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The Master had always wondered why the Doctor was always running… so far and so fast. He knows why he ran– to keep the darkness in his hearts away, unfaced, and to keep his consequences from catching up to him. But why did she ? She had more often than him, but not always , been the more emotionally mature one. She faced her fears and trials, and from what he could tell, either had no darkness within her or simply not enough for it to be an issue. She was good, she was noble, she was right– no matter how much he had hated it over the years, he knew this. It never seemed to him that she had any legitimate reasons to be running, other than her pure and ridiculous sense of adventure and hope for good’s survival in the universe.
He assumed all of these things until the day her TARDIS locked down. The day he saw the Doctor break.
They had been on their way to Skaro, not for battle's sake or for a death wish, but to settle a bet. The Master claimed that the Daleks at one point had a fleet of rectangular ships with rectangularly-designed Daleks. The Doctor, laughing, bet him three TARDIS trips of his choosing that he was a chronic liar, at least in regards to this claim. So she set the coordinates and the time so they could see for themselves.
The TARDIS had other plans.
The TARDIS began to shake violently, vibrating more than rocking, like the tremors of Pompeii leading up to its fateful day. The previously soft glow of golden light turned into flashing mauve, and the ship groaned like an upset stomach.
“Not a fan of Skaro, eh?” The Master remarked as he held tightly to the console.
“I'm–” the Doctor struggled to keep herself upright as the ship’s shaking nearly knocked her over, “–I’m guessing she had bad memories she hasn't gotten over!”
The Master groaned and shouted up at the TARDIS, “Join the club, dear!”
Lights on screens indicated that the TARDIS had briefly landed on Skaro, but had removed itself quickly.
“She didn't want to land,” the Doctor said, clinging with both hands to one of the turning screens. “But the thing is, I don't know where she's moved to.”
“I believe we'll soon find out.”
As the Master spoke, the vibrating settled into the TARDIS’ usual comforting hum, and the two Time Lords sighed in relief. The flashing lights eased back to their golden glow.
The Doctor gave the Master that glance and small smile she always did when they landed, and bolted for the door.
The door pushed her back, throwing her across the room via some invisible force, and its windows vanished.
The Master fell to her side. “Are you alright?”
The Doctor was gasping, the wind knocked out of her. “I'm fine, but–what the hell?”
She pointed to the door, where the windows should have been. Where the door should have been.
The Master gaped as the Doctor scrambled to her feet, still trying to find air for her lungs as she took large steps toward the now empty wall where the doorway once was.
“No, no, no, no, no!” she cried, touching the wall, evaluating for any sort of illusion. She whipped out her sonic and scanned. Nothing. “ What? ” she breathed.
“Is this…a regular occurrence?” the Master hesitated.
“No! I don't know what this is!”
“Normally, I love when you don't know something. I wish it wasn't this, though.” He had stood and observed the door for himself. “I don't suppose you'd want to try to break it open. The wall, I mean…Doctor?”
She was staggering back toward the console, unable to take her eyes off the wall. Her face paled, her eyes wide and panicked. She stumbled backward onto the console room stairs, causing her to cry out.
The Master approached her with hesitant steps. “Doctor, are you okay?”
To his dismay, she curled her knees to her chest, putting her head in her hands. He realized she was breathing very shallowly.
“It will be okay,” he offered, unsure if he should get closer or give her space.
“No,” she breathed, her voice more empty and more vulnerable than he’d ever heard it. “No, it won't.”
He chuckled awkwardly, “Yes, it will– ”
“ No , it won't!” she yelled, and he saw her eyes were shining with tears. “I can't be stuck here! I can't.”
“Doctor--”
The Doctor quickly withdrew from her spot without a word, making her way toward one of the TARDIS’ many corridors. She stood for half a second, then stormed down it.
The Master grumbled something, looking both utterly confused and mildly frustrated. He walked after her.
It was strangely difficult for him to keep up with her pace. She just kept going. After passing her both her bedroom and the library and the spacetrium--affectionately named by one of her former friends, stupidly and yet accurately named for an atrium that let in starlight from the ceiling--the Master began to wonder what her destination was, or if there even was one. He tried calling after her, but she ignored him.
Finally, he caught up to the Doctor, as a wall had stopped her. He carefully, cautiously approached her as he watched her brush her palms on the wall, feeling for something. She slammed her fists on it and let out a cry that made the Master stop a few feet away from her. She slid down the wall, and only then realized he was there.
The Doctor wasn’t well. The Master knew that much.
“Stop following me,” she sighed bitterly.
“Well. I have now,” the Master chuckled, gesturing to the wall. The Doctor rolled her eyes.
