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Two Hearts
“Would that stop them? The drums? … I don’t know what I’d be without them.”
“I wonder what I’d be without you.”
It hurt to think of all the possibilities and what if’s in those few moments. When he’d held the gun up to his best friends –his only true friend –face, he couldn’t help but feel his stomach knot at the memory. He hadn’t wanted to. The look in the Master’s eyes had tugged him back to those long, lazy afternoons when they’d run through the red grass planes together. He swallowed every time those memories resurface and try as he might, he couldn’t quash them completely.
He had been crying. That was one of the few things he couldn’t forget. When he’d thought the Doctor was going to shoot him in the face, to end the link and damn Rassilon forever, the Master had been on the brink of tears at the thought of his life ending by a human gun at the hands of the one person he thought would be there forever. He would never have killed the Doctor. Where would the fun be in that? Even so, the cold reality of everything had pressed down on them at that moment.
Then it ended. In a bright spark of white light Rassilon and Gallifrey had disappeared. For a while, the Doctor had thought that the Master had vanished with them, trapped in the unknown realm of the pocket universe. To his surprise he had been wrong. Despite the ever-looming threat of his regeneration creeping up on him, he couldn’t contain his relief at seeing the prone figure of the Master slumped over on the floor a few meters away from him. He had wanted to cry with relief and sorrow as he clawed his aching body toward the figure, his body aching, battered and bruised as he reached the blonde man and leaned over him. He’d reached out and tapped the man on the cheek, recoiling when the soft skin scattered, like white noise –the flash of a bright blue skeleton –and then the unconscious face returned to normal.
Something didn’t feel right and it didn’t take nine hundred years of living to know what it was; the Master had used almost all of his life energy to rid Earth –a pathetic planet in his eyes –of Rassilon. Despite it all, in those last moments, he had proven himself not that he was a hero, but that he cared. And to the Doctor, that alone was worth saving the man over. He wanted to, holy Jupiter, did he want to save him. He just couldn’t figure out a way to do so.
“Master?” he tapped the man on the cheek again, wincing at the skeleton flashed brightly for a moment. He pressed his hand against the man’s chest. He could feel the hearts beating there, but only just. “Master?” he tried again, pleading with himself not to cry. He couldn’t cry! He refused to, it wasn’t the time! He was still alive; he just needed to find a way to bring him back completely! The tears were running down his face mere moments later and he sniffed loudly, not wanting to believe it, not wanting to care about the rest of the damned stupid planet –if only he could get his friend back.
Swallowing thickly he tried not to freeze up when he heard Wilfred knocking on the door of the chambers. He looked over at the man, his sad watery eyes gleaming in the bright lights. No one else needed to die today. He sniffed loudly and dragged himself to his feet, the imprint of the Master’s ring burning on the back of his hand. He swallowed again as he looked over at Wilfred. “You just had to get yourself stuck, didn’t you?”
Wilfred shook his head, “It’s alright Doctor. Just leave me here. I’ve lived my life. I’m not worth it.”
“No, you’re not. Look at you! So unimportant!” he sneered. He couldn’t help himself. The word were tumbling out, his mind was a white hot mass of dead faces, unblinking eyes and lifeless limbs contorting together in a gory cabaret; the dancing of the dead, twirling and frolicking inside his head. “I can do so much more! So. Much. MORE!” he screamed out as he trashed the place, wires were yanked, screens were hoisted and smashed down onto the floor, glass littered the polished tiled and chairs cut ridges into the wooden panels lining the walls. “There are places I want to see! I can do so much good! I shouldn’t have to go! Why does it have to be me!” he yelled out, his throat raw and hot, his eyes burning as tears ran down his cheeks. He dropped his gaze down so that the flash of bright blonde hair came into view again. His chest suddenly ached, as though concrete were hardening inside his veins. “Why did it have to be him?” he murmured before his sweating, bloodied fingers curled into fists and he smashed his hands down onto a nearby desk, “WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE HIM?”
Or course there was no answer. There would never be any answer. Dropping his head forward he turned around and crossed the room. Yanking the glass door open he ignored Wilfred’s feeble protests to make him change his mind. It was too late. The damage had been done. Casting on last look over at the Master’s limp body, he pressed the button down.
