Chapter Text
It had just reached a year since the anniversary of earth’s downward spiral. The Master stood on his high horse, thriving above it all like a deserted God, left to fulfil his own dreams of carnage. The human race was forced into submission, left to rot in their make shift slums.
The only evidence they had left of a community. A species plunged into ruin, and their only chance of survival was cooperation.
Although, those few people who refused to share out their remaining articles — such as food and medicine — were the ones to die the quickest. People made groups, or rather, their own societies that reflected their want for companionship. It also expressed their desire of having a family to run back to. In dire times of need, that seemed to be the thing that humans valued the most.
It made the Master think, and it made him think hard. He expected there to be a nuclear war going on by now. Leaving a population of nearly seven billion to their own devices was bound to end up in bloodshed … wasn’t it?
He couldn’t understand the Doctor’s admiration for the human race. Not at all. In his eyes, they were an undeveloped, arrogant species that thrived on an unruly hierarchy. In fact, if that was the case, then perhaps him taking over the planet was beneficial in actuality.
Little did the Master know, that he had been oblivious to the existence of a world wide movement, which had been conspiring for the entire span of his rule. Of course, the Doctor was the one to launch it, with the help of his current companion.
This companion was a medical student by the name of Martha Jones. Her part in the plan was crucial. She had travelled the entire planet, undetected by the Master’s government due to a perception filter that she had borrowed off of Captain Jack Harkness, a former, and rather irregular companion of the Doctor.
What she did was simple. She told a story. Over, and over again. She told the same story to billions of people around the world, and each time, she included the same name.
Doctor..
This repetitive pattern created a network between every living person.
The plan was ready to execute. Back in the Master’s sky palace, the Doctor was still imprisoned in his weak, shrunken form. Purposefully exposing herself, Martha was knelt on the ground of the Master’s kingdom.
And finally, it happened.
Seven billion people, all thinking of the same word, at the exact same time. Doctor.
The Master’s plan was foiled, and his ego was cracked. The Doctor rose, and in return his nemesis fell, both figuratively and literally. They squabbled, endlessly, until a gun shot ended things altogether.
Lucy Saxon, the Master’s wife, or rather the wife of his alias, Harold Saxon, had used a double-barrel pistol to send him tumbling. It didn’t take long for the blood to pool, directly from his abdomen. It also took minimal time for the Doctor to rush over, attempting to aid the wound.
In one final attempt at victory, the Master refused to regenerate, and he instead basked in the suffering of the other time lord. Once it all fell silent, the Master’s body was burned, and all of his actions were reversed.
That day was never spoken of again.
Or at least, that was how it was supposed to go. In the original timeline. But, as you understand, this is the Doctor we’re referring to. And he can never let things go easy. Explaining further, due to the Master’s use of the Toclafane, and the sheer amount of them brought to earth, a rift was created in time.
This rift widened and widened as the numbers increased, which led to a malfunction in the TARDIS’ journey. But, not just any TARDIS. This TARDIS belonged to a future regeneration of the Doctor. The eleventh, to be exact. And with this new problematic, but also invigorating opportunity, he was ready to change the events of his own time line, for one of the first times in history.
The Doctor was going to save the Master.
Amy Pond was leant drowsily against the TARDIS’ console, while the Doctor ran his slender fingers across her panel, tongue piercing his lips in avid concentration. On the other side of the ship, Rory Williams was tracing back and forth up the stairs, feeling the railing as he went.
“I honestly fancy some fish and chips..” uttered the dateless young man. His girlfriend looked up with a sudden, dull expression. Her face scrunched and her brows creased at the suggestion,
“You do realise we could eat any food, from any planet in the whole universe..” Amy started, “and you set your mind on fish and chips?!”
Rory shrugged in response, and the Doctor waggled his hands quirkily, hardly listening to the conversation.
“What'cha up to there, Raggedy man?” Purred Amy, manoeuvring her way to stand beside him.
The Doctor halted his movements, meeting her gaze, “Reprogramming the TARDIS, Pond!” “There seems to be something wrong with her sensors..”
“Oh?” Rory queried, to which the Doctor didn’t grant a response.
There was a noticeable tension in the room. One that was unusual. The three of them could sense something was wrong, but not one wanted to admit it aloud. Because then, it was a reality, rather than a theory. The Doctor retracted his arms and chewed at a hangnail, deep in thought.
“So, if something’s wrong with the TARDIS.. are you able to land her?” Amy asked suddenly.
The Doctor was nonrespondent, and whether it was because he was afraid to answer, or because he wasn’t focused on the people in the room, was impossible to tell. Rory’s skin flushed pale and he swallowed hard, an uncomfortable sensation prickling his spine. He wasn’t used to a silent Doctor.
”Doctor.” Emphasised Amy. She took a step closer and reached out, waving a hand in front of the time lord’s face. He blinked, head perking up in response.
