Author's Notes: Goes AU before Series 1. Written as a series of ten 100 word drabbles. Can be read as Ten/Simm!Master or not, as you prefer.
Even since before he'd become the last, there have always been countless reasons why the Doctor has craved freedom from the responsibilities and capabilities attached to being a Time Lord. Now that burden is worse than ever. No matter how many years pass, his acute time sense always ensures he remembers down to the second exactly how long has passed since he doomed his entire species to death. As if the unceasing silence since the last time he sensed anyone else isn't more than enough.
He can never forget, no matter how much he tries.
He'll never feel them again.
It's finally happened. After decades of nearly complete solitude (except for those brief encounters with people and beings he'll try his damndest never to see again, because it's just easier not to get attached), the Doctor's mind has apparently broken under the strain.
How else can he explain suddenly feeling the distant touch of another mind, as well as his overwhelming certainty that he's not alone after all?
He knows the Time Lords are all dead. He made sure of it.
That doesn't stop him from desperately following that link, and that hope, literally to the end of the universe.
The Doctor's rage boils when he arrives a moment too late to prevent the flash of the gun. He's only just found his fellow Time Lord again, and already someone is trying to take him away? Time traveller or not, he can't take back his vindication at the would-be-assassin's death. Part of him doesn't even want to.
The Doctor cradles the dying man in his arms and knows, without asking, precisely who he's looking down at.
"It would be you," the Master says, a scornful echo of the Doctor's thoughts.
The Doctor can't think of anyone he'd rather be holding.
The Doctor clings to the Master's changing body throughout his regeneration, ignoring the burn of energy against his skin.
Considerably younger looking eyes snap open. The Master takes stock of his surroundings for a second, unconsciously grasping at the Doctor's jacket, before coming back to himself and shoving the Doctor viciously away. He springs to his feet and then grins, breaking into seemingly endless laughter.
Bemused, the Doctor watches the Master darting around and ranting. His insanity is more pronounced than the Doctor remembers. Apparently that sort of thing is going around. The Doctor's certainly in no position to criticise.
The Master, even weak from regeneration, overwhelms the Doctor easily, for the Doctor isn't looking for a fight. When the Doctor regains consciousness, he finds his limbs tied behind his back.
Hazily, he nearly panics, believing the Master must have left him alone in the year one hundred trillion. Only when he senses that the Master is still nearby can he breathe again.
When the Master returns with his white shirt ruffle splattered red with someone else's blood, and his hands also dripping with it, the Doctor wonders what it says about him that he's still pleased to see him.
"I can't exactly let you loose on the universe, can I?"
The Master laughs and gestures at the way the Doctor is sprawled face-down on the TARDIS floor, tightly restrained. "And what do you think you're going to be able to do about it?"
With a shimmy and a crack of that slightly-weak wrist of his, the Doctor slips free, then climbs painfully back to his feet. "What, you think after all those years with you I wouldn't have figured out how to slip a rope when I want to?"
The Master grins. "Well. Isn't this going to be interesting?"
Life together on the TARDIS would be like a game, if the consequences weren't often deadly.
The Doctor's tied to a coral strut as the Master navigates towards some civilisation that he'll either rule or massacre, depending on his mood. Then the Master's locked in a cupboard, leaving the Doctor free to go fix whatever he can of the Master's mess, presuming the TARDIS hasn't been rendered unusable in the interim.
He shouldn't allow this pattern of senseless violence just to have the Master with him. One man shouldn't outweigh the universe. But he can't stand being alone. Not again.
"For the love of... Go on a rant about the unfairness of existence, or say something morally superior, or something."
"Sorry?" says the Doctor.
"I just caused the death of twelve of your blessed little humans and you're acting as though you barely even noticed. If you're not even going to react, then what's the point of you?"
He noticed, of course. He even helped that village put itself back together. But he doesn't say that.
He can't keep ignoring the underlying truth when even the Master's pointing it out.
He barely feels like the Doctor anymore.
It can't continue.
The Master speaks of the permeating beat, saying, "The drums, the drums. They never stop. Never ever. Can't you hear them?" The words have greater meaning. Though he'll never straightforwardly admit he needs help, that won't stop the Doctor from giving it.
It's not just because it's the Master, either. He realises he'd feel nearly equally compelled to help a stranger, as he once would have.
Initially if he tried this, the Doctor's mad loneliness might have allowed the Master's insanity to ensnare him. Now, his fingertips pressing resolutely against the Master's temples, he finds himself again as he falls.
"Let them go," the Doctor orders.
The Master disbelievingly asks, "Or?"
"I'll stop you. Permanently."
"You never would," the Master sneers. "The only way would be to lock me away, and you're so pathetic that you need me around to hold your hand like a child."
"Try me," the Doctor challenges. They both can tell that, for the first time since the Time War, he's really willing to force himself to be alone all over again if need be.
The Master rolls his eyes. "To think I actually wanted you back to your normal level of insufferability."
The Doctor smiles.
~FIN~