Pain pummelled through him in large, crushing waves. The radiation itched and stung and burned everything inside of him. His body felt the pain –it danced and contorted and crumpled with it –but his mind was numb as his feeble body dropped to the floor of the glass chamber. The tears felt like acid as they poured out of him. He was sure there were now holes in his cheeks. He curled into a tight ball, willing his death ever closer. ‘Get it over with!’ he silently begged, ‘Take me away from this godforsaken planet!’
He counted to ten –twenty –thirty –nothing. Why could he still think? Why could he still feel? Why were his hearts still beating? He frowned, tilting his head up and looking around him. Nothing had changed. He glanced up to see Wilfred looking down at him. He raised his hand and through the glass, said, “You’re still with us then?”
He felt himself nodding numbly. He slowly clambered back to his feet, his legs wobbling underneath him. He nudged the door and sighed as it creaked open. “Oh yeah, now it opens,” he sighed as he stepped out of the chamber.
“What happened then?” Wilfred asked, as he swept his watery eyes over the glass doors.
“The powers gone,” the Doctor explained matter-of-factly, “It over-loaded and the system failed.”
Wilfred turned to look at him and smiled faintly, “Your face. You’ve got yourself some battle scars.” He reached up to touch his face tentatively. He could feel the exposed skin and the ache in his joints. He could also feel the tingling sensation that was slowly over-riding everything, building up from his core. It was slow but inevitable. He ran his hands down his face and felt his skin and throat tingle like he’d gotten pins and needles. He shuddered as he dropped his hands to see Wilfred staring up at him with surprise. “How … How’d you do that then?” he asked in awe.
The Doctor felt himself give a small huff of laughter. It was always interesting to see how everyone reacted to his regenerations. He remembered that Rose had been scared. She’d freaked out for ages. He couldn’t blame Wilfred for being in awe; the man had seen a grand many things in the space of a day. “It’s something my species do,” he murmured dryly as he glanced down at his now flawless hand, “We regenerate.”
“So why hasn’t he … er …” he stumbled over the words, but the Doctor didn’t mind. He cast a long, forlorn glance over at his friend. He hadn’t moved but then again, why would he? He didn’t want to regenerate and yet, there he was wishing with both his hearts that the Master would do just that. He’d always been stubborn, doing the complete opposite of what the Doctor wanted him to do purely out of spite. But what if he didn’t have a choice? The Doctor blinked. Hold on a minute; the Master didn’t have a choice. Not in that moment. A bright smile tore across his face as he grinned down at Wilfred, “Oh Wilfred you are brilliant!” he pressed a loud smacking kiss to the old man’s wrinkled forehead before hurrying over to the Master’s body and pressed his ear to his chest.
He was still alive but only barely.
He pried the man off the floor and called over his shoulder, “Wilfred! Go and grab a wheelchair or something! I think there was one in the hall! Hurry up!”
“But Doctor what’re you going to do to him?”
“Just go!” he shouted out, desperation leaking into his voice. He couldn’t let this chance slip him by. He only had a short while to spare but he wasn’t going to give up and run away, not this time. He had spent nine hundred years running and he was done. He watched over his shoulder as Wilfred hobbled out of the door and came back a few minutes later pushing a heavy black wheelchair in front of him. “Great,” he bent down and did his best to comfortably lift the limp blonde man off the glass littered floor and upright enough to haul him up into the wheelchair. He exhaled sharply when he was finally able to get the other Time Lord up into the chair. His head lulled forward onto his chest. The Doctor had to tie his wrists together so they’d stay in his lap when they moved him. “Thanks Wilfred,” he groaned out as he turned the wheelchair around and started to force his weakening energy into moving the chair out of the room, glass crunching under his converses.
Wilfred trotted along behind him, “But Doctor what’re you going to do to him? After everything he’s done why would you save him?”
“It may have escaped your notice,” the Doctor grunted as he forced the chair down a small ramp, his jaw jolting as the wheels crashed against the wall and turning at an angle. “But I chose the name ‘Doctor’ for a reason; to –Eurgh –help people!” he twisted the chair around and forced it along until they came face-to-face with the lift doors. He leaned over and jabbed the button to take them down the basement. Wilfred went in ahead of them and helped drag the wheelchair into the tight space.
