Something I thought up while waiting for class to start. Doesn't the Doctor ever dream?
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox, I just play in it.
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Since the Time-War, the Doctor could count the number of good dreams he'd had on one hand. On the rare occasions he allowed himself to dream at all, nightmares were usually what snaked around his subconscious.
The first night Rose spent on the TARDIS, he'd dreamt of running through his father's fields, back home. That red grass, the fiery silver trees stretching up so high, the twin suns beating down on him. That dream was painted with a feeling of belonging and acceptance- things he hadn't let himself feel since he ran away.
After the Lazarus experiment, the first night of Martha's official "companionship," the Master entered his dreams. Their days at the Academy, back before everything went wrong. Stolen kisses in the fields, hesitant touches, timid smiles. The Master whispering his name in awe the first time they divested one another of their clothing.
"Theta…"
His answering plea.
"Koschei…"
He always felt the TARDIS' disapproval niggling at the edge of his dreams when they concerned Koschei. He always ignored her. These were some of the best moments of his extraordinarily long life. The Master couldn't help the way he was. The untempered schism had driven him mad.
And then there were the dreams where everybody lived.
Those were far worse than any nightmare.
The dreams where he hadn't ruined anyone's life- or ended it.
Sarah Jane had never fallen in love with him. She'd left him with no hard feelings, got married, had Luke.
Jenny didn't take a bullet for him- the Colonel had seen sense before it was too late. She went exploring on her own- planets to save, civilizations to rescue, creatures to defeat…. And an awful lot of running to do.
Rose and Mickey. Rose never fell for him, and eventually married Mickey. They joined Torchwood together after they'd had enough of the mundane life.
Martha. Good ol' Martha Jones. She got her certification, became a real doctor, married Thomas Milligan. They both joined Torchwood, as well.
Astrid's teleportation signal was strong enough to retrieve, and he'd denied her passage on the TARDIS for her own good. She stayed on Earth with Mr. Copper and went exploring.
The Master never heard the drumbeat reverberating back through time- one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four. He never went insane. The Doctor found him at the end of the universe, helped him open the fob watch, and after the Master regenerated, he had a permanent companion.
Donna. The Doctor-Donna. The Time-Lord/Human metacrisis never happened, and she never forgot anything, least of all him. The Ood never told him that his song was ending soon. He was never told that "he will knock four times, and then you will die." There was no prophecy.
Everyone died of old age after leading a full life. Not because of him.
He traveled with the Master long after everyone else was dead and gone.
The Last of the Time-Lords.
Strangely, he never dreamed of a different Gallifrey. He later suspected that those wounds went too deep even for a dream to unbury.
Waking up from this dream was always disorienting. He woke up with such a feeling of contentment, a rare emotion for him. No guilt burdened his hearts, and he felt a million pounts lighter. The TARDIS was drawn to his unusually positive mood. Her surprised happiness was all it took to send that crashing weight down around his ears.
He was alone.
Rose was trapped.
Mickey lost his love- because of him.
Martha left, because being with him hurt too much.
Donna was lost, in the worst way possible.
Jenny was dead. Astrid was no more than dust in deep space. Mrs. Cooper died- for him.
The Master was insane, and hated him as much as he was drawn to him. He could never atone for what he'd done.
His whole world was gone, his people long dead.
He had the blood of so many on his hands.
His anguish and guilt were so overpowering that he felt the TARDIS withdraw from his mind, sending her sympathy and constant love through their link.
It was little consolation.
His song was ending soon.
He was alone. As it should be.
