Before Sunset (3/?)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Pairing: AU!Master/Doctor (10)
Summary: The Master wants to realise his plan. Unfortunately he doesn't have one yet.
A wide field. Hills running through the landscape like waves. A bright, violet sky. An occasional tree, its shadow offering shelter from the sun. A blue box standing on the bluish grass, going surprisingly well with the picture.
The leafs of the trees were rustling in a soft breeze. The air was perfectly clean. It would be another twenty thousand years before intelligent creatures developed on this planet and a hundred thousand before the planet was polluted beyond the capacity to sustain life.
The Master left the Doctor reading a book in the shadow of a tree and wandered down the hill. He needed to get away for a moment, feeling like a prisoner. The urge to get out among the stars and do something, stop being bound to this man and his way of life was rising again, as it sometimes did. It usually died the moment he became aware of the fact that if he left the Doctor alone he wouldn’t see him ever again.
When had his existence become so dependant on that of his opponent? The Master couldn’t tell. It had always been that way.
He shivered a little. It wasn’t cold but not especially warm either. The temperature reminded him of a mild Gallifreyan summer - one of the reasons why he’d chosen this location.
They had spent the past week inside the TARDIS and the Master had needed to get out. Not even to do something special, just get out of there and see the sky again. And he’d needed for the Doctor to get out. Both of them had become a bit claustrophobic, and it’d been beginning to show.
So this little trip. Peaceful, insignificant location and time. Not much to do but sit around, sunbathe or run over the fields but it was better than nothing. There were countless more exiting places in the cosmos but for now this had to suffice. The Doctor had been ill for days and the Master wanted to avoid giving him the chance to do anything stupid.
The days when he was remotely well were getting even more scarce. The Master had hoped that with time the Doctor’s health would at least stabilize in a state of more-or-less-okay. It hadn’t. He had lost any illusions long ago, but still felt naked fear at the thought that eventually the Doctor would get weaker and weaker until he died.
And he still didn’t really believe it. He knew it would happen but he didn’t believe it. There was no room for that idea in his world.
The Master would find a way to save him. He would not be abandoned.
What bothered him was the Doctor’s quiet acceptance of his fate. He knew well enough that he would die, and that it would be final. And he was okay with it. The Master missed his fire, his will to survive. Even when he was whimpering in pain or spitting blood or delirious with fever he seemed somehow… at peace. As if he knew that it wouldn’t hurt much longer and was looking forward to the end.
Maybe he’d just lived too long, done too much. The Master wasn’t familiar with guilt and regret. He’d only ever seen them when he was looking into the Doctor’s eyes.
Well, it wasn’t like he was going to ask the Doctor weather he wanted to be saved.
They’d been here for a few hours. The TARDIS wasn’t much more than two-hundred metres away from the tree they’d been sitting under, but the Master already couldn’t see her anymore. Nor could he make out the Doctor from where he was standing. With a sigh he let himself sink into the grass to stare up into the sky. For a while he watched the pinkish clouds drift by and thought of nothing.
When he finally got to his feet again and looked up the hill he could see the Doctor at its peak, looking down on him. He stood perfectly still, a thin, long blanket around his shoulders that was fluttering in the wind. If the blanket had been black, the Master thought, the Doctor would have looked like a dark figure from the world of myths, like the Oncoming Storm, the Bringer of Darkness he’d been named. But it was orange and he only looked young.
Climbing up the hill again the Master noticed him shivering. He shouldn’t be cold in this weather.
In all the time they’d spent together the Master had hardly ever asked the Doctor how he felt. It sounded wrong, somehow, not like them. Instead he’d learned to read the signs and judge his state simply by looking at him.
The Doctor was fine, or what counted as fine these days. He was merely tired.
The other Time Lord did not acknowledge the Master’s presence, continued staring over the endless fields. No way of telling what he was seeing. When he didn’t move the Master stood behind him, so close they were touching. He didn’t embrace the other from behind, but he stood close enough for the Doctor to lean against him. After a moment the Doctor did so. Letting his head rest on the Master’s shoulder he closed his eyes with a sigh that was both content and sad.
