The Master (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beholdthedrums) wrote2010-03-05 11:39 pm
beholdthedrums) wrote2010-03-05 11:39 pm
FIC: Stop, Rewind - Repeat; Repeat Again (chapter x04)
Unrelated to fic, but does anyone want a Dreamwidth invite? I have 10 sitting around. I don't really use my own, but that's besides the point. Get'em while they're hot?
Fandom(s): Doctor Who (post s4)/Life on Mars (post s2)
Character(s): The Master/Sam Tyler, the Doctor, Gene Hunt, Lucy Saxon*haha*
Summary: The Master and Sam Tyler: where do the lines end, where do they blur?
Pairing(s): Somewhere in the distant future the Master/Gene Hunt & the Doctor/the Master
Rating: PG-13
Words: 4,503
Warning(s): WTFery natureand probably some inconsistencies with Gene's voice, language, the Master going apeshit
I'm starting to think one of my favorite pastimes is screwing with the Master's mind. Seriously, wtf Selffind new material.
Chapters (1 & 2).
Chapter 3.
Stop, Rewind - Repeat; Repeat Again
Chapter x01
Testing…
Testing…
“Now we’re back on track…”
One… two… three… four…
“The signal’s holding.”
The Master runs out into the streets; the signal led to here, so the others couldn’t be far away – he just needed to find them. And with them, hopefully there would be that bastard Flint. He doesn’t wait for Gene. Whatever is holding him up, the Master can rag on him for later.
He spots movement through a window out of the corner of his eye and he goes for it, gun gripped between his hands as he beats down the door, barrel leading his way in. He hears the movement now, and with a swift step into the next room, he cocks the safety back and – “Dammit, Ray!” He sucks in a breath, then catches sight of blood down one of Ray’s arms. He snorts. “Are you going to live with that?”
“Tyler!” Ray staggers back in surprise, falling into a corner of the devoid room. He holds a shaky hand up against his limp, bleeding arm, but then he finally acknowledges the Master’s question and nods. “Yeah, yeah I’ll live, Tyler. They got Chris and Annie upstairs...” He ducks his head, suddenly appearing ashamed.
“And why aren’t you with them?” the Master snaps quietly, peering around them.
Ray mumbles something.
“What was that?”
“I can’t leave the room,” Ray says again, a bit louder. He avoids the Master’s gaze.
The Master repeats his words coolly. “And why is that, exactly?”
“I don’t know, Tyler. It’s like there’s a door… except there’s not. I can’t get out.”
“I don’t have time for this…” the Master growls, leaving the other behind, heading back for the entrance, and then slowly creeps up the stairs. Ray may have been telling the truth, he realizes, taking pause halfway up. If he focuses he can feel a tingle through the air. Something alien; something that shouldn’t be here, even more so than the Observer. This can’t possibly be Flint… Just what did the three gets themselves caught up in?
He’s not allowed time to think it through as Chris crashes down the stairs in a heap. The Master leans over him, shaking a shoulder, but the man doesn’t even twitch. He checks for a pulse, silently relieved to find it, then looks over for any life-threatening wounds.
He doesn’t find anything. No blood, no sign of struggle. The Master frowns. He leaves another behind – it isn’t like any of them are going to die anytime soon. Seemed like the real party was upstairs, anyway. At the top, Annie is sitting in a panic, sweat coating her face, breathing unsteady. Her gaze jerks up to the Master and for a minute she looks even more scared than before. A beat, and relief filters into her eyes, but she barely calms.
“Annie,” he calls out to her, “what’s going on?”
Her lips are moving, but he can’t hear her. The sound of scraping metal and clinking glass echo around his ears and Sam Tyler washes through him faster than ever before; gun still in one hand, he pushes fists against his ears to try and blot out the otherworldly sounds, clenching eyes shut as the drumming painfully thunders.
“Sam watch out!” Annie’s voice breaks in.
He moves without thinking, without even knowing what he’s running from, and presses against a doorframe, looking back at Annie with his own panic creeping through his mind. Not now, Tyler! What just happened? What did she tell him to watch out for?
“Annie, the Guv should be outside. Don’t worry about Chris and Ray - just get the Guv.”
Because that would shut up Tyler, and then the Master could focus.
Annie bolts.
He heaves in a breath.
“Mister Tyler, it’s about time you showed up. And now everyone is out of the way, or will be soon enough.”
He hears Annie yell from downstairs, even Ray making a fuss, then a slam of a door and silence again.
The Master turns angrily to see Flint Monroe smirking, leaning causally against the furthest wall from him, arms folded over his chest. He’s a lanky sort of man like the Doctor, although his fashion sense has always been terrible, but there’s something different about it this time.
His clothing didn’t match the era.
Tyler quiets, Time buzzes like an insistent fly, and the air around him sparks.
“I take it you’ve been busy, Flint,” the Master replies idly, “why you bothered to come back, though? That one I haven’t figured out.”
“Well, you’re still alive, and that just doesn’t sit right with me.”
“All this for me? I’m flattered.” With a stony face, he raises his gun towards Flint.
“Go ahead, shoot me. Get your anger out.” He pushes away from the wall and stretches, not a care in the world. “I’m just looking for results from you, Master. That’s all.”
The Master’s world tilts before him. His grip falters. He stares at Flint with confusion. “What did you just say?”
Flint shrugs. “Hm? Me? Oh, nothing important. Are you feeling alright? You don’t look so well.”
“Just a little more…”
The Master licks his lips and hesitates. His vision blurs and pale white flickers in and then returns to a very distorted Flint. Sam Tyler’s accent takes over when he asks: “What is this? What’s going on?” The gun falls from his hand and he retreats several steps back. His mind feels like it’s splitting open. The Master demands: “What’ve you done to me?!”
Flint chuckles.