The Doctor didn’t slump down to the floor like he really wanted to. He could feel his stomach knotting and cramping as the lift descended down into the basement. He was grateful that Wilfred didn’t say anything. He didn’t have the energy to answer any questions, not just yet. He sighed happily when the lift doors opened to the gloomy basement. He dragged his body up by the handlebars of the wheelchair before digging his heels in and forcing it back out. Wilfred trotted along beside him, shooting him concerned glances the entire way to the TARDIS, making sure he wasn’t about to keel over.
Stopping in front of the worn blue doors, the Doctor fumbled around in his pockets for the key. As soon as the doors were open, he turned and dragged the wheelchair back into the console room, sweat pouring down the back of his neck as Wilfred closed the door shut behind him and hurried up the metal grille ramp and hovered by the console. “Doctor ... What are you going to do? Can you really save him?”
The Doctor glanced over his shoulder at the old man who, only hours ago, had wanted him to kill the Master before he got killed himself. He admired him, really, for witnessing everything he had and not breaking down completely. Most other people would have done. Wilfred, though, was made of stronger stuff. Though there were many things he didn’t understand, he couldn’t deny the man was a fighter. “I’m going to do what I do best, Wilfred,” he answered before dropping his gaze down to the Master’s expressionless face, “I’m going to do everything in my power to save him.”
“Can I ask you just one thing Doctor?” Wilfred asked as he came over to rest against the handlebars of the wheelchair, his watery blue eyes filled with concern.
“Okay what is it?”
“Why?”
There were so many answers to that question. So many years of history, so many arguments, fights, near deaths and dramatics, mostly from the Master himself but really who could blame him? How could he sum it up simply enough for Wilfred to understand? He felt his lips tremble a little as he looked down at the closed eyelids and the long golden eyelashes, “Because … I need him.”
The next hour was spent in silence with Wilfred sitting on the side-lines watching as the Doctor did a number of strange things. He managed to somehow create a strange gurney-style bed off to one side of the large, glowing room, tubes and pipes and a large glass lid that shut over the bed like a case, the Master’s limp body inside, a mask and numerous tubes and pipes prodded and poked through his pale skin. As soon as the lid had shut over the man’s body, it started to glow pale blue and a sort drumming beat could be heard on what he could only assume was a heart monitor. “Doctor what is that machine?” he asked after about another half an hour of silence, with nothing but the heartbeat and the whirring of the TARDIS to fill it.
The Doctor glanced over the tops of his glasses that rested low on his nose. He glanced from the encased bed to Wilfred and back again, “It’s a sort of cryochamber to keep his health stabilized for a while until I can find out what else I can do for him.”
“So he … won’t wake up and hit you in your sleep, will he?” Wilfred asked a hint of a joke in his voice.
The Doctor shook his head, “No, and even if he did get up he’d still be too weak.”
Wilfred nodded and they lapsed into another silence before the whirring stopped and the Doctor flipped a switch on his console. He beckoned for Wilfred to join him as he led him outside. Wilfred blinked in surprise to find himself on his street, across the road from his house with his daughter standing in the doorway looking over at them as they both stepped out of the blue box. He wouldn’t get used to it –the coming and going –but didn’t really care as he waved to his daughter. She smiled brightly at them. The Doctor grimaced when he saw it. “Oof I don’t like it when she smiles at me. It feels wrong.”
Wilfred chuckled and turned to smile up at him, “Will I see you again, Doctor?” he asked.
The younger-looking man nodded his head, “Yeah you’ll see me one more time.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, his blue eyes blinking brightly in the sunny afternoon light.
“You’ll see me again. And then, who knows?” he offered a softer smile to the older man, “You’d best get inside.”
Wilfred nodded glumly, turning and walking across the road. It felt like the longest walk of his life as he came to the front of his house. He met his daughter at the door with a bright smile before turning at the door to wave goodbye to the Doctor. He didn’t wave back. He merely held his gaze for a few timeless seconds, before he turned into his TARDIS.
The whirring started before anything else, and then ever so gradually, the TARDIS vanished.
~0~
For a little while they hovered in a timeless section of space, suspended there in the darkness and simply drifting along through the stars. The Master’s vitals had stabilized a little while ago and hadn’t changed a lot. The presence of his regeneration hovered on the edge of his mind. He could almost smell it, it was so close. He clenched and unclenched his fists in his lap until he couldn’t sit still any longer. He had some goodbyes to make.
For the most part he hadn’t needed to say any words. Mickey and Martha hadn’t needed words, just to know that he was there when they most needed them, watching over them like a mysterious angel in a trench coat and a blue box was all they needed. Knowledge, after all, is a powerful thing.