-
Two days later the Master was sitting in one of the libraries, skipping through one book after another, all landing in a growing pile on the floor. He was cursing silently. That the damn fool couldn’t have at least one useful book! Something like How to Get a New Set of Regenerations would be nice.
After a few hours the Master gave up. He hadn’t really thought he would find anything helpful, but he’d needed to do something. Needed to show to the universe that he wouldn’t give up.
As if the universe would care.
As if he’d care if the universe cared.
Anyway.
He left the library without putting the books back to the shelves. The TARDIS would take care of that. Just like she provided clothes and made the beds. Useful little thing. He wished he had one of his own but it had died with Gallifrey.
Just now it would help if the Time Lords had not been erased from time and space. The Master was sure that the High Council knew of a way to save the Doctor. And if they had to give him an entirely new body. The Master himself had gotten one, after all. He would go and terrorize them until they did his will. Although, with Romana being president he probably wouldn’t even have to ask. Well, he’d terrorize them anyway. Just for fun.
But they were gone and so were their secrets and their power. There weren’t many occasions on which the Master thought ‘Oh, if only Gallifrey was still around!’ but this was one of them.
Possibly the first.
He’d left the Doctor on the couch in the console room, reading a book. He wasn’t very well today but had refused to spend the entire day in bed. So he’d taken some painkillers - quite a lot of painkillers, if the Master recalled correctly - and spend some time attempting to repair his dear old ship, as if that’d ever work. Even after giving up he’d stayed nearby. Maybe he simply didn’t want to be alone.
It was the sight of his book that gave the Master the idea of roaming through the library. When he returned to the console room the Doctor had fallen asleep, the book lying on the floor where it had landed after having slipped from his fingers.
The Master considered taking him to his room but didn’t want to risk waking him. Instead he covered him with a blanket before sitting down in front of the console himself.
He knew there was a way to save a Time Lord’s life. The universe was large, after all. Nothing was impossible.
And he was very determined.
So he flicked some switches and began to work.
-
It was the end of the Earth year 2260. It was warm, which had something to do with them being on a part of the planet where it was warm in December. The Master hadn’t bothered to check where exactly.
The TARDIS had landed in an alley in a big city, and even when they’d opened the outer doors had they heard the noise: Everywhere in the streets people were celebrating the end of the year and the beginning of the next, even if said event was still two days away. Music drifted trough every part of the city, people were dancing and singing and getting terribly, unequalled drunk.
And somewhere in this crowd was someone not belonging there. Other than them, of course. Someone from another time. The TARDIS had detected time travel, and more important, had detected a machine that could cause drastic damage to the planet and its people. Not that the Master cared. He still wanted to stop its owner from using it. Because he wanted to use it himself.
A powerful, dangerous thing. Maybe powerful enough to save a Time Lord.
The Master grinned happily as he made his way through the crowd. He could finally do something. The Doctor would survive. Probably there would be bloodshed, which was a bonus. He was in quite a good mood.
Now he only had to find it.
Which wouldn’t be easy at all.
The Doctor stopped a few steps ahead of him, looking down the street at a small band playing music on the broad sidewalk. People were dancing, or what counted as dancing these days, all around them, but there was enough room to move. Just.
Of course the Master had not told his fellow Time Lord why they were here. Because of the bloodshed thing. The Doctor would only be difficult. In fact the Master had pretended the TARDIS had gotten here by accident, pretty much like she got everywhere else. (Only she hadn’t done that at all lately, not since the Doctor wasn’t well, which made the Master think that she wasn’t so broken at all. Just evil.)
Just this once he’d hoped that the Doctor would be too ill to accompany him, but of course this was the first time in weeks he was feeling energetic and restless and couldn’t wait to get out. So the Master followed him into the streets and didn’t know how he could get away without alerting the Doctor or risk losing him. Okay, so this wasn’t going perfect. He was still optimistic.
“Care to dance?” he joked when he stepped beside the Doctor. His voice was nearly drowned out by the music but the Doctor still heard it. He glanced at him, smiled, and…
“Why are we here again?”
“The TARDIS got lost,” the Master explained patiently. Again.
The Doctor was still smiling, but there was a hint of steel in his voice, when he said:
“And now the truth, please.”