There’s a psychic-resonance in the air that he didn’t realize before, but now it’s become greater than him, breaching his mind and linking to the drumming, unraveling him. Somewhere along the way he’s on his knees. He tries to keep Flint in focus, but it’s taking too much of his energy.
When he blinks he’s in another room, faces with masks secured over their mouths looking down at him, each of them strangely excited. In the background he sees her – he sees Lucy! – dressed in powder blue hospital scrubs, hair let down and frazzled, a clipboard clenched tightly between her hands. She looks his way and her full appearance changes from frustration to pleasure.
“Oh Harry! That’s it! Stay with us, dear. Come back to me, please.”
The image shatters as a loud, shrieking whirr causes the Master to jerk, awareness slamming back into him, the psychic-resonance snapping and releasing the drums back into their proper placement. He looks over his shoulder to see the Doctor, screwdriver held up and emitting that dreadful sound, fury in his eyes; and Gene barreling into the room, knocking Flint into a wall with his gun pressed into his skull.
And the strangest thing the Master finds about the situation is that the Doctor isn’t complaining about it.
Flint’s ease disappears. “H-How’d you get in here?!”
Gene presses him harder, growling, “Through the door!”
“B-But – you weren’t supposed to! Everything was set up! I set it up all right!”
“Yeah, sure, whatever, Flint!”
The Doctor finally lowers his screwdriver, the sound-from-hell fading with its blue glow. His eyes flicker towards Flint and Gene. “Don’t kill him.”
“Oh, I don’t plan to be killin’ him! I plan on letting him rot for the rest of his miserable life,” Gene explains, forcing Flint face-first into the corner, pulling his arms behind his back and one-handedly cuffing him before finally delivering a swift kick to his shins.
Flint topples over in pain, then twists to glare at the Master. “It could have been wonderful – my life! Why couldn’t you allow me that? I am going to get out of this, Master. I swear it.” He struggles roughly against the cuffs. “And when I do I won’t help you wake up, I’ll make sure you’ll sleep forever!”
Gene kicks him in the ribs sharply, watching him double over in pain. “Shut it,” he orders. He grabs the back of Flint’s outfit and drags him to his feet and towards the door, passing a look off from the Doctor to the Master, then settling on the former. “You better take care of him, or there’ll be trouble,” he says, then hauls Flint out.
The Doctor takes a breath, but his nerves are still set to high. Fury remains, and maybe that’s not a bad thing. Not in this case. At last, he speaks, just a simple, “Master.” His eyes flicker down to his best enemy, who hasn’t moved since the Doctor broke the psychic-resonance that was tangled through the building. He broke a lot else beforehand, too. Tech that shouldn’t nearly exist on Earth – ever. He slips his screwdriver back into safekeeping and walks across the floor to stand before the Master, then crouches down to get a better look at him. Glassy-eyed, pale. Whatever latched onto him was very strong; he needed time to reboot.
Aside from the familiar drumbeat and Sam Tyler's panic, the Master’s mind is silent. No outside voices or sounds, not even a distant static. His mind still feels bathed in disease, however, so when the Doctor pulls one of his arms over his shoulders and eases him up, the Master doesn’t put up a fight.
“Chris and Annie,” he murmurs lazily, head lulling against the Doctor. Somehow he’s at least able to walk, even if it’s slow. He adds after a moment of disconnected thought, “And Ray. Ray was injured.”
“They’re fine,” the Doctor tells him, “we got them out. They’re probably receiving medical attention as we speak. Pretty fast response time when it comes to you and that Gene of yours.”
“Better have a fast response time – they have nothing better to do.” Thankfully they’re off the stairs when his body slackens and his knees give out. He groans, feeling his mind slowly shut down instead of fixing itself. This was pathetic, but he couldn’t rattle it into starting.
The Doctor bites back surprise when he finds he has to keep the Master from falling completely. Outside, Gene has already forced Flint into the back of a car and waved him sternly off, and the rest of the man’s team is already long gone and would each hopefully be all right.
He studies the abandoned building from over his shoulder. It had been fused with psychic energy, right down to the floors. It was almost alive, or it was not Flint who controlled it. Someone else could have been nearby, the Doctor supposes, but then he would have been able to pinpoint them… There was nothing but the single housing complex.
With the others now gone, the Doctor felt comfortable bringing the Master into the TARDIS. He glances towards Gene as he unlocks his ship, then makes his way in and carefully lowers the other Time Lord onto the pilot seat.
“What the hell happened to ’im?!” Gene demands on his way in. “He looks worse than before!”
“Psychic exhaustion,” the Doctor explains, leaning away as the Master’s body finally crashes. “He must have been fighting against the signal, but it was still draining away at him. All of that leaves him with nothing to keep him going.” He shrugs. “Give him an hour’s rest and he’ll be on his feet again.” He glances towards Gene. “What was Flint’s initial crime? What were you after him for?”
“Bloke and his goons were packin’ trouble all around town. Flint was tryin’ to raise his own underground syndicate, an’ he was succeedin’ it damn well, too. We kept findin’ his rejects, but never ’im. Finally get word though, an’ Tyler there takes a hike without a single thought. He gets in way too over his head, we bust down a handful of the bad guys, but Flint’s already fled. Find Tyler unconscious on a riverbank. Don’t hear from Flint for another month, and in the meantime the remnants of his syndicate either get caught in petty crime or give up.”
“That riverbank was where the Master first woke up, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
The Doctor nods thoughtfully.
“What’s on yer mind?”
“Flint,” the Doctor admits, watching the Master sleep. “You said the Master’s memory was patchy around that period. Flint was the one that had gotten to him before he took over Sam Tyler. It just seems a bit too much like a coincidence, him back then, and him here.”
“I hate coincidences,” Gene grumbles.
“Yeah. So do I.” He shakes his head and turns to Gene, perking up in an instant. “So! Where should I drop you off? Save you the trouble of a walk and all.”
