(FIC) Things That Were Not, Yet Should Have Been
Title: Things That Were Not, Yet Should Have Been
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Characters: Ainley!Master & Eleven
Word Count: 751
Summary: Vague spoilers for ‘The Big Bang’ and ‘The Five Doctors.’ Two Time Lords meet along an unraveling timeline.
A lone figure roamed the corridors of the dark tower in the Death Zone. With his black cloak billowing behind him, the Master was intent on making his way to Rassilon’s tomb, when a sudden and unfamiliar voice from behind him made his steps falter.
“Oh, I remember when this was. I’m in the tower overlooking the Death Zone, aren’t I? Kind of appropriate for more than one reason. When timelines collide…”
The Master spun in the direction of the sound to see a man in a tweed suit standing near the wall where no one had been previously, lanky and young with an unfamiliar face, yet he recognized him almost immediately. “Doctor?”
The young man grinned. “Hello, you. At first, I wasn’t sure if you’d even see me. But this is a future regeneration, so how did you know it was me?”
“No matter what form you take, Doctor, I’ll always know you,” the Master answered with a smirk.
“True that. And I you. That’s the sort of bond that exists between us, eh? My oldest friend. My best enemy.” The Doctor laughed, but his voice was laced with unmistakable sadness. He gazed over at the Master, his eyes fathomless. “You were always so mad and brilliant and completely vexing.”
The Master frowned at him, feeling at a loss. He could recognize the words for what they were, the prelude to a goodbye. “Why are you telling me these things? And how are you crossing back through your own timeline without consequences?” His expression became increasingly worried. “What’s happened?”
“It’s not what has happened, but what never will.” The Doctor smiled again, broad and wistful. “We had some great times, though, didn’t we? Some great and terrible and impossible times. It was like a dance, what we did, across the stars, across time itself. There was a time when I thought we’d dance forever, until the stars burned out and worlds grew cold. Until the end of time itself. But things don’t always turn out as we hope, do they?”
The Master’s face was a mask of unease and confusion until he felt it. In the corner of his eye, there was light, and he turned toward it. On the floor of the corridor was a crack, temporal energy streaming outward. But he could see that it was sealing, and as the beginnings of understanding dawned on the Master’s face, in his hearts bloomed breath-stealing horror.
“Impossible,” he said, shaking his head in denial. He stepped closer to the other Time Lord. “There must be some way to-”
“I don’t have much time left,” the Doctor interrupted. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to do this, letting myself get swept along. I don’t like replays. But now I’m glad I did. I’m glad I could see you again.” His grin became impossibly wide. “Imagine that.” He soon grew solemn. “You’re going to forget about me. You’re a Time Lord, so you’ll remember at first, but eventually you’ll-”
“Never,” the Master interrupted with certainty, dark eyes glittering. “Never.” Something tugged at his hearts then, some sort of maddening and unfamiliar pain.
A smile hovered on the Doctor’s young-looking face. “Look at you, fretting over me. Who’d have thought? But maybe, it’s not so surprising.”
Then the light became blinding, making the Master shield his eyes with a gloved hand as the crack knitted shut. When he lowered his hand, the Doctor was gone, slipping further down his timeline as it unraveled into the never-was. The Master stood staring at the place where the Doctor had been, a frown on his face as he felt the other Time Lord slipping from his memory. He concentrated, trying to cling to the image of - pale hair and skin, a look of disdain on the Doctor’s face at his latest scheme - If he could hold onto the fleeing images, then maybe he wouldn’t - an older man in a velvet frock, the curl of his lip and furrow of his brow as he refused his offer yet again - He clenched a fist, knowing he could never forget how - walking together along a path where red grass sprouted between the stones as they spoke of algorithms that could call down the stars -
“Got you,” the Master said to his closed fist. And so he clung to the remnants, the fading memories and echoes. Because a cosmos without the Doctor scarcely bore thinking about, and if he could help it, would not come to be.
End
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Characters: Ainley!Master & Eleven
Word Count: 751
Summary: Vague spoilers for ‘The Big Bang’ and ‘The Five Doctors.’ Two Time Lords meet along an unraveling timeline.
A lone figure roamed the corridors of the dark tower in the Death Zone. With his black cloak billowing behind him, the Master was intent on making his way to Rassilon’s tomb, when a sudden and unfamiliar voice from behind him made his steps falter.
“Oh, I remember when this was. I’m in the tower overlooking the Death Zone, aren’t I? Kind of appropriate for more than one reason. When timelines collide…”
The Master spun in the direction of the sound to see a man in a tweed suit standing near the wall where no one had been previously, lanky and young with an unfamiliar face, yet he recognized him almost immediately. “Doctor?”
The young man grinned. “Hello, you. At first, I wasn’t sure if you’d even see me. But this is a future regeneration, so how did you know it was me?”
“No matter what form you take, Doctor, I’ll always know you,” the Master answered with a smirk.
“True that. And I you. That’s the sort of bond that exists between us, eh? My oldest friend. My best enemy.” The Doctor laughed, but his voice was laced with unmistakable sadness. He gazed over at the Master, his eyes fathomless. “You were always so mad and brilliant and completely vexing.”
The Master frowned at him, feeling at a loss. He could recognize the words for what they were, the prelude to a goodbye. “Why are you telling me these things? And how are you crossing back through your own timeline without consequences?” His expression became increasingly worried. “What’s happened?”
“It’s not what has happened, but what never will.” The Doctor smiled again, broad and wistful. “We had some great times, though, didn’t we? Some great and terrible and impossible times. It was like a dance, what we did, across the stars, across time itself. There was a time when I thought we’d dance forever, until the stars burned out and worlds grew cold. Until the end of time itself. But things don’t always turn out as we hope, do they?”
The Master’s face was a mask of unease and confusion until he felt it. In the corner of his eye, there was light, and he turned toward it. On the floor of the corridor was a crack, temporal energy streaming outward. But he could see that it was sealing, and as the beginnings of understanding dawned on the Master’s face, in his hearts bloomed breath-stealing horror.
“Impossible,” he said, shaking his head in denial. He stepped closer to the other Time Lord. “There must be some way to-”
“I don’t have much time left,” the Doctor interrupted. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to do this, letting myself get swept along. I don’t like replays. But now I’m glad I did. I’m glad I could see you again.” His grin became impossibly wide. “Imagine that.” He soon grew solemn. “You’re going to forget about me. You’re a Time Lord, so you’ll remember at first, but eventually you’ll-”
“Never,” the Master interrupted with certainty, dark eyes glittering. “Never.” Something tugged at his hearts then, some sort of maddening and unfamiliar pain.
A smile hovered on the Doctor’s young-looking face. “Look at you, fretting over me. Who’d have thought? But maybe, it’s not so surprising.”
Then the light became blinding, making the Master shield his eyes with a gloved hand as the crack knitted shut. When he lowered his hand, the Doctor was gone, slipping further down his timeline as it unraveled into the never-was. The Master stood staring at the place where the Doctor had been, a frown on his face as he felt the other Time Lord slipping from his memory. He concentrated, trying to cling to the image of - pale hair and skin, a look of disdain on the Doctor’s face at his latest scheme - If he could hold onto the fleeing images, then maybe he wouldn’t - an older man in a velvet frock, the curl of his lip and furrow of his brow as he refused his offer yet again - He clenched a fist, knowing he could never forget how - walking together along a path where red grass sprouted between the stones as they spoke of algorithms that could call down the stars -
“Got you,” the Master said to his closed fist. And so he clung to the remnants, the fading memories and echoes. Because a cosmos without the Doctor scarcely bore thinking about, and if he could help it, would not come to be.
End