Silencing the Drums

The Master was uncharacteristically subdued after the Doctor’s outburst. He spent a little while combing through the wardrobe, looking for something a little closer to his style, but not quite as ordinary-human-being as he’d been during his past few dalliances with humankind. There seemed to be no end to the Doctor’s collection of silly jackets and coats and hats and shoes, but he eventually managed to dig out a pair of perfectly normal charcoal slacks, a silvery vest, and an unadorned black button-down. He kept the cream-colored jacket, for he’d been telling the truth – he had found the Doctor’s fifth incarnation to be a dashing fellow, and the jacket deserved to see daylight again. Every piece hung from his thin frame, right down to the slacks that’d needed to be cuffed to keep them from pooling at his ankles. He wondered how long it’d take him to put the flesh back on his bones – wondered if he ever would. The drums kept him constantly on edge, whatever his outward appearance might say, and he found it hard to sleep at night.

He was certain that the Doctor would come for him again shortly, unable to leave him be for more than a few moments without locking him up. The collar chafed his neck, rubbing him raw around its margins, and the end of the lead dangled inconveniently to his navel. He could loop the end through the D-ring on the front of the collar, keeping it somewhat out of the way, but it was still a hindrance and long enough to allow the Doctor to catch him easily. The device itself was too complex for him to disable without considerable time and effort and the use of several mirrors.

“Doctor, I’m ready for my afternoon constitutional now,” he shouted, pacing the center of the room. “Ready for walkies.” He circled, facing this way and that like a dog searching for a scent, then slammed his palm against the wall. “Let me out of here!”

He couldn’t know that his captor was too far above to hear him. Instead, he assumed he was being ignored and raged at his own impotence, unable to cross the threshold of the open door without the Doctor’s permission.

~*~

Jack finally pried the entire story out of the Doctor, though not without great resistance. He had, of course, been absent at the time of the Master’s last resurrection, and the Doctor spared him some of the more gruesome details. It wasn’t worth the psychological trauma to remind him that, for a brief while, everyone on Earth had been the Master. Jack still had vague memories of the nightmares that had preceded the event, but nothing more than that.

“I think you should bring him to the Storytellers,” he said when at last the strange tale was ended. He’d taken a seat on a set of stairs leading up and out of the control room, cagey and watchful for the Master. “That sounds very similar to your escape from the year that never was – minus the adoring crowds, of course.”

“I’ve thought the same thing, myself,” the Doctor mused. “It’s strange – he shouldn’t have had the knowledge to utilize such technology. Still, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s worked something out through sheer willpower.”

“A Gallifreyan prison at the end of the world might be sufficient motivation,” Jack said with a humorless laugh. “Funny, though. Of all the places he could have picked to escape to, he chose your TARDIS. He must’ve known you’d lock him up, or worse.”

The Doctor turned away under the pretense of adjusting the controls, hiding a twinge of a smile. “Oh, I’m sure he knew exactly what I would do when I found him. A mind like that, even broken and twisted – it was calculated, and that’s what worries me. Still-“ He turned back to Jack with a madcap grin. “Thanks to you, I’ve got him under lock and key.”

“Yeah, great. Very reassuring.”

Already on high alert, Jack was the first to hear the thumping from below. He turned sharply towards one of the staircases and rose to his feet, glancing back at the Doctor for reassurance. The Doctor took a quick look at the collar’s monitor, and relaxed immediately.

“He hasn’t moved,” he said, raising his brows in pleasant surprise. “He’s still in the wardrobe room. I left the door wide open. Curious – I wonder what’s keeping him there?” He looked back up at Jack, and his companion felt a slight chill at the coldness he saw there. “Shall we see how long it takes him to join us?”

Jack started, frowning. “What? Forgive me, but that sounds like a terrible idea.”

“No, I’d like to see what he’ll do,” the Doctor said. “This temper tantrum can’t last forever. Obviously, he wants me to come and fetch him – I’m surprised he didn’t leave and force me to follow him.”

Jack was less than convinced. If the Doctor was unpredictable, the Master was twice that and infinitely more dangerous. He was already wary of the Doctor’s judgment when it came to his nemesis – was the Master not the very last of his kind, and did the Doctor not move planets to save lives like his?

“You have no idea what he could be building down there,” Jack protested. “I mean, the TARDIS sound system – he hacked into it through his bedroom wall. He built a laser screwdriver in 2007. Aren’t you at least a little worried?”

The Doctor shook his head and circled the TARDIS’s central console with long, erratic strides, flipping switches and adjusting sliders. The central column began to hum and move, pulling slowly out of idle mode as the Doctor directed his craft towards some as-yet unknown time and place. “Ah, Jack – I know the Master better than you ever will. Yes, he could build something awful out of the TARDIS’s insides, but he won’t. Or, if he does, he won’t use it on me. He knows he needs me for the drumming-“ He circled back around and tapped four times on Jack’s head. “But he won’t admit it. So he has to keep me happy, more or less.”

“So, where are we off to, then?” Jack asked, knowing he’d lost. “You going to take him to the Storytellers like I said you should?”

“Reluctantly, yes.” The Doctor drummed his fingers on the edge of the console, pensive. “I’m not sure that they’ll have what I need, but you’re right – it’s as good a place to start as anywhere.”

“See,” Jack said, forcing a grin. “Sometimes I have good ideas.”

