This is the first thing I've ever attempted in this fandom, so I hope you enjoy it. For those of you who know me from other fandoms, I promise this story will be completed. At first I was going to hold out on posting any of it until it was all done (and I still am for AO3) but it's 2am, and I want feedback.

Warnings: (spoilers) Very very brief attempted non-con. Some torture that to me is not graphic, but to you might be. You've been warned.

Note: Everything I know about Time Lord physiology and Gallifreyan geography I learned from the TARDIS wiki, the rest has been made up. Artistic license!

Enjoy!

The Master sent another bolt of electricity into Rassilon's still retreating form. He could feel the time lock closing around him; he had only moments and then there was a good chance he'd never see his Doctor again. He hit Rassilon one last time and then turned.

His Doctor looked devastated, and the Master couldn't help but grin, happy in the knowledge that perhaps this meant his Doctor cared for him. Of course there was every chance that he just didn't want to he alone again, but for right now, just this once, he would pretend it was love.

Then Doctor was gone.

The Master stopped his attack on Rassilon the second the portal closed. The man collapsed, and the Time Lords surrounding him instantly rushed to his aid. The Master spared a moment to send a smirk in their direction before he doubled over in agony. The noise! The weight of thousands upon thousands of Time Lord minds pressing against him! For once even the drums were drowned out. He'd spent so long in the silence outside the time lock that he'd forgotten what this was like.

The Master pressed his palms firmly over his ears in the hopes that would help, and quickly drew up his shields as tightly as he could.

Gradually the noise faded, and only the drums remained as a faint thrumming in the back of his skull.

When he felt he could he released the hair he'd crushed in his fingers and stood. The other Time Lords were still crowded around Rassilon, slowly helping him to his feet. He ignored them; there was no point in running. There was no where he could hide where they wouldn't find him. Instead he took in the council room in which they stood. He was unimpressed. The room was drab and reminded him a bit of the room he'd first entered as Prime Minister. As he did a slow turn he wondered how many other species had rooms like this, and what it was about the configuration that made it so transferable.

A strangled noise drew his attention back. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

The Master shrugged. "Thwarted you? It's about time I've gotten to thwart someone." He grinned in a way that he knew made him look a bit deranged. "Consider it pay back for the drums."

"Oh, child. You've no idea what you've gotten yourself into." Rassilon nodded, and the doors to the room burst open, an armed guard entering.

The Master crossed his arms. He expected the blow to the head and the darkness that followed.

He jerked awake, the clacking of metal on metal filling the room.

Faint artificial light trickled in from somewhere far above him, but it was muddled, allowing just enough for him to make out the few feet around him and nothing else. For all he knew he could have a silent audience, though he did not expect this was so; the voices in his mind were faint.

There was a terrible pain in his head, which was a given, and he was cold, which was not. A quick glance down reveled that he was stripped to the waist. He wasn't ashamed of his body – to the contrary, he quite liked his new regenerations form – but he had never really thought of how much weaker one felt without clothing to hide behind. He pushed the fear behind him, hiding it away deep in his mind. Instead he looked at himself critically, looking for anything he could use to his advantage when the time came for him to escape.

His arms had been secured at the wrist with heavy cuffs of Gallifreyan design, and he felt the weight of a matching one around his neck. They'd be the most difficult to remove; they'd been specifically designed to make escaped prisoners easy to find both by how obvious they were and by causing an intense amount of pain upon removal. As far as he knew no prisoner had ever been able to remove all three without first being caught or killed. The cuffs were linked to thick chains that had stretched his arms apart as far as they could go. He was already chaffing, and when he tugged at the chains he could feel the bite into his skin. The collar around his neck was likewise fastened to the ceiling. The Master groaned and allowed his head to fall forward. The collar allowed his head to drop a few inches; any more and he began to choke. Bound as he was, he was unable to stand or sit, and was instead left kneeling in the middle of the cell.

I probably deserve this.

