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The Master didn't like parties, certainly not ones teeming with humans wrapped up in their own ridiculous worlds. But he had made the choice to attend this one, to see his plan in action.
He was playing the long game with this silly little planet, preying on one powerful man’s fear of death to set in motion the dominoes that would lead to the downfall of the whole species. If the planet and species happened to be the former passion of someone he used to know, that had nothing to do with anything. He was tying off loose ends, closing that chapter once and for all. He couldn't be haunted if every remnant of the ghost was annihilated.
The second he'd come back to himself – himself as the Master, not some awful spineless human version of himself – he'd noticed just how empty the world was. He'd always been a little aware of the rest of the Time Lords in the world, the way one was aware of the teeth in their mouth. No one thinks about them all the time but they're there and when they're not it's impossible to ignore.
Of course, there was one Time Lord in particular. One he'd never admit to himself that he desperately looked for after the war, one he’d always been far more aware of than the others. But he was gone, too.
It had been him, in the end. The little boy with those bright eyes and unending curiosity, all grown up and ready to commit genocide. The Master could only imagine how outraged he'd feel if he knew who the only Time Lord to survive was.
No, he couldn't be thinking about him. He was going to destroy planet Earth before the wretched creatures on it spread to the stars and then he was never going to look back. Never think about those many, many faces that some pathetic part of him still missed.
The party was some pointless thing thrown for a woman who was pretending to be younger than she was, and doing a terrible job of it. The only reason he'd chosen it (though he'd let Lumic think it was his decision) was because of all the important people present. He was nothing if not dramatic.
Time seemed to drag on for impossibly long before the Cybermen came, and the Master was getting bored. He hated being bored.
Some young blonde woman walked up to him with a tray of champagne glasses, and he took two, ignoring her scowl when it destabilised the tray and had it teetering dangerously towards her.
“Here with someone, sir?” she asked, faux-polite as anything.
“Waiting for someone,” he replied curtly. The Master didn't particularly care to make conversation with the staff.
“How do you know Mr. Tyler, then?” The Master could scream. He wished he could just kill this girl, but that would panic the crowd far too early.
“Work.”
“You're not very chatty, are you?”
“No.” He walked away.
In the corner of his vision, he saw the woman mouth something to a figure across the room and followed her gaze to a tall man with a ridiculous haircut and a big grin. There was something about it, about those bright eyes…
The Master turned away and made his way through the crowd to the garden. He didn't necessarily need to see the Cybermen arrive, not when the evidence of their entrance would be so conclusive. The fresh air would do him good, hopefully clear his mind of all those old memories that were swarming him.
Since he'd made it to Earth his mind had always been a few random stimuli away from remembering him. The Master wouldn't say his name, wouldn't even think it. He was dead. He'd killed himself and everyone else, and he didn't deserve space in the Master’s thoughts. If he never referred to him by name he could almost pretend he wasn't missing him.
The moonlight shone down brightly and the cold wind nipped shrewdly through his suit jacket. It had a centering effect, assembling his scattered thoughts into something more cohesive. He didn't like the familiar shape they were taking on.
Once he'd gotten rid of the humans and sent the planet to its slow and painful death, he'd be free. He'd gone around the universe, eliminating everything that reminded him of the Time Lords – of that one Time Lord. He was the last of their kind, after all, who was to judge him for deciding how they were remembered? He'd simply decided that they shouldn't be remembered.
The sound of marching Cybermen was a welcome distraction. The sound of screams even more so.
The Master waited patiently outside for the screams to die down, at which point he could report back that it had been a success.
Usually, it would be unfathomable for him to report to anyone, but in this instance it was easier to let the poor dying man think he was in charge than to build a hugely influential company from the ground up, so he swallowed his pride and flawlessly played the part of the advisor.
A door nearby burst open and the blonde woman came running out, the lanky man hot on her heels. They spotted him and beckoned him over, looking panicked. The Master complied with a sigh, trudging over to the pair far slower than they'd clearly hoped. And then they were off again, bolting away with the Master in tow. He wasn't sure why he followed. There was something about that man, something compelling, and he couldn't bring himself to deny it something so simple.
Of course they end up grabbing Pete Tyler as well. The Master knew very well that he was a mole, the fool hadn't been very subtle about it, but that wasn't why he didn't like him. Pete Tyler was too simple. Just some man who stumbled into money with a failing relationship and dreams of being a hero, exactly the kind of man that a certain Time Lord would fawn over. The Master was grateful he was too dead to ever meet him.
“Who are you?” Tyler asked the tall man as they ran. “How do you know so much?”
“You wouldn't believe it in a million years,” the man replied, the end of its sentence muddled as it skidded to a halt in front of more Cybermen and quickly turned in another direction.
The Master was going to get sick of all the running very soon, especially since he knew he was perfectly safe from the Cybermen. He'd made them, after all, and he wasn't so foolish as to not program them to stay away from him. But then that bright eyed man looked at him and he couldn't possibly stop.