He spun around towards her, moving away to further their distance once more. “No, no, not exactly.” He uttered, “If her sensors are all jumbled, then she won’t be able to locate solid ground.”
Rory whimpered under his breath, running one hand over his hair and gritting his teeth. He descended the stairs and approached the other two passengers.
”Oh, for god’s sake!” Complained Amy, throwing her arms up, expressing more frustration than worry. “Why don’t you just give it a go?”
The Doctor laughed, in a disbelieving manner. “Sure thing, Pond! Why didn’t i think of that?” He hummed dimly, brushing the console and then stiffening again sternly, “Oh, right! If i risk trying to land the TARDIS in an unresponsive state, we could end up anywhere in space. Maybe even in a worm hole.”
Amy scowled, but acknowledged the danger, and pushed on no further.
Exhaling in staggered breaths, Rory tugged at his collar and looked around for conformation, “So, what do we do, Doctor? We can’t just sit around in orbit, can we?” His tone was sharp, and almost condescending.
The Doctor was thinking again, which was often a good sign. “We don’t have many other options, Rory, unless you’d like to take a gamble and potentially be at fault for us all being vaporised?”
Rory shook his head guiltily.
The TARDIS continued to steam a concerning amount, her centre core flashing. The panels of the ground began to shake, rattling beneath their feet. Now usually, this meant that they were about to land, but since the Doctor hadn’t entered any coordinates, this was worrying.
“Doctor, what’s it doing?” Rory demanded.
The Doctor promptly corrected, “She may be overriding, but i don’t know why!” He bit down on his lip and shook his head. None of this made sense. Why was the TARDIS suddenly struggling to keep herself from collapsing? What was the cause? How could he stop it?
”Come on now, girl. You can always tell me what’s the matter.” Insisted the Doctor, leaning downwards and rubbing his hand across the display screen. His voice was hushed and his tone was delicate, like that of a mother nursing her sick child.
Amy drew back her lips, cringing at the sight. Her and Rory exchanged a concerned glance.
“Just stop rattling, and tell me what’s causing so much fuss!”
With that, the TARDIS released an excruciating screeching noise. Rory yelped, his hands immediately raising to cup his ears. Amy followed his steps, fumbling backwards and wincing at the volume. The Doctor stayed where he was, position unmoving, although his expression was pained.
The confusion was toying in his mind. He just couldn’t figure it out. There had to be some sort of hint.
“Doctor, turn that off!” Pleaded Amy, yelling over the agonising sound. He immediately clocked back into the present, rushingly adjusting the settings of the ship and decreasing the tension.
The room relaxed slightly now, and Rory relaxed, his arms falling to rest by his sides once more.
“You’re better than him.” Soothed the Doctor, approaching Mrs. Jones with a delicate pace. His steps were smooth and slow, and his gaze was unmoving.
Her hands shook wildly, the rattling of the gun causing the other people in the room to become cautious.
Suddenly, she lowered the weapon and it dangled in her limp arm. The Doctor returned to his regular speed, embracing the older woman in a comforting hug. He accepted the pistol in his hand before releasing it to clatter on the ground.
Despite the Master’s snide comments and sadistic prompts, Mrs. Jones didn’t give into her violent urges. That earned a lot of respect from the Doctor, and he appreciated her struggle.
“You never answered the question,” urged the Master, “What happens to me?”
The Doctor’s expression darkened as he turned to meet the crueler alien’s eyes. He tensed his body. “You’re my responsibility now.”
”The only other time lord left in existence.”
Jack’s reaction was heavily doubtful, he rushed towards the Doctor promptly, “You can’t trust him.”
”No, no.. the only safe place for him is the TARDIS.” Instructed the Doctor in agreement.
The Master’s amusement faded and the horror started to settle in. His eyes widened and his lips twitched in disbelief.
He scoffed, “You mean you’re just going to keep me?”
Nodding, the Doctor brushed off the Master’s reaction and kept his tone firm, “Mmh.. if that’s what I have to do.” He concurred, “Maybe i’ve been travelling for too long, but now, I have someone to care for.”
BANG!
All calm began to melt. A few shocked yelps sounded from the remaining crowd. The Master struggled and released a quiet grunt of pain. He had been shot, directly in the stomach. Blood began to flow, staining his white button-up crimson. His blazer jacket tattered from soaking up the liquid like a cloth.
The Doctor froze, and then launched towards the Master with all remaining energy he had left. He lowered himself to the ground, cradling the dying man in his arms. He blinked away the welling tears and chewed his quivering lip.
The Master convulsed in his arms, eyes soulless with shock, before slowly coming to a realisation. His expression settled.
“Always the women.” He jested, which gained no smile from the time lord above.
THWORP!