Gene sees through the cheery mask, but says nothing on it. “Yer not ‘droppin’ me off’ anywhere. I’m not leavin’ my DI.”
“Right. Well. Okay.” The Doctor sniffs. “Where should I be bringing both of you?”
The Master groans. He knows where he is by the feel of the couch beneath his back, but this time he doesn’t have Gene Hunt yelling his ears off, which is both a comfort and a mystery. He sits himself up, feeling his mind slosh heavily, then clicks just nearly back into place. He’s still off, and with a glance at the clock he thinks he could lay back down until he recovers completely, but that would mean dealing with Gene.
He’d rather get that out of the way sooner than later, so he gets to his feet and exits the office to find his DCI. Shouldn’t be that hard, right? He gets word from several witnesses that they saw Gene and a stringy man in a suit that was too curious for his own good throughout the station; that meant the Doctor was still sticking his nose into his business.
At long last his search takes him down a hall where their voices carry towards him. The Doctor, astonished by whatever 1980’s piece of equipment he hasn’t seen in years; Gene, sounding irritated by the Doctor, likely from having to deal with his inquisitive personality while the Master was out cold.
“It’s better to put a leash on him, Gene. Instead of scowling.”
The pair look up and the Doctor grins to him, hardly effected by the ‘leash’ jab. “Master! You’re looking much better. See?” he turns towards Gene, “I told you he’d be fine with some sleep.”
“Walkin’ doesn’t always equal fine with ’im.”
“I’m fine enough, thanks,” the Master cuts in.
“Well you better be. I don’t pay you to lay around all day.”
Which is precisely why the Master opted out of sleep – to avoid any conversation about it. “Yes, Guv, I know.” He rolls his eyes for good measure, then steps further towards the pair. “I pity you for having to keep him out of trouble for this long.”
“Yeah, I pity me too. Which is why you’re takin’ over.” Gene grins and walks past him, patting a hand to his shoulder as he does so. “I want no stone upturned!”
The Master swiftly turns to look at him with wide eyes. “What? Where are you going?” Gene could not seriously be leaving him with the Doctor.
“Paperwork!” Gene exclaims. “If ya hadn’t notice, the rest of the gang has the remainder of the day off.”
Of course he noticed. He’d been around the entire station just trying to find Gene and hoping that the Doctor took a hike. The Master is ready to protest, but Gene gives him one, serious glance that makes the Master want to punch him, but he sucks it up. Besides, he already knows he’d be entering a losing battle if they were to go all-out, and really, he could do without the Doctor witnessing that.
And so with Gene gone, that leaves the two Time Lords. Even if he just tried to skip away.
“You’ve actually got friends,” the Doctor chirps.
He may not use violence on Gene, but he has no qualms about using it on the Doctor. He feels a tingle of pleasure at the Doctor’s blatant surprise when he slams him into the wall, quirking a feral smirk in reply.
“Go back to your TARDIS and be on your way, Doctor. The only thing you’re doing here is taking up space and spreading annoyance throughout the departments,” he growls.
“But I want to help,” the Doctor replies, voice innocent and honest. “Don’t act like you don’t want it. There are a lot of unanswered questions and I have the best technology to try and figure them out. Are you really about to send that away?”
The Master releases him. “I don’t need you, Doctor.” Even if the warnings in his mind are screaming otherwise.
“Yeah, okay, I’ve heard that before. Sorry, Master, but I really think you do this time.” The Doctor frowns. “You died in 2008. You shouldn’t have been in 2006, and then suddenly in 1973, and you sure as hell shouldn’t have believed yourself to be human for at least seven years – your mind would have won out far sooner than it did.” He pauses, then glances away, embarrassment crossing his face. “That, and the TARDIS won’t let me leave. Given how she deposited me right in front of you, I’m guessing she managed to stumble over your predicament.” He gazes back. “I think she just wants to help, too. But you have to let us.”
“There is nothing wrong with –”
Lucy’s voice slices into his mind, devoid of her honey-sweetness and replaced with something cold, calculating. “If you want something done right,” she is saying, “do it yourself.” Then she’s gone, and the Master is left with a nauseated feeling, reminding him like much of his runs as Sam Tyler.
“Master?”
“Doctor… what happened to Lucy? After the events on the Valiant?”
The Doctor blinks. “I’m not really sure, honestly. Why?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. Never mind.” He’s about to continue his previous line of conversation, but his Jiminy Cricket rears his head again, and wouldn’t it simply be wonderful if the Doctor could cut him out entirely? Gene Hunt is no tumor; you, Sam Tyler, are. “I should probably help Gene with the paperwork.”
“You really can’t stand being around me, can you?” the Doctor questions, doing his best not to appear hurt.
The Master raises a brow. “Does the last time we saw one another ring any bells at all?” Dying to avoid staying with the Doctor? Little things like that? “I wonder, Doctor. What do you think?”
“But it’s different now, isn’t it? It’s got to be.”
“Why? Because I ‘need your help’, as you put it?” The Master snorts. “Why would I possibly be able to stand you because of that? And don’t you dare say ‘because you’ve got to.’” He doesn’t need to hear that again. He jabs a finger towards the Doctor, slamming back Tyler as he does so. “I will figure this out without your help, Doctor.”
“Fine! Take yourself another seven years because you’re too damn stubborn!”
“Seven years? Forget that! Give me seven days.”
“What? You want to bet on it now? I’ll just go hop in the TARDIS and relocate to the tropics then, shall I? See if you’re ready to accept my help in another week?” He throws his arms up, stalking down the hall away from the Master. “You’re impossible!” he yells without turning back.
The Master rolls his eyes. Well, at least he finally got the Doctor to leave him alone – on his own terms, even. He was doubting he could solve anything in a week – he couldn’t do a month, what was seven days going to do? But shaking the Doctor off was a plus. He didn’t need his nagging, nor his attitude.
That was going to change.
His nerves grate against themselves and his mind flares.