The Master cursed silently. His old friend knew him too well. He might have been naïve at times, but he wasn’t stupid.
Not to self: The Doctor is not an idiot. Not matter how much he acts like one.
“I thought it would do you good to be around people for a change,” he lied.
The Doctor looked at him.
“Oh please!” He rolled his eyes. “I suppose that’s why you tried so hard to make my stay inside.”
Note to self: Next time you lie, be more convincing.
“What are you up to?”
The Master feigned hurt.
“Why should I be up to something? Haven’t I been nice and caring for months?”
“After you’ve been mean and evil for centuries!”
“Well, I’ve changed.”
“Hardly.”
They made their way through the crowd, not looking where they where going. The Master was just opening his mouth for a clever and convincing lie he was planning to come up with in the next few milliseconds as someone bumped into the Doctor, hard.
The Doctor stumbled backwards and would have fallen, had he not bumped into the Master. The Master grabbed his shoulders to steady him and glared at whoever had had the impudence of not moving out of the way when two Time Lords were too busy to pay attention to unimportant things like people standing around.
“Sorry!” the Doctor said. The man he’d collided with looked up.
“I’m not,” he said with a bright and - the Master noticed it with a feeling of instant dislike - seductive smile. He looked the Doctor up and down and smiled even brighter. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“No, not at all,” the Doctor hurried to say. The Master didn’t see his face but he could tell from his voice that he was smiling as well. He frowned and tightened his grip on the bony shoulders, even though he knew the Doctor was just being friendly and wouldn’t recognize a flirt if it punched him in the face. In fact, he hadn’t even looked at the other man properly. The Master could tell it from the way he suddenly stopped moving for a second and said:
“Oh.”
Now the Master looked at the guy again and made an effort to see more than the annoying smile and the distractingly colourful clothes. Tall, strong, short dark hair and a body language that said: I’m so going to shag you.
And he thought:
‘Oh.’
He was staring into the young and unsuspecting face of Captain Jack Harkness.
Or whatever he called himself these days.
-tbc
September 21, 2007
NEXT
Part 1
Part 2
Rating: PG
Pairing: AU!Master/Doctor (10)
Summary: The Master wants to realise his plan. Unfortunately he doesn't have one yet.
A wide field. Hills running through the landscape like waves. A bright, violet sky. An occasional tree, its shadow offering shelter from the sun. A blue box standing on the bluish grass, going surprisingly well with the picture.
The leafs of the trees were rustling in a soft breeze. The air was perfectly clean. It would be another twenty thousand years before intelligent creatures developed on this planet and a hundred thousand before the planet was polluted beyond the capacity to sustain life.
The Master left the Doctor reading a book in the shadow of a tree and wandered down the hill. He needed to get away for a moment, feeling like a prisoner. The urge to get out among the stars and do something, stop being bound to this man and his way of life was rising again, as it sometimes did. It usually died the moment he became aware of the fact that if he left the Doctor alone he wouldn’t see him ever again.
When had his existence become so dependant on that of his opponent? The Master couldn’t tell. It had always been that way.
He shivered a little. It wasn’t cold but not especially warm either. The temperature reminded him of a mild Gallifreyan summer - one of the reasons why he’d chosen this location.
They had spent the past week inside the TARDIS and the Master had needed to get out. Not even to do something special, just get out of there and see the sky again. And he’d needed for the Doctor to get out. Both of them had become a bit claustrophobic, and it’d been beginning to show.
So this little trip. Peaceful, insignificant location and time. Not much to do but sit around, sunbathe or run over the fields but it was better than nothing. There were countless more exiting places in the cosmos but for now this had to suffice. The Doctor had been ill for days and the Master wanted to avoid giving him the chance to do anything stupid.
The days when he was remotely well were getting even more scarce. The Master had hoped that with time the Doctor’s health would at least stabilize in a state of more-or-less-okay. It hadn’t. He had lost any illusions long ago, but still felt naked fear at the thought that eventually the Doctor would get weaker and weaker until he died.
And he still didn’t really believe it. He knew it would happen but he didn’t believe it. There was no room for that idea in his world.
The Master would find a way to save him. He would not be abandoned.
