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Lost Boys	By : Turkaholic Category: 1 through F > Doctor Who Views: 3820 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, any of its characters or trademarks. I make no money from the writing of this fanfiction

Chapter List
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Chapter Fourteen
"All the time I was left alone in that room, I could feel the Master; like a finger on the back of my neck. Sometimes it felt so far away I could barely feel it, but sometimes it pressed so hard that I was sure he was just outside the door, listening. On some level I think I wanted the door to open; for him to come back so that I could pour all my rage and grief into him." The Doctor laughed coldly. "Sometimes I even stared at the screen, just waiting for another transmission; for the sound of someone else's voice except my own. In the end it just became... too much. It wasn't the fate of humanity that bothered me; and I'm sorry Jack, I'm so sorry but it wasn't even the thought of you and Martha dying that drove me to the edge. It was the silence. The constant, endless silence…"
The Doctor sat underneath the window, his back pressed up against the wall as he stared at the door, his chest heaving with some sort of internal struggle. The hum of the air conditioning filled the room; the white noise of it filling the Doctor's head. He clutched at the carpet with his fingertips as if holding on for dear life.
Moments passed, the Doctor's face vacant even as his chest heaved. His eyes were wide, his brow knotted, deep in thoughts of another time; another place. He felt his fingers shaking and clutched them tightly shut instead.
The door began to slide open. The Doctor's expression remained the same, the breeze from somewhere beyond moving his hair. A suited figure stepped in, the door closing silently behind him. The breeze died in the air.
"Doctor."
The Timelord on the floor stared through the man who began to step towards him, too full of his own thoughts and memories to even realise who stood before him.
The gaze of the Master fell on him. The Timelord closed his eyes slowly in the silence and smiled. "Nothing to say. That's new."
He stood and contemplated the figure before him, a hungry look in his eyes. The Doctor pulled his knees towards himself. The Master seated himself slowly on the bed.
"You know, I hadn't planned to leave you this long. But Lucy –" he laughed. "I don't know what it is about me. Is it my charm? This face? The fact that I took her to the end of time to see the pathetic end of her beloved human race? I don't know. Tell me, Doctor," his smile turned into a sneer. "are all human women this needy? From what I remember, you've had your share."
The Doctor sighed, still staring straight ahead. The sneer fell from the Master's face and he made an impatient noise in the back of his throat. "Doctor..."
The Timelord on the floor gritted his teeth at the name. He closed his eyes. The Master pouted irritably and averted his eyes, narrowing them at the window. "You know this part was meant to be more fun. I had it all planned out in my head." He raised a finger to his temple. "You were at least still meant to be able to talk!"
The Master looked down at the Doctor once more and something like regret began to settle into his face. A moment later, he slid off the edge of the bed, onto his knees. "The Toclafane." The Master pressed. He raised his eyebrows, watching for a reaction in the Doctor's face. "You worked it out, didn't you? You always were so very clever."
The lack of reply was enough of an answer as the Master needed. "It was for your own good." He whispered, eyes flickering intensely. "I was trying to make you see: There's no point putting your faith in these useless apes;" He raised a hand to the Doctor's chest, "And now look what they've done: they've broken your hearts."
There was a moment of silence. The Master now frowned deeply, looking almost desperate in his search for some reaction.
Jack looked into the Master's face, feeling far too uncomfortable watching the Doctor's distant gaze. He had always thought of the Doctor fighting; always fighting, but this was a rare moment of weakness he didn't feel he wanted to watch. The Master, too, was confusing. Where just a moment ago, he had seemed so happy with the result of his cruelty, there was something troubling in the way he frowned, his hand almost comfortingly against the Doctor's chest.
"I don't get it." He whispered to himself. The Doctor's eyes flicked towards him.
"I don't really remember this part." He sighed "But for what it's worth, I'm not sure even the Master understood."
The Master leaned forwards, resting his forehead against the Doctor's. He closed his eyes momentarily and sighed, clenching his jaw. A vein began to throb in his neck and slowly his face began to contort.
"NO YOU DON'T!"
The Master's face turned red in anger. He jumped back onto his feet and grabbed one of the Doctor's hands, tugging him reluctantly up to his feet. Without waiting for him to gain his balance he dragged him away, but not towards the door.
He threw the bathroom door open and dragged the Doctor through, his face still screwed up in frustration and rage. He lowered him onto the floor of the shower and flicked it on, the water freezing cold.
The water hit the Doctor's face with a heavy thud. It was a crude resolution, but it was enough. The Doctor gasped, arching away from the icy feel on his face and scrabbled for dry land, coughing. The Master sighed forcefully at the reaction and dragged him bodily out, ignoring the cold water as it soaked into his clothes; his skin.
The Doctor coughed, accepting the Master's help thoughtlessly as the shock sank in. He clutched at the warm skin as he felt himself pulled across the floor to sit against the blank white wall.
"Welcome back, Doctor." Came the Master's voice, the mixed emotions in it confused the soaking Timelord, but he recognised the anger there. The Master crouched between the Doctor's legs, glaring at him as though everything had been his fault. "You can't escape from me that easily."

                Quick note: It has taken me all damn day to do this chapter. I’ve rewritten it at least seven times in order to get the characters emotionally into the right place for what comes next.
                I’m going to go and have a nervous breakdown now.
                                Turkaholic.
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- 17
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Lost Boys