Sarah-Jane and her son Luke had been the same; just to know that he was still alive, still there for them, meant more than any words he could have said.
Donna’s wedding had been beautiful. Although she was still mouthy and loud and full of jokes and wit, she really did deserve to be happy. He’d protected her for so long, though, it was hard to watch her get on with her life and not remember him. He knew it was for the best though. He’d done the only thing he could do for her; ensure she was set up and got the life she deserved.
Saying goodbye to Wilfred had been one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. The old man had done him so proud in those last few moments before Rassilon was defeated. Of all the ‘stupid apes’ on the godforsaken piece of rock he could have been stuck with, he was glad that it had been Wilfred. To share those moments with such a man and guarantee he lived through it –it truly had been is honour.
Rose didn’t know who he was, of course, but one day she would look down at his face and his shock of brown hair and she would remember. It would all make sense to her and her heart would go out to him because he was her Doctor and he came back in time to wish her the best year of her life.
And then the snow started to fall.
For a few brief moments he watched the snow as it danced all around him and settled onto the frozen floor beneath his feet. He watched it catch in the light and twinkle softly. The pain was inevitable, but it still shocked him when it pierced through his body. The hard, cold floor coming up to meet him made him gasp for breath as he forced himself to stay on his hands and knees. He wanted more time, but as Ood-Sigma stood there in the gentle flurry, he knew that this was it.
This was the end of his time.
That’s when he felt it, breaking through the shields of his mind as the Universe started to sing him to his sleep, the gentle throbbing beat of a Time Lord’s heart. He forced himself to look away from Ood-Sigma towards the TARDIS. He ground his teeth together as he dragged himself and pushed his body to grab onto the door handle. He had one last goodbye to make! He wasn’t going to leave the Master, not like this, not when it was his last chance to see him with those eyes. As he slammed the door shut he could feel the regenerating cells prickling in every muscle of his body. “Not yet,” his hissed through clenched teeth, “I’m not ready yet!”
Flipping an array of switches and latches, he forced the lid of the cryochamber away from the bed beneath and managed to lift it until it auto-locked into position. Grunting he leaned over the Master’s cool body and touched a hand to his stubbled cheek. His eyes welled up with tears, so many memories and words dying on his tongue as he looked down and watched as his own tear dripped onto the Master’s cheek and ran down into his hairline. The regenerating cells were taking over now. He could feel them. He watched as his hand cupping the Master’s cheek glowed with a soft golden light.
It was now or never. What did he have to lose?
“Please …” he murmured in a wet whisper, “Please come back to me.” He leaned over and through a haze of golden light and tears; he pressed his mouth to the Masters.
The force ripped through him in a climax of energy as it roared in his ears, burned his blood, contorted his organs and gushed through every orifice in his body. He parted his lips and pressed his mouth harder to the Master’s, silently pleading that it would word. He could hear the heart beat on the monitor grow a little stronger, a little steadier, or perhaps he was just deluding himself. It would be his own hearts for all he knew!
He could feel the energy growing too strong. His body started to shake as he tried to gain control of it, but it was getting too wild. His hands shook from where he was holding onto the Master with all his might, but one last surge of energy shot through him and he was lost. His body was propelled back against the console. He let out a guttural scream as he crashed down onto the metal grille floor and blacked out.
~0~
When he came to it was to the smell of smoke. Something had caught fire and burned, but what? He knew he should have been more alarmed but he was far too heavy-headed to care. With a groan he rolled onto his back and winced at the pain that surged through him. It wasn’t a regeneration pain; it was more of an I-just-got-knocked-around-like-a-football sort of pain. He clenched his eyes shut and winced before reaching his hands up to his face and shielding his eyes from the bright lights. He let out a strangled cough as the smell of smoke cloyed at his senses but he didn’t move. He could feel his eyes burn with tears but he didn’t care.
It was all over; the Master was gone, the old ‘him’ was gone and now he had to start over.
So why didn’t he feel … different?
Sitting bolt upright he ran his hands over his face, down his chest, over his long legs and frowned. Same hair? Check. Same nose? Check. Same perfect teeth? Check. What was going on?
