Encounters in Between [Master/One] (Battle)
Pairing: Master/One
Challenge: Battle
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: The First Doctor and the Master discuss the up- and downsides of regeneration.
Smirking, he looked down at the Doctor, sitting on the floor with his hair and clothes in disarray. He glared up at his opponent between strands of white hair, wiping the blood out of his face with an angry gesture. The other waited, tense with anticipation, but the Doctor seemed not inclined to rise to his feet soon. Instead he looked down at the broken pieces of his cane.
Really, a cane. Congratulations: You have just beaten up an old man! He chuckled as he saw the Doctor grumble at the splintered wood. At the moment, however, he looked like he might jump up and stab him with it any second.
“You should consider regeneration,” he advised. “You can only get younger. Make our battles a little more exiting.”
“I do not intend to shape my life for your utmost amusement!” the Doctor snapped, and slowly climbed back to his feet. “And that was not a battle. A battle would be about something. This was just you being bored.”
“I’m still bored, since your refuse to make things interesting.” He reached out a hand to cup the other’s face, but it was battled away by a hand still holding the broken cane. He’d thought he’d missed this defiance, but now he remembered how annoying it was. “You can’t enjoy this aging body so much. It’s a feeling I certainly don’t miss. Never again aching bones, weak joints…” He had to admit the Doctor didn’t seem to need the cane, though. Not for walking, anyway.
“What would you know of it? You’re hardly in a position to tell me about being old.”
“Yes, because I never was!” He was grinning now, while the Doctor’s face was still dark and cold. “And you wouldn’t have to be, if only you weren’t too much of a coward to die. You’re just running from the inevitable.”
“As you were running from waiting?” the Doctor shot back. “You were so scared of regenerating that you couldn’t bear living with the knowledge that one day it would come for you.”
His own face darkened then, because he knew (but would never admit) that it was true. “I regenerated a few times, already, if you haven’t noticed. I hardly would call that scared.”
“No, I’d call it stupid! This is at least your third body in this decade. At this rate you’re going to run out soon.”
“Aw.” He twisted his face into a sweet grin with an effort of will. “Worried you’d lose me?”
“Now you’re being even more stupid.”
“Really?” He leaned closer again (but kept an eye on the cane). “I don’t think so.”
“I’m not sure you’re thinking anything at all!” The Doctor rolled his eyes, straightened his clothes as if to demonstrate how little he felt threatened by him. “Tell me, what was it this time? Did you not like your old body’s eyes? Hair? Was the beard not dark enough? That’s your way, Koschei, not mine.”
“Master.”
The other sneered at his correction. “Of what?”
His hand shot forward, like a snake, grapping the Doctor’s brittle wrist. “Of you.” As he should know. As he should remember.
And the Doctor laughed, a cold, hard sound. “Obviously not!” He was silenced by a hand clamping around his throat.
“I could snap your neck. Force you to regenerate. Recreate you in my image.”
“Oh, but we both know you won’t do that, my dear boy.” The Doctor emphasized the last word, mocking it. He didn’t seem frightened.
“And why ever not?” He would do it, he decided. Just to see the look on his old friend’s face. But his old friend was looking over his shoulder now, no longer at him.
“Because Susan will shoot you if you don’t let me go right now. I knew she was a smart girl and would get out of your prison on her own if I distracted you long enough.”
The Master, in his anger, did tighten his grip. He didn’t turn around. It could be a trick, and the moment he turned his back the Doctor would stab him with the broken cane.
Except the Doctor would never do that. Just like the girl would never shoot him. He supposed. It wasn’t like he knew her very well. He just assumed that someone raised by the Doctor would be similarly pacifistic.
Just like he assumed that she wasn’t really standing behind him. Surely she would have said something to announce her presence. The Master decided not to risk it.
He spun around, but with his hand still squeezing the Doctor’s throat. They were of similar height, but the old form of the other Time Lord had less mass, less strength. It wasn’t an effort.
The girl was standing in the doorway, pointing a gut at him. His own gun. She didn’t look amused.
“Will you risk it?” the Doctor asked. “She knows where to aim to prevent regeneration.”
“You’d never allow that,” the Master hissed.
“How certain are you?” The Doctor’s voice didn’t waver, and his eyes were like steel. So much had happened since their academy days - the Master had to remember that this wasn’t Theta anymore. And he had to admit that he couldn’t tell, not with perfect certainty, how far he would go.
Eventually, the Master would find out. But not today.
He let the Doctor go, but not before pulling him close and pressing a hard kiss onto his thin lips. He still tasted the same. This, at least, hadn’t changed.
“Until next time, then.” The Master indicated a little bow to the girl, to demonstrate that despite her gun she didn’t impress him. The next time they met, he thought, he would kill her. Just like that. The Doctor’s granddaughter, wherever he had found something like that. His family. Koschei’s replacement. He’d kill her, just to let the Doctor watch her die.
Next time.
She stepped out of the way when he left the room, but he was close enough still to see her shaking. The Master heard her run to the Doctor the moment he turned his back (the way Theta might once have run to him) and this time his smirk was vicious.
He wondered if the Doctor was watching him until he was around the corner and out of sight, but didn’t turn around to find out.
