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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
- 37
- 38
Note:
There's part of me that really wishes this story consisted of 'And they snuggled in bed for a year, eating jelly babies and watching the Clangers', but I fear my inner Master would eat me (pun completely intended. Nom nom nom). Unfortunately, writing this pair as canon includes vast amounts of emotional trauma and outbursts of insanity (on both sides). Prepare for a bit of that in the next few chapters – though nothing deeply horrible, and not all is as it appears. The Doctor will finally begin to explain in the next interlude. Not to worry, though – there are more fluffy (well, as fluffy as the Master is capable of) bits ahead.
Blog entry is now up.
Until next chapter.
Turkaholic
Chapter 35
"In."
The Master didn't wait for the other Timelord to respond. He grabbed the back of his jacket and jerked him forwards over the threshold and into the middle of the room.
The Doctor stumbled slightly, but made no attempt to resist or retaliate to the sudden outburst of anger. The Master had calmed slightly in the few minutes it had taken to march him back here, but he was still clearly agitated, and if the screwdriver made another appearance tonight, the Doctor couldn't be sure that the Master would make the same decision again.
Exhaustion was settling on the taller Timelord now, like a dense fog sweeping over his mind. He was full of aches and pains – his arms, his wrists, his mouth – and now he could feel a bruise beginning to form on his jaw where the screwdriver had been. He'd watched a country burn, powerless to stop it, watched Martha's family damaged, and the Master had come close to throwing them both past the point of no return.
Because, no matter how the Doctor tried to push away that faint glimmer of hope – the one that he had purposely smothered so many centuries ago – the more time he spent with the other Timelord, the more insistent the thought was becoming.
The Master lingered in the doorway, watching as the Doctor made his way across the room with his back to him. His eyes were still cold, a hint of that manic fury lingering behind them as he rested a hand against the doorframe. His fingers began to tap subconsciously.
"Sulking again." He growled, "How original you've become, Doctor."
The Doctor ignored the provocation. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation. He was too tired: just holding a conversation with the other man took all his – very extensive - mental capabilities, and they were worn with tiredness. Besides, they were still too close to the memory of the screwdriver. He simply sat down on the edge of the bed, his face in neutral, and stared at the distant wall, hoping that the Master would become bored.
Jack heard a grunt of pain, and for a moment he was unsure where it had come from. He looked from the Doctor on the bed, to the Master stood in the doorway, but the sound made no sense. A strange hiss from over his shoulder made him turn, and he realised that his Doctor had slid to the floor, sitting on it with his arms folded across his stomach. The Doctor looked over at him and smiled half-heartedly.
Jack turned away from the scene completely and walked back towards him, bowing his head with a concerned frown on his face. "You okay?"
"Yeah." The Timelord said cheerfully, "Just a bit tired, I suppose. Maybe it's old age finally creeping up on me."
Jack looked doubtfully into the other man's face for a moment, but knew that now wasn't the time for questions. He smiled and followed the Doctor's actions, sliding down the wall to sit next to him. "You still look pretty young to me."
The Doctor's smile faded just a fraction, his eyes flickering towards the Master in the doorway. "Been a long few days."
"You wanna take a break?"
The Doctor simply shook his head. He would have loved to have said yes; to skip this night, hide this part of his memory – and himself – from the universe; but if Jack was ever going to understand then he needed to see everything.
The Master seemed to be waiting for retaliation, but when none came his jaw quivered and he raised his eyes to the ceiling.
"Didn't we enjoy our little daytrip? You should have been honoured. Oh, but of course…" He closed his eyes and laughed coldly. "I should have remembered. That wasn't even a bonfire compared to what you did."
The words hit the Doctor like a physical blow. It had become the Master's favourite card to play, and for good reason: had it been any other creature in the universe; perhaps even any other Timelord, the effect might have worn off by now, but somehow every time the Master brought it up, the wound felt as painful as it had all those years ago.
The Doctor looked up, turning towards the door in spite of himself. His eyes lidded tiredly and he shook his head sadly.
"This isn't a competition."
The Master looked into his face for a second, the laugh falling into silence in the small white room. He sighed, narrowed his eyes and nodded.
"You're absolutely right."
The Doctor watched him warily. He should never have spoken, he knew that all too well, and as much as he wanted to believe the sincerity of those words, there was an undercurrent of dangerous sarcasm in them. The Doctor clenched his fists on his knees.
"This was a competition." The Master suddenly growled, his face turning to a sinister glare. "You've. Lost."
The Doctor stood up from the bed as the Master moved forwards into the room, advancing towards him. He could think of nothing else to do – this room was far too small to run, and he was too tired to even attempt to reason with the other Timelord. Either option could end in catastrophe, and not just for the Doctor.
The Master strode towards him and leaned in. "You finally realise that," he whispered dangerously into the Doctor's face, "I might let you live a bit longer."