He lurched out of his skin when a hand rested on his shoulder. He looked up with wide eyes and felt his stomach drop out into his shoes. The Master was alive? He was alive! His brain couldn’t comprehend it. He started to hyperventilate, words refusing to come out in any sort of coherent order as he spluttered and pointed up at the man before him wrapped in nothing but his grubby jeans and a fine sheen of sweat and soot from where, no doubt, the fire had singed him. “You’re alive!” the Doctor finally blurted out.
The Master blinked down at him before nodding slowly, the strange forlorn look in his eyes. He lowered himself to a kneeling position in front of the Doctor and reached out a hand as though to study him. Finding his cheek nestled in his palm, the Master frowned, his brown eyes sparkling, “Oh Doctor,” he breathed softly, “What did you do?”
Still trembling from both shock and his regeneration into –well –himself, the Doctor reached out to clutch at the Master’s shoulders and shook him lightly, “I had to save you,” he stressed, “I couldn’t bear to see you die. Not like that, not when you have so much to live for.”
The Master reached down and pried the brunette man’s hands from his shoulders. His voice was steady if a little lost as he replied, “Perhaps we have lived long enough, you and I.”
The Doctor shook his head, “No … There’s still so much to do, so much to see!” He coughed again and was grateful when the Master gave him a firm pat on the back.
The Master shook his head, “That’s just not good enough anymore.” He sighed and dropped his head down between his knees, his arms resting in a loop upon them. He swallowed thickly before looking up at the Doctor, “You could have just let me die like the mangy little scummy dog that I am. Why didn’t you?”
Blinking tiredly, the Doctor licked his lips, “I couldn’t bear to see you die. Not after everything we’ve been through both together and apart. You deserve, more than anyone, to live feely.”
“So you would have me as a prisoner on your ship? Is that truly what you desire, Doctor?” he snarled the name but there was next to no energy behind his words. He was merely exhausted, as was the Doctor.
“You wouldn’t be a prisoner,” he assured somewhat breathlessly, “You have redeemed yourself in my eyes. You’re a free man.”
The Master peered up over his knees, his eyes dark and disbelieving, “Do you honestly believe that?” his voice was cold but his eyes were broken and desperate. Once upon a time the Doctor would have called them the eyes of a madman. Not this time. This time they were merely the eyes of a wounded, broken man looking for a small sliver of redemption from the one person’s opinion he craved most in the cosmos.
The brunette man nodded his head, “I do.”
He couldn’t tell if the Master believed him or not. A large part of him knew that he didn’t. They were simply too tired to argue any longer. It was exhausting all of their energy. The Master broke the silence with a loud groan, “I am so, so hungry! Where are the kitchens in this place?”
The Doctor rolled his head to the side against the console, “You couldn’t find it?” he murmured softly.
The Master threw him a glare, “If I had found it, I wouldn’t be asking you, would I?” he snapped irritably.
The Doctor let out a rasping little chuckle and shook his head. Some things never changed. Could he really see himself spending the foreseeable future in the company of the one person who truly drove him crazy? Glancing over at the blonde he felt something tug at his heart-strings as his companion looked more and more like the lost little boy who’d been bullied in the Academy almost a century ago. He didn’t need to search for the answer to his question. He already knew what it was; yes!
He rolled his eyes and inwardly groaned a little as the aches and pains in his joints gradually ebbed away. It wasn’t fast enough though. He desperately needed something more substantial to ease him through the next twelve hours of the regeneration. Rolling his head back to the side to view the Master, he cleared his throat loudly, “If you help me up, I’ll help you find the kitchens. The old girl probably thinks you’re up to no good anyway. She won’t bother you if you’re with me.”
The Master sneered something that sounded an awful lot like ‘spiteful old cow’ under his breath but didn’t protest too much as he stood over the brunette man to help him to his feet. All along the way to the kitchens as the Doctor hobbling along on his still unstable legs and clinging to the Master for all he was worth, the Master was surprisingly gentle and sighed as if out of habit rather than true irritation. For that the Doctor was grateful.
To say they were both thrilled to see the contents of several well-stocked fridges would have been the understatement heard throughout the galaxies.