There were two armed people approaching from the shadows. Humans, the ones Tyler had been feeding information to. Not that he knew that, of course, the man was dumb as a rock.
The blonde woman seemed to know one of the new people, not that the Master cared in the slightest. He was staring at the tall man. It certainly wasn't unattractive, far from it, but what unsettled the Master was just how strongly he wanted it. He'd slept with all kinds before and was no stranger to attraction, but this was something different though not entirely dissimilar. The feeling was terrifyingly recognisable and once the Master realised just why it felt so familiar, he promptly locked away that part of his mind. It was ridiculous. The gangly man in front of him was attractive and clearly intelligent, but that was no excuse for him to be feeling anything of that sort for it. His hearts and mind had been struggling to come to an accord on how they felt about losing him, and this was just a side effect of that conflict. Those gleaming eyes and that clever smile reminded him a bit too much of who he'd lost, and it was messing with him. Well, not for much longer. They were very effectively surrounded, and the stranger’s approach of insisting that they'd surrendered was doing it no good.
The Master was looking forward to seeing Pete Tyler get fried.
Or at least, he was until the man he hadn't been able to pry his gaze off of pulled out some kind of weapon and shocked all the Cybermen in turn. That was certainly unexpected.
“What the hell was that?” one of the two twins shouted, unhelpfully.
“Or, how about instead: run!” the man said before taking off again, the rest of them following. The Master found himself falling in with the crowd, trying to catch up with this gazelle of a man.
There was the flare of headlights ahead of them, and suddenly everyone was scrambling into a van, the Master among them. He couldn't even begin to explain why.
Once they'd gotten far enough away from the Tyler residence that the road was cleared of Cybermen, the humans started chattering again.
“What was that thing?” the shoutier of the twins exclaims. The Master is starting to regret ignoring the introductions.
“Little piece of technology from my home,” the bright eyed man said, faltering before “home”. Interesting.
“It stopped glowing,” the other twin said. “Has it run out?”
“It's on a revitalising loop, it’ll charge back up in about four hours.”
“Right, so we haven't got a weapon anymore,” the first twin said. The Master was going to have to ask their names if he spent any more time with them, which was just about the lowest he could fall.
“We've got weapons,” the other human said. There were far too many strangers present for the Master’s liking. “They might not work on those metal things, but they're good enough for men like him.” He gestured to Tyler.
“Leave him alone!” the blonde woman shouted. She cared far more than she ought to about him, it was frankly pathetic. “What's he done wrong?”
“Just laid a trap that's wiped out the government!” Actually, the Master thinks rather smugly, That was me. “And left Lumic in charge!”
“If I was part of all that,” Tyler argues. “D'you think I'd leave my wife inside?”
“Well maybe your plan went wrong,” the angry twin said. “That still gives us the right to execute you.”
“Talk about executions and you'll make me your enemy,” the enthralling man said. There was a fierceness to it, it acted like it’s seen far worse than anything this little underground rebellion could throw its way. “And take some really good advice: you don't want to do that.”
The Master tuned out, then, retreating into his thoughts. He couldn't bear to look at that man any more, as much as he wanted to continue observing it, so he fixed his gaze on Tyler and glowered. The stupid man had never met him, of course. Practically no one but Lumic had met him, the elusive Harold Saxon.
The Master had a constant headache. It was unavoidable, when he spent so much of him keeping his mental walls tall and impenetrable. The constant chatter from the earpods was enough to drive any psychic being mad, and even if it wasn't lowering his walls meant facing the empty coldness of the world around him. He'd quickly discovered that was more than he could bear.
“No but the Preachers know what they're doing,” one of the twins was saying when he tuned back in. The Preachers. What a stupid name. “Ricky said, he's London’s most wanted.”
“Yeah, well, that's not exactly…” the other twin – Ricky – said.
“Not exactly what?”
“Wait,” the Master said. He'd put up with all he could handle. “He's Ricky, and what's your name?”
“Mickey.”
“And I’m Rose,” the blonde woman said. He hadn't asked and was certainly not about to, but had to admit he was glad to know it. “Hello!”
“Ricky and Mickey…” The Master despaired for humanity. Luckily for them, they didn't have long left. “Right, proceed.”
“I'm London’s most wanted for parking tickets,” Ricky admitted shamefully.
“Oh, great,” Tyler said.
“But they were deliberate!” Ricky protested, trying to protect his ruined reputation. “I was fighting the system! Park anywhere, that's me.”
“Good policy,” the lanky man said, smiling. “I'm much the same. I’m the Doctor, by the way, if anyone's interested.” It stared reproachfully at the Master, but he hardly noticed. His hearts had stopped dead.
“No,” he said “No. Dr. what? That's just a title, so what's your name?”