The Master never thought he would hear the sound so soon, and he jerks to a halt to look to make sure that the Doctor is still nearby. The Doctor, who looks horrified, every one of his emotions flickering through his face and posture. “It’s… it… but…” he gasps, pulling up his gaze to the Master’s with such desperate eyes, like he’s hoping the Master can fix what’s wrong, their whole recent conversation out the window, forgotten.
“Doctor, what is it?” the Master snaps, closing the distance between them so quickly to take hold of him by the shoulders with a shake. The sound of a TARDIS slows to a stop from somewhere very close by.
“It’s another Time Lord,” the Doctor chokes out, trembling.
“What?” But even as the Master questions it, he can feel it. Over the drumming and pushing aside Sam Tyler, he can feel more than just the Doctor. A crash from upstairs stirs them both, followed by yelling (the Guv), and then the pair do not waste another moment to bolt.
Upstairs, leaning against an out-of-place floor cabinet is Lucy, wearing the powder blue scrubs that the Master had thought he was imagining. But no; no, she was here and this had to be real, because the Doctor was just as shocked, and Gene was still being himself. Mostly.
Well.
No, Gene wasn’t being himself at all.
“Yer goin’ to really regret doin’ that,” Gene hisses, gun held steadily between both hands, aimed towards Lucy.
She ignores him in favor of the Master. “Harry! It’s been so long!”
“Don’t move, missus.”
“Guv, for god’s sake lower the damn gun!”
“This is the woman who shot you!” Gene snaps, turning to look angrily over his shoulder at the Master. “Far as I see it, she’s a criminal! Why would you possibly defend her?!”
… Why would he?
“Funny,” Lucy laughs, her voice once again picking up the coldness that made the Master’s stomach turn, “of the people gathered in this room, I would have never believed that the hulking gorilla here would have the most intelligence.” She shrugs and flipss out what appears to be a compact mirror from a pocket, dabbing a finger into it, then grinning and setting it back.
The Doctor steps forward. “Who are you?” he demands.
“Oh! Good, you’re catching up too, Doctor. I mean really, at least Harry has an excuse.” She straightens away from the cabinet, smoothing her sides before settling her hands on her hips. “Poor Harry,” she offers him a pitying glance, “I promise I’ll take care of you, but not yet. I have other business that I must attend to first.” She raises a brow in Gene’s direction.
The Master’s mind is foggy. He stares at Lucy, knowing she’s there, hearing her voice, but it’s all very unclear.
“Who are you?” the Doctor repeats.
“I’m sure once you think about it long and hard you’ll figure it out, Doctor,” she replies. Her stance shifts and she reaches a hand into the same pocket, pulling out an oddly formed derringer that by design was not from Earth. She gives Gene a charming smile when he ups his toughness levels, and then she shoots him in the leg.
No matter how wronged the Master’s mind is, that does not stop Sam Tyler from driving forward towards his toppling DCI, yelling out, “Gene!” Both he and the Doctor snap to move, but Lucy has planned ahead - already constructing a shield bubbling around her area.
“I’m sorry, Harry,” she says, focusing on her work as she steps towards Gene. Her shot encases him in a thin green film, rendering him motionless. “There’s just this pesky little problem I’ve had to keep trying to work around, and I’ve finally grown tired of it. I hope you understand.” She pockets the derringer, still smiling as she listens to the pair banging away at her shield, then reaches out to pull at Gene’s body, taking him by the underarms and dragging him back towards the cabinet.
“Doctor, break this thing down!” the Master yells. He can see that Gene is still alive, but that isn’t enough to put his mind at ease. He can’t do anything if he can’t get through!
“I’m trying!” the Doctor replies, running through settings on his screwdriver, trying to find a way to cut out the shield’s connection to whatever its power source is. “Nothing’s working!”
“Try harder!” The Master clenches his eyes closed against the weight of the pain filling his head.
Lucy sighs. “You’re not even trying to guess, Doctor. Where’s the fun in it if you don’t know?” She stares down thoughtfully at Gene’s cocooned body and then shrugs, appearing put out. She hooks a hand around a handle. “I hope you know, I’m really hurt that you can’t recognize me, Doctor. You’re so out of touch!”
“Who are you?” he whispers one last time, his screwdriver attempts forgotten as he looks up to meet her disapproving gaze.
“The Rani, imbecile,” she snaps, and then she yanks open the door and pulls Gene inside the vastly spacious floor cabinet and slams the it shut. Mere moments later, the sound of a TARDIS grates the air before them, and the cabinet dematerializes, as well as the shield.
The Master falls forward, then stumbles to where the Rani’s TARDIS had been. He glances around, breath coming out in small, staggering gasps, and the Doctor warily realizes how lost he looks. The Master and helplessness do not mix.
Hesitantly, the Doctor takes a step to him. “…Master?”
Rage and desperation spike – a mix of the Master and Sam Tyler that for once the Master is too far gone to analyze. He sweeps an arm across him own desktop, sending papers and odds and ends to the ground. A coffee mug shatters, liquid bleeds into the floor. He presses his palms to the surface, then curls a hand into a tight fist and slams it down hard enough to make the skin on his knuckles start to peel away. The Doctor grabs his arm before he can do it a second time and draw blood.
“Master, stop!” The Doctor’s adrenaline is pumping hard from the panic flaring all throughout his system. The thoughts keep running through his head that this isn’t the Master, that the Master would never be acting like this – over a human, no less!
The Master throws the Doctor away from him. His mind is on fire. He’s never felt this much pain before; the drumming hurts and he’s suddenly unsure of which half of him is more upset, him or Tyler. This is unbelievable. Gene can’t be gone – and with the Rani!
This can’t be happening.
“Master – please – just calm down –”
“How the hell do you expect me to do that, Doctor?! The Rani has Gene! The Rani – who has her own TARDIS – bloody has Gene!”