The Doctor watched him for a moment, his eyes still lidded tiredly. The Master's glare faltered just for a second, but he stood his ground, keeping his face dangerously close to the other man.
The taller Timelord sighed – a long, slow, exhausted sound.
"Master," he muttered quietly, "If this was a competition, I lost a long time ago."
The Master's face twitched up into a dark smirk at the defeat in the Doctor's voice.
"…we both did."
And the smirk fell away.
"No."
The word was quiet, but came out in a constricted hiss. The shorter Timelord's face contorted in fury, his face reddening as a vein began to pulse in his temple. He bared his teeth and slammed his hand into the Doctor's chest, shoving him away violently into the wall. The Doctor felt his shoulders slam into the panels, the pain of it shooting down his already aching arms. He ground his teeth against the pain, but otherwise kept it to himself.
"I win!" Shouted the Master. He stood in the middle of the room, his eyes wide on the Doctor's face. "I WIN!"
The Doctor's brow furrowed, standing still against the wall. He should have known the reaction those three words would receive, but he was so tired and his thoughts had simply slipped out. He could see the Master's chest heaving in fury, the madness glinting in his eyes under the fluorescent light. He had to calm him, or everything would be lost.
The taller Timelord tentatively pulled himself away from the wall. He bowed his head slightly, eyes widening. He didn't want to move any closer, but did so nonetheless, taking slow, silent steps towards him.
"Just listen to yourself." He said carefully. "If you could hear what you sound like…"
The Doctor wasn't sure if the words sank in; if the Master even understood them right now; but as he moved across the room towards him the Master glared into the Doctor's face, and then turned on the spot. He began pacing instead, his eyes lowered to the floor.
"And do you know why I win?" He growled.
The Doctor watched him, still rooted to the floor nervously. The Master's rage had subsided temporarily, and he wished he could be relieved, but something in the other Timelord's words made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The Doctor could feel adrenaline beginning to surge through every cell in his body, forcing its way past the exhaustion, but there was no outlet for it – nowhere to run. The Master suddenly stopped pacing and turned back towards him, and the Doctor found himself frowning deeply as he realised that a humourless, twisted smirk had appeared on the shorter Timelord's face.
"Because I really do have a secret." He said, his words hissing through his teeth. Once again he moved close. The Doctor stood his ground – backing away could cause more harm than good right now.
The Master leaned in, eyes flashing as they flickered strangely across the Doctor's face. "I know you." He said. "I know exactly what you are."
The Doctor tensed.
"You are just like me."
Slowly, the Doctor shook his head. "We've already covered this." He breathed, "I am noth-"
"Yes you are!" snapped the Master, cutting him off loudly. His lip curled in apparent disgust. "The man who uses a sonic screwdriver; so scared of what he might do with anything else."
The words made the Doctor's throat tighten. The Master's lip curled higher.
"The man who never carries a weapon, because he knows exactly what he'd do with it."
The Doctor seemed stunned into silence; frozen. The effect seemed to urge the shorter Timelord on; like a predator smelling out a wounded animal. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as he struck his final blow.
"The coward who tasted power… and liked it."
The Doctor tilted his head back against the wall, averting his eyes from the scene and swallowed. "Here it comes." He muttered darkly. Jack tore his eyes away once more and looked at him.
"Here what comes?"
The Doctor shook his head, still staring at the ceiling. After a second he bared his teeth. "…the closest I ever came to hating him."
The two Timelords stared into each other's faces silently for a moment. The Doctor's brow furrowed deeply, his eyes widening, but otherwise nothing seemed to change. The Master, however, seemed to almost sense something. He narrowed his eyes, his lip twitching upwards in a vindictive smirk.
"There he is." He hissed.
The Doctor stood frozen for a few seconds more, his breathing heavy and constricted
"Ooh, go on Doctor." Jeered the Master, his voice barely a whisper as he watched the other Timelord's face. "Let it out."
The Doctor's lip began to curl. His fingers twitched, balling themselves into fists momentarily.
A hand lashed out. The Doctor grabbed the Master's shirt, the sudden lunge taking the shorter Timelord by surprise. The Doctor forced him back until they both slammed into the white wall, his face still contorted in an uncharacteristic snarl as he shoved himself forwards, grabbing the Master's bottom lip between his teeth.
The Master matched the Doctor's snarl with one of his own. He pulled his lip away with a growl, grabbing the other Timelord by the throat and forcing him backwards. The Doctor didn't seem to even notice – his eyes were fixed on the Master as he pushed him swiftly across the room.
They crashed into the opposite wall loudly. The Master snatched his hand away from the Doctor's throat and instead lunged forwards, meeting the other man's already bruised lips in a feral, furious kiss.
- 37
- 38
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Lost Boys