Fic: Newton's Second Law
Title: Newton's Second Law
Author: louie x
Rating: R
Series: Doctor Who
Pairing: Master/Doctor
Word Count: 1532
Disclaimer: Not mine. RTD still can wave his hand over this and call it his and the BBC's.
Summary: Takes place shortly after The Missing Element wherein a being who feels incomplete finds the path toward being whole laid out before him by a masterful hand.
A/N: Spoilers for 'Journey's End'
It's startlingly easy to lie.
You think it ought to be harder. That it really should take more physical effort, more than just a turn of lips and twist of a mouth.The words are more powerful than any sort of weapon you might wield.
Torchwood, even though the word of it still tastes bitter on your tongue, welcomes you with open arms. All the knowledge of the Doctor locked within a human body, behind a human smile, and with Rose on your arm; you're in the building without anyone batting an eye. It makes you feel better to be around the strange, new technology. To read up about the smaller, but noticeable, little holes in the universe through which the rift spits out small things here or there. Nothing as impressive as on your Earth, or Jack's rift, but you bury yourself in the data regardless.
Only because of the need to eat and bathe do you let Rose drag you from London's impressive building. You're back before the sunrise, before even she wakes up, the next day. When no one's watching you, officials too delighted to interrupt anything you might discover, you open up a video feed to a number tucked away in your pocket.
He smiles at you. The Master; your Master. Not that you would ever tell him of the possessive tug that you feel for the Timelord. No, that would please the narcissist in him too much. However, your stomach settles just at seeing the pixelated image of him, suit and all, hands steepled beneath his chin.
"That took less time than I thought," he murmurs absently upon noticing just where you are. "Either she is more foolish than we both thought, or you need to recall just how impressive you can be motivated to be." A compliment from him is rare, so you take it with quiet pleasure. Again, too much reciprocation and he will become distracted by his own self glory.
The two of you look over data, spinning ideas and swapping theorem back and forth known only to graduates from the Gallifreyean academy.
You exchange such calls and messages in secret for nearly a month.
Torchwood dismisses it. Only once does a petite asian woman who works in their tech department asks you. She accepts that you're just chatting up a friend, something to help with the mundanity of the job, and smiles so warmly that it makes you ask her name. Toshiko is kind, you think, and you ask the Master if you could let her in on your secret.
She doesn't make it through the end of the week, unfortunately, died in the field. Her file is classified beyond your reach and your hands are stubbornly slow where once they could out-code even the fastest of computers. The black bars take several weeks of secret work to break and your heart aches to read she was killed by cannibals in some remote village.
The Master shows up at the home you share with Rose that night. She's out with her parents. The little dog, now called Rose II, prances around the Master's feet, first wary then curiously happy at someone new. When he leans in and kisses you, taking your breath away while still standing in the open doorway, any of the neighbors are possible witnesses.
But once the door is shut, he shows you the reason for his celebration.
"They have a TARDIS," he crows. WIthin his hands are print outs of data studies and photos of an amorphous shape. "It's on the cusp of maturity, any day now it will open its doors and they won't have any idea what to do with it. Imagine, what these small minded creatures would do with the beautiful, breathing light of a TARDIS' newborn heart. Oh god, I knew I wasn't dreaming when I heard it calling out-"
You think about a TARDIS being so close. Understandably under lock, and hidden away in files you had no access to. But that you couldn't feel it makes you sick. It makes your hands shake and the papers fall to the floor as you crumple. The words of your companion are lost in a ringing fuzz while your heart -the single, beastly thing- breaks.
Surprisingly the Master catches you. It seems to surprise him more, interestingly enough, and his hands pull away at first to leave you laying on the floor beside him. You curl inward on yourself, the pages crumpling beneath your huddled limbs, burying your face against your arms as another fragile strand of your connection to your Gallifreyean history is proven gone.
The Master is silent behind you.
"You didn't know," he finally says and hearing it aloud makes you sob. Your nails are too long, clipping forgotten in favor of work, and they dig into your palms. His hands are cool as they pry your inward curled body apart. Turning you onto your back; stroking the lines of tears as if he'd never seen them before, or perhaps had never cared to see them.
He calls you Theta and it's as if he gets bigger in the little room.
Rose II barks after you when he takes you upstairs. You lock her out of the room, her namesake's bedroom, and you don't think about the photos of you and her on the nightstand as he fucks you into the mattress.
You don't think about her as the Master stands before the TARDIS, entering into it's final stages of growth, even though you know she's just on the other side of the door. A screen lights up, her face filling it but there's no sound. You can read her lips, 'Doctor! Doctor!,' she cries. It's his voice you hear though, him calling out 'Theta' with his hand open, beckoning.