“Just the Doctor,” the man— him— the one Time Lord he'd mourned— said innocently. Innocently.
“You get used to it after a while,” Rose was saying, but the Master couldn't possibly listen. His world felt like it was shrinking until the man in front of him, in his tight suit and stupid shoes, was his whole universe. That didn't change much, really. He wanted to reach out and touch it, confirm that any of this was real. He couldn't, though. There would be no hiding anymore if he did, it would know who he was. It would know who else survived. And he wasn't sure he'd survive if the Doc— he was disappointed.
Everything that had seemed impossibly familiar slotted into place, and it made sense. Of course he hadn't died. It was never that simple.
“Are you alright?” the Doctor asked curiously. The Doctor. Finally allowing himself to think that name was like breaking down an immense dam in his mind, and the Master was swept away in the torrent, unable to get his bearings. It was the Doctor. Obviously it was the Doctor, who else could it possibly be? There was not a single other being that had ever made him feel anything remotely as strong as the Doctor did. That impossible mix of desire and hatred and love and betrayal that he'd felt earlier should've been an obvious sign.
The Master took a breath and collected himself as best he could, simply nodding at the Doctor. He couldn't meet its eyes. He might die.
“Who are you, then?” Mickey asked. The Master was relieved he hadn't noticed how frazzled he was, but he did wish they'd go back to ignoring him. He could feel the Doctor’s gaze on him and it burned.
He probably shouldn't tell them his real name, not with this group’s tendencies. He didn't doubt the Doctor would valiantly protect him if they got too murderous, but he'd rather it didn't come to that.
The Master briefly looked at Mickey before steeling his nerves and meeting the Doctor’s gaze. “John Smith,” he said.
The Doctor – John Smith – the reason all of this was happening – looked surprised but remained oblivious. That was okay. The Master would much rather he didn't know who he was for as long as possible. Any negative reaction would kill him when even the Time War couldn't. It was terrifying to know that the Doctor held so much power over him, but he was slightly comforted by the fact that he had the upper hand, holding far more knowledge than anyone else in the van.
The little group continued to chatter amongst themselves. He couldn't care less what they were saying, not when the Doctor kept looking at him with those big brown eyes. Obviously the Master had found them so captivating, he was always going to be drawn in by the Doctor’s eyes. By the Doctor, every minute part of it.
The Master was being as subtle as he could, but he hadn't seen the Doctor in almost a century and he could only keep his eyes off it for so long. Its every expression was dazzling, his eyes so intelligent and lively and familiar. There was something about the Doctor that no regeneration could change, a unique spark in his soul. It shone through, lighting him up like a sun now that the Master knew who it was. He wanted desperately to lower his mental walls and reach out, but he couldn't let the Doctor know who he was. It wasn't fear, the Master had had enough of fear. He was… scheming. It was all part of his plan.
The van came to halt and they all clambered out, the Master amongst them. He didn't dare lose track of the Doctor, some part of him fearing he'd vanish again if he did.
There were humans marching through the streets, faces blank and movements stiff. Ah. That was the Master’s doing.
“What's going on?” Rose asked, looking around.
“It's the ear pods,” the Doctor said. Clever as ever, the Master rejoiced in the knowledge that he'd get to watch the Doctor foil one of his plans again. “It's Lumic, he's taken control.” The Master had to let him have that, he'd been careful to hide his involvement in the creation of the Cybermen.
“But couldn't we just… I dunno, take these things off?” Rose said.
“Don't! Could cause a brainstorm,” the Doctor said. “Human race, for such intelligent creatures, you're quite susceptible. Give anyone a chance to take control and you submit!”
“How are you any different, Doctor?” the Master asked rather pointedly, hiding behind the genuine curiosity of a human.
“Well… I, I mean,” the Doctor seemed flustered, hopefully thinking of the Master. He'd be rather offended if it wasn't. “I'm not—”
“Hey! Come and see!” It was saved by the gunman calling them over.
The Master fell into step with the Doctor like they'd never even been apart, eyes trained on its reaction to his plan succeeding. It pained him to admit that seeing the Doctor and his stupid pets staring helplessly on the chaos the Master had wrought made him feel like himself again.
“Where are they going?” Rose asked.
“I don't know,” the Doctor said. “Lumic must have a base of operations.”
All the credit was going to Lumic. That had been the Master’s plan, before the Doctor had come back from the dead, but he wanted that acknowledgment he was so used to from his oldest enemy. His need for the Doctor’s insults which he merely took as praise, all the effort it went to to dismantle his scheme of the hour, came rushing back and he wanted to grab it by the lapels and force it to acknowledge him. It would be so easy, the Doctor didn't know to be wary of him yet.
But no, it would be better if he waited. He could play the long game, devastate the Doctor was much as possible. He had to be more subtle.
“Doctor,” he started, sounding as genuinely curious as possible. “Earlier, you said ‘humans’ like you're not one.”