They were seated across from one another at a small table. The Doctor had a small plate of salty chips in front of him –he really wasn’t hungry anymore. He’d eaten more than his fair share within ten minutes and had felt his hectic energy calm down inside him. He’d only had a half-regeneration after all. Instead, he’d preferred to stare at the top of his companions head –whereas the Master still had a roast chicken, a plate of blood puddings and grilled fish fillets drizzled in olive oil in front of him and he was ripping at the food like an animal. He crunched, sucked, slurped and licked at his fingers as he devoured the flesh of the animals in front of him. He barely paused to down a gallon or so of water, before returning to eat, satiating his hunger and solidifying his sense of the ‘here and now’ within the TARDIS. He knew the Doctor was looking at him, watching him, judging him for something he probably hadn’t even done yet. That was just like him. He snorted to himself and sighed as he picked up a chicken leg. “I haven’t done anything so you can stop staring at me. Well, other than putting out the fire you started.”
The Doctor bowed his head to look at his place, “Sorry,” he muttered. “And thank you. I would have hated being burnt alive.”
“Not that you would have noticed, you were out cold.” He dropped the chicken leg onto his now empty plate and heaved a sigh. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubbed them. The Doctor winced when he saw this; that was what the Master had done in school when he hadn’t wanted to cry. Some things didn’t change after all.
He reached out across the table to touch his shoulder, “Master?” he whispered. His hand was jerked away as the Master sniffed loudly and move to the far end of the table, his eyes a glistening brown as he glared over at the Doctor.
“Why did you do it? Half-regenerate yourself just so that there was enough energy for me? Why?” he slammed hi clenched fist onto the table, making the other man jump. “Why couldn’t you just let me die?!” he screamed out, brushing the plates and cups over onto the floor. They smashed and scattered in so many different directions that the Doctor winced at having the clear it up.
The Doctor shook his head, “For once in my life I decided to be selfish. I couldn’t let you die. Not after what you’d done for me, humankind and Earth itself. I couldn’t let you die in vain.”
“Why not?” the blonde sneered as he leaned over the table, “It’s the only damned thing I’m good at!”
With one final slam of his fist against the table top, the Master spun around and stormed out of the kitchen. The Doctor made a move to follow but the other man whipped around with a glare fierce enough to burn a hole through his chest. “Don’t you DARE follow me Doctor!”
The Doctor dropped back down into his chair, feeling hollow and defeated as he watched blonde man stalk down the corridor and out of sight around the corner. It took all his self-restraint not to run after him, even at a distance. He knew he wouldn’t get up to any mischief. The TARDIS wouldn’t let him go anywhere other than the library when the Doctor wasn’t with him. He wouldn’t even get to go into the console room, or at the very least it had been locked to only respond to the Doctor himself. Still, he felt a cold pool of dread freezing inside his stomach. He ran a hand through his tousled hair and sighed wearily. It had been too long a day to carry on walking around and burning through his energy. He needed to rest and recuperate. Could he really relax with the Master running amok on his ship? He reasoned that he didn’t really have a choice. Even if the TARDIS did make it easier for him to find the other man, he wouldn’t come quietly. He was still made and that would take some time to simmer down.
He couldn’t blame the Master for feeling hurt –cheated almost –but it had been done now. The TARDIS was in lock-down and they were suspended in space. It was as good a time as any to go back to his old bedroom and try to sleep for once. He knew it would be near impossible, he always felt the need to move, run and chatter away but he was exhausted to even think at this point. He dragged a hand down his face before leaving the kitchen, his strides long and lazy as he carried himself off to his bedroom.
~0~
He woke up to stare up at the dark canopy of his bed and sighed gently at the gloom surrounding him. His cotton pyjamas –the blandest thing ever but he sort of liked them –hushed against his skin as he sat up, drawing his knees up to his chest. The TARDIS was silent save for a faint humming that was almost present. She was sleeping. Good, she needed her rest. They all did really. At the back of his mind he wondered if she had been awake and sympathetic enough to lead the Master to one of the guest bedrooms she had. He was no doubt just as exhausted as the Doctor had been.
He rubbed at his eyes and cast a look at the doorway, his hearts aching in his chest. It would be so easy to go out there and look for the other man. So easy. He didn’t need to suffer anymore, surely? With a groan, he mentally kicked himself for being so soft. He really needed to change that if the Master truly was going to be his companion. Kicking back his blankets he stood up and dragged a dressing gown on over his frame. He wasn’t cold but he liked the extra weight of it on his shoulders as he pocketed his sonic screwdriver and strode out of his room, intent on heading to the console room. He needed to plot the coordinates to land the TARDIS. Despite drifting in space, she needed to be grounded to well and truly rest properly.