“What’s going on, Doctor?” The Master crouched down to her level, still far away enough to give her the space she seemed to be needing. She said nothing, staring at the wall next to her.
“C’mon. Theta,” he said teasingly, with a fond smile. He loved getting to say it, her old name, almost as much as when she said his. “What’s going on with your TARDIS?”
“It wasn’t here before.”
“What?”
She hit the wall she leaned against with a halfhearted fist. “This.”
The Master was missing some pieces to this puzzle. “Okay…and?”
“ She put it here.”
“Your TARDIS?”
“Yes. Damned machine thinks she knows best.” The Doctor threw up her hands and shouted pointedly, “Well, she doesn’t! ”
“I mean, isn’t that something she just does? She’s moved my room about nine times since I started staying with you.”
“Yes, but…this is different.”
He only raised an eyebrow. She sighed.
“She didn’t want to land on Skaro. She quite literally has had enough of Skaro, or any Dalek-populated warzone. She didn’t want to land.” The Doctor was speaking quicker, more frantically. “So, she does this, she bounces off the coordinate, back into the vortex or some emptier part of space, and throws a fucking tantrum!” These last words were, once again, shouted at the machine.
Like TARDIS, like Time Lord, the Master thought.
“That’s why the door was gone,” she said. She was shrinking into herself, pulling up her knees and placing her arms on them.
“And the wall?”
“Put here to block me.”
The Master couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “Block you?”
“I--” she hesitated. Her anger had melted quickly into something anxious. “I needed to walk.”
The Master inched himself closer to her, sitting on the metal floor now. He asked, softly, still working his way through this interrogation, “Why did you need to walk, love?”
The Doctor looked away, then put her head in her arms. Barely audible, she said, “I can’t be stuck.”
Claustrophobia , his mind spoke. Ah. The Master never considered the Doctor to have many fears at all, period, much less a fear of confined spaces.
Carefully, the Master sat so their sides touched. Letting her body know he was there. They sat in the quiet for a few moments, listening to the humming of the machine. He put his hand on her arm gingerly, testing to see if that’s what she needed or if she’d pull away. Luckily, the Doctor rested her other hand where he had placed his, her head still tucked in her knees.
“You said she does this?” The Master asked. “How often?”
The Doctor groaned. “A few times. When I try to go somewhere dangerous.”
“Like?”
“Skaro, Mondas, Zygor…Gallifrey. A few others.”
The Master considered this. All places he had been, usually with poor intentions, he must admit. All places the Doctor had fought against some invasion plot, or genocide plan, or war, or had been to so that she could prevent these from starting in the first place. Most of these were before the Time War, at least in her timeline, not necessarily the “chronological” timeline of the universe.
The TARDIS must have been protecting her. The machine had been with her this whole time, after all, ever since she left Gallifrey in their younger days. An odd sort of way to protect the Doctor. It seemed out of character, the Master thought, for the machine that seemed to utterly dote on her and for the Doctor essentially flirting back. Seemed more like the kind of thing the TARDIS should have done when he first started travelling with her, given their hostile history. Maybe the TARDIS trusted the Doctor’s judgement of people, but not about what kind of situations she chose to throw herself into.
The Master didn’t have time to explain any of these thoughts to her, because he felt a shuddering from the smaller body next to him. The Doctor’s shoulders were shaking, her breaths coming out ragged.
Alarmed, the Master asked, “Doctor, are you--?”
She looked up, her cheeks streaked with tears. “I don’t know why she has to do this! She knows how it makes me feel! What I’ve been through!”
The Master’s hearts ached to see her so distraught. He hadn’t seen her shed a tear in so long, much less sob. Hadn’t seen this version of her show as much emotion as her past selves did. This was very, very new for them both. He wasn’t sure what she needed exactly, so he tried to remember how they’d help each other when they were children. When they were friends before…everything else happened. What they’d do for each other when one had nightmares.
The Master put his fingertips on either side of the Doctor’s face. Her cheeks were wet, her whole face hot. She didn’t look at him, but didn’t pull away.
“Theta, darling,” he said with a sad smile. “Can you show me what about this is making you so upset? Help me understand?”
She hesitated. They hadn’t done this yet, not since this new friendship had started. Sure, they’d communicated telepathically. But they hadn’t really shared minds since childhood.
“Please,” the Master said, his eyes imploring, “share it with me. Show me what’s hurting you so much. I’d like to help, if you’ll let me. And then we can fix the TARDIS and be on our way.”
The Doctor looked at him, sniffing still, eyes assessing. She nodded. “Alright.”