“And she’s not the only one with a TARDIS now, is she? I can help you, Master! I can help get your companion back! We can find them!” He hadn’t quite meant to slip the word ‘companion’ but when he does, the Master doesn’t deny it, and the Doctor finally starts to realize from the other’s silent recognition just how serious the situation has become.
Fandom(s): Doctor Who (post s4)/Life on Mars (post s2)
Character(s): The Master/Sam Tyler, the Doctor, Gene Hunt, Lucy Saxon
Summary: The Master and Sam Tyler: where do the lines end, where do they blur?
Pairing(s): Somewhere in the distant future the Master/Gene Hunt & the Doctor/the Master
Rating: PG-13
Words: 4,503
Warning(s): WTFery nature
I'm starting to think one of my favorite pastimes is screwing with the Master's mind. Seriously, wtf Self
Chapters (1 & 2).
Chapter 3.
Chapter x01
Testing…
Testing…
“Now we’re back on track…”
One… two… three… four…
“The signal’s holding.”
The Master runs out into the streets; the signal led to here, so the others couldn’t be far away – he just needed to find them. And with them, hopefully there would be that bastard Flint. He doesn’t wait for Gene. Whatever is holding him up, the Master can rag on him for later.
He spots movement through a window out of the corner of his eye and he goes for it, gun gripped between his hands as he beats down the door, barrel leading his way in. He hears the movement now, and with a swift step into the next room, he cocks the safety back and – “Dammit, Ray!” He sucks in a breath, then catches sight of blood down one of Ray’s arms. He snorts. “Are you going to live with that?”
“Tyler!” Ray staggers back in surprise, falling into a corner of the devoid room. He holds a shaky hand up against his limp, bleeding arm, but then he finally acknowledges the Master’s question and nods. “Yeah, yeah I’ll live, Tyler. They got Chris and Annie upstairs...” He ducks his head, suddenly appearing ashamed.
“And why aren’t you with them?” the Master snaps quietly, peering around them.
Ray mumbles something.
“What was that?”
“I can’t leave the room,” Ray says again, a bit louder. He avoids the Master’s gaze.
The Master repeats his words coolly. “And why is that, exactly?”
“I don’t know, Tyler. It’s like there’s a door… except there’s not. I can’t get out.”
“I don’t have time for this…” the Master growls, leaving the other behind, heading back for the entrance, and then slowly creeps up the stairs. Ray may have been telling the truth, he realizes, taking pause halfway up. If he focuses he can feel a tingle through the air. Something alien; something that shouldn’t be here, even more so than the Observer. This can’t possibly be Flint… Just what did the three gets themselves caught up in?
He’s not allowed time to think it through as Chris crashes down the stairs in a heap. The Master leans over him, shaking a shoulder, but the man doesn’t even twitch. He checks for a pulse, silently relieved to find it, then looks over for any life-threatening wounds.
He doesn’t find anything. No blood, no sign of struggle. The Master frowns. He leaves another behind – it isn’t like any of them are going to die anytime soon. Seemed like the real party was upstairs, anyway. At the top, Annie is sitting in a panic, sweat coating her face, breathing unsteady. Her gaze jerks up to the Master and for a minute she looks even more scared than before. A beat, and relief filters into her eyes, but she barely calms.
“Annie,” he calls out to her, “what’s going on?”
Her lips are moving, but he can’t hear her. The sound of scraping metal and clinking glass echo around his ears and Sam Tyler washes through him faster than ever before; gun still in one hand, he pushes fists against his ears to try and blot out the otherworldly sounds, clenching eyes shut as the drumming painfully thunders.
“Sam watch out!” Annie’s voice breaks in.
He moves without thinking, without even knowing what he’s running from, and presses against a doorframe, looking back at Annie with his own panic creeping through his mind. Not now, Tyler! What just happened? What did she tell him to watch out for?
“Annie, the Guv should be outside. Don’t worry about Chris and Ray - just get the Guv.”
Because that would shut up Tyler, and then the Master could focus.
Annie bolts.
He heaves in a breath.
“Mister Tyler, it’s about time you showed up. And now everyone is out of the way, or will be soon enough.”
He hears Annie yell from downstairs, even Ray making a fuss, then a slam of a door and silence again.
The Master turns angrily to see Flint Monroe smirking, leaning causally against the furthest wall from him, arms folded over his chest. He’s a lanky sort of man like the Doctor, although his fashion sense has always been terrible, but there’s something different about it this time.
His clothing didn’t match the era.
Tyler quiets, Time buzzes like an insistent fly, and the air around him sparks.
“I take it you’ve been busy, Flint,” the Master replies idly, “why you bothered to come back, though? That one I haven’t figured out.”
“Well, you’re still alive, and that just doesn’t sit right with me.”
“All this for me? I’m flattered.” With a stony face, he raises his gun towards Flint.
“Go ahead, shoot me. Get your anger out.” He pushes away from the wall and stretches, not a care in the world. “I’m just looking for results from you, Master. That’s all.”
The Master’s world tilts before him. His grip falters. He stares at Flint with confusion. “What did you just say?”
Flint shrugs. “Hm? Me? Oh, nothing important. Are you feeling alright? You don’t look so well.”
“Just a little more…”
The Master licks his lips and hesitates. His vision blurs and pale white flickers in and then returns to a very distorted Flint. Sam Tyler’s accent takes over when he asks: “What is this? What’s going on?” The gun falls from his hand and he retreats several steps back. His mind feels like it’s splitting open. The Master demands: “What’ve you done to me?!”
Flint chuckles.
There’s a psychic-resonance in the air that he didn’t realize before, but now it’s become greater than him, breaching his mind and linking to the drumming, unraveling him. Somewhere along the way he’s on his knees. He tries to keep Flint in focus, but it’s taking too much of his energy.