What bothered him was the Doctor’s quiet acceptance of his fate. He knew well enough that he would die, and that it would be final. And he was okay with it. The Master missed his fire, his will to survive. Even when he was whimpering in pain or spitting blood or delirious with fever he seemed somehow… at peace. As if he knew that it wouldn’t hurt much longer and was looking forward to the end.
Maybe he’d just lived too long, done too much. The Master wasn’t familiar with guilt and regret. He’d only ever seen them when he was looking into the Doctor’s eyes.
Well, it wasn’t like he was going to ask the Doctor weather he wanted to be saved.
They’d been here for a few hours. The TARDIS wasn’t much more than two-hundred metres away from the tree they’d been sitting under, but the Master already couldn’t see her anymore. Nor could he make out the Doctor from where he was standing. With a sigh he let himself sink into the grass to stare up into the sky. For a while he watched the pinkish clouds drift by and thought of nothing.
When he finally got to his feet again and looked up the hill he could see the Doctor at its peak, looking down on him. He stood perfectly still, a thin, long blanket around his shoulders that was fluttering in the wind. If the blanket had been black, the Master thought, the Doctor would have looked like a dark figure from the world of myths, like the Oncoming Storm, the Bringer of Darkness he’d been named. But it was orange and he only looked young.
Climbing up the hill again the Master noticed him shivering. He shouldn’t be cold in this weather.
In all the time they’d spent together the Master had hardly ever asked the Doctor how he felt. It sounded wrong, somehow, not like them. Instead he’d learned to read the signs and judge his state simply by looking at him.
The Doctor was fine, or what counted as fine these days. He was merely tired.
The other Time Lord did not acknowledge the Master’s presence, continued staring over the endless fields. No way of telling what he was seeing. When he didn’t move the Master stood behind him, so close they were touching. He didn’t embrace the other from behind, but he stood close enough for the Doctor to lean against him. After a moment the Doctor did so. Letting his head rest on the Master’s shoulder he closed his eyes with a sigh that was both content and sad.
-
Two days later the Master was sitting in one of the libraries, skipping through one book after another, all landing in a growing pile on the floor. He was cursing silently. That the damn fool couldn’t have at least one useful book! Something like How to Get a New Set of Regenerations would be nice.
After a few hours the Master gave up. He hadn’t really thought he would find anything helpful, but he’d needed to do something. Needed to show to the universe that he wouldn’t give up.
As if the universe would care.
As if he’d care if the universe cared.
Anyway.
He left the library without putting the books back to the shelves. The TARDIS would take care of that. Just like she provided clothes and made the beds. Useful little thing. He wished he had one of his own but it had died with Gallifrey.
Just now it would help if the Time Lords had not been erased from time and space. The Master was sure that the High Council knew of a way to save the Doctor. And if they had to give him an entirely new body. The Master himself had gotten one, after all. He would go and terrorize them until they did his will. Although, with Romana being president he probably wouldn’t even have to ask. Well, he’d terrorize them anyway. Just for fun.
But they were gone and so were their secrets and their power. There weren’t many occasions on which the Master thought ‘Oh, if only Gallifrey was still around!’ but this was one of them.
Possibly the first.
He’d left the Doctor on the couch in the console room, reading a book. He wasn’t very well today but had refused to spend the entire day in bed. So he’d taken some painkillers - quite a lot of painkillers, if the Master recalled correctly - and spend some time attempting to repair his dear old ship, as if that’d ever work. Even after giving up he’d stayed nearby. Maybe he simply didn’t want to be alone.
It was the sight of his book that gave the Master the idea of roaming through the library. When he returned to the console room the Doctor had fallen asleep, the book lying on the floor where it had landed after having slipped from his fingers.
The Master considered taking him to his room but didn’t want to risk waking him. Instead he covered him with a blanket before sitting down in front of the console himself.
He knew there was a way to save a Time Lord’s life. The universe was large, after all. Nothing was impossible.
And he was very determined.
So he flicked some switches and began to work.
-
It was the end of the Earth year 2260. It was warm, which had something to do with them being on a part of the planet where it was warm in December. The Master hadn’t bothered to check where exactly.