The Doctor turned to face him, staring like a deer in headlights. One would think after so long around humans, it would have gotten better at pretending to be one. Not that the Master wasn't enjoying the look of shock and slight fear on the Doctor’s face. “No, it wasn't, because your friend Rose didn't comment on it. And you don't exactly have a human name, do you, Doctor?”
The Doctor opened and shut his mouth a couple times, clearly searching for some kind of lie the Master – or John Smith, as it believed him to be – might believe.
“We're looking at a robot invasion, anything you say can't be worse than that.” The Doctor made a face. “What? What are you? An alien? Some kind of strange creature from a planet far, far away with red skies instead of blue?”
“I…” the Doctor looked miserable. The Master was beaming internally. “Can we focus on the real issue?”
“Y-yeah,” Tyler said. “Lumic’s base is in Battersea. That's where he's building his prototypes.”
“Perfect,” the Master said. He could tell that Rose wanted the Doctor’s attention to speak privately and he had no intention of sharing. “Off to Battersea, then?”
“Right, yes.” The Doctor had a far away haziness to its eyes, probably lost in memories of their planet. Did he remember it as it had been when they were children, exploring the fields? Or were its memories overwhelmed by images of the war? It was taking all of the Master’s restraint to not press the subject. He needed to know how it had felt. He could find out later, once his long-time enemy had realised who he was – once he could be truly cruel.
Before the group could make it back to the van, a group of Cybermen advanced on them, sending them all bolting in different directions. The Master was impossibly frustrated by the Doctor’s new body, optimised as it was for sprinting, but he managed to keep up nonetheless.
“I was right, wasn't I?” the Master pressed once they were far enough from the rest of the group and the Cybermen. “You're an alien.”
“You don't seem very afraid,” the Doctor replied.
“Should I be? What have you done to make you inherently scary, Doctor?” He'd never realised how good an actor he was, passing his pointed, hurtful remarks off as foolish human curiosity.
“It… It's not important. Most people just don't like the thought of aliens.” The Doctor shook its head, pulling its thoughts together. The Master didn't know whether he should be upset that he still had an innate ability to read it, even after all this time, or pleased that he'd maintained his upper hand. “Let's get back to the van, the Cybermen should have passed by now.”
The Master complied, if only because he knew that any longer and he would have attacked the Doctor. Or maybe snogged him, which would have been embarrassing.
“I ran past the river,” the gunman said. The Master was horrified upon realising there were still more humans he hadn't learnt the names of. “You should've seen it, the whole city’s on the march, hundreds of Cybermen, all down the Thames— There he is!” There he was indeed. Mickey had come running up to them – though, in the darkness, the Master hadn't known quite which one it was for a moment. “Which one are you?”
“I'm sorry,” Mickey said. “The Cybermen— he couldn't…”
“Are you Ricky?” The Master was glad he hadn't learnt this fool’s name, since he was clearly a dunce. “Are you Ricky?”
“Mickey?” Rose said. “That's you, isn't it?”
“Yeah,” Mickey said.
She rushed over to hug him. The Master was waiting impatiently for this whole thing to be over. He was planning his grand reveal in his head, he couldn't decide whether it would be better to grab the Doctor and force him to realise who he was, or set up the pieces so it would figure it out on its own. He still had plenty of time to come to a conclusion.
“We can mourn him when London is safe,” the Doctor said, drawing the Master out of his thoughts. “For now, we move on.”
They clambered back into the van and the Master sat in the opposite corner to the Doctor. He still felt so terribly alone without the mental contact he'd missed all those years, the craving was getting too strong and he didn't know if he'd be able to stop himself from reaching out and making the Doctor acknowledge him.
Still, he couldn't stop looking at it. Face blank, eyes surprisingly cold. The Time War had taken more out of the Doctor than he'd realised, and even after all this time it was still a soldier, heading into battle. Fascinating.
They finally made it to the Cyberfactory (not the Master’s naming choice, he'd thought it was stupid but had been overruled). The Doctor was scanning the building for faults and entrance routes while the humans took it in, awestruck and intimidated.
“The whole of London’s been sealed off,” the Doctor said. “And the entire population's being taken into that place. To be converted.”
“We've got to get in there,” Rose said. “And shut it down.” The Master was surprised, but the Doctor had always known how to pick the brave ones.
“Yeah, but how do we do that?” Mickey asked.
“I’ll think of something,” the Doctor replied.
“You're just making this up as you go along!”
“Yes, but I do it brilliantly.” Its smile was infectious, the Master felt himself grinning too as they gathered around the old woman to look at the plans for the building.
“There's a schematic of the old factory,” she said. “Look; cooling tunnels, under the plant, big enough to walk through.”
“We go under, then up, into the control centre,” the Doctor said.