The Master jerked. In all his life he'd never once thought the words but now... Well, there was no hope, was there? He grinned in the darkness. If only his – no, not his, never his, not any more – the Doctor could see him now. Would he be satisfied that the Master was paying his dues for all the trouble he'd caused? Or would he feel pity in those great hearts of his?

As the Master looked around the ache in his head intensified and the world began to spin. He closed his eyes and let unconsciousness claim him again.

He awoke with his heart in his throat. For a few desperate moments he tugged frantically at his wrists, uncertain of where he was or why he was restrained. Then it all came flooding back. His foiled plot to take over the Earth, the Doctor, the gun, Rassilon, the time lock. He settled quickly; fear would get him no where. Thankfully the pain in his skull had dulled, allowing him to focus better. His senses told him he'd been unconscious for roughly eight hours and already a dull throb had set in his wrists.

He still felt as though he was alone, so he took a moment to try and get his legs beneath him. His knees cracked loudly, but he only made it a few inches before he came falling back, tugging harshly at his neck. He cursed as he rearranged himself.

Hours later somewhere off in the distance a door opened and footsteps drew near. He quickly adopted the most bored expression he could muster and waited.

The Time Lord who emerged from the darkness cut an opposing figure. He had cropped black hair, a scared face, and a body that looked more like a brick wall than any thing else.

The Master glared at him. He was the Master of all, he had fought against the Doctor for centuries, there was no way he was going to be intimidated by anyone.

The Time Lord smirked. "Do you know why they sent me?"

"Because that bastard Rassilon was too afraid to face me himself?"

In two strides the Time Lord was towering over him. He brought down a fist hard. The Master spat a mouthful of blood at his feet. "Struck a nerve?"

The Time Lord fisted a hand in the Master's hair, and jerked his head back hard enough that the collar began to cut off his oxygen. The Master blinked and consciously slowed his breathing, altering his physiology to require less air. The Time Lord loomed over him. "Would you like to see how long you can hold your breath? Would you like me to hold you here until even your bypass fails?" He paused as though waiting for an answer. The Master refused to give him one. The Time Lord released his hold, and the Master couldn't stop the gasp that escaped. "You may call me Chief."

The Master glared, ashamed that he was panting.

The Chief grinned and moved to the edge of the circle of light, slowly walking around the Master, moving just outside of his line of sight.

The Master refused to turn; refused to give him that satisfaction.

There was silence for almost five minutes before a hand landed on the Master's shoulder and lips pressed against his ear. "Do you know why they've sent me, Master? Because I'm the best at what they've got planed for you. You see, you have two options. Either you can behave and be completely cooperative, or we can do this... the fun way." He grinned. "Well, fun for me anyway. So here's what you're going to do. You are going to find a way for us to get out of this time lock." The Master pulled away, but the Chief dragged him back. "Oh, yes. Yes you are. You are going to find a way, and then just maybe we'll let you live. So what will it be, Master? Are you going to help us, or are you going to fight?"

"You can all rot here." The Master growled.

The Chief grinned. "I am so happy to hear you say that." He ran his fingers threw the Master's hair, then pressed two fingers to his temple.

The Master gasped as he felt the Time Lord enter his mind, then felt a burning pain as all of his memories, all of his thoughts and feelings ran behind his eyes as the Chief flipped through them. The Master tried to resist. He tried to hold things back, but the more he struggled the more painful it was. The Chief laughed. "Yes, yes, fight me, child." He pressed harder. The Master bit his tongue until he tasted blood, refusing to make a sound "Fight."

He was unsure how much time had passed by the time the Chief was finished. The Master fell forward, uncaring that the chains were cutting painfully into his wrists and neck. "So, my pretty, you love him? How interesting." He trailed his fingers against the skin at the base of the Master's neck, stepped carefully over his extended arm, and crouched down at eye level. "Hello, Master."

The Master's eyes widened. He knew it was an illusion, but he couldn't help the shivers that ran through him. The Chief was gone. In his place was the Doctor, wearing his usual blue suit, his red converse sneakers, and his brown coat. The Doctor pet his face. "Master." He winked, "I know you love it when I say your name."