When he blinks he’s in another room, faces with masks secured over their mouths looking down at him, each of them strangely excited. In the background he sees her – he sees Lucy! – dressed in powder blue hospital scrubs, hair let down and frazzled, a clipboard clenched tightly between her hands. She looks his way and her full appearance changes from frustration to pleasure.
“Oh Harry! That’s it! Stay with us, dear. Come back to me, please.”
The image shatters as a loud, shrieking whirr causes the Master to jerk, awareness slamming back into him, the psychic-resonance snapping and releasing the drums back into their proper placement. He looks over his shoulder to see the Doctor, screwdriver held up and emitting that dreadful sound, fury in his eyes; and Gene barreling into the room, knocking Flint into a wall with his gun pressed into his skull.
And the strangest thing the Master finds about the situation is that the Doctor isn’t complaining about it.
Flint’s ease disappears. “H-How’d you get in here?!”
Gene presses him harder, growling, “Through the door!”
“B-But – you weren’t supposed to! Everything was set up! I set it up all right!”
“Yeah, sure, whatever, Flint!”
The Doctor finally lowers his screwdriver, the sound-from-hell fading with its blue glow. His eyes flicker towards Flint and Gene. “Don’t kill him.”
“Oh, I don’t plan to be killin’ him! I plan on letting him rot for the rest of his miserable life,” Gene explains, forcing Flint face-first into the corner, pulling his arms behind his back and one-handedly cuffing him before finally delivering a swift kick to his shins.
Flint topples over in pain, then twists to glare at the Master. “It could have been wonderful – my life! Why couldn’t you allow me that? I am going to get out of this, Master. I swear it.” He struggles roughly against the cuffs. “And when I do I won’t help you wake up, I’ll make sure you’ll sleep forever!”
Gene kicks him in the ribs sharply, watching him double over in pain. “Shut it,” he orders. He grabs the back of Flint’s outfit and drags him to his feet and towards the door, passing a look off from the Doctor to the Master, then settling on the former. “You better take care of him, or there’ll be trouble,” he says, then hauls Flint out.
The Doctor takes a breath, but his nerves are still set to high. Fury remains, and maybe that’s not a bad thing. Not in this case. At last, he speaks, just a simple, “Master.” His eyes flicker down to his best enemy, who hasn’t moved since the Doctor broke the psychic-resonance that was tangled through the building. He broke a lot else beforehand, too. Tech that shouldn’t nearly exist on Earth – ever. He slips his screwdriver back into safekeeping and walks across the floor to stand before the Master, then crouches down to get a better look at him. Glassy-eyed, pale. Whatever latched onto him was very strong; he needed time to reboot.
Aside from the familiar drumbeat and Sam Tyler's panic, the Master’s mind is silent. No outside voices or sounds, not even a distant static. His mind still feels bathed in disease, however, so when the Doctor pulls one of his arms over his shoulders and eases him up, the Master doesn’t put up a fight.
“Chris and Annie,” he murmurs lazily, head lulling against the Doctor. Somehow he’s at least able to walk, even if it’s slow. He adds after a moment of disconnected thought, “And Ray. Ray was injured.”
“They’re fine,” the Doctor tells him, “we got them out. They’re probably receiving medical attention as we speak. Pretty fast response time when it comes to you and that Gene of yours.”
“Better have a fast response time – they have nothing better to do.” Thankfully they’re off the stairs when his body slackens and his knees give out. He groans, feeling his mind slowly shut down instead of fixing itself. This was pathetic, but he couldn’t rattle it into starting.
The Doctor bites back surprise when he finds he has to keep the Master from falling completely. Outside, Gene has already forced Flint into the back of a car and waved him sternly off, and the rest of the man’s team is already long gone and would each hopefully be all right.
He studies the abandoned building from over his shoulder. It had been fused with psychic energy, right down to the floors. It was almost alive, or it was not Flint who controlled it. Someone else could have been nearby, the Doctor supposes, but then he would have been able to pinpoint them… There was nothing but the single housing complex.
With the others now gone, the Doctor felt comfortable bringing the Master into the TARDIS. He glances towards Gene as he unlocks his ship, then makes his way in and carefully lowers the other Time Lord onto the pilot seat.
“What the hell happened to ’im?!” Gene demands on his way in. “He looks worse than before!”
“Psychic exhaustion,” the Doctor explains, leaning away as the Master’s body finally crashes. “He must have been fighting against the signal, but it was still draining away at him. All of that leaves him with nothing to keep him going.” He shrugs. “Give him an hour’s rest and he’ll be on his feet again.” He glances towards Gene. “What was Flint’s initial crime? What were you after him for?”
“Bloke and his goons were packin’ trouble all around town. Flint was tryin’ to raise his own underground syndicate, an’ he was succeedin’ it damn well, too. We kept findin’ his rejects, but never ’im. Finally get word though, an’ Tyler there takes a hike without a single thought. He gets in way too over his head, we bust down a handful of the bad guys, but Flint’s already fled. Find Tyler unconscious on a riverbank. Don’t hear from Flint for another month, and in the meantime the remnants of his syndicate either get caught in petty crime or give up.”
“That riverbank was where the Master first woke up, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
The Doctor nods thoughtfully.
“What’s on yer mind?”
“Flint,” the Doctor admits, watching the Master sleep. “You said the Master’s memory was patchy around that period. Flint was the one that had gotten to him before he took over Sam Tyler. It just seems a bit too much like a coincidence, him back then, and him here.”
“I hate coincidences,” Gene grumbles.
“Yeah. So do I.” He shakes his head and turns to Gene, perking up in an instant. “So! Where should I drop you off? Save you the trouble of a walk and all.”
Gene sees through the cheery mask, but says nothing on it. “Yer not ‘droppin’ me off’ anywhere. I’m not leavin’ my DI.”
“Right. Well. Okay.” The Doctor sniffs. “Where should I be bringing both of you?”