“There's another way in,” Tyler said. “Through the front door. If they've taken Jackie for upgrading, that's how she’ll get in.”
“We can't just go strolling up,” the fool protested.
“We could,” the old woman said, holding up two sets of ear pods. “With these. Dead, no signal, but put them on and the Cybermen would think you're one of the crowd.”
“Then that's my job,” Tyler said.
“You'd have to show no emotion,” the Doctor said. “None at all. Any sign of emotion would give you away.”
“How many of those have you got?” Rose asked, gesturing at the ear pods.
“Just two sets,” the old woman replied.
“Okay. If that's the best way of finding Jackie, then I’m coming with you.”
“Why does she matter to you?” Tyler asked. The Master was curious to know the answer as well.
“We haven't got time,” Rose said. “Doctor, I'm going with him, and that's that.”
“No stopping you, is there?” the Doctor asked. The Master didn't like how familiar they were.
“Nope,” Rose said.
The Doctor explained his plan, and the Master didn't listen. He didn't need to. It would probably fail anyways, but if it did work, then he just had to follow the Doctor until he found a good time to reveal who he really was. He was thinking once a few of the humans were dead, or maybe when the Cybermen had the Doctor at their mercy. Something grand and emotionally impactful.
Mickey and the fool had walked away, and the Master was digging his nails into his palm so he wouldn't get too upset at the sight of the Doctor and Rose hugging and blow his cover. It was tempting, though. He could kill her and claim the Doctor as his own, it would be so easy. But no, he had to be patient. The reveal would be exquisite, if he could just time it right.
“Oh, good team, Mrs. Moore!” the Doctor exclaimed, still panting from the sprint they'd taken to escape the Cybermen.
“Good team, Doctor!” Angela Price said. The Master hated both of them with a passion.
“And you too, John,” the Doctor said, making a move to touch the Master and he jerked back. As much as he desperately wanted the Doctor to touch him, he couldn't have that. Not yet.
“Yes, thank you,” he said coolly.
They set off down another corridor, Price and the Doctor chattering away. If she hadn't been there, they'd have gotten hopelessly lost almost immediately, since the Doctor seemed to want to go in absolutely random directions.
The Master was almost relieved when they ran into more Cybermen, if only because it would shut his travel companions up momentarily.
“You are not upgraded,” the Cyberman said.
“Yeah, well, upgrade this!” Price threw a small metal object at the Cyberman, which quickly shut down and collapsed.
The trio crouched down around the felled Cyberman as the Doctor soniced its chest panel open. The Master was startled by the wave of emotion that crashed over him at the sight of the stupid thing.
“Heart of steel…” the Doctor said. “But look…”
“Flesh,” the Master said. “A central nervous system, so it can keep a human's quick wits.”
“What… what does that mean?” Price asked.
“It's alive,” the Master said. The Doctor looked quite upset.
“But look at this,” it said, tapping at one of the Master’s greatest inventions. “Emotional inhibitor. They can't feel anything.”
“But why…?” Price said.
“It's still got a human brain,” the Doctor said.
“If it could realise what had happened to it,” the Master said. “If it could see itself… It would go insane.”
The Doctor and Price peered down at the Cyberman, saddened, but the Master only had eyes for his fellow Time Lord. The last of their kind. Would he be able to appreciate the Master’s craftsmanship? Would he empathise with the Cybermen, horrified by what they had become?
“Why… am I cold?” the Cyberman asked.
“Oh my god, it's alive,” Price gasped. “It can feel.”
“We broke the inhibitor,” the Doctor said, voice heavy with guilt when it spoke to the Cyberman. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”
“Why so cold…?” the Cyberman repeated.
“What's your name?” the Master asked.
“Sally,” the Cyberman said. “Sally Phelan.”
“You're a woman.” Price said.
“Of course she's a woman, what did you expect happened to the women?” the Master snapped, and was reprimanded by the Doctor’s stern look.
“Where’s Gareth?” the Cyberman asked.
“Who’s Gareth?” Price echoed, like an awful parrot.
“He can’t see me,” the Cyberman continued. “It’s unlucky the night before.”
“You’re getting married,” Price said. The Master was getting incredibly sick of her. He wondered if the Doctor would be too upset if he killed her. Not that he cared how the Doctor felt. He didn’t care about the Doctor.
“I’m cold,” the Cyberman said again. “I’m so cold.”
“It’s all right,” the Doctor said gently. “You sleep now, Sally. Just go to sleep.”
The Master watched silently as the Doctor put good old Sally Phelan to death, switching her off with a faint buzz of its sonic screwdriver. He wondered how it felt, killing her. He wondered how he’d felt, ending the Time War.