The TARDIS cheekily looks like an old VW beetle car, painted up with a Union Jack. Tinted windows and only one side door open, but inside, oh inside takes your breath away.
She bonds with the Master, at first, taking time to learn how your mind works. At first the three of you just travel, touching and experiencing everything. You're almost surprised when you hear the Master playfully suggest taking over a planet for your very own before falling asleep. It's something that keeps you up, leaves you roaming the halls of the TARDIS in nothing but flannel trousers from a set he got you from a sailing sales man in 3856.
She opens her panels, blinding you with her heart when you arrive on the bridge. It sends a spiraling darkness into your mind and you fall, tripping over the ledge to tumble endlessly down, down, down.
You think you die because it hurts so much when you finally stop.
The Master is crying when you come to. He's covered in your blood, laying beside you on the floor, holding your hand in his own as he weeps onto your chest. The sharp pain in your chest is eased when you take your first breath, body shaking in a hard cough. Which is too bad, as it jostles the Master up and away from you.
You watch his eyes, going from doubt to wonder in a moment's flash. The grin that spreads across his face then makes him beautiful, despite the red smears of blood over him. He blurs in your vision, making you blinks then look away as he helps you to your feet. Your body is sore, but nothing that walking out a few stiff muscles couldn't help. The air is sweet in your lungs. His hands are warm upon your face and chest.
You open your eyes and gaze upwards toward the central console chamber. It's a platform built around an endless spiraling staircase of levels and rooms. From where you stand, you can see the brilliant iridescence of her light reaching out toward you. She strokes your mind, voice like a cooing tone of adoration.
"My Doctor," he says, drawing your attention back to him. Your brows touch, a soft bump that speaks of pure animalistic instinct rather than an educated scholar. Then comes a sound, over the singing voice of the TARDIS and the steady beat of your renewed twin hearts, just beyond them there is the subtle beat of madness in the form of never-ending drums. There is such pain in his eyes when you flinch away from him, as the old temptation to run and hide or fight him until you tear each apart other wells up.
His mouth fits perfectly against yours when you draw him in for a kiss that takes his breath away. As you both turn, ready for a shower to wash away the last of your humanity, arms linked at the elbow, you think there are worse things than the shared rhythm of drums as long as he remains beside you. That he smiles, a smile that is sharp with a predators teeth behind his lover's lips, makes you shiver in realization that the same thought had crossed his own mind.
For the first time in what's felt like centuries but has been barely a human lifetime, you feel at home.
Author: louie x
Rating: R
Series: Doctor Who
Pairing: Master/Doctor
Word Count: 1532
Disclaimer: Not mine. RTD still can wave his hand over this and call it his and the BBC's.
Summary: Takes place shortly after The Missing Element wherein a being who feels incomplete finds the path toward being whole laid out before him by a masterful hand.
A/N: Spoilers for 'Journey's End'
It's startlingly easy to lie.
You think it ought to be harder. That it really should take more physical effort, more than just a turn of lips and twist of a mouth.The words are more powerful than any sort of weapon you might wield.
Torchwood, even though the word of it still tastes bitter on your tongue, welcomes you with open arms. All the knowledge of the Doctor locked within a human body, behind a human smile, and with Rose on your arm; you're in the building without anyone batting an eye. It makes you feel better to be around the strange, new technology. To read up about the smaller, but noticeable, little holes in the universe through which the rift spits out small things here or there. Nothing as impressive as on your Earth, or Jack's rift, but you bury yourself in the data regardless.
Only because of the need to eat and bathe do you let Rose drag you from London's impressive building. You're back before the sunrise, before even she wakes up, the next day. When no one's watching you, officials too delighted to interrupt anything you might discover, you open up a video feed to a number tucked away in your pocket.
He smiles at you. The Master; your Master. Not that you would ever tell him of the possessive tug that you feel for the Timelord. No, that would please the narcissist in him too much. However, your stomach settles just at seeing the pixelated image of him, suit and all, hands steepled beneath his chin.
"That took less time than I thought," he murmurs absently upon noticing just where you are. "Either she is more foolish than we both thought, or you need to recall just how impressive you can be motivated to be." A compliment from him is rare, so you take it with quiet pleasure. Again, too much reciprocation and he will become distracted by his own self glory.
The two of you look over data, spinning ideas and swapping theorem back and forth known only to graduates from the Gallifreyean academy.
You exchange such calls and messages in secret for nearly a month.
Torchwood dismisses it. Only once does a petite asian woman who works in their tech department asks you. She accepts that you're just chatting up a friend, something to help with the mundanity of the job, and smiles so warmly that it makes you ask her name. Toshiko is kind, you think, and you ask the Master if you could let her in on your secret.
