Archive of Our Own

Two bizarre-looking extradimensional creatures, shimmering with phantom limbs and very clearly not local; it was only a matter of time before they ended up in a prison on some planet technologically advanced enough to hold them. But that knowledge didn’t make it any more pleasant when it happened. 

They’d been shut in separate cells, but the Master thanked every star in the sky that the cells were at least adjoining. He could talk to the Doctor through the wall, could reach out his mind and link with her telepathically. He just couldn’t touch her, because this damn cell crackled with some kind of electric field that seemed to paralyse his extra limbs. It hurt. He couldn’t imagine how much pain the Doctor was in. 

That was one thing she didn’t seem keen to talk about, so the Master didn’t push it. He did what he could to make her comfortable, to distract her, and he tried not to go mad with frustration as days slowly dragged into three long weeks. 

It was the TARDIS who rescued them eventually. The Master heard the screeching shudder of her engines in the Doctor’s cell; felt the Doctor’s entire consciousness flood with delight, and then their telepathic connection broke for the first time in days. 

He didn’t have to wait long for his own rescue. Just a few more seconds, and then the TARDIS was in front of him, the Doctor at the door, dragging him inside even as the confused shouts of guards filled their ears. 

The Master slammed the door shut behind him and flung his arms around the Doctor as tightly as he possibly could. “Theta,” he murmured, kissing her, watching her eyes flicker to pure, spiralling black with emotion. Oh, he’d missed that. 

“Koschei,” she said softly in response. “My Koschei. Never letting that happen again. Never.” She tightened her arms around him, and it was then that the Master became aware of something. She was only hugging him with her arms. Her real arms. 

“Are you okay, my love?” He trailed his fingertips gently up the Doctor’s back, to the holes in her shirt where the phantom limbs emerged, and she winced, letting out a soft moan of pain. Sharp, boiling anger rose up in him- it took every bit of self control in the Master’s body not to drag the TARDIS back to where they’d come from and burn the whole planet to ashes for daring to hurt her. 

The only thing that stopped him was the fact that she needed him here. 

“I haven’t moved them in three weeks,” she said. “And I haven’t been able to get them properly into this dimension, or myself into the other dimension. Hurts.” 

“I want to make them all pay for hurting you,” the Master said, keeping his voice as level as he could. “I really, really do.” 

“They hurt you, too.” The Doctor reached up, cupping the small growth of limbs emerging from his back. He winced, and her gaze flashed a dark, dangerous black in response, her form flickering at the edges. Then, suddenly, her eyes widened. “Angie!” 

Before the Master could say a word, his hand had been grabbed, and he was being dragged along through the TARDIS corridors. To be fair, he understood why. Their pet ball of smoke must be worried sick; they never went a day without checking on her. The Doctor, particularly, made sure that she spent at least six hours a day with her- on walks, in the labs, wandering around the TARDIS and chatting. 

He spotted the right door first, pushing it open to find the enormous nest that the Doctor had made for her out of every soft thing she could find. Angie was curled up in it, looking as expressionless and vaguely indistinct as ever. At the sight of them, though, she leapt out of her heap of cushions, propelling herself across the ground and soaring straight up into the Master’s face. 

He staggered back a little, laughing, reaching up to pet her as best as one could pet a creature that wasn’t entirely present. She vibrated against his nose in what they’d both decided was her version of purring, and then leapt out straight into the Doctor’s waiting arms. 

Being properly from the same dimension, the Doctor had an easier time of cuddling her. She buried her face in Angie’s smoke, although Angie was transparent enough that the Master could clearly see the Doctor’s grin through her. It was nice to see, after weeks of headaches and electricity and tension. 

He watched them both for a minute, then walked over, slipping his arms around the Doctor’s waist. He wasn’t sure that he could bear not being in contact with her at the moment, now that he had a choice in the matter again. She let Angie hop back out onto the floor, and hugged him back, pressing her face into his shoulder. 

“Theta,” he murmured. “Do you want me to take care of your...extra limbs? I could... I don’t know, rub them for you. Something like that.” 

She sighed. “Yes. Please. Ugh, I’m so tired of them hurting...” 

“I know, love.” The Master held her tighter for a minute, then pulled back, guiding her to sit down amidst Angie’s blanket nest. The little smoke ball hopped right over to perch in the Doctor’s lap, purring merrily. “Right. Can you bring them into this dimension? I know it hurts at the moment, but...”

The Doctor gritted her teeth, every muscle in her body tensing with the effort of what she was trying to do. “Ow,” she mumbled. “Ow, ow, ow-“ 

And then the air seemed to twist in a sort of cold snap that left the Master’s ears ringing, and suddenly two enormous, semi-skeletal wings appeared, displacing the air in a way that made it ripple and shake. Normally, the Doctor’s limbs would shift form every few seconds, but she seemed to be consciously holding them still for him. Rainbows of colour still swirled on their inky surfaces, but the movement seemed...stilted. 

“Don’t want to let them change,” she murmured, her voice tight. “Hurts. So if you could get on with this...” 