“Sally Phelan didn't die for nothing,” the Doctor said, pointlessly. Of course she died for nothing. She was dead the second the Master’s ingenious system got its hands on her. What the Doctor had just killed wasn’t Sally Phelan, because Sally Phelan was long dead at the Master’s hands. He wondered if he ought to tell it that, maybe it would make it feel better. Probably, the news would only make him very upset and self-righteous. “Because that's the key. The emotional inhibitor. If we could find the code behind it, the cancellation code, then feed it throughout the system into every Cyberman's head, they'd realise what they are.”
“And what happens then?” Price asked.
“They’d all die, wouldn’t they?” the Master said, staring at the Doctor. “Could you do that? Kill a whole species?”
The Doctor looked panicked. The Doctor looked grief-stricken. The Master loved it.
“But they’re not a species, are they?” Price argued. The Master hated her. “They’re just… dead people. And we've got to kill them. Before they kill everyone else. There's no choice, Doctor. It's got to be done.”
The Master waited impatiently for the two bleeding hearts of his awful trio to get a move on, because he had an excellent plan for his grand reveal and—
Price was electrocuted by a Cyberman. She fell to the ground dead, much to the Doctor’s dismay. The Master was glad he wasn’t looking his way, because there was no way he could hide his satisfaction well enough.
“No!” the Doctor exclaimed, looking incredibly distressed. The Master couldn’t understand that. He’d hardly known her. “No, you didn’t have to kill her!”
The Cyberman turned its attention to the Doctor, scanning him. The Master would hate if he had to save the Doctor from being killed by a Cyberman, there was no was he would ever let him forget about it. Thankfully, the Cyberman spoke instead of just trying to zap it. “Sensors detect a binary vascular system,” the Cyberman said. Thank Rassilon for back-up plans. “You are an unknown upgrade. You will be taken for analysis.”
“Master Saxon recognised,” the Cyberman said. Shit. “Awaiting instructions.”
The Doctor turned to the Master, eyes wide and looked betrayed. It reminded the Master of the good old days, and he couldn’t help but smile. Sure. This was a fine time for the Doctor to find out they weren’t on the same side.
“Take him away,” he said coldly.
“What? No!” the Doctor protested, struggling in the Cyberman’s grip. “Who are you?”
The Master walked alongside the machine and his new prisoner, hands tucked casually in his pockets. It felt nice to be the villain again. He hadn’t really been able to enjoy it without the Doctor there to look at him, all morally outraged, and make him feel good. He hadn’t really been able to enjoy much without the Doctor.
“Harold Saxon,” the Master said. He wasn’t sure why he still didn’t want the Doctor to know the truth. He didn’t want to face rejection. “Lumic’s advisor. Though, Doctor, I’ll be honest with you; he’s not in charge of much. All this? It was my idea. My plan.”
“But why? What could you possibly hope to gain?”
“I want to end the world,” the Master responded simply. “There’s no monetary gain, I don’t care about that. I just want to see the end of this hellhole of a planet.”
“How could you be so cruel?”
“It’s just who I am.”
“That can’t possibly be true,” the Doctor said. “Everyone can be good. No one is just evil because its how they are.”
“Well maybe I am,” the Master snapped. “Leave him in here,” he ordered the Cyberman.
The Cyberman let go of the Doctor, pushing it into the control room. The Master kept a close eye on it to make sure it didn’t try any funny business, but he seemed too focused on convincing the Master he could be good, actually. He was hardly listening.
“What do you even intend to do with me?” the Doctor asked, hardly stopping for breath. It was impressive how much he could talk. “Rose and Pete are still out there, they can rescue me— Oh, well, nevermind.”
Rose and Tyler had been thrust into the control room, looking distraught. The Master could not care less, more focused on the Doctor’s reaction to Rose. He certainly didn’t like that.
“You okay?” the Doctor asked his blonde pet, looking genuinely worried. She clearly wasn’t hurt.
“Yeah,” she replied. “But they got Jackie.”
“We were too late,” Tyler said. “Lumic killed her.”
The Doctor shot the Master a hate-filled glare, but clearly decided it wasn’t the right time to continue on its tirade. Plus, then it would have to explain to the humans it cared for that it had been tricked by the Master.
“Then where is he, the famous Mister Lumic?” the Doctor said. “Don't we get the chance to meet our Lord and Master?” The Master almost let out a laugh, but he managed to keep himself under control.
“He has been upgraded,” one of the Cybermen said. Oh! That hadn’t been part of the Master’s plan. He suddenly felt very justified in installing those countless security measures so no such thing ever happened to him.
“So he’s just like you?” the Doctor asked.
“He is superior,” another Cyberman answered “The Lumic Unit has been designated Cyber Controller.” Well, now. That was supposed to be the Master’s job. But fine. It seemed like his plan was falling apart, anyways.
A door opened and out came Lumic, the Master’s most insufferable political pawn, looking shiny and metallic in his new wheelchair.
“This is the Age of Steel,” he said. “And I am its Creator.”