The console room was just as he’d left it and even though he shouldn’t have been, he was pleasantly surprised as his eyes scanned around the dimly glowing room. Relieved, almost. He walked around the console, his fingers running over the metal levers as he went and stopped short. The doors to the TARDIS were open, a twinkling galaxy looking back at him. That wasn’t why he’d stopped, though. Standing in the doorway, almost framed by the stars, was the Master, his blonde hair twitching softly in the air pocket surrounding the TARDIS. His shoulders were slumped and his defences, for the most part, were down.
The Doctor moved as quietly as he could until he was standing just behind the Master. He’d felt the other’s mind probing at his own. He knew he wasn’t alone but he was too stubborn to bother turning around. Instead he kept his gaze on the galaxy gently turning before them. They stood in silence for a long time until the Master sighed and broke it. “You never did answer my question, Doctor,” he breathed tightly.
“Hm?”
“You never did answer me when I asked you if the drumming would stop.”
The Doctor let out a soft breath, “You know I can’t answer that for you. We can only take it one day at a time and see where things lead.”
“And what about if it never goes away? Will you still let me stay with you?” he asked, his voice breaking a little.
The Doctor reached out and placed a hand on the Master’s back. He tensed up but didn’t pull away. Feeling brave, he took another step closer so that the Master’s blonde hair tickled his nose. “I’ll have you for as long as you’re willing to stay with me.”
The Master scoffed, “You can never just say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ can you?” he sneered.
Chuckling warmly the Doctor nodded his head, resting so that his chin was on the Master’s shoulder, “Okay then. Yes, I will still let you stay.” To prove his sincerity, he gently wound his arms around the blonde man’s waist and pulled him back a little so that he was leaning against the Doctor’s chest.
He leaned his blonde head back a little and tried to suppress his contented smile. Then his face fell as he stroked along the Doctor’s smooth hands, “Doctor …” he breathed, his eyes prickling with tears again. He loathed having so many pent up emotions. He wasn’t weak, Goddamnit! “Doctor … Why did you save me?”
The Doctor sighed and pressed his lips against the Master’s shoulder before murmuring, “You know why.”
Shaking his head, the blonde responded, “It’s not enough. I need to hear you say it.” The silence dragged on between them. The Master felt his anger and despair tremble through him as he shook in the Doctor’s arms, “Please? Theta …”
The Doctor knew he could say it. It would be easy to say it. It would also be easy for the Master to manipulate those words, those feelings. Deep down he couldn’t bear more heartache but … He had never seen the Master this vulnerable before. Not really. At the very least it had been a good few hundred years. Holding the man tighter, he breathed against his neck, “I need you, Koschei. Not because we’re the last of our kind or any of that rubbish.” He leaned back and turned the blonde man to face him. He cupped his cheek and gazed down into those hard, brown eyes and tried to fight back his own tears, “For years I was alone, always running, always hiding and I was so lost. So very, very lost. And then out of the darkness there came a sound, a voice, and it filled me with hope. You gave me hope. I want to help you get better. I know we can at least try. I want you by my side every step of the way. I want to go to planets and see new things and experience everything –and there’s no one I would rather share all of that with than you.” He smiled as he saw a tear run down the Master’s cheek. He rubbed it away with his thumb and smiled brightly as he pressed a lingering kiss to the Master’s forehead before taking his hand and placing it over his skin, beneath the dressing gown and tapping the rhythm of his hearts beating on the back of his companions’ hand. “Do you feel that?” he asked softly.
“Mhm,” the Master moaned.
“That’s my hearts beating, Koschei. They were broken before and empty. But now they’re alive and working and pumping away. Do you know why?”
Shaking his head a fraction, the Master felt his breath catch in his throat.
The Doctor chuckled, “I may have two hearts, Master, but they both belong to you. There’s no way around that. They only work properly when I know you’re alive and happy and … close.”
He didn’t need any more words. In one swift motion the Master reached up and forced his mouth onto the Doctor’s. It was a hard, fierce, bruising kiss but the Doctor accepted it openly. He captured the blonde in his arms and held him firm as he returned the kiss; nipping and tasting and hot, wet tongues stroking together. It set a fire burning in his belly and it coursed through him, giving him a new found sense of freedom. He broke awake, still cupping the Doctor’s face in his hand and taking in his flushed cheeks, red lips and glazed eyes. His hearts throbbed in his own chest and he was thankful that –drums or no drums –nothing could ruin this moment. He leaned forward and nipped a trail up the Doctor’s throat, making him moan and lean into the sensation easily. “Don’t leave me Theta,” he murmured as he buried his face against the Doctor’s neck, his arms feeling useless and heavy at his sides.
