Work Text:
“If you like.”
Of all that he had been through these past few days, those three words disturbed him the most. Cyberman armies, the Earth under attack, even the dead coming to life, that was all done before. She had done a marvelous job of keeping to the script too. Giving him an army had been a surprise but not unreasonable. She has always wanted them to be the same.
But this was different. Three words that broke character, an improvisation that left him stuttering in front of the audience. That was a surrender. This was the Master he was talking about. The Mistress. Control is her territory. And she gave it to him.
So he follows her lead and leaves the script behind completely. He finds her and asks no questions of her escape. He has asked enough times in the past to know he will never get an answer. He does, however, bring shackles of his own, ones far stronger than those on Earth.
She gives him a dramatic sigh and holds out her wrists.
“Is really necessary now?” He hisses as he puts them on her.
“For security reasons.”
--
“I want Gallifrey!”
They have arrived at empty coordinates. The black void beyond his TARDIS doors mocks him and he rages like a storm. His ship lets out her own song of anguish as he destroys everything he can get his hands on.
He will regret this outburst he knows. His TARDIS is the one single thing in the universe he can count on right now and he is wrecking it. The Doctor doesn’t care.
It’s only when he’s slumped over the ruins of his console that cold hands trace the back of his neck, his jaw. She’s escaped her shackles of course. As if he could ever be in control. Lips press against his temple.
“I want to go home.” He feels broken. She breaks him again with a desperate whisper.
“Isn’t this enough?”
--
“I hate you.”
Living on a broken TARDIS is a lonely thing. His ship won’t take him anywhere. He can’t blame it either. He tries for weeks to fix the damage he’s done but the physical scars are shallow compared to the emotional ones. Most days he can’t even get near the scars, intending to fix them, without a reproachful hum and a few sparks from the circuits.
He takes to wandering the halls for hours, days on end. He will do anything to avoid her. But she is everywhere, even if he doesn’t actually see her. Here and there he finds rewired circuits and replaced panels, things that he planned on fixing but was never allowed to touch. He finds her hair on his pillows and has to wonder if they have been sleeping in the same bed but always at different times.
At the very least she has been coming in and making his bed, something he hasn’t done since he ran away from Gallifrey, the first rule he ever indulged in breaking. And, like she always has, she leaves dirty dishes in the TARDIS kitchen.
Finally he does not leave his room. He does not wander. Shortly after when he would usually be in the kitchen whispering apologies to his ship so he, at the very least, can get unburnt toast for breakfast, she saunters in. She doesn’t seem surprised to see him and goes about her routine almost as if he was not there.
His spiteful utterance barely breaks the silence. She ignores him. This is something they have said to each other far too many times already. It is an inglorious return to the old script. Boring.
So, he burns the old pages and whispers into the void between them.
“You ruined me.” That gets her attention and she is by his side immediately, changing the story with him.
“I missed you.”
--
“You lied again.”
She is a raging forest fire that consumes all in its path. She is fury incarnate and he almost, almost, feels guilty that he did this.
For months now they have repaired and searched and worked together and it is a difficult task. She has a natural affinity for mischief. His patience fails him more often than not, each day they continue searching adding its toll. She loves to push his buttons. He can hardly complain as most of these little conflicts start as a spat and end with his mouth on hers and her nails scratching down his back.
No, it is not her antagonizing him that could destroy them. It is when he sends her back to the TARDIS with a promise to be right behind only to turn and very nearly die to save a planet that they no longer have use for that the formula is broken.
She thinks it is a waste, an idiotic risk. And how she hates to not be in control.
“You lied to me.” He makes her a promise. It is, after all, rule number one.
“I will again.”
--
“Come and see.”
The bed bounces as she all but jumps onto it, shaking his shoulder and laughing in his ear. Groggy, he can barely open his eyes to face the light let alone her bright exuberance.
He had gone to bed hours ago, feeling frustrated and useless. He did a fine job when it came to finding things they needed or learning from species that knew more than they did but when it came to the actual math, the theory, well, he was used to closing holes to other dimensions, not making them. This was her specialty.
They argue over numbers and theories and even what brand of chalk to use before she sends him to bed. Him! On his own TARDIS. He went to bed resolved to give her the cold shoulder for the next few days.
She drags him from the bed, doesn’t even let him pull on a jumper before she’s shoving him towards the console room. All the way he protests, saying he doesn’t want to look at numbers right now, he’s mad at her. She doesn’t stop at the chalkboards however. Gods, this is it, he thinks. She’s truly gone mad and is going to shove him right out the doors of his TARDIS and into space.
The doors open before him on their own. He is stunned at the edge, breathless, unbelieving. She throws her arms around his neck from behind and giggles in his ear again.
“Happy birthday.” A world looms before them, orange and brilliant and home.
“You found it.”
--
Three little words.
To so many they are the most important words in the entire universe. But they have seen the universe and they will see it all again if they don’t destroy one another first.
They laugh in golden fields like children beneath a burning sky and for a time they stay. He barely breathes some days, afraid that it will all be gone in a blink. Gallifrey is Gallifrey though and he is the Doctor with his Mistress. She causes a little bit of trouble, something harmless she assures him, though he’s not so sure, and they run again because now they can.
He still keeps an eye on the planet, checking its status discreetly. It won’t be going anywhere again. She claims she prefers it on their TARDIS anyway.
The exhilaration is intoxicating and they crest together like waves, crashing again and again, slowly and quickly. And always again and again. All through it three words follow them. Neither dares to say it. It would break this spell, this moment that they have.
They have never had to say it.
So they don’t.