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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
- 32
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- 34
Chapter 30
The Doctor felt the Master's fingers against his stomach, frozen in place. He could hear the other Timelord's breath against his ear, and yet there was no movement. For a moment, the Doctor wondered whether he had pushed a step too far.
The Master moved forwards, pressing the Doctor's back harder into the rails. He twitched his head forwards, snake-like, to push his lips against the Doctor's ear. The fingernails dug in. "You see?" he muttered; his voice soft and quiet, and yet dangerous. "This is why you're tied to a post right now." The Doctor heard him sigh. His voice lowered to a whisper, his voice almost quivering. "Learn to behave yourself, Doctor."
"…and then what?" growled the taller Timelord thickly. Even as angry – as horrified – as he was with what the Master had done, the proximity brought back all those ancient instincts he had fought so long and so hard to subdue. He allowed himself the smallest of reactions – leaning in to the Master's voice.
The Master's lip twitched slightly at the reaction. He looked up at the side of the Doctor's face in dark affection. "Oh I don't know… maybe…" his voice dropped even further, into a deep, quiet growl. He brushed his lips against the Doctor's ear, "…if you're a very good boy…" the Doctor clenched his jaw, "…I'll stop having to tie you to the furniture."
And suddenly the Master was gone. He pushed the Doctor back into the railings one more time for good measure, and then turned his back, scowling as he strode back towards the window.
The Doctor took a moment to recover, his mind cloudy, still full of the Master's voice. When he finally realised what had happened the other Timelord was against the window, both palms pressed to it as he stared out at the fading red sky.
The Doctor sighed – mostly in relief. If he had actually given in to the other Timelord right now, in this position, he knew there would be no coming back from it. Even so, there was the tiniest nudge of regret in the back of his mind, no matter how much the Doctor wanted to deny it.
There was a long silence. The Master stood, staring out at the black water below them. The blood red sky faded slowly into a deep violet, and then dark, velvet blue; the first stars showing in the sky. The Doctor looked out at them thoughtfully. It had been morning when he'd first set foot in this room. He wasn't one for losing track of time – it was almost a basic instinct to a Timelord – but so much had happened that he'd lost his purchase on it.
He grunted – a quiet, barely noticeable noise as the pain in his shoulders became almost too much to bear. The Master shifted just slightly.
For the first time since he'd been handcuffed, the Doctor flexed his fingers against whatever he'd been tied to, feeling it out; sensing it carefully. He raised his eyes in relief as he found that he had some level of manoeuvrability: it was one of the poles, not just the rail.
Holding back a noise of pain, he slid downwards against the pole; the handcuffs screaming as metal ground against metal. The Master looked over his shoulder, watching as the Doctor placed himself gingerly on the floor, his head bowed as he rolled the aches and pains out of his arms. Eventually he looked away again, resting his head against the pane of glass.
"Did it make you feel better?" asked the Doctor eventually, his voice low and curious. The Master's brow furrowed in confusion.
"What?"
"Killing all those people. Did it make you feel better?"
The Master sighed irritably. He ran his teeth over his upper lip before he answered. "Yes. It did, actually."
The Doctor let the answer settle in the air for a moment. "But it won't last. Eventually all that anger and hate will come back, and this will have achieved absolutely nothing."
The Master continued to stare out of the window for a second more, then turned away from it, looking down at the Timelord on the floor in front of him. He pouted slightly, playfully. "Oh now that's not true. It was pretty!"
The Doctor's brow furrowed, his wide eyes catching the dim light of the stars. "When was the last time you slept?" He said incredulously.
The Master's face broke into a smile and he raised an eyebrow as he walked back towards him. "…with who?"
The Doctor ignored the obvious bait and bared his teeth. "- and I mean a proper, dreamless, good night's sleep; not just a few hours stolen away in the dark when you're too exhausted to do anything else."
The Master paused in his slow advance, his smile falling into the faintest of frowns. He licked his lip and snorted. "Oh and I suppose you'd know all about it?" he muttered, but the amusement, the anger, the venom that normally dripped from his words was gone; replaced with something like trepidation. The Doctor's jaw opened slowly. His face softened as he looked into the Master's eyes.
"…Yes." He said softly, his tone thick with sympathy.
