have absolutely equal intelligence in two separate beings, but he’d always thought that if any two could manage it, it would be them. But if it truly is impossible … well, the Master’s that little bit quicker than he is. Always has been.
Like now. He’s figured it out straight away, and he knows he’s in trouble. He carries on talking as a delaying tactic.
“I saw what you had become. I saw the things you did. And … it tallied with what you always said you wanted to do. Live forever. Have mastery over the universe. That’s when I knew you didn’t need me any more.” He stands up, facing away from the Master.
“You fool!” He can tell from the voice that the Master has passed through anger and fury into white-hot rage. “You left me because you saw what I had become? I’d only become that because you left me!”
The Doctor knows this. He worked it out after their first, terrible reunion. By now the guilt is unbearable and the beating of his hearts has quickened to a buzz. He inflicted the Master on the universe.
When the Master speaks again the fury has gone and his voice is cold as ice. “I wanted to live forever … with you. I wanted mastery over the universe … I wanted to understand it. With you. Everything after that was because you left.
He knows.
His back is turned, but he hears the Master’s footsteps walking away.
“Wait!”
The footsteps stop, and the Doctor turns around.
“There’s another reason. Another reason I left. On its own … that wouldn’t have been enough. I still … even after that … I still would have stayed with you.”
He can’t hear the words he’s saying any more. He can’t hear how hurtful they are. But he can hear the pain in the Master’s voice, even in a single word.
“What?”
“I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of you!”
The Master crosses and sits back down, apparently intrigued. He may not have always wanted to rule the universe, but he’s never stopped wanting to rule the Doctor.
“Why? I’d never threatened you, then.”
“You had. You just didn’t know it. You were always more involved than me. I was always … detached. Everything I did was from a distance. The only thing anywhere near me was you.
“What are you talking about?”
“I was scared of the way you made me feel!” The Doctor throws himself back into his chair, feeling that perhaps one too many truths has come out tonight.
The Master likes this new turn the conversation has taken, almost enough to forget, at least temporarily, the previous revelation. In a tone of mock innocence he asks, “Do I still make you feel that way?”
He hopes so. To create such feelings in the Doctor is a glory. To have the Doctor himself fear those feelings is a delightful bonus. But he’s forgotten there can be no game-playing tonight.
“Yes.” A simple, honest answer tells more about the state of their relationship than any battle of wits.
“And how, exactly, do I make you feel?”
“Alive. Young. Inspired. Beautiful. Complete.”
The Master smiles, satisfied. Part of his brain, naturally, is calculating multiple ways this will work in his favour. But, disturbingly, a tiny part of his mind is just enjoying this perfect image. He’s distracted, and caught off guard by the Doctor’s question.
“How does it make you feel?” He’s a little scared to ask, not sure he really wants to know.
The Master takes a deep breath, then sighs. “Happy. Laughing, plotting, fighting, shagging, waiting. I’ve always felt that way around you. Happy.”
** ** **
“Then why did you give up on me?”
“You hurt me. More than anything. As much as I wanted to get your attention, I wanted to hurt you. Hurt you as much as you hurt me.”
It’s horrible, hearing that. But he’d known it, really. But he also knows that in nine hundred years he can’t have been the only one who pissed off the Master. “Why?”
“I told you. You hurt me. Not physically, not even mentally. It was more than that. No one ever hurt me, badly. No one else ever could.”
“Why not?”
“No one else was close enough to do it.”
There’s a symmetry in their lives, and in their answers. Both have kept themselves cut off from others. That nearest, intimate space is reserved only for the other.
And although knowledge is power, both have passed the point of caring how much power they’re giving away. It’s probable their relationship will never be the same … but if it goes back to before this night, both will have to pretend it never happened. No one has the upper hand.
Both are equally powerless.
** ** **
There’s something the Master needs to know.
“Back there, on the aircraft carrier. You saved me. If Gallifrey was still there, if the Time Lords lived, if you weren’t alone, would you still have saved me.”
“Yes. Do you really need to ask?”