The Master let out a silent breath of relief and put his fingertips to her temples. They each closed their eyes, and then the Master saw a variety of scenes from across the Doctor’s life. She kept them brief, either from not wanting him to have to see much or not wanting to linger in the pain of memory too long. He saw flashes of holding cells, and her past selves being pushed into locked rooms. He saw her tied up a variety of times--unfortunately, he contributed to these memories once or twice. He saw her most recent self in--what was that, a castle? For so, so long, billions of monotonous years. Punching a rock wall over and over. A picture of Clara. Dying, so many times. Oh, he knew what this was. Confession dial. The Master’s own mind rang with guilt. Then he saw Gallifrey. Her being trapped there many times, many lives, and recently, by him . They’d worked through much of that, but the trauma still remained. His guilt was suffocating now. He saw her in the Judoon prison, and decades’ worth of marks on the wall. He saw, in flashes of memories so fresh, yet so old--children strapped to a table, being tested on, over and over. He’d seen them before. The Timeless children.
Oh. Theta. What have we done to you?
The Master broke contact, his eyes wide, and the Doctor looked smaller than ever. Something like shame, fear, and sadness all combined in her eyes. The Master pulled her to his chest in one swift movement and held her tightly.
“I’m so sorry,” he said in a hushed whisper. “I’m so, so sorry, my dear Doctor.”
She hadn’t heard that phrase in a while. She hadn’t felt this warmth in a while. It made her hearts ache just a little bit less. She let herself relax, muscle by muscle, into his embrace.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” It was him who was crying now.
“It wasn’t all you,” she said.
“I’m sorry for all of it.”
It was her turn to pull back, to look at him. “Koschei,” she said, chills and warmth going up his spine, “you know I’ve forgiven you.”
He wiped his cheeks. “But you haven’t forgotten.”
“And I won’t. Not for a long time. But forgiveness is the important part.”
She could see something breaking in him by the expression on his face. The same thing that broke in her when he asked if he could stay with her, if she would forgive him, if they could be friends again. It took a long time, but the longer he stayed with her, the more he felt like her Koschei, the easier it was for her to forgive him, gradually. To see that he had changed, that not all their progress from when he was Missy had been lost.
To her surprise, he kissed her on the forehead. Then her cheek. Then her jaw, and her other cheek, and--
“Master, stop!” She lightly pushed him, an embarrassed grin on her face.
He looked guilty, stammering, “I’m sorry, did I cross a line? I just--”
She grabbed his hand. “No, no. I didn’t not like it. Just…maybe not the time?”
He blushed. “Right…right. I just--I’m--I don’t deserve you, Doctor--you--”
The Doctor pulled him back into an embrace. “Stop. Not now. Just be here with me, please.”
“Okay.”
After a few moments, they moved so both had their backs against the wall, the Doctor’s hand finding the Master’s. He held it tight. “Thank you for showing me. I can see why this is so upsetting.”
The Doctor nodded. “I hate being trapped. That’s why I kept moving. Hard to feel trapped in a machine that can expand infinitely--unless it doesn’t let you move infinitely.”
She looked at him. “I’m glad you’re here this time. It was so much more terrifying being alone when it happened.”
He smiled sympathetically. “I’m sure it was. I’m sorry you were alone.” He paused. “How did you make it stop last time? When did she let you go out again?”
“I guess she waited until the impulse to go there left me.”
“So, when you thought of eight more places you wanted to go instead?”
The Doctor chuckled. “Yeah, pretty much.”
"Well. Where else should we go, then?" He nudged her shoulder. "I think the bet's probably off, don't you think?"
"I suppose so. We could go somewhere nice. I'd like to relax a bit."
The Master considered. "What if we just stay here tonight? I know you feel a little...closed off... but I think you may have just had anxiety attack." He squeezed her hand. "Do you want to just rest here? We could go to the spacetrium, lay a mattress there and watch the stars."
The Doctor nodded slowly. "I think you might be right. And like I said, I don't feel as bad with you here. Also, love that you've accepted calling it the spacetrium."
The Master rolled his eyes, but said, "It is an annoyingly fitting name."
The Doctor let go of his hand, and pushed herself up. "Okay. You get a mattress and blankets, I'll get some snacks?"
"Sounds like a plan," the Master said, rising to his feet.
The Doctor looked down the hallway, and the Master saw some faint anxiety flash across her face, then fade. She took a deep breath and looked at him. "Thank you, Koschei," she whispered. She placed a light kiss on his cheek, then walked down the hallway, determined.
Blushing, the Master said quietly, "Anything for you, Theta."