The Master swallowed. "You're not him."

The Doctor smiled affectionately. "I am, Koschei. And I've missed you."

"You're not him. You will never be him."

The Doctor laughed. "Oh, my friend, you were always so stubborn. Don't you remember me? Don't you remember running through the red grass with me? You promised we'd explore the stars together. Even then I know how much you wanted to kiss me, how much you longed to claim me. I was so sad you never did." With a boyish grin the Doctor leaned in and captured the Master's lips.

Even though he knew it was a lie, the Master couldn't help the sound that escaped him. He couldn't help leaning in, kissing the Doctor back.

Reluctantly the Doctor pulled away and pressed his lips to the Master's forehead. "Will you help me, Master? Help me get out of here?"

The Master took a deep shuddering breath. "No."

The Doctor's face twisted in fury. He pressed his fingers to the Master's head, and he could do nothing but scream. It could have been hours, but it might have been days later by the time the Doctor pulled his fingers away, and the Master collapsed as much as his chains would allow. The Doctor placed a hand under his chin. His face was quietly amused. "Now for the real fun." With a grin he stepped back, his features morphing into that of the Chief. He turned his back on the Master and walked into the darkness, returning moments later with a thick, heavy whip. He held it with a practiced ease. It descended with a crack.

Despite the Chief's threat, this was much easier to handle. The Master could cope with a physical assault, he'd done so many times in the past. He steeled himself against the pain and retreated into his own head.

The drums were pounding loudly around him, but that was an after thought. He was more concerned with his shields.

To his dismay the Chief's attack had caused them to fall around what he considered his consciousness like broken glass. Jagged edges appeared here and there, but for the most part they were ground underfoot. They were a lost cause.

He stared at them absently as he thought. What he needed was a plan, and he needed one quickly. The problem was he knew that if he wasn't careful he would end up helping Rassilon. One of the many curses of being brilliant was that once his mind caught onto an idea he often could not help but chase it to its conclusion, and breaking out of a time lock... that was quite the idea. Even now he could see the swirls of dark ink forming, the ifs and hows teasing at the air. He needed to lock it away... put it somewhere where he could access it and use it for himself, but away from them.

The area around him morphed as he considered the problem. He needed to place the idea in the open, somewhere so obvious it wouldn't be considered. But he couldn't allow it to be unprotected. So it needed to have something basic to hide it. Down? Like a cellar perhaps. A cellar lost in all this glass. A locked door in what his mental landscape considered to be the ground, with the shattered remains of his shields scattered over it.

Instantly such a place formed, and the still developing mists of the idea vanished into it. Once it was sealed even the Master could not easily locate it. Now how would he keep attention off it? Because unfortunately in this state the Chief could see everything, so he needed to offer a bigger target. He needed to look like he was protecting something, and he needed to protect it with everything he had. It couldn't be that he was protecting nothing; that would give away the endgame in the likely event that the Chief managed to get through. So he also needed a prize. The Chief needed to think the Master hadn't staged it. But what was big enough? What could he sacrifice?

Unbidden, the Doctor's face formed in the shadows.

The Master frowned at the thought. But, as always, he was right. It needed to be the Doctor. Nothing else would seem big enough. Nothing else made him weak enough. And better yet, after the Time Lord gained this information he would believe he had something to break him with. The Master grinned, little did the Chief know, he was already broken.

He walked briskly away from the vault in the ground, moving towards the red mountains that created the illusion of distance in his mindscape. Once he was sure he was far enough away that nothing shattered or thrown would reveal the room he stretched his mind and analyzed how much the Chief had learned from him when he'd torn through his mind.

After a moment he had the answer. He'd just skimmed. The Chief had seen his affection as a child and followed that affection to his latest escapades. The Master laughed. He'd missed all the really good stuff, and luckily this was information he did want to protect. But sacrifices must be made.