“Yes. Why did you do it?”
“Because I love you. I need you. If the only way to save your life had been to give up mine, I’d have done it. I love you.”
He can’t quite reciprocate, at least, not in words. He says, “I need you too,” and the Doctor knows what he means.
For a moment. Then, like an eager youngster, he needs to hear it. “Do you love me?”
It’s been many years since he’s heard the Master’s voice so alive with true emotion. “I do. I always did. You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”
He crosses the room and falls on the Doctor, wrapping his arms around him, kissing him passionately. Their chests press together, four hearts beating as two. The grandfather clock in the corner chimes resoundingly.
More than eight hundred years simply melt away in that instant. Never breaking the kiss, the strong fingers of these young bodies tear away clothes, searching out the cool bare skin underneath, until the floor is draped with cloth.
It provides an excellent blanket when they fall. The Doctor lands on top and the Master indulges him for a moment, before rolling sharply, taking his rightful place.
Some things never change.
Afterwards the Master falls on his back, and the Doctor rests his head on the other man’s chest, listening to the furious pounding inside.
The Master has the power in their relationship, and the Doctor wouldn’t have it any other way. But he has power too. No one else in the universe can create that particular rhythm from the Master’s hearts.
** ** **
It’s as if there’s a mist around them, but as it melts away, the Master asks, “What do want from me?” If the Doctor says he wants to go back to how they were as youngsters, he’ll know there’s no longer a chance for them. He has no patience for impossible dreams.
But they’re too similar for that. The Doctor has a request which falls just inside the ‘possible’ range. “I want you to stay. Will you?”
The Master chooses to be honest. “I can try. I swear I’ll try. It’s been so long … I don’t know what I can do any more. But I want to try. And … you know,” he punctuates this by stroking the Doctor’s face gently, “I have a whole new set of regenerations. I have all the time in the world. Perhaps growing old with you would be time well spent.”
The Doctor reaches up and mimics the Master’s gesture, running fingertips across his cheek. “I’ll try to make you happy.”
The Master rolls the Doctor onto his back and straddles him, leaning forward until their noses are touching. “Just be mine.”
They’re all over each other again, but it’s slower this time. They take their time exploring these new bodies, finding they react in the exact same ways their first ones did. They like the same things, they respond to the same things. And the Doctor and the Master remember every single one.
** ** **
This time they’re exhausted. They lie, side by side, gasping for breath.
“So,” the Doctor says conversationally, examining his wrist with interest. “When exactly did your patch stop working?”
Without missing a beat, the Master answers, “The first time we … when the clock chimed.”
“Mine too.”
His voice broke as he spoke … all the flippancy and façade has finally melted away into a moment of honesty … and tenderness. He is more vulnerable in this moment than he has been for more than eight hundred years. He can’t see anything but the Master, a vision of the Master floating in front of his eyes …
But there is a reason the Doctor locked this part of himself away, never let himself be vulnerable. And now he’s reminded of his reason, as the vision fades away into the harsh light of reality.
There is no tenderness in the Master’s voice … but there is at least honesty. “Then why did you leave me?”
“What?”
“You left me! All those years ago, all those years of you and me against the universe … all those promises … you just left me!”
Ah. The Doctor slumps, hunching his shoulders and closing his eyes tightly. He carries around so much guilt; and it’s only right, he thinks. He’s done so much to feel guilty about.
No matter how many times he tells himself he had no choice, the guilt he feels for burning Gallifrey is unbearable. Deaths … thousands of them. Genocide. It’s so wonder he rarely sleeps.
And it’s not just the Time War. For years he kept a running count in his head of the deaths he witnessed, telling himself those people should be remembered. He lost count centuries ago. The people he tried to save, but couldn’t.
His Companions. The ones he left, and the ones who left him. The ones whose lives were ruined … and those who died.
So much guilt. He can trace them backwards, the times when he failed … but none of them are as bad as the first time.