In the farthest corner of the room, surprisingly unnoticed, a dark blue object faded into existence. A second TARDIS. It remained steady, thrumming quietly before coming to a silent halt. The door creaked, and out stepped the Eleventh regeneration of the Doctor. He scanned the room, when suddenly, his heart wrenched.
Just as the Doctor went to go back inside, Amy pushed her way out of the doors and joined him. She tilted her head and placed one hand on her left hip, “Where are we, Doctor?” She asked in a hushed whisper, aiming not to draw the attention of the other people in the room.
The Doctor didn’t respond. His legs went numb and almost collapsed beneath his stature. His hands shook, and his mind felt foggy. His breath hitched and he leaned against the TARDIS frame. A droplet of sweat decorated the side of his face.
“Doctor?” Repeated Amy, for the second time. She looked up at her friend, and her face switched into a solemn curiosity. “Is everything okay, Doctor?”
“No, no, no..” he gasped, barely getting the words out, “I can’t watch this again.” He choked out. Amy located his hand and clasped it in her palm. She delicately guided the Doctor back into the ship, where Rory was stood, observing the machinery as it squealed.
”Everything alright?” He interrupted.
The Doctor was silent, still, the only sound escaping him being his strangled gasps. He tore his hand away from Amy and cupped his face with both palms. He felt the need to shrink into a corner, but instead, he lowered himself onto the ground and drew his knees up to his chest.
Amy blinked, “Seriously, Doctor, who are those people?” Her concern was evident.
The questions in his head were on a never ending loop, even the ones he didn’t want to answer. “Nothing, no, nobody.” He murmured softly, voice breaking up.
“You’re worrying me!” Yelled Amy, becoming upset with his lack of responses. She knelt down to his level, dragging him back onto his feet.
The Doctor’s face was evidently flushed. He avoided Amy’s gaze by staring at the ground and holding his breath. Her anger faded once more.
”I’ve never seen you like this. Talk to me.”
Rory interjected, “And to me.”
”Yes, thank you.” Sighed Amy.
He swallowed hard, “The Master. We grew up together, on Gallifrey. Until..” He halted.
Amy and Rory squinted, waiting for his continuation.
“Never mind. But that’s him, out there.”
”Why don’t you go say hi, then? He’s just sat there holding that dying bloke.” Rory perceived.
”He is the dying bloke.” Snapped the Doctor.
They all fell silent once more. Amy looked down, feeling the Doctor’s pain. She raised one hand and brushed his cheek delicately, blinking warmly, “I’m sorry, Doctor.”
The Doctor was expressionless. He didn’t reply, but instead pulled away and approached the door again, craving another look.
“I thought you said something about not going back on your own timeline?” Rory reminded him, urgently pointing it out.
The Doctor gritted, “I won’t interrupt. Wait here.”
Amy and Rory were hesitant, but obedient. They fixed themselves on the stairs of the TARDIS and awaited the Doctor’s return.
His chest tightened and the TARDIS door clicked shut. His hand brushed against the railing of the banister, but he made sure to stay out of sight. He couldn’t risk damaging the time line, no matter how much it might hurt.
He couldn’t understand how he had ended up back on a day that didn’t exist. The entire year had been erased from everybody’s memory. Perhaps, since he had experienced it, the day was still an event in his own timeline. That made sense.
The Doctor sniffled slightly, clearing his throat. He observed his past regeneration, wailing and burying his face in the crook of the Master’s neck. It was damaging to watch, because he knew it would do no use. But maybe if he just —
No .. no, he couldn’t disrupt the timeline. He wouldn’t. His fists clenched and his eyes watered. He wanted to help. He wanted to run and hug his past self, and tell him that everything was going to be okay. He wanted to reassure the struggling time lord, rather than leave him to suffer for the years to come, pained with the memory of this moment.
But, no, of course he couldn’t, because that would be—
“Doctor!” He called, and the past regeneration flung his head around fiercely, eyes puffy and throat tightened. His face twisted with distaste. He didn’t recognise the man in the corner of the room. Nor did anybody else.
“I just wanted to say,” Began the eleventh regeneration, but suddenly, everything was plunged into darkness.
He froze, spinning his head around. He could feel, and move, and touch, and hear, but he couldn’t see. A ringing sounded in his ears, and a coldness was creeping against his neck.
Doctor, you know the rules. A voice mused.
”I make the rules.” He called in respond, voice caught on his own tongue.
Now you must suffer the consequences.
A light crept into view, and then suddenly the world was visible again. The Doctor craned his neck to the right, searching for the TARDIS, but she was gone. His heart pounded and his eyes grew fearful. Where had Rory and Amy gone?
He then craned his neck left. The same room, which his past self and the Master. But it was earlier than the last time. Jack was stood beside the Master, keeping his wrists help together steady, while the Doctor pulled the gun from Mrs. Jones’ hands.
The Doctor froze.
“I’ll stop it from happening.”
”I’ll stop it from ever happening.”