When he opened his eyes the Doctor stood in front of him, and not just the bastardized version the Chief had thrown together, but his actual Doctor. In his eyes the Master saw all of the darkness and guilt he held for things that truthfully weren't his fault, but sparking among that pain he also saw all the boundless joy and childlike wonder.

Then all his previous incarnations stepped around them, ending in the lovely Theta Sigma. A few of the Doctor's more notable companions soon joined them, then the TARDIS, and soon every thought and feeling he'd ever associated with the man, even the ones he was still ashamed of, circled around him like a colorful stream that pulled at his consciousness, vying for his attention. The Chief thought he'd been crippled by imitating love, but if he found these feelings he could easily destroy the Master completely.

The Master paused. If the Chief was really good he could even manipulate those memories and erase the Doctor completely.

No, he couldn't think about that. This was necessary.

Once his memories were amassed around him he started on his shields. As a Time Lord from his very first breath he'd been trained in shielding, and he wasn't called the Master for nothing. Guarding this small space would allow the shields to be stronger than they would be if he protected the whole of his mind, but he still obviously needed something stronger than what he'd had before if he wanted to endure the Chief's next attack. With a bit of mental flexing he'd created a glass dome above them. Then the surface flexed and seemed to melt as it became even harder, soon blending black as it began to resemble stone. On the outside he formed large slabs that would prevent a direct blow, and on the inside he reinforced as much as was possible without filling in the inside entirely. He built and shaped as long as he could, his every thought instantly forming, his plan fleshing out and adding to the strength of the structure until he was sure it was impenetrable, even the drums were for once locked out, leaving nothing but a very faint pounding coming from outside. Then he turned to the image of his Doctor standing to the side, looking rather impressed. The Master tried not to preen in front of a figment of his own imagination. "How would you break in?"

"Hmm?" The figment asked.

"You're the Doctor. How would you get in?"

The Doctor rocked back on his red covered feet, his hands deep in his pockets. "Well... Sure, the outside is reinforced... but what about the ground?"

The Master frowned. "What?"

"Humans are fantastic, you know?" The Master rolled his eyes. "No, really! You can't get in above or to the sides, right? You're too good for that," he winked, "but you always overlook something. What's to stop him from digging under and coming up from below? This is your mind after all, you've got to consider all angles."

"How do humans come into that?" The Master asked incredulously.

"Farmers! To stop rabbits from coming in they built fences! But the rabbits dug underneath and got in anyway!"

"That means the rabbits are fantastic." Despite his words of protest, as the Doctor spoke the ground reinforced to steel. Where the sphere they were inclosed in met the imagined ground he cut straight down and completed the circle with the same material, and just as deeply and complexly as the formation above.

The Doctor smiled. "I always knew you were brilliant."

The Master scowled. "It was your idea."

"But at the moment I am you."

The Master shook his head and walked away, doing his best to ignore the other Doctors around him. This was now war, and until he worked out how to get out of this cell and how to get out of the time lock he wasn't leaving his mind. That was too dangerous; it left an opening, now matter how faint. He was staying put.

Despite this, as a Time Lord he was uniquely tuned to the workings of his body, and outside his mind in the real world he could feel the countless stripes that now decorated his chest, arms, and back, and the blood tracing its way down his body and pooling in a tacky mess around his knees. He knew by now his head was lolling against the collar and that his eyes were probably closed. To anyone he'd look unconscious. He flexed his mental presence and was satisfied when he felt the Chief leave. It was a pity that he thought he'd won, but then, sometimes you had to fake a loss to get ahead in the next round.

Unbidden, his arms began to tug their restraints to the beat of the drums.

It was a full day before the Chief returned. He grinned at the sight. Blood had tracked down the Master's arms and chest, both from the wounds that had been inflicted yesterday, but it also seemed he'd managed to mangle his wrists during the night. Self inflicted injuries made his job so much easier.

"How are we today, child?"

The Master stared vacantly ahead, his hands and fingers twitching a rhythm of four.