Because the Master is right. He did leave him. He left without looking back, broke every promise he’d ever made … and it’s the worst thing he’s ever done. He’s sure it’s the worst because he’s never mentioned it to anyone. He never intended to tell anyone about his role in the Time War. He didn’t think he’d ever need to … anyone who’d heard of the battle was dead. But still it had slipped out, here and there.
But his betrayal of the Master, of his best friend … he kept that locked inside. No-one ever needs to know about that.
But now the Master wants to know why.
“You didn’t need me any more,” he says, and although it’s corrupted, it’s still a version of the truth.
The Master narrows his eyes, and his fury is palpable. “I don’t know how you did that, because you know that’s not true.” To drive home his point, he holds up his wrist.
“It’s true. You think you still needed me, but you didn’t … not for what you wanted to do.”
“I was young. Like you. I didn’t know what I wanted. How could you have known?”
Caught out, the Doctor’s expression freezes, and he panics slightly as the truth fights its way to the surface.
“When I first got my TARDIS … last thing before the Test … we had to make a solo journey and return home safely …”
“I remember. I went to the founding of the Citadel.”
“I know. You told me. To go there never occurred to me.”
“Where did you go? You would never tell me.” The Master’s tone deepens again, revealing a grievance long held.
“I went to see you. I went into the future to find you. Or, more accurately, to find us together. I knew we’d still be together in the future. I wanted to see how we’d done … whether we’d achieved all those things we promised ourselves.”
The Master’s face falls. The Doctor thinks it’s impossible to have absolutely equal intelligence in two separate beings, but he’d always thought that if any two could manage it, it would be them. But if it truly is impossible … well, the Master’s that little bit quicker than he is. Always has been.
Like now. He’s figured it out straight away, and he knows he’s in trouble. He carries on talking as a delaying tactic.
“I saw what you had become. I saw the things you did. And … it tallied with what you always said you wanted to do. Live forever. Have mastery over the universe. That’s when I knew you didn’t need me any more.” He stands up, facing away from the Master.
“You fool!” He can tell from the voice that the Master has passed through anger and fury into white-hot rage. “You left me because you saw what I had become? I’d only become that because you left me!”
The Doctor knows this. He worked it out after their first, terrible reunion. By now the guilt is unbearable and the beating of his hearts has quickened to a buzz. He inflicted the Master on the universe.
When the Master speaks again the fury has gone and his voice is cold as ice. “I wanted to live forever … with you. I wanted mastery over the universe … I wanted to understand it. With you. Everything after that was because you left.
He knows.
His back is turned, but he hears the Master’s footsteps walking away.
“Wait!”
The footsteps stop, and the Doctor turns around.
“There’s another reason. Another reason I left. On its own … that wouldn’t have been enough. I still … even after that … I still would have stayed with you.”
He can’t hear the words he’s saying any more. He can’t hear how hurtful they are. But he can hear the pain in the Master’s voice, even in a single word.
“What?”
“I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of you!”
The Master crosses and sits back down, apparently intrigued. He may not have always wanted to rule the universe, but he’s never stopped wanting to rule the Doctor.
“Why? I’d never threatened you, then.”
“You had. You just didn’t know it. You were always more involved than me. I was always … detached. Everything I did was from a distance. The only thing anywhere near me was you.
“What are you talking about?”
“I was scared of the way you made me feel!” The Doctor throws himself back into his chair, feeling that perhaps one too many truths has come out tonight.
The Master likes this new turn the conversation has taken, almost enough to forget, at least temporarily, the previous revelation. In a tone of mock innocence he asks, “Do I still make you feel that way?”
He hopes so. To create such feelings in the Doctor is a glory. To have the Doctor himself fear those feelings is a delightful bonus. But he’s forgotten there can be no game-playing tonight.
“Yes.” A simple, honest answer tells more about the state of their relationship than any battle of wits.
“And how, exactly, do I make you feel?”
“Alive. Young. Inspired. Beautiful. Complete.”
The Master smiles, satisfied. Part of his brain, naturally, is calculating multiple ways this will work in his favour. But, disturbingly, a tiny part of his mind is just enjoying this perfect image. He’s distracted, and caught off guard by the Doctor’s question.