The Master groans. He knows where he is by the feel of the couch beneath his back, but this time he doesn’t have Gene Hunt yelling his ears off, which is both a comfort and a mystery. He sits himself up, feeling his mind slosh heavily, then clicks just nearly back into place. He’s still off, and with a glance at the clock he thinks he could lay back down until he recovers completely, but that would mean dealing with Gene.
He’d rather get that out of the way sooner than later, so he gets to his feet and exits the office to find his DCI. Shouldn’t be that hard, right? He gets word from several witnesses that they saw Gene and a stringy man in a suit that was too curious for his own good throughout the station; that meant the Doctor was still sticking his nose into his business.
At long last his search takes him down a hall where their voices carry towards him. The Doctor, astonished by whatever 1980’s piece of equipment he hasn’t seen in years; Gene, sounding irritated by the Doctor, likely from having to deal with his inquisitive personality while the Master was out cold.
“It’s better to put a leash on him, Gene. Instead of scowling.”
The pair look up and the Doctor grins to him, hardly effected by the ‘leash’ jab. “Master! You’re looking much better. See?” he turns towards Gene, “I told you he’d be fine with some sleep.”
“Walkin’ doesn’t always equal fine with ’im.”
“I’m fine enough, thanks,” the Master cuts in.
“Well you better be. I don’t pay you to lay around all day.”
Which is precisely why the Master opted out of sleep – to avoid any conversation about it. “Yes, Guv, I know.” He rolls his eyes for good measure, then steps further towards the pair. “I pity you for having to keep him out of trouble for this long.”
“Yeah, I pity me too. Which is why you’re takin’ over.” Gene grins and walks past him, patting a hand to his shoulder as he does so. “I want no stone upturned!”
The Master swiftly turns to look at him with wide eyes. “What? Where are you going?” Gene could not seriously be leaving him with the Doctor.
“Paperwork!” Gene exclaims. “If ya hadn’t notice, the rest of the gang has the remainder of the day off.”
Of course he noticed. He’d been around the entire station just trying to find Gene and hoping that the Doctor took a hike. The Master is ready to protest, but Gene gives him one, serious glance that makes the Master want to punch him, but he sucks it up. Besides, he already knows he’d be entering a losing battle if they were to go all-out, and really, he could do without the Doctor witnessing that.
And so with Gene gone, that leaves the two Time Lords. Even if he just tried to skip away.
“You’ve actually got friends,” the Doctor chirps.
He may not use violence on Gene, but he has no qualms about using it on the Doctor. He feels a tingle of pleasure at the Doctor’s blatant surprise when he slams him into the wall, quirking a feral smirk in reply.
“Go back to your TARDIS and be on your way, Doctor. The only thing you’re doing here is taking up space and spreading annoyance throughout the departments,” he growls.
“But I want to help,” the Doctor replies, voice innocent and honest. “Don’t act like you don’t want it. There are a lot of unanswered questions and I have the best technology to try and figure them out. Are you really about to send that away?”
The Master releases him. “I don’t need you, Doctor.” Even if the warnings in his mind are screaming otherwise.
“Yeah, okay, I’ve heard that before. Sorry, Master, but I really think you do this time.” The Doctor frowns. “You died in 2008. You shouldn’t have been in 2006, and then suddenly in 1973, and you sure as hell shouldn’t have believed yourself to be human for at least seven years – your mind would have won out far sooner than it did.” He pauses, then glances away, embarrassment crossing his face. “That, and the TARDIS won’t let me leave. Given how she deposited me right in front of you, I’m guessing she managed to stumble over your predicament.” He gazes back. “I think she just wants to help, too. But you have to let us.”
“There is nothing wrong with –”
Lucy’s voice slices into his mind, devoid of her honey-sweetness and replaced with something cold, calculating. “If you want something done right,” she is saying, “do it yourself.” Then she’s gone, and the Master is left with a nauseated feeling, reminding him like much of his runs as Sam Tyler.
“Master?”
“Doctor… what happened to Lucy? After the events on the Valiant?”
The Doctor blinks. “I’m not really sure, honestly. Why?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. Never mind.” He’s about to continue his previous line of conversation, but his Jiminy Cricket rears his head again, and wouldn’t it simply be wonderful if the Doctor could cut him out entirely? Gene Hunt is no tumor; you, Sam Tyler, are. “I should probably help Gene with the paperwork.”
“You really can’t stand being around me, can you?” the Doctor questions, doing his best not to appear hurt.
The Master raises a brow. “Does the last time we saw one another ring any bells at all?” Dying to avoid staying with the Doctor? Little things like that? “I wonder, Doctor. What do you think?”
“But it’s different now, isn’t it? It’s got to be.”
“Why? Because I ‘need your help’, as you put it?” The Master snorts. “Why would I possibly be able to stand you because of that? And don’t you dare say ‘because you’ve got to.’” He doesn’t need to hear that again. He jabs a finger towards the Doctor, slamming back Tyler as he does so. “I will figure this out without your help, Doctor.”
“Fine! Take yourself another seven years because you’re too damn stubborn!”
“Seven years? Forget that! Give me seven days.”
“What? You want to bet on it now? I’ll just go hop in the TARDIS and relocate to the tropics then, shall I? See if you’re ready to accept my help in another week?” He throws his arms up, stalking down the hall away from the Master. “You’re impossible!” he yells without turning back.
The Master rolls his eyes. Well, at least he finally got the Doctor to leave him alone – on his own terms, even. He was doubting he could solve anything in a week – he couldn’t do a month, what was seven days going to do? But shaking the Doctor off was a plus. He didn’t need his nagging, nor his attitude.
That was going to change.
His nerves grate against themselves and his mind flares.
The Master never thought he would hear the sound so soon, and he jerks to a halt to look to make sure that the Doctor is still nearby. The Doctor, who looks horrified, every one of his emotions flickering through his face and posture. “It’s… it… but…” he gasps, pulling up his gaze to the Master’s with such desperate eyes, like he’s hoping the Master can fix what’s wrong, their whole recent conversation out the window, forgotten.