"Are you ready to cooperate?" He pet the Master's hair gently. He cooed when he received no response. "All you needed was a good beating, wasn't it? Oh, you poor baby. Tell you what," he tipped the Master's head back so he could gaze into empty eyes, "play nice with me and maybe I'll take care of you, alright? Now let's see what you've got for me, hm?" He dived into the Master's mind.

Everything was chaos spinning out of control. Behind it all was a deafening drum beat. The Chief found himself physically flung from the Master's mind leaving a residual burn in his fingers and an ache in his mind.

The Chief snarled at the Master's still form. He pulled back a fist and paused. He'd never had a prisoner launch such an attack before. This needed to be reported to Rassilon.

Once the message had been sent, the Chief returned to the cell and studied the Master. "I bet you think you're so clever." He gestured and two Time Lords entered carrying a large barrel filled with water. The Chief moved to the wall and pushed a button. Instantly all the chains slacked and the Master fell to the floor. The two Time Lords joined his hands behind him and left the room.

The Chief dragged the Master to his feet and plunged his head into the water.

The Master felt something faint.

His body was moving. Then there was a rush, and he could feel the water around him.

He looked up to the dome of his mental bunker and began counting the seconds. After three minutes had passed the Master shifted uncomfortably. If he had been fully in control that would be one thing but right now he could only trust his body to do what it needed to survive. He tried to concentrate on it; he tried to focus on his cells expanding and utilizing oxygen more efficiently.

Five minutes passed; all the Master could do was watch and wait.

He jerked when something soft pressed into his hand. Theta Sigma smiled up at him. The Master didn't feel like smiling, but somehow Theta always made him do things he didn't feel like doing. He picked the boy up and returned his eyes upward.

Theta stared at him for a moment and then followed his gaze.

The Master frowned as the dome began to change. He was certain he hadn't done it. Small hands pressed against his face, turning his head, demanding his attention. Once Theta was sure the Master was watching him, he looked back up at the dome that now resembled the burnt orange sky and the stars above Gallifrey.

The Master looked at Theta Sigma questioningly. Then Theta started talking.

"A long long time ago Gallifrey's two suns fell in love. And while they were very happy one sun felt a deep sadness that for some reason he could not explain. Then, while he and his love were on opposite sides of the planet, he met the moon, and instantly he felt complete. Every day he spent half his time with his love, the sun, and half his time with his passion, the moon. One day the moon told him she was pregnant. The sun was ecstatic! But the moon was jealous that she didn't have the sun's full attention, so she gave him an ultimatum. He could either stay with her and her children, or he could stay with the second sun. The sun didn't know what to do. He loved her, but he loved the sun as well. He refused to choose between them. To punish him, when the moon gave birth she filled the night sky with stars, but the sun would always shine too bright to see them."

"Am I the moon in this little story of yours?" The Master grumbled.

"Does that make me the sun?"

"Aren't you always the sun? The center of everything? Leaving us all dependent, only to die when you leave us?" He felt guilty after saying it, especially to Theta. "Anyway... how do you know that?"

"Hm?" Theta looked away from the dome and the stars faded.

"I've never learned a thing about the stars, how can a figment of my imagination know?"

Theta laughed. "Of course you know about the stars."

"Enough to navigate by certainly, but I can honestly say I've never cared much about mythology."

Theta clapped his hands on the Master's shoulders and started babbling again. The Master smiled indulgently. He'd forgotten how lovely his Theta had been.

The boy frowned and tapped his face.

The Master tried to focus on what he was saying, but Theta's voice had faded away. Everything was fading. In a flash the Master realized his bypass must have kicked in, and must be failing. He laughed. The Chief must have fucked up, and was about to kill him. But that was okay. That meant he'd be able to die without helping the Time Lords escape, and he'd die around what were honestly his happiest memories, with Theta's face being in his final moments.

