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
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter Two
The Doctor sat alone, staring down at his aged hands and listening to the hiss and whispers of the air conditioning in his otherwise silent room. It reminded him of the Tardis, and he closed his eyes with a heavy breath. His beloved Tardis; ripped apart and deformed by the Master. She was gone.
                He opened his eyes, staring vacantly out of the small, hardened glass window. Nothing but orange sky stretched out before him, and he couldn’t find the energy to climb up and look downwards. Nonetheless he was sure the sunset wasn’t due for several hours. That burnt orange sky wasn’t the product of the Sun; it was the glow of fires burning far below on the surface.
                The room itself had nothing of interest within. The Master had been right: it was Timelord proof. Every inch of it had been carefully checked by the only person who could think like him, know the way his mind worked. The Master had created this room especially for him, as if he had expected the Doctor to become his prisoner. The thought of it made the Doctor shiver.
                The air itself was sterile. The Doctor could taste it on the tip of his tongue. Plain white carpets met plain white walls; a plain white bed was covered in plain white covers, and a plain white door led to a plain white shower in the next room. A screen lay inches behind thick glass, set into the wall opposite the bed, far from the reach and interference of the prying Doctor. A sterile white chest of drawers stood opposite the chair in which the old man now sat. That was all.
                If it was the Master’s intention to drive him mad, he thought, he had chosen the perfect environment to do it.
                “So, Doctor,” came a pompous voice. The old man jumped, raising his eyes to the door. The Master smiled, the door sliding closed behind him in perfect silence. “are we settling in? I know, I know I should have sent you to a retirement home but I’m afraid it would break my hearts to send you away.”
                The old man looked up at him in silence. The Master pouted.
                “Oh… nothing to say? No… words of wisdom? No ridiculous pleas for mercy?” he sat down on the edge of the pristine bed with a thud, then leaned forward, his hands clasped in his lap. “I had no idea you’d become such a grump.”
                The Doctor’s eyes turned to the closed door, ideas circling in his head. The Master seemed to read his thoughts, and broke into laughter. “Oh, no no no. No you don’t.” He leaned forward and pushed the old man roughly back into the chair. “Remember, Doctor, I’ve got your genetic code. One tiny step outside this room without my consent, and that door is programmed to recognise your DNA. You’ll be blasted into atoms.” He pressed a finger hard into the Doctor’s chest, still grinning. “And atoms can’t regenerate.”
                The Doctor clenched his teeth, sitting back in his chair as the words sank in. The Master had thought of everything. His ideas had run dry. He sighed and stared out of the window, determined not to look at the Master’s psychotic grin. The other Timelord made a sound of disgust.
                “Really… you do make a boring old man. I thought you’d be… funnier. Forgetting my name… wetting yourself… something, but really you’re just… boring.”
                The Doctor heard a click. He pulled his gaze away from the window, but before he could even locate the noise his entire body began to shake.
                The Doctor watched himself scream, his face contorted, his limbs shuddering and jolting. The Master’s face was filled with vindictive glee, his tongue pressed between his teeth in sheer concentration as he pointed the screwdriver at the screaming Doctor. He tried to remember how it felt, but physical pain was so fleeting. His fingers flexed as he watched his other self collapse back onto the chair, no longer an old man, but obviously still in pain.
                Jack stood beside him, watching the scene in confusion. The Doctor had never told him about this, but then he’d never told him much of anything. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but the look of consternation on the Timelord’s face held his words back. He wasn’t here to ask questions, he was here as a witness.
                “Oh yes, that’s much better.” Patronised the Master. The Doctor opened his eyes painfully, feeling his hearts beating normally once more. He looked down at his hands. The Master had restored him. His un-wrinkled brow folded into a frown.
                “But it doesn’t make any sense.” He blurted, looking into the Master’s glittering eyes. “You could have done anything to me, why put me back this way? Why even bother?”
                The other Timelord rolled his eyes and grunted, throwing himself back onto the bed. “Ugh because you were so boring as an old man. This way’s much more fun.”
                The Doctor sat forward, his eyes wide in disbelief as he surveyed himself. He stood up, slowly. Every muscle in his body felt strained and tired, and yet he had his energy back. He stared down at the Master, spread-eagled on the bed. Apparently he had no concerns that the Doctor would dare to hurt him, and the Doctor felt his stomach drop: the Master knew him too well.
                “So they’re gone.”
                The Doctor placed his hands in his pockets and walked over to him, still frowning; still aching.
                “…What?”
                The Master tutted.
                “Our people, Doctor. Last night, you said they were gone.”
                Last night. It seemed so long ago. He strained to remember the phonecall.
                “…Yes.” He whispered.
                The Master stared thoughtfully at the blank ceiling, then placed his hands leisurely behind his head. Orange clouds fled past the small window. It seemed an eternity before the Master spoke.
                “…did you do it?”
                The Doctor held his breath. His eyes widened. He bared his teeth, feeling his chest heavy and constricted. The Master sounded so offhanded.
                “…Yes.” He muttered, then stepped backwards, falling dizzily into the chair.
                The Master closed his eyes slowly, letting out a ragged breath as a blissful smile spread across his face. “Oh… Doctor. And you think we’re so different.”
The Doctor turned towards him, an expression of pain on his face.
                “I am nothing like you.” He said, his voice shaking. “I stood and fought. I watched Gallifrey burn; I was there at the fall of Arcadia. I watched a million-million ships fall into the jaws of the Nightmare Child, and I decided that it had to stop. You ran. You ran and hid, all the way at the end of the universe just so you wouldn’t have to fight.”
                “You ran too.” The Master muttered, still smiling. “Something tells me that I’m not the only coward in this room.”
                There was a long silence. Both Timelords sat opposite each other, one subconsciously tapping his fingers behind his head, the other deep in memories that had remained locked and unspoken of for too many years.
                “So what happens now?” ventured the Doctor eventually. The Master frowned.
                “Shush, you’re spoiling my quiet time.”
                “Master,” said the Doctor more loudly, “what happens now?”
                The Master sighed impatiently, pushing himself up onto his elbows with a glare. “Spoilsport.” He muttered childishly. His face suddenly shifted into a malicious smirk. “Why on Earth would I want to tell you, and spoil the fun?”
                The Master suddenly jumped to his feet, full of manic energy once more, and licked his lips. “Now, as pleasant as this has been… I have people to kill.”
                The door opened silently at his touch, revealing the empty corridor beyond. In the doorway, he turned back with a wicked grin.
                "Sit."
               The Doctor frowned up at him.
              "Good dog."
              Without another word, the Master strode away, the door closing silently behind him, and leaving the Doctor alone with his thoughts; Thoughts that hadn't surfaced for so many years.
- 2
- 3
- 4
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