x01 [holo]

[beholdthedrums]

With a slightly shaky arrival, the Master stumbles down the ramp, deep thought creasing over his face. This was certainly not the Valiant; he knew every corner of that ship. He pats himself down, specifically checking around his upper chest and glancing over it in surprise after his hands come up clean: no bullet wound, but dried blood within the

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[who_never_would]

Suspicion immediately flickers into the Doctor's eyes, and the Master's sudden movement causes him to flinch a bit - just an bit. He slides one foot back, the rest of his body following the motion to get some distance between himself and the suddenly cheerful man in front of him. There's fear radiating from the Doctor, as the situation has changed in a manner he had not quite foreseen. It bothers him - he knows the Master is capable of abrupt mood shifts just as he is, but this is entirely unexpected. He smothers that trepidation, grinning a manic little grin back at the other Time Lord. This is something he can deal with. Adaptation is his strength, he reminds himself, the concept of changing to fit the situation. Terror simmers underneath the surface of that bravado, but he shoves it back - that inexorable terror that's past intellectual comprehension. He's becoming something, something he shouldn't be... No. He has to protect the people of this city, no matter what the cost, no matter how high the price. Even if it means he gives into all that secret blackness at his center...? What if he likes it? He does like it, that's just the problem...

"I'm capable of anything," murmurs the Doctor, keeping close tabs on the Master's movement following it with his eyes. "Anything and everything. People do fear me, Master, but not because I create these grand spectacles of destruction and sheer power for the sake of creating. That gets too predictable after awhile. They're afraid of me, but because they don't know what I'm capable of. One minute, the Doctor, the poor, poor Doctor who just wants to make everything better, who needs people to need him, who wants nothing but peace and then...?" And he leaves that thought trailing off into open space between them, like heady smoke in the sunlight.

Edging forward tentatively into the Master's space, meeting his eyes, the Doctor studies him with that particularly alien look, black-eyed and nigh empty. Like someone studying a strange, undiscovered species of bug, actually. Then, something changes and just the tiniest amount of wonder shines through. The Doctor reaches out, brushing his fingertips across the ridge of the Master's left cheekbone. "You're real," is all he says. There's an unguarded flicker of telepathic communication at that spare touch, a flash of profound loneliness following as an undercurrent to two words.

I need... There's a little something of the younger Doctor, the Doctor the Master knew once as a young boy named Theta. Vulnerability. Fear. Even though the thought trails off, the intention is clear. You. Your help. This is the way things should be. It's the same old game, 'round and 'round again, and perhaps the Master doesn't need the Doctor, but the Doctor needs him. He opens his mouth to speak, and everything balks at the idea of this, of showing the Master exactly what he wants to do, of explaining everything... and this is madness, but if there's one mind, one person in all of Taxon who can keep up with him, who can think with him rather than being dragged along with simple explanations, it's this man.

"This place," he says, quickly changing tack. The change of demeanor helps him keep his head on straight. He hopes. "This place is run by computers, so far as we can tell. Everything, right down to the tracking of people, making food, anything. Everyone knows where everyone is at any time they like." The Doctor's mind is working quickly. "Aside from one glitch where the sky turned into code - daft I know, some sort of error - I've been completely unable to access any of the base code of this place. There's been no reaction though. I've been in places where if you tampered with the computers or the code, or even tried, there'd be all sorts of bells, alarms, whistles, angry guards, name it, there'd be a reaction. No reaction. Not here, not in all of the time I've been here."

The Doctor paces away from the Master, brain working at full tilt now.