“Doctor, what is it?” the Master snaps, closing the distance between them so quickly to take hold of him by the shoulders with a shake. The sound of a TARDIS slows to a stop from somewhere very close by.
“It’s another Time Lord,” the Doctor chokes out, trembling.
“What?” But even as the Master questions it, he can feel it. Over the drumming and pushing aside Sam Tyler, he can feel more than just the Doctor. A crash from upstairs stirs them both, followed by yelling (the Guv), and then the pair do not waste another moment to bolt.
Upstairs, leaning against an out-of-place floor cabinet is Lucy, wearing the powder blue scrubs that the Master had thought he was imagining. But no; no, she was here and this had to be real, because the Doctor was just as shocked, and Gene was still being himself. Mostly.
Well.
No, Gene wasn’t being himself at all.
“Yer goin’ to really regret doin’ that,” Gene hisses, gun held steadily between both hands, aimed towards Lucy.
She ignores him in favor of the Master. “Harry! It’s been so long!”
“Don’t move, missus.”
“Guv, for god’s sake lower the damn gun!”
“This is the woman who shot you!” Gene snaps, turning to look angrily over his shoulder at the Master. “Far as I see it, she’s a criminal! Why would you possibly defend her?!”
… Why would he?
“Funny,” Lucy laughs, her voice once again picking up the coldness that made the Master’s stomach turn, “of the people gathered in this room, I would have never believed that the hulking gorilla here would have the most intelligence.” She shrugs and flipss out what appears to be a compact mirror from a pocket, dabbing a finger into it, then grinning and setting it back.
The Doctor steps forward. “Who are you?” he demands.
“Oh! Good, you’re catching up too, Doctor. I mean really, at least Harry has an excuse.” She straightens away from the cabinet, smoothing her sides before settling her hands on her hips. “Poor Harry,” she offers him a pitying glance, “I promise I’ll take care of you, but not yet. I have other business that I must attend to first.” She raises a brow in Gene’s direction.
The Master’s mind is foggy. He stares at Lucy, knowing she’s there, hearing her voice, but it’s all very unclear.
“Who are you?” the Doctor repeats.
“I’m sure once you think about it long and hard you’ll figure it out, Doctor,” she replies. Her stance shifts and she reaches a hand into the same pocket, pulling out an oddly formed derringer that by design was not from Earth. She gives Gene a charming smile when he ups his toughness levels, and then she shoots him in the leg.
No matter how wronged the Master’s mind is, that does not stop Sam Tyler from driving forward towards his toppling DCI, yelling out, “Gene!” Both he and the Doctor snap to move, but Lucy has planned ahead - already constructing a shield bubbling around her area.
“I’m sorry, Harry,” she says, focusing on her work as she steps towards Gene. Her shot encases him in a thin green film, rendering him motionless. “There’s just this pesky little problem I’ve had to keep trying to work around, and I’ve finally grown tired of it. I hope you understand.” She pockets the derringer, still smiling as she listens to the pair banging away at her shield, then reaches out to pull at Gene’s body, taking him by the underarms and dragging him back towards the cabinet.
“Doctor, break this thing down!” the Master yells. He can see that Gene is still alive, but that isn’t enough to put his mind at ease. He can’t do anything if he can’t get through!
“I’m trying!” the Doctor replies, running through settings on his screwdriver, trying to find a way to cut out the shield’s connection to whatever its power source is. “Nothing’s working!”
“Try harder!” The Master clenches his eyes closed against the weight of the pain filling his head.
Lucy sighs. “You’re not even trying to guess, Doctor. Where’s the fun in it if you don’t know?” She stares down thoughtfully at Gene’s cocooned body and then shrugs, appearing put out. She hooks a hand around a handle. “I hope you know, I’m really hurt that you can’t recognize me, Doctor. You’re so out of touch!”
“Who are you?” he whispers one last time, his screwdriver attempts forgotten as he looks up to meet her disapproving gaze.
“The Rani, imbecile,” she snaps, and then she yanks open the door and pulls Gene inside the vastly spacious floor cabinet and slams the it shut. Mere moments later, the sound of a TARDIS grates the air before them, and the cabinet dematerializes, as well as the shield.
The Master falls forward, then stumbles to where the Rani’s TARDIS had been. He glances around, breath coming out in small, staggering gasps, and the Doctor warily realizes how lost he looks. The Master and helplessness do not mix.
Hesitantly, the Doctor takes a step to him. “…Master?”
Rage and desperation spike – a mix of the Master and Sam Tyler that for once the Master is too far gone to analyze. He sweeps an arm across him own desktop, sending papers and odds and ends to the ground. A coffee mug shatters, liquid bleeds into the floor. He presses his palms to the surface, then curls a hand into a tight fist and slams it down hard enough to make the skin on his knuckles start to peel away. The Doctor grabs his arm before he can do it a second time and draw blood.
“Master, stop!” The Doctor’s adrenaline is pumping hard from the panic flaring all throughout his system. The thoughts keep running through his head that this isn’t the Master, that the Master would never be acting like this – over a human, no less!
The Master throws the Doctor away from him. His mind is on fire. He’s never felt this much pain before; the drumming hurts and he’s suddenly unsure of which half of him is more upset, him or Tyler. This is unbelievable. Gene can’t be gone – and with the Rani!
This can’t be happening.
“Master – please – just calm down –”
“How the hell do you expect me to do that, Doctor?! The Rani has Gene! The Rani – who has her own TARDIS – bloody has Gene!”
“And she’s not the only one with a TARDIS now, is she? I can help you, Master! I can help get your companion back! We can find them!” He hadn’t quite meant to slip the word ‘companion’ but when he does, the Master doesn’t deny it, and the Doctor finally starts to realize from the other’s silent recognition just how serious the situation has become.