The Master would probably have killed him, had he not seen the look in the Doctor’s eye. Oh, he was familiar with that look. The one that said it had witnessed an injustice, and that it was going to set things right. He’d had that look addressed to him many times. He hated how nice it was to see it again, after everything.
Apparently, the Doctor had decided to set aside the fact that the Master – or Harold Saxon, to it – had been involved in it all, focusing his sights on Lumic and the incredibly unsubtle secret message it was sending to Mickey and the fool.
When the Master’s whole plan came crashing down, he couldn’t help but admit it was glorious. Hundreds if not thousands of the Doctor’s precious humans crumbling with pain as they realised what they’d become, what they’d been made to do. The psychological distress was too much for them, it was killing them all. And the Doctor had the gall to turn to one and apologise. He who’d killed them all. He who’d done this to them. He who’d ended the Time War by killing them all.
The Master couldn’t help it. He used the Doctor’s distraction to run at it and grab it by that ridiculous coat, slamming it against the wall behind them. Things were exploding around them, and the humans were shouting. The Master didn’t care. All that mattered was his grip on the Doctor’s coat, the cool hands that had come to circle his wrists, and the two hearts he could feel pounding in its chest. He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t alone.
“No,” the Doctor breathed, eyes suddenly going wide. It had moved its fingers to be right over the Master’s pulse. It knew. The reveal wasn’t what the Master had wanted it to be, but nothing ever went to plan around the Doctor.
“You killed them all,” the Master said, getting right up in the Doctor’s face.
“How did you…”
“You killed them all!” the Master roared, and slammed the Doctor against the wall again for good measure. It’s head hit hard enough that the Master heard it. “How did it feel? How did it feel to be the one to put an end to the Time Lords? How did it feel to destroy our home?”
He could feel the eyes of the humans burning into him, could hear the explosions going off around them. Nothing mattered. He was close enough to feel the Doctor’s quick, frightened breaths against his face. He was close enough to see its pupils dilate in fear. He smiled.
“Who are you?” the Doctor asked. It was so quiet, they were the only ones who’d ever hear it. The Master wondered if he was embarrassed, in front of his human pets.
The Master kissed him. It was brief, and far from romantic, but it was enough. The Doctor’s hands tightened around his wrists and its whole body tensed. The Master wasn’t sure why he’d done it. Maybe he was sick of waiting, maybe he wanted to make a statement in front of that blonde girl the Doctor seemed to like so much. Either way, the Doctor had pieced it together.
“Say my name,” the Master demanded.
“Master?” the Doctor said, breathless.
“Missed me?”
Before the Doctor could reply – and it was clearly trying to, from the way it kept opening and shutting its mouth – the Master twisted his wrists so he was holding the Doctor firmly and tugged him away from the wall.
“To the roof,” he said. “We can get away from there.”
“That’s– that’s what Mickey said,” Tyler said, looking startled. The Master couldn’t imagine why.
“Who are you?” Rose demanded.
“None of your concern,” he replied. “Now, do you want to die? Then up to the roof we go.”
They burst out onto the roof and there was the zeppelin that had formerly been the beacon for the Cybermens’ signal, hovering above them. The Master eyed the Doctor and the fire escape, considering grabbing it and running, but it felt like a lot of effort for little gain. He followed the humans and the Doctor up the ladder that had come from the zeppelin. Rose looked hesitant that he was climbing up with them, but if the Doctor had wanted him to stay below, it should have said so. He wasn’t about to bend to the whims of some human woman.
The ladder lurched as Lumic grabbed hold of it, and he heard the Doctor shouting instructions. It wanted to use its sonic screwdriver. How cute. The Master shot Lumic dead with his laser screwdriver, then looked up to meet the Doctor’s eyes with a smile. He’d always said sonic screwdrivers were stupid.
Surprisingly, no one tried to kill the Master until they were all safely on the ground, somewhere near where the TARDIS had crashed apparently. Only then did Rose whirl around to face him, anger radiating off her.
“So who are you, then?” she snapped. “Because I know you’re not John Smith.”
“Rose,” the Doctor warned. Good. Yes, they should be wary.
“What do you want?” Rose continued, ignoring the Doctor. “And who do you think you are to just– kiss the Doctor!”
“Are you jealous, Rose?” the Master asked with keen interest.
“Who are you?” she repeated with stubborn insistence.
“Has the Doctor told you about the Time Lords?” the Master asked. “About how he killed every single one of them? Well, it failed.”
“You’re a Time Lord?” Rose asked, eyes wide.
“One of the best.”
“This is the Master,” the Doctor said. “We used to… He and I… We have a history.”
“How succinct.”
“Sorry,” Tyler interrupted. The Master hated him very much. “What’s going on?”
“We’ll be right back,” the Doctor said, grabbing the Master by the arm and dragging him away. The humans were clearly unhappy about this, but the Master couldn’t help but be pleased.
“How did you survive?” he asked once they’d gotten far enough away.