The TARDIS had landed in an alley in a big city, and even when they’d opened the outer doors had they heard the noise: Everywhere in the streets people were celebrating the end of the year and the beginning of the next, even if said event was still two days away. Music drifted trough every part of the city, people were dancing and singing and getting terribly, unequalled drunk.
And somewhere in this crowd was someone not belonging there. Other than them, of course. Someone from another time. The TARDIS had detected time travel, and more important, had detected a machine that could cause drastic damage to the planet and its people. Not that the Master cared. He still wanted to stop its owner from using it. Because he wanted to use it himself.
A powerful, dangerous thing. Maybe powerful enough to save a Time Lord.
The Master grinned happily as he made his way through the crowd. He could finally do something. The Doctor would survive. Probably there would be bloodshed, which was a bonus. He was in quite a good mood.
Now he only had to find it.
Which wouldn’t be easy at all.
The Doctor stopped a few steps ahead of him, looking down the street at a small band playing music on the broad sidewalk. People were dancing, or what counted as dancing these days, all around them, but there was enough room to move. Just.
Of course the Master had not told his fellow Time Lord why they were here. Because of the bloodshed thing. The Doctor would only be difficult. In fact the Master had pretended the TARDIS had gotten here by accident, pretty much like she got everywhere else. (Only she hadn’t done that at all lately, not since the Doctor wasn’t well, which made the Master think that she wasn’t so broken at all. Just evil.)
Just this once he’d hoped that the Doctor would be too ill to accompany him, but of course this was the first time in weeks he was feeling energetic and restless and couldn’t wait to get out. So the Master followed him into the streets and didn’t know how he could get away without alerting the Doctor or risk losing him. Okay, so this wasn’t going perfect. He was still optimistic.
“Care to dance?” he joked when he stepped beside the Doctor. His voice was nearly drowned out by the music but the Doctor still heard it. He glanced at him, smiled, and…
“Why are we here again?”
“The TARDIS got lost,” the Master explained patiently. Again.
The Doctor was still smiling, but there was a hint of steel in his voice, when he said:
“And now the truth, please.”
The Master cursed silently. His old friend knew him too well. He might have been naïve at times, but he wasn’t stupid.
Not to self: The Doctor is not an idiot. Not matter how much he acts like one.
“I thought it would do you good to be around people for a change,” he lied.
The Doctor looked at him.
“Oh please!” He rolled his eyes. “I suppose that’s why you tried so hard to make my stay inside.”
Note to self: Next time you lie, be more convincing.
“What are you up to?”
The Master feigned hurt.
“Why should I be up to something? Haven’t I been nice and caring for months?”
“After you’ve been mean and evil for centuries!”
“Well, I’ve changed.”
“Hardly.”
They made their way through the crowd, not looking where they where going. The Master was just opening his mouth for a clever and convincing lie he was planning to come up with in the next few milliseconds as someone bumped into the Doctor, hard.
The Doctor stumbled backwards and would have fallen, had he not bumped into the Master. The Master grabbed his shoulders to steady him and glared at whoever had had the impudence of not moving out of the way when two Time Lords were too busy to pay attention to unimportant things like people standing around.
“Sorry!” the Doctor said. The man he’d collided with looked up.
“I’m not,” he said with a bright and - the Master noticed it with a feeling of instant dislike - seductive smile. He looked the Doctor up and down and smiled even brighter. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“No, not at all,” the Doctor hurried to say. The Master didn’t see his face but he could tell from his voice that he was smiling as well. He frowned and tightened his grip on the bony shoulders, even though he knew the Doctor was just being friendly and wouldn’t recognize a flirt if it punched him in the face. In fact, he hadn’t even looked at the other man properly. The Master could tell it from the way he suddenly stopped moving for a second and said:
“Oh.”
Now the Master looked at the guy again and made an effort to see more than the annoying smile and the distractingly colourful clothes. Tall, strong, short dark hair and a body language that said: I’m so going to shag you.
And he thought:
‘Oh.’
He was staring into the young and unsuspecting face of Captain Jack Harkness.
Or whatever he called himself these days.
-tbc
September 21, 2007
NEXT
Part 1
Part 2