“Yes. Of course,” the Master promised, pressing a kiss to her back right between the wings. He carefully took the warm, soft, utterly bizarre flesh-smoke-liquid of the left wing into his hands, starting to stroke it, to smooth and squeeze and slowly ease a little of the tension held within it. 

At first, the Doctor groaned with discomfort, and he could see her petting Angie with one hand, other hand clenched into a tight fist. But slowly she started to relax, as he massaged the base of first one wing, then the other. 

By the time he’d loosened them both up, his hands were warm and tingling with the now-familiar feel of the other dimension. Her dimension. “You’re doing great,” he murmured to the Doctor, kissing her once on the side of her neck before moving back to work on the rest of her wings. 

With the most tense part out of the way, the rest was a little easier. He ran his hands over the softness of each wing, rubbing wherever they seemed tense. They didn’t have muscles, because half of the points of tension were directly inside what looked like bones, but they certainly had something. 

The Master cared for them like they were something precious, taking his time over every inch of...of whatever they were made out of. Occasionally he pressed a kiss to a point that had been particularly troublesome to loosen, and each time, he felt his lips buzz with a faint tingle of otherness. 

By the time he’d done both wings in their entirety, the Doctor was slumped over a little, eyes half-closed in relaxation, breathing slowly like she was asleep. 

“Hey,” the Master said softly. “I’m all done, my dear. You can let them change shape now.” 

She sat up at that, turning to grin at him delightedly before proceeding to do exactly as he’d suggested. The wings dissolved in a puff of smoke, and stayed that way, swirling warmly around him before suddenly forming into tentacles, long limbs curling around his arms, his torso, caressing his face. 

The Master sighed, leaning back into them with a blissful smile. He’d missed this so much. 

He closed his eyes to enjoy the feeling, and when he reopened them, the Doctor had stood up right in front of him. As he gazed up at her from the floor, she stretched out, real limbs and phantom limbs flaring around her. It was like a scene from an Earth horror movie, the way her body flickered and shifted, the way the air in the room seemed to darken and bend  and twist in towards her. 

“Haven’t told you nearly enough lately just how stunning you are,” the Master said softly. 

She smiled, slowly moving to settle on her knees in front of him. The tentacles cupping his face moved to tilt his chin up, and he happily leaned in to kiss her. 

“Your...things, aren’t quite as big,” the Doctor said. “But let me take care of you anyway?” 

Her extra limbs shifted form a few more times- dozens of warm hands trailing over his skin, soft wings wrapped around him, pure smoke- and then became tentacles again, this time focusing, curling up his back to stroke and rub at the knot of limbs emerging between his shoulder blades. 

The Master groaned, first with pain and then with relief as weeks of cramps from not being able to move them at all slowly started to melt away. He rocked forwards, leaning his head on the Doctor’s shoulder, and a hand he wasn’t sure was real or phantom lifted to stroke his hair. 

“I’m never letting that happen to us again,” he said softly. “Next time, we might not get so lucky with your TARDIS.” 

“Wasn’t luck,” the Doctor said, pouting. “I reached out and pulled her in. Took a lot of effort with all those barriers in place, but she’s my ship. She’s not gonna leave me.” She ducked down abruptly and pressed a kiss to the floor that went on for several seconds too long, in the Master’s opinion. 

“...Do you two want to be alone?” He raised an eyebrow. 

The Doctor looked up at him, smooched the floor again, and then sat back up in order to kiss him, too. Her eyes flickered black, amusement and sharp teeth both visible on her face. “You’re both very special to me, darling. But only one of you’s a time machine. And she rescued you, too.” 

“Mm. Well, thank you, TARDIS,” the Master said, giving the floor a gentle pat. That seemed more appropriate than a prolonged snog. 

“She says you’re welcome,” the Doctor announced. “But also that I’m still her favourite, ‘cause I kissed her.” 

“That’s a competition you’re very welcome to win, love,” the Master assured the Doctor, and leaned in to kiss her. He slid his hand into her hair, stroking it, feeling her press happily closer in response. 

It had been so long since he’d gotten to kiss her. Fine, maybe they’d been in near-constant telepathic communication. But it wasn’t the same. The Master pressed as close as he could get, closing his eyes, relishing in the Doctor’s warmth, her soft lips, the occasional graze of too-pointy teeth against his own skin. 

She seemed just as keen for closeness, thankfully. Every single one of her limbs was wrapped around him- around his torso, his legs, his arms- some of the smaller ones had even curled around his fingertips. Her real hands were on his face and neck, stroking his skin with a gentleness he’d missed so much. 

“I love you,” he said softly as he pulled away, hands slipping round to massage at the base of her extra limbs. 

The Doctor’s form went completely indistinct, and for several seconds the Master’s head was filled with a low buzzing as she slowly marshalled the effort to piece her Gallifreyan shape back together. 

“You too,” she mumbled, blushing deeply. And then she kissed him again, which the Master strongly suspected was a tactic to stop him from teasing her about the blush. 

He didn’t mind. He didn’t even mind when Angie jumped on his head, and the snogging was promptly downgraded to cuddling so that she could join in. 

He had the Doctor back in his arms, and they were both safe, and that was all that mattered to him.