“How did you?” the Doctor countered.
“No, Doctor,” the Master said. “You destroyed Gallifrey. I am owed answers. How did you survive?”
“I… I thought I was going to die,” the Doctor said. “I wanted to die. But I… didn’t.”
“How unfortunate.”
“Look, Master, I don’t know if you– I might be– I’m not from here.”
“Yes, I know,” the Master said. “That’s the problem.”
“No I mean–” the Doctor was clearly struggling. The Master couldn’t help but feel pleased. “The TARDIS, she crashed here from another dimension. Rose, Mickey, and I, we’re from another dimension. In our universe, Pete is dead, the Cybermen are from another planet, and you—”
“I’m dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So, right here, right now, in my world…”
“I’m dead.”
“Good,” the Master said. They could both tell it was a lie. “A world without the Doctor is somewhere I want to be.”
“Master…”
They’d gotten very close to each other. The Doctor was leaning down a little to meet the Master’s eyes, and he had his hands on the Master’s upper arms. The Master had curled his hands in the fabric of the Doctor’s suit jacket. He hated to admit he was afraid to let go.
“I’m sorry,” the Doctor said again. The Master couldn’t take it. Not from him.
Before he knew it, they were kissing. It was gentler than he’d imagined, when he did let himself imagine such a thing, and more emotional. He almost felt like crying. He never wanted to step away, never wanted to let go. He knew he had to.
“Let’s get you back to your awful TARDIS, then,” he said. “Don’t need you messing up any more of my plans.”
The Doctor had tears in his eyes. The Master refused to acknowledge how his own eyes stung, and how choked up his voice sounded. He was the Master. He didn’t cry, and he certainly didn’t miss the Doctor.
They walked back to the others in sombre silence. The Master could tell the Doctor wanted to take his hand. He wanted that too. He’d love to hold the Doctor and never let him go again. He didn’t know how he’d survive, plunged back into a universe without the Doctor. He didn’t know how he’d cope with losing it yet again.
The Master watched silently as the Doctor settled its affairs with its companions, looking as chipper as ever. He could tell something was wrong. He wondered if any of the humans could, if any of them could see the Doctor the way he could. If they had the ability to understand it at all. How lonely it must be, all alone in the world like that. The Master refused to think of how lonely he’d be, once the TARDIS dematerialised.
“Off we go, then,” the Doctor said, and he very pointedly did not look at the Master.
“Er, thing is,” Mickey said. “I’m staying.”
“You’re doing what?” the Doctor said, genuinely stunned.
“You can’t,” Rose said.
“It sort of balances out, because this world lost its Ricky, but there's me,” Mickey said. “And there's work to be done with all those Cybermen still out there.”
“But you can’t stay,” Rose repeated. The Master wanted to leave so he wouldn’t have to put up with their inane conversation. But then he caught the Doctor’s eye and he knew he wouldn’t be able to walk away until he’d seen the very last of the TARDIS.
“Rose, my gran’s here,” Mickey said. “She’s still alive. My old gran, remember her?”
“Yeah.”
“She needs me.”
“What about me? What if I need you?”
“Yeah, but Rose, you don't. It's just you and him, isn't it,” Mickey said. “We had something a long time ago, but not anymore.”
“We’ll– We’ll come back,” Rose said, though it sounded more like a plea. “We can travel anywhere. Come and see you, yeah?”
“We can't,” the Doctor said, crushing his poor human’s heart. “I told you, travel between parallel worlds is impossible. We only got here by accident. We– We fell through a crack in time. When we leave, I've got to close it. We can't ever return.” The Master ignored how the Doctor looked at him. He didn’t know what he’d do if they made eye contact.
“Doctor,” Mickey said, shaking the Doctor’s hand.
“And good luck, Mickey the idiot,” the Doctor said.
“Watch it.”
The Master watched the Doctor retreat into the TARDIS, and he still couldn’t move. Couldn’t bring himself to walk away from it, and back into a world where it had died. Instead, he watched Rose and Mickey talk without bothering to listen to them. When Rose returned to the TARDIS, crying, the Master shut his eyes. He didn’t want to see the door shut. He didn’t want to see the Doctor vanish.
But then the door creaked open again, and the Doctor was leaning out furtively.
“Come with us,” it said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Come with us. Please, I don’t have much time.”
“How will Rose react?”
“I don’t—” the Doctor cut itself off. “I can’t think about that right now. Please. Just come. It’s like Mickey said, it balances out. My world lost— Please, Master.”
An outstretched hand. A blue police box with creaky doors, bigger on the inside and horribly decorated. The Master stepped up to the console, pressed his hands against her, and let the psychic force enter his mind. He’d missed that feeling.
The Doctor was smiling at him hesitantly. Rose was glaring but he couldn’t care less what she thought. Without a word, the Doctor and the Master settled around the console and set the TARDIS into flight.