Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

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
- 24
- 25
- 26
Chapter 22
                The Doctor’s head was spinning. The Master’s words seemed like something out of his most anxious nightmares, and yet he knew he wasn’t dreaming. Martha. All his hopes had rested on her.
“NO!”
He felt himself lose his balance as Martha’s mother suddenly lunged past him, her fingers curled into furious claws as she tried desperately to reach the Master’s smiling face. Lucy stepped back nervously at the sudden movement, her own smile falling into fear as she saw the hatred etched into the woman’s face. Her husband however, stood his ground, watching the panic unfold around him with sheer enjoyment. Tish began to cry.
                There was a swift flurry of movement. Martha’s mother was suddenly down on her knees, struggling against the guards who held her arms behind her back.
                “I’ll kill you! You touch a hair on her head, I swear I’ll kill you.”
                “Oh yes, because you look so menacing from down there.”
                “SAXON!”
                “Stop it!”
                There was a sudden silence. The last voice had been the Doctor’s, and it had been stronger than even he had expected. Tish placed her hand over her mouth to calm herself. The Master’s eyes snapped over to the other Timelord, his smile faltering uncertainly.
                The Doctor swallowed and stepped forward, feeling every eye in the room burning into him as he moved. Martha’s mother stopped struggling as he came and stood beside her, staring up into the manic eyes of the Master; searching them, looking for a lie.
                “…He’s bluffing.”
                The Master sneered. “Am I? Are you sure about that, Doctor?”
                “This isn’t your style.” The Doctor raised his eyebrows, his voice growing quieter as he spoke directly to the Timelord on the table. “You’ve never been one for talking when you could just show. It’s just scare tactics. If you had Martha, she’d be here right now.”
                It was a risk; more a hope than a fact, but he knew the Master; knew his penchant for spectacle. The more he stared into those dark, flashing eyes, the more he was sure he was right.
                “Bluffing?” Both Timelords turned their attention to Martha’s mother. She bared her teeth in frustration, tear-tracks running down her face in the harsh white light. Her chest heaved with pent-up rage. “He was bluffing?”
                The Doctor frowned in sympathy at the pain in her face. If he hadn’t known the Master as well as he did, he would have been where she was now. Even as the despair had settled itself in his chest, doubt had swept in with it. It had taken the Jones’ panic to make him understand.
                “That’s all it was, Francine.” He said to her soothingly. She turned away from them both at the sound of her name, hanging from the guards as the desperation fell away. The Doctor turned back towards the other Timelord, staring into his face with frustrated fury. “He wanted to scare us; make us panic so we’d let something slip.”
                The Master began to laugh; a silent, dangerous laugh as they looked into each other’s eyes. He licked his upper lip, his face torn between amusement and irritation. The Doctor couldn’t help but let the relief filter through into his voice when he spoke next. “Martha’s safe.”
                The Master suddenly let go of Lucy’s hand, ducking down so that he and the Doctor were face to face. The closeness hit the Doctor like a static shock, but he stood his ground, pushing the connection to the back of his mind. Now wasn’t the time to let his instincts get the better of him. He had to be the Doctor.
                The Master’s lip curled upwards slowly, his eyes wide and glinting in the reflection of the bright sunlight beyond the windows. “Safe.” He mocked. “Now tell me who’s bluffing?”
                The Doctor swallowed hard, a pang of guilt rising up in his chest. Of course Martha wasn’t safe; it had been a bad choice of words.
                “She’s still free from you.” He whispered into the Master’s face. “That’s all that matters.”
                The Master’s eye twitched subconsciously, his face contorting in rage at the Doctor’s defiance. On instinct, Lucy backed away, her heels clicking against the glass the only noise as the two Timelords stared, unblinking at each other.
                Eventually the Master sighed. He bowed his head and smiled, closing his eyes as he bared his teeth. “Not for long. Let her up.”
                The Doctor held back a sigh of relief as the other Timelord stood up with a pompous snap of his fingers. Martha’s mother fell forwards, suddenly released from the grip of the two guards. The Master turned his back, prowling along the table as the Doctor slid to his knees to support Francine. Tish got there first. She held her mother in her arms tightly and helped her to her feet, both of them still shaking from the fear that the Master had so easily instilled in them.
                The Doctor watched silently, anxiously as the Master made his way to the far end of the table. Lucy eyed him nervously, still apparently wary of his temper. His lip twitched and he took her hand in his, helping her step back down to the floor.