“How does it make you feel?” He’s a little scared to ask, not sure he really wants to know.
The Master takes a deep breath, then sighs. “Happy. Laughing, plotting, fighting, shagging, waiting. I’ve always felt that way around you. Happy.”
** ** **
“Then why did you give up on me?”
“You hurt me. More than anything. As much as I wanted to get your attention, I wanted to hurt you. Hurt you as much as you hurt me.”
It’s horrible, hearing that. But he’d known it, really. But he also knows that in nine hundred years he can’t have been the only one who pissed off the Master. “Why?”
“I told you. You hurt me. Not physically, not even mentally. It was more than that. No one ever hurt me, badly. No one else ever could.”
“Why not?”
“No one else was close enough to do it.”
There’s a symmetry in their lives, and in their answers. Both have kept themselves cut off from others. That nearest, intimate space is reserved only for the other.
And although knowledge is power, both have passed the point of caring how much power they’re giving away. It’s probable their relationship will never be the same … but if it goes back to before this night, both will have to pretend it never happened. No one has the upper hand.
Both are equally powerless.
** ** **
There’s something the Master needs to know.
“Back there, on the aircraft carrier. You saved me. If Gallifrey was still there, if the Time Lords lived, if you weren’t alone, would you still have saved me.”
“Yes. Do you really need to ask?”
“Yes. Why did you do it?”
“Because I love you. I need you. If the only way to save your life had been to give up mine, I’d have done it. I love you.”
He can’t quite reciprocate, at least, not in words. He says, “I need you too,” and the Doctor knows what he means.
For a moment. Then, like an eager youngster, he needs to hear it. “Do you love me?”
It’s been many years since he’s heard the Master’s voice so alive with true emotion. “I do. I always did. You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”
He crosses the room and falls on the Doctor, wrapping his arms around him, kissing him passionately. Their chests press together, four hearts beating as two. The grandfather clock in the corner chimes resoundingly.
More than eight hundred years simply melt away in that instant. Never breaking the kiss, the strong fingers of these young bodies tear away clothes, searching out the cool bare skin underneath, until the floor is draped with cloth.
It provides an excellent blanket when they fall. The Doctor lands on top and the Master indulges him for a moment, before rolling sharply, taking his rightful place.
Some things never change.
Afterwards the Master falls on his back, and the Doctor rests his head on the other man’s chest, listening to the furious pounding inside.
The Master has the power in their relationship, and the Doctor wouldn’t have it any other way. But he has power too. No one else in the universe can create that particular rhythm from the Master’s hearts.
** ** **
It’s as if there’s a mist around them, but as it melts away, the Master asks, “What do want from me?” If the Doctor says he wants to go back to how they were as youngsters, he’ll know there’s no longer a chance for them. He has no patience for impossible dreams.
But they’re too similar for that. The Doctor has a request which falls just inside the ‘possible’ range. “I want you to stay. Will you?”
The Master chooses to be honest. “I can try. I swear I’ll try. It’s been so long … I don’t know what I can do any more. But I want to try. And … you know,” he punctuates this by stroking the Doctor’s face gently, “I have a whole new set of regenerations. I have all the time in the world. Perhaps growing old with you would be time well spent.”
The Doctor reaches up and mimics the Master’s gesture, running fingertips across his cheek. “I’ll try to make you happy.”
The Master rolls the Doctor onto his back and straddles him, leaning forward until their noses are touching. “Just be mine.”
They’re all over each other again, but it’s slower this time. They take their time exploring these new bodies, finding they react in the exact same ways their first ones did. They like the same things, they respond to the same things. And the Doctor and the Master remember every single one.
** ** **
This time they’re exhausted. They lie, side by side, gasping for breath.
“So,” the Doctor says conversationally, examining his wrist with interest. “When exactly did your patch stop working?”
Without missing a beat, the Master answers, “The first time we … when the clock chimed.”
“Mine too.”