The Doctor held him back and pressed his face into the Master’s neck. “I won’t be leaving you alone ever again, Koschei. Not if I can help it. I know it doesn’t mean anything to you now, but I am sorry that I left you all those years ago.”
The Master huffed, his muscles tensing, but then shrugged it away. “No use lamenting the past, Doctor,” he replied tightly before straightening up and scrubbing the tear tracks from his face.
Watching as the blonde man walked down the stairs towards the numerous corridors within the TARDIS he felt his hearts slip lower in his chest. The kiss was still burning on his lips and he raised his hand to tentatively touch them. “Koschei …” he breathed, his mind throbbing with the answered questions.
“Are you coming or not, Doctor? You know I can’t find my way around in this place without you.”
Despite the disapproving sneer in the blonde man’s voice, the Doctor hurried back down the stairs until he came face-to-face with the other Time Lord. “Where … um Do you want to go?” he asked lamely.
The Master shrugged and stretched his arms, “I’m tired. You could show me to a room.”
The Doctor nodded, “Sure there’s one just down this corridor here and –”
He was cut off by the Master chuckled deeply and shaking his head, “No, Theta.” He grinned mockingly, “I want you to take me to your room.” Despite the way the other man leered at him, the Doctor felt nothing but sympathy and hope rushing through his mind as the blonde man hesitantly reached for his hand and slipped his fingers through the others. The Doctor reanimated and squeezed on the Master’s fingers and felt his chest tighten at the almost sheepish look on the blonde man’s face. He was nervous. He had seen the Master be many things but nervous had definitely not been one of them.
“It’s this way,” he murmured softly as he fell into step alongside the Master, their hands holding one another softly for the first time since their childhood. He led the blonde man through to his bedroom and for once there was no urgency, no desperation between them. Just the knowledge that they were here, together, and for once they needn’t wish for anything more.
Questions could be answered later, the Doctor reasoned as he placed his dressing down on the hook on the wall, before slipping into the soft sheets of his bed. He watched as the Master hesitated, his red T-Shirt hugging his hunched shoulders, as he moved around the edge of the bed and slipped into the other side. Through the gloom they shifted around until the Doctor was lying with his head against the Master’s chest. He couldn’t help but smile as he heard the familiar four-beats of the heart under his ear and he burrowed closer, the arm around his shoulder strong and weighting him down like an anchor. “Hey Koschei?” he breathed through the darkness, “Are you asleep yet?”
“Yes,” the Master grumbled back, his eyelids remaining firmly closed.
“Oh, I just wanted to know if you wanted to hear a theory I just had.”
“No. Theorize later. Sleep now.”
The Doctor rolled his eyes but decided to talk anyway, keeping his voice low and soothing so as not to anger the blonde man. Well, no more so than he would anyway. “Did you ever consider that maybe the drumming in your head was a good thing? A constant reminded that you weren’t alone out there.”
The Master sighed, “You can have too much of a good thing Doctor. Even hope is a dangerous manifestation of emotions that prove violent over time.”
“I think I can hear them now,” the brunette man murmured after a few moment of silence. He leaned up to look at the Master.
The blonde man’s eyes were wide open and frowning through the darkness, “What?” he hissed roughly, fear etching into his voice.
Swallowing thickly and willing himself to be brave, the Doctor slipped a hand under the hem of the red shirt and placed it gently over the Master’s chest, squeezing the muscle gently, “Your heart beating fills my head and I never ever want it to stop.”
It was the closest thing to ‘I love you’ that he could bring himself to say.
The Master watched him for a moment; watched the sincerity in those soft, gleaming eyes, the pain and hope written all over the flawless skin and he relaxed under the weight of the Doctor, his face softening enough for him to smile. He raised his free hand and cupped the other man’s cheek in his hand and stroked his skin, “Go to sleep, Doctor,” he murmured gently before he eased the Doctor back down onto his chest and started stroking his hair.
Eventually the two of them finally managed to drift off to sleep, their dreams lulled on by the infamous four-beat drumming of their hearts.
The End.