                “Shall we show them, Lucy?”
                Lucy closed her eyes slowly. “Oh yes.” She breathed.
                The other Timelord overheard the words, and anxiety began to fill the space that relief had occupied just moments before. He rose back to his feet, unable to draw his eyes away from the suited figure. He could almost sense the rising excitement; almost hear the Master’s pulses inside his head. A terrible cold gripped his stomach, though he guarded himself against showing it. The Master hadn’t just brought them here to scare them, he realised. This had just been his idea of entertainment. Whatever they had been brought here for still lay ahead.
                Lucy reluctantly let go of her husband’s fingers as he stepped regally down from the glass table. She let him pass, watching him with that familiar look of nervous pride as he strode up the steps towards the wide glass windows, and the endless sea of blue that lay beyond.
                Francine watched every move he made as Tish helped her back onto her feet. “He’s insane.” She hissed venomously. The Master looked over his shoulder with an eyebrow raised in contempt.
                “Um, yes I think we’ve established that.” He mocked. His eyes flickered over Tish. “A little slow, your mother, isn’t she?”
                “Leave them alone.” Growled the Doctor, stepping into his line of sight. If he could just redirect the Master’s attentions onto him…
The Master rolled his eyes.
                “Oh… mind your own business, you pest!”
                “Master…” his eyes widened. He took a few steps closer to the steps, staring into those manic eyes beseechingly; reaching out for the connection like a beacon, something to cling on to. The tone of the Doctor’s voice made the other Timelord’s brow furrow. He sniffed and looked away. “…this is between you and me. All of this; everything you’ve done is because of me.”
                The Master snorted derogatively. “Still as self-important as ever, I see.”
                The Doctor ignored it. He laid his hand on the railings of the steps. “So please… leave them alone. If you want to take your rage out on me, take it out on me. Leave them out of this.”
                There was a brief pause. The Doctor waited, his breath held as the Master continued to look away, avoiding eye contact. The full meaning of those words seemed to scream out between the two Timelords, even if nobody else understood.
                Jack watched the moment pass between them, understanding the unspoken – to an extent, at least. He’d watched the two of them fighting before, of course: on that day the Master had taken control; but he’d never realised until now the weight of every syllable that passed between them. Every word, every look, every moment of silence had a meaning behind it. How had he missed it?
                The Doctor watched himself, matching the expression of desperate frustration as though looking in a mirror. He knew what came next. It was a memory he’d never wanted to revisit, but he knew he had no choice. Not now.
                “Master, please.” Pushed the Doctor, appealing to the Master’s vanity; his sense of superiority. “End this.”
                The Master pressed his lips together. Lucy looked up to her husband in confusion, her hands clasped together nervously. Tish and Francine held tight to each other for security as they looked at the darkening expression on the Master’s face.
                Suddenly the Master laughed: a mocking, dangerous laugh that split his face in two. He turned fully and spread his arms out grandly, casting an impressive figure against the wide windows of blue, the newly-placed Gallifreyan insignia shimmering at his back.
                “End it?” He laughed, “How stupid do you think I am?”
                The Doctor shook his head, still gazing appealingly into his face. “I didn’t say you were stupid. Far from it.”
                “Ah,” He smiled sweetly. “You’re only after me for my mind.”
                “What’s left of it.” Whispered Martha’s mother, a little too loudly.
                The Master paused, stood in place with the mocking smile still etched into his face. The Doctor gritted his teeth, the only one close enough to see the vein in his jaw beginning to throb angrily.
                His eyes moved slowly, almost calmly towards Francine, but the Doctor could hear his breath from here, as though frustration and anger were compressing his chest. His face dropped into a vague and distant glare, and almost trance-like, he reached into his jacket.
                “Don’t.” breathed the Doctor, warningly; desperately, but the Master didn’t seem able to hear. He pulled the screwdriver from his pocket and extended his arm, aiming straight at Martha’s mother.

Note: Next chapter is being written right now. Because it’s a continuing scene I’ll only be posting one blog entry for chapters 22 and 23, which will be available after 23 is posted.
I'd also like to ask for reviews. If you're enjoying what you see, let me know - it means a huge amount to hear from people who read my stuff. If you're feeling too lazy (and believe me, I know how it feels) you could always rate it. It doesn't take much time, and it lets me know how you feel about the story.
Thanks so much for the support so far!
Turkaholic
- 24
- 25
- 26
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Lost Boys