She doesn't make it through the end of the week, unfortunately, died in the field. Her file is classified beyond your reach and your hands are stubbornly slow where once they could out-code even the fastest of computers. The black bars take several weeks of secret work to break and your heart aches to read she was killed by cannibals in some remote village.
The Master shows up at the home you share with Rose that night. She's out with her parents. The little dog, now called Rose II, prances around the Master's feet, first wary then curiously happy at someone new. When he leans in and kisses you, taking your breath away while still standing in the open doorway, any of the neighbors are possible witnesses.
But once the door is shut, he shows you the reason for his celebration.
"They have a TARDIS," he crows. WIthin his hands are print outs of data studies and photos of an amorphous shape. "It's on the cusp of maturity, any day now it will open its doors and they won't have any idea what to do with it. Imagine, what these small minded creatures would do with the beautiful, breathing light of a TARDIS' newborn heart. Oh god, I knew I wasn't dreaming when I heard it calling out-"
You think about a TARDIS being so close. Understandably under lock, and hidden away in files you had no access to. But that you couldn't feel it makes you sick. It makes your hands shake and the papers fall to the floor as you crumple. The words of your companion are lost in a ringing fuzz while your heart -the single, beastly thing- breaks.
Surprisingly the Master catches you. It seems to surprise him more, interestingly enough, and his hands pull away at first to leave you laying on the floor beside him. You curl inward on yourself, the pages crumpling beneath your huddled limbs, burying your face against your arms as another fragile strand of your connection to your Gallifreyean history is proven gone.
The Master is silent behind you.
"You didn't know," he finally says and hearing it aloud makes you sob. Your nails are too long, clipping forgotten in favor of work, and they dig into your palms. His hands are cool as they pry your inward curled body apart. Turning you onto your back; stroking the lines of tears as if he'd never seen them before, or perhaps had never cared to see them.
He calls you Theta and it's as if he gets bigger in the little room.
Rose II barks after you when he takes you upstairs. You lock her out of the room, her namesake's bedroom, and you don't think about the photos of you and her on the nightstand as he fucks you into the mattress.
You don't think about her as the Master stands before the TARDIS, entering into it's final stages of growth, even though you know she's just on the other side of the door. A screen lights up, her face filling it but there's no sound. You can read her lips, 'Doctor! Doctor!,' she cries. It's his voice you hear though, him calling out 'Theta' with his hand open, beckoning.
The TARDIS cheekily looks like an old VW beetle car, painted up with a Union Jack. Tinted windows and only one side door open, but inside, oh inside takes your breath away.
She bonds with the Master, at first, taking time to learn how your mind works. At first the three of you just travel, touching and experiencing everything. You're almost surprised when you hear the Master playfully suggest taking over a planet for your very own before falling asleep. It's something that keeps you up, leaves you roaming the halls of the TARDIS in nothing but flannel trousers from a set he got you from a sailing sales man in 3856.
She opens her panels, blinding you with her heart when you arrive on the bridge. It sends a spiraling darkness into your mind and you fall, tripping over the ledge to tumble endlessly down, down, down.
You think you die because it hurts so much when you finally stop.
The Master is crying when you come to. He's covered in your blood, laying beside you on the floor, holding your hand in his own as he weeps onto your chest. The sharp pain in your chest is eased when you take your first breath, body shaking in a hard cough. Which is too bad, as it jostles the Master up and away from you.
You watch his eyes, going from doubt to wonder in a moment's flash. The grin that spreads across his face then makes him beautiful, despite the red smears of blood over him. He blurs in your vision, making you blinks then look away as he helps you to your feet. Your body is sore, but nothing that walking out a few stiff muscles couldn't help. The air is sweet in your lungs. His hands are warm upon your face and chest.
You open your eyes and gaze upwards toward the central console chamber. It's a platform built around an endless spiraling staircase of levels and rooms. From where you stand, you can see the brilliant iridescence of her light reaching out toward you. She strokes your mind, voice like a cooing tone of adoration.
"My Doctor," he says, drawing your attention back to him. Your brows touch, a soft bump that speaks of pure animalistic instinct rather than an educated scholar. Then comes a sound, over the singing voice of the TARDIS and the steady beat of your renewed twin hearts, just beyond them there is the subtle beat of madness in the form of never-ending drums. There is such pain in his eyes when you flinch away from him, as the old temptation to run and hide or fight him until you tear each apart other wells up.
His mouth fits perfectly against yours when you draw him in for a kiss that takes his breath away. As you both turn, ready for a shower to wash away the last of your humanity, arms linked at the elbow, you think there are worse things than the shared rhythm of drums as long as he remains beside you. That he smiles, a smile that is sharp with a predators teeth behind his lover's lips, makes you shiver in realization that the same thought had crossed his own mind.
For the first time in what's felt like centuries but has been barely a human lifetime, you feel at home.