The Master looked away, staring above the Doctor's head as his jaw tightened. He narrowed his eyes at the distant scorch mark that still adorned the wall.
"Master, I can give you that." He breathed, desperation in his voice. The Master's mood had changed again, and the Doctor felt his chest rise in hope. He leaned forwards subconsciously against the cuffs. "Honestly, I can. Just let me go; let me help you."
The Master's lip suddenly twitched upwards bitterly. "We tried that."
The words were unexpected, and they made the Doctor's hearts stop for a moment. The Master had always taken such pains to avoid their past, and everything connected to it. For centuries it had always been about the anger, the violence; the bloodshed. The taller Timelord looked up at him and forced himself to speak. The unspoken regret of nearly a thousand years finally fell from his tongue.
"…I didn't try hard enough."
The words came out in a broken whisper, but they seemed so loud in the Doctor's head. They were words that had hidden away in his subconscious, never really leaving him; only hiding there, reappearing in his head every time their paths had crossed. He had never said it until now, and he wasn't sure whether it made him feel better or worse to finally admit it.
The Master's throat tightened as he stared at the scorch mark on the wall. He seemed to roll his tongue around his mouth as if thinking of what to say. Eventually he lowered his eyes to the floor, raising an eyebrow as a vague look of distaste pulled at his lips.
"It's too late."
"It's never too late." Growled the Doctor vehemently. His eyes flickered desperately across the other man's face, silently pleading that the Master would finally back down.
The Master snorted humourlessly. "Could you get any more insipid? I think I'm going to be sick."
The Doctor's look of hope slowly faded from his face. His brow furrowed.
"Oh, I'm sorry," sneered the Master, "did I ruin the mood? Was I meant to see the error of my ways and beg your forgiveness?" He slid onto his knees in front of the other Timelord, his lip curled. "Really Doctor, at least I know I'm insane."
The Doctor sighed. After a moment a soft smile made its way across his face. The Master's eye twitched.
"Oh Master…" he said quietly, "when have you ever needed to beg my forgiveness?"
The Master stared into the smile and his face darkened dangerously. He suddenly snatched forwards and grabbed a handful of the Doctor's hair. "It's you that should be begging me." He snapped. "You always were so very good at it."
The Doctor winced at the sudden pressure, panting at it, but he kept his eyes open, staring at him defiantly. He licked his cracked lips and raised an eyebrow. "Why does that scare you so much?"
The Master's entire face contorted furiously. "Nothing scares me."
"You're shaking."
The Master laughed coldly, fury in his eyes. "You're lying."
"You know I'm not."
There was a pause. The two Timelords stared at each other, unblinking. This time, it was the Master who looked away first. He dropped his hand from the Doctor's hair.
"Fine." He muttered. He placed his hands on his knees and pulled himself back to his feet, staring down at the Doctor as though he were something repulsive. "…Stay there. Enjoy the view."
The shorter Timelord straightened his jacket, cracked his neck and began to make his way down the steps.
The Doctor waited until the Master had turned away, and then bowed his head, screwing his eyes shut in sheer frustration. He'd come so close – he could almost taste it in the air. The Master had been wavering, almost convinced, and then it had been snatched away. And this was his punishment for trying: being left alone in the dark; the only company the smouldering remains of what he'd been unable to save.
"…Wait."
The sound of footsteps ceased. The Doctor opened his eyes as he felt the Master's attention drawn back to him. Quietly and very, very slowly, the footsteps returned, ringing out in the near silence.
The Master stood at the head of the steps, hanging over the railings with a look of disdain. He raised an eyebrow. "What?"
The Doctor arched his head awkwardly, leaning as far forwards as he could to look into his face. "Look, leave me in the dark if it makes you feel any better."
The Master's eyes flashed wide. "Oh, I will."
"And leave me stuck to this pole if it makes you any happier."
"…is this going anywhere? I am a rather busy man; ruling the world and all that."
"- But... can I just -" he pulled his knees up towards him, then looked up at the other Timelord and sighed. "I've got a request."
The Master simply stood in silence. He raised an eyebrow impatiently. The Doctor grimaced. "…would you please just do us a favour and scratch my nose?"

Note: I actually laughed as I wrote that last line. I love how inappropriate the Doctor can be.
Blog entry for this chapter is now up.
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Lost Boys