Chapter Text
The man was on his third drink at the bar, babbling to the bartender about his ex who “just couldn’t accept the alien thing.”
“It was too much for her, man!” he exclaimed. “She seemed so open to it, you know. A new-agey type into astrology and whatever. I didn’t even take her into space, Eoin! She just took one look at my TARDIS console and left!”
Eoin patted the man on the shoulder. He, like most of the bar staff, knew the man was actually an alien whose appearance changed now and then. He knew this alien had a combination spaceship/time machine called a TARDIS. He knew this alien had several identities to hide his alien nature. Eoin had first met the man when he was calling himself Michael. Now he was calling himself Kashton.
“Let me know when you’re ready to go home,” said Eoin. “I’ll call an Uber for you.”
Kashton sniffed. “Thanks. You’re . . . you’re a real pal, you know that?”
Eoin chuckled. “Oh, gotta go. Other customers.”
As Kashton sipped his drink, a man in a purple jacket sidled up to him. “Come here often?” The face was South Asian, and the voice was . . . British, probably? Kashton was already too tipsy to differentiate among accents, and besides, he was out of practice.
Kashton opened his mouth to speak, but the British(?) man placed a finger to Kashton’s lips. “Shh, don’t answer,” the man murmured. “I know why you’re here, Bachelor. Another human broke your hearts.”
Kashton—the Bachelor, rather—sat up straight all at once, though it made him dizzy to do so. “Master,” he said. He looked his fellow Time Lord up and down before resting his gaze on the other’s face. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Love the new look, by the way.” He traced an unsteady finger along the Master’s lips. “...You’re pretty...”
The Master rolled his eyes and slapped the Bachelor’s hand away. “Stop it, do you think you’re that Bond fellow? Come on, you’re supposed to be flirting with cartoonishly idiotic humans in your TARDIS. If you don’t, what would I DVR while I’m off killing people until the Doctor notices?” He groaned. “Speaking of, I might need a drink, too.”
“I heard ‘might need a drink,’” Eoin said from halfway down the bar. “I’ll be over in a bit.”
“Thanks, Eoin,” the Bachelor said. “Hey, I know it’s a touchy subject, but I can’t resist. How’s it going with the Doctor?”
A dangerous expression of rage and pain—the Master’s murder face, the Bachelor had always called it—met the Bachelor’s question. “Where do I start?”
“It’s been a while. I think last time we talked you said he had ‘stupid spiky hair’ and was ‘constantly making out with humans.’ He looked like—here, lemme show you . . . you sent me a pic.” The Bachelor showed the Master a photo of the Doctor on his phone.
“She’s gone through at least two faces since then,” said the Master.
“Oh, the Doctor is female again? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
The Master chuckled. “Oh, her history is longer than you think. Agh, I’ll need a drink before I tell you all that, though.”
“You got pictures of her regens?” the Bachelor asked.
“Yeah.” The Master opened an album called “Doctor.” “I only met this one once,” he said, pointing to an image of a young man in a bow tie. “He didn’t even know it was me!” He then swiped through several images of an older man with curly gray hair. “This one was fun. Snogged him.”
“Yeah, Master, get some!” the Bachelor interrupted, raising his hand for a high-five. Once it was clear the Master was going to leave him hanging, he dropped his hand.
Eoin came by to take the Master’s order and ask if “Kashton” wanted anything else. He glanced over at the Master’s phone and asked, “Who’s that guy?”
“His childhood friend slash best enemy slash on-again, off-again girlfriend,” said the Bachelor. Eoin gave him a strange look, so the Bachelor added, “Oh, they’re both Time Lords, so they both regenerate like I do, so . . . girlfriend now.”
Eoin ignored the Master’s death glare and nodded slowly. “Okay. You . . . wanna talk, man?”
“That might not be the best idea,” said the Bachelor. “Don’t get me wrong, your support is greatly appreciated, but you don’t wanna mess with this guy. He isn’t just another Time Lord.”
“Neither is she,” the Master said with more than a hint of spite.
Eoin gave the Master a sympathetic smile. “I’ll get you two your drinks.”
The Bachelor and the Master spent a long time at the bar, talking about whatever crossed their minds. For the Bachelor, that was mostly his ex, Jessica. For the Master, that was the Doctor and the secret history of Gallifrey. By the time Eoin called them an Uber, the Master was yelling.
“And then she dared to say she was more than I! As if she were better than me! Well, you know what?” The Master sniffed. “She might be right. We’d be nothing without her . . . bloody . . . inter-dimensional DNA.”
“Like you haven’t had her DNA inside you before,” the Bachelor said with a drunken nudge.
“Uh, fellas, your ride is here,” said Eoin. “Don’t worry, Kashton. I already paid for it. You two just rest up. Have a good night.”
As the two drunk Time Lords stumbled out to the Uber, the Bachelor asked, “Did . . . did you say you destroyed Gallifrey . . . or did I imagine that?”
The Master slid into the car next to the Bachelor and grinned with devilish glee. “Oh, I destroyed Gallifrey, all right.”
The Bachelor punched the Master in the face.
“Hey!” the Uber driver exclaimed. “No fighting in the car!”
The Bachelor sighed. “I keep forgetting what a goddamn genocidal maniac you are.”
“That’s my charm,” the Master slurred.
“Really? Does the Doctor find it charming?”
“I’m going to kill you as soon as we get back to your TARDIS,” the Master hissed.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes. I am.” The Master clamped his hand around the Bachelor’s throat.
“Not in my car!” the Uber driver scolded. “You two do that on your own time.”
The Bachelor giggled as the Master removed his hand. “C’mon, Master, choking’s not really my thing.”
The Master looked away and didn’t speak for the rest of the ride.
Eventually, the Uber driver pulled up to an unassuming one-level house. “This is the place, right?” they asked.
“Yeah, thanks,” said the Bachelor. He nearly dragged the Master out of the car and into the little house. The Bachelor crashed on the sofa, leaving the Master on the floor. The two were silent for a long time.
“Well . . . on the bright side,” the Bachelor struggled to say, “losing Jessica doesn’t seem like such a big deal now that I’ve lost all of Gallifrey.”
The Master looked around a little too casually. “Is this your TARDIS?’
“Yeah, this is it when I’m not filming a season. You like how I decorated the place?”
“Not enough purple.” The Master’s voice drew closer.
“There’s purple elsewhere in the TARDIS. I could show you in the morning,” the Bachelor murmured, letting his eyes close.
The Master’s soft chuckle was right beside the Bachelor. “I suppose you could.”
Two piercing pains shot through the Bachelor’s chest. The Bachelor sat up in shock. He had a knife in each heart. He looked up at the Master. “Oh, you fucking bastard.”