February 3, 2009
Challenge: Battle
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: The First Doctor and the Master discuss the up- and downsides of regeneration.
Smirking, he looked down at the Doctor, sitting on the floor with his hair and clothes in disarray. He glared up at his opponent between strands of white hair, wiping the blood out of his face with an angry gesture. The other waited, tense with anticipation, but the Doctor seemed not inclined to rise to his feet soon. Instead he looked down at the broken pieces of his cane.
Really, a cane. Congratulations: You have just beaten up an old man! He chuckled as he saw the Doctor grumble at the splintered wood. At the moment, however, he looked like he might jump up and stab him with it any second.
“You should consider regeneration,” he advised. “You can only get younger. Make our battles a little more exiting.”
“I do not intend to shape my life for your utmost amusement!” the Doctor snapped, and slowly climbed back to his feet. “And that was not a battle. A battle would be about something. This was just you being bored.”
“I’m still bored, since your refuse to make things interesting.” He reached out a hand to cup the other’s face, but it was battled away by a hand still holding the broken cane. He’d thought he’d missed this defiance, but now he remembered how annoying it was. “You can’t enjoy this aging body so much. It’s a feeling I certainly don’t miss. Never again aching bones, weak joints…” He had to admit the Doctor didn’t seem to need the cane, though. Not for walking, anyway.
“What would you know of it? You’re hardly in a position to tell me about being old.”
“Yes, because I never was!” He was grinning now, while the Doctor’s face was still dark and cold. “And you wouldn’t have to be, if only you weren’t too much of a coward to die. You’re just running from the inevitable.”
“As you were running from waiting?” the Doctor shot back. “You were so scared of regenerating that you couldn’t bear living with the knowledge that one day it would come for you.”
His own face darkened then, because he knew (but would never admit) that it was true. “I regenerated a few times, already, if you haven’t noticed. I hardly would call that scared.”
“No, I’d call it stupid! This is at least your third body in this decade. At this rate you’re going to run out soon.”
“Aw.” He twisted his face into a sweet grin with an effort of will. “Worried you’d lose me?”
“Now you’re being even more stupid.”
“Really?” He leaned closer again (but kept an eye on the cane). “I don’t think so.”
“I’m not sure you’re thinking anything at all!” The Doctor rolled his eyes, straightened his clothes as if to demonstrate how little he felt threatened by him. “Tell me, what was it this time? Did you not like your old body’s eyes? Hair? Was the beard not dark enough? That’s your way, Koschei, not mine.”
“Master.”
The other sneered at his correction. “Of what?”
His hand shot forward, like a snake, grapping the Doctor’s brittle wrist. “Of you.” As he should know. As he should remember.
And the Doctor laughed, a cold, hard sound. “Obviously not!” He was silenced by a hand clamping around his throat.
“I could snap your neck. Force you to regenerate. Recreate you in my image.”
“Oh, but we both know you won’t do that, my dear boy.” The Doctor emphasized the last word, mocking it. He didn’t seem frightened.
“And why ever not?” He would do it, he decided. Just to see the look on his old friend’s face. But his old friend was looking over his shoulder now, no longer at him.
“Because Susan will shoot you if you don’t let me go right now. I knew she was a smart girl and would get out of your prison on her own if I distracted you long enough.”
The Master, in his anger, did tighten his grip. He didn’t turn around. It could be a trick, and the moment he turned his back the Doctor would stab him with the broken cane.
Except the Doctor would never do that. Just like the girl would never shoot him. He supposed. It wasn’t like he knew her very well. He just assumed that someone raised by the Doctor would be similarly pacifistic.
Just like he assumed that she wasn’t really standing behind him. Surely she would have said something to announce her presence. The Master decided not to risk it.
He spun around, but with his hand still squeezing the Doctor’s throat. They were of similar height, but the old form of the other Time Lord had less mass, less strength. It wasn’t an effort.
The girl was standing in the doorway, pointing a gut at him. His own gun. She didn’t look amused.
“Will you risk it?” the Doctor asked. “She knows where to aim to prevent regeneration.”
“You’d never allow that,” the Master hissed.
“How certain are you?” The Doctor’s voice didn’t waver, and his eyes were like steel. So much had happened since their academy days - the Master had to remember that this wasn’t Theta anymore. And he had to admit that he couldn’t tell, not with perfect certainty, how far he would go.
Eventually, the Master would find out. But not today.
He let the Doctor go, but not before pulling him close and pressing a hard kiss onto his thin lips. He still tasted the same. This, at least, hadn’t changed.
“Until next time, then.” The Master indicated a little bow to the girl, to demonstrate that despite her gun she didn’t impress him. The next time they met, he thought, he would kill her. Just like that. The Doctor’s granddaughter, wherever he had found something like that. His family. Koschei’s replacement. He’d kill her, just to let the Doctor watch her die.
Next time.
She stepped out of the way when he left the room, but he was close enough still to see her shaking. The Master heard her run to the Doctor the moment he turned his back (the way Theta might once have run to him) and this time his smirk was vicious.
He wondered if the Doctor was watching him until he was around the corner and out of sight, but didn’t turn around to find out.
February 3, 2009