~*~

The Master felt the subtle shift in gravity that accompanied the TARDIS’s flight and stopped in the center of the room, closing his eyes to listen. There it was – the low, quiet whine of engines somewhere deep within the ship’s heart. He’d flown enough TARDIS models himself to be able to read the sounds they made, guessing the approximate location and time period based on were they’d been last. The Doctor’s TARDIS was especially easy to read, for her engines burned hotter and louder than the newer, more streamlined models. They didn’t seem to be moving much in time, but they were flying very far from Earth – far enough to take them to one of the outland galaxies at the very edge of the habitable universe.

At last, overcome with curiosity and hate, he walked out the open door and towards the central room. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected – a lockdown, perhaps, or some sort of automated security. What he got was somewhat galling. As he left what he’d thought was his prison, nothing happened. The Doctor apparently had not thought him enough of a threat to program security protocols for him. The Master bared his teeth in a silent snarl of outrage, hearing the Doctor’s last words to him – pathetic excuse for a Time Lord.

He bellowed the Doctor’s name and leaped up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Madness had robbed him of his ability to remain cold and calculating when so angered, and while he should have thought to craft some clever retaliation, all he could think to do was to fix his fingers around the Doctor’s throat.

The Doctor was expecting him. As he lunged up the stairs, slavering like an animal, the Doctor caught him by the collar and held him at arm’s length, smiling faintly.

“Excellent choice – I did rather like that vest,” he said, the very picture of calm. “But what have we said about boundaries?”

Jack watched the exchange, pinned to the spot by shock. He’d known something was different about this Doctor, but this little display was too much for him. The Doctor he knew wasn’t capable of such coldness, such empty force.

“You left me – ignored me – left me there alone! How long would you have left me there, Doctor?” the Master spat, still reaching for him. “Not a single drone to watch my escape, either. Not a single locked door. Am I not enough of a threat to you, now you have my measure? I could have killed you so many times-“

“But you haven’t, and you won’t,” the Doctor replied, all seriousness now. “You listen to me now- no, listen,” he snapped, shaking the collar violently as the Master went for him again. “You listen to me this time. Now, I can help you, or I can send you back to where you came from – never forget that.” He loosened his grip slightly as if to reward the Master for backing down, though he still held him well away. “You asked me once what it felt like to watch Gallifrey burn. Do not forget that I brought an end to the Time War while you ran from it.”

The Master gave a strangled hiss from between clenched teeth but, like a beaten dog, he looked away and gave in to his captor. His wrath was like a storm pent up in him, raging behind his pale eyes, but locked away for the time being. He wounded pride festered and bit at him, but – shameful though it was – he could not best the Doctor with brute force.

“Much better,” the Doctor said quietly, and released his charge.

The Master struggled with himself a moment longer, then went still. His face snapped up, placid save for the rage behind his eyes, and smiled. “Why, Doctor – I didn’t know you had it in you.” He turned to face Jack, and the man couldn’t suppress a shudder at the feral madness staring up at him. “Handsome Jack, I can see why you’ve come along. This one seems quite a handful.”

This was the only weapon he had left – language. Though he knew he’d been beaten, and he knew that they knew he’d been beaten, he felt like he could maintain a little control by talking away the shame. It unnerved Jack at least, and that alone quelled a little of his bloodlust.

“Well, you know – can’t take care of himself, can he?” Jack said with an abrupt, hoarse laugh. “Someone’s got to keep you aliens in line.”

The Master looked him over, smirking, and Jack had the extremely uncomfortable impression that he was being sized up like a sheep for the slaughter.

“Who better than a man who can’t die? That’s still true, isn’t it? Oh, I had such fun with you during our delightful holiday-that-never-was. Do you remember?”

“That’s enough,” the Doctor said. The Master kept his eyes locked to Jack’s a moment longer, then turned back to the Doctor with an empty smile. Jack let out a shuddering breath and ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“Where are you taking me, Doctor?” the Master asked, slinking closer. “What infinite delights await us?”

“Sit still a moment, and I’ll show you,” the Doctor replied, turning back to the TARDIS’s controls. “If you’re going to be allowed out and about, you’ll need to start behaving like a proper passenger.”

“Mmm.” The Master did as bidden and took a spot against the railing, watching the Doctor as a serpent might watch a rat. “A passenger, you say.” His voice dropped to a throaty growl, and he was rewarded with an ever-so-slight stiffening of the Doctor’s spine. “Perhaps a… companion? How quaint.”

The Doctor busied himself with the console, drowning out the quickening beat of his hearts with movement. There it was again – that tone that could unhinge him. It didn’t matter that the Master was only talking to cover his disgust at being beaten. Indeed, that he knew precisely what to say to gain back a sliver of an edge frightened the Doctor deep down and reminded him of how cautious he had to be.

“Well, I don’t know about you,” the Master said, his tone casual again as he addressed Jack, “But I am so looking forward to this little jaunt. I do hope they have funny hats or some other such idiotic little thing we can purchase for a souvenir. Take some photos back to mum and dad. Buy fancy drinks with umbrellas. Oh, what fun we shall have – right, gang?”

This time, Jack didn’t rise to the bait and answer. He joined the Doctor at the TARDIS’s controls, feeling a bit more at ease on his feet and with his hands busy.

He was beginning to wish the Doctor had left him in Queens.