In a flash his Doctor was in his face, demanding his attention in a way that was hilariously similar to what Theta had done. The Doctor's previous regenerations circled around them. His Doctor grabbed his chin. "Listen to me."

The Master tried to give him that.

"You can't die."

"Apparently I can."

"They need you."

"Not too badly it seems."

"They don't want you to regenerate, you're weakened now, you're perfect."

The Master grinned. "I won't regenerate, Doctor, I promise you that."

The Doctor's face hardened. Theta gasped and gripped his shoulders. "You can't leave us!"

"You can't leave me!" The Doctor shouted.

"No choice really." The Master said. The dome was starting to darken around its edges, and knowing he would soon die the Master reached out a hand and dragged his Doctor as close as he could while holding Theta, pressing their lips together. His Doctor latched onto him, kissing him desperately. The Master wished he could match that level of intensity, but he could already feel his life draining away.

There was a sudden jolt, and the Master gasped against his Doctor's lips.

Air was flooding his lungs. Outside of his mind he was certain his body was coughing up water too, but without leaving he had no way to verify that. There was another jolt, and he knew his body had hit the ground and was being dragged back into position.

There was a sudden burning pain and the Master knew the Chief had entered his mind again. Agony gripped him and when it was all over there was... silence.

The Master fell to his knees, gasping. The drums were gone. They'd only been a faint pounding, but their absence felt like the world had dropped out beneath him. He hated the drums, he'd hated them his whole life, but now that they were gone... could they really be gone?

Hands rubbed his back. The Master looked up to see the Doctor's fifth regeneration giving him a concerned look. His ninth watched on with a serious expression. "Are you alright?"

The Master glared. "Of course."

The ninth regeneration didn't seem too convinced, but the Master didn't really care what his figments thought of him.

The burning sensation was back, and the Master quickly stood. The drums could wait, the Chief was here.

The Master flared his consciousness bright so the Chief would know exactly where to find him. It worked, and soon the Master could feel the Chief's mind circling the dome, testing it for weaknesses. Then the assault began.

The Master was pleased everything didn't instantly crumble, and as the barrage thundered around him the Master relaxed to the sound of artificial drums.

Without the Chief distorting his perception of the passage of time, the Master was able to time exactly how long the attack lasted. Two hours, twenty three minutes. When the Chief finally retreated, the Master felt his chains once again slack and his head was once again plunged in water.

"It's time." His Doctor stood beside him.

"For what?"

"You need to get out of here. It's time to put that idea into action."

The Master frowned. "I –"

"No, now."

The Master closed his eyes.

When he opened them he was soaking wet, sprawled on the floor. He flexed his mind and found he was alone. He scrambled to his feet and studied his wrists, his mind already racing. After a full examination a wide grin spread across his face. It really was a shame he wasn't more willing to help his people out; there was a rather large design flaw. Unfortunately for the Time Lords in making the cuffs so thoroughly cling to a prisoner, the weakest point would be the connection between the cuffs and the chains. He couldn't remove the cuffs, he certainly couldn't break the chains, but he just might be able to break the connection between the two.

First he rubbed his hands together. He frowned when they didn't build up a charge. The Chief must have taken that from him as well. He'd known objectively that it was an anomaly that he'd even acquired the talent at all, but he'd grown rather fond of the trick. But that was alright; he'd make due. The Master quickly dragged his left hand across his body and tucked it tightly to his right side then he moved until the chain was stretched tight. He did some quick math, angled the chain, and then brought down his foot with his full weight behind it.

He saw white and struggled not to cry out.

When his vision cleared he was pleased to see the connector twisted. A little further manipulation freed his hand. He repeated the method with his right hand.

While his wrists ached and there was shooting numbness in his hands, it felt good to be freed. He flexed his fingers in an attempt to regain feeling as he eyed the chain that connected to the collar.

In the distance he heard a door open and footsteps. The Master froze. There was no hiding what he'd done or pretending that he was still restrained. All the Master could do was straighten up, shake out his hands until he was sure he could flex them properly, and face the Chief.

The Chief stopped before he hit the circle of light. The Master smirked at the darkness. After a few tense minutes the Master laughed. "Afraid?"

The Chief stepped forward, eying the Master critically. A long, curved blade hung in one hand. He circled the Master; this time the Master followed.

"I was starting to wonder if you'd come back at all. That was quite the cowardly thing you did."

The Master's smirk widened. "Come see how much of a coward I am. If you can."

The Chief moved back into the darkness. Moments later the chain linked to the Master's collar tightened, dragging him back into the center of the room. There was a pause, and then the chain tightened further, dragging the Master up on his toes.

The Chief stepped back into the light, fingering his blade lovingly.

The Master brought his hands up and grabbed hold of the chain. Then he propelled himself off the floor, flipping up and around it. The Chief watched on, fascinated. "What are you hoping to accomplish?"

The Master used his hold to drag himself further up.

"You can climb all you like, there's nothing at the top but more brick... and nothing keeping me from lowering you back down."

The Master pulled again. In his head calculations were already running. He knew how much force it would take to break the connection, all he needed was the right height to accomplish it. He gave one final twist, and then let go, relaxing his body as much as he could. A broken bone would hinder him, but cuts and bruises were acceptable. When he finally reached the end of the chain there was a tremendous jerk, and for a moment he was worried he'd miscalculated and broken his neck.

Then his body slammed to the ground, and he breathed deep.

He pushed himself up and glared at the Chief. He wasn't sure if he was imagining the look of fear on the Time Lord's face, but he relished in it.

The Master tried to look menacing as he took a step forward, but his knee gave out with his first step and he fell to the ground.

The Chief laughed and lunged. The Master swore and rolled. Before the Chief could land land a hit the Master was back up, staggering to his feet.

The Chief recovered and rounded on the Master, the blade catching him high across his shoulder, and again down the side. The Master crashed to the ground again, but he was up faster.

The Master could feel his limbs better now, and at the Chief's next attack he was back to his fluid nature, using his smaller stature for speed, rolling under and often over the Chief in an effort to avoid his attacks. He was mostly successful, though he quickly lost track over the placement of his new wounds against the other ones decorating his body.

The Chief grew tired quickly; he was used to torturing a stationary victim, not chasing one around the rather large room. As he tired, his patience wore thin and his lunges came in erratic sweeping arches. The Master's mind continued to work quickly as he avoided attacks. He knew at this rate the Chief would make a mistake. All he had to do was wait until he saw an opening, and exploit it.

As he predicted the Chief quickly made a miscalculated lunge and went sailing too far to the right. The Master was on him instantly, knocking the knife from his hand, sending it skittering across the floor.

The Master went running for it, the Chief hot on his heels.

As his hand closed around it, the Chief grabbed him by his collar and slammed him to the ground, pinning the knife and his arm beneath his back at such an angle that the Master was unable to free it.

The Chief panted as the Master struggled beneath him, using his full weight to keep the smaller man from escaping. "You look so good beneath me." The Chief purred. He shoved one large thigh between the Master's legs, and rubbed him firmly through his jeans. "Aw, is that for me?"

The Master's lips pulled back in a snarl, and then the Chief was gone, and the Doctor was above him The Master knew that this was coming, but he couldn't stop his eyes from widening as the Doctor kissed him firmly, one hand gripping his chin tightly to keep him in place.

It took the Master almost a full minute before he retaliated, biting the Doctor's tongue. The Doctor pulled back without a sound and struck the Master hard enough that his vision blacked out. Then the Doctor's hand was back, holding his jaw so roughly he was unable to move it, and his tongue was back down the Master's throat. There was a buzzing in his head, and Master tasted blood. He wasn't sure if it was the Doctor's or his own.

Distantly the Master felt the Doctor's other hand thread through his hair, and then his body was on fire as the Doctor lit up his nerve endings. When he'd been inside his protected mental shell, he'd been safe from the pain, but now, fully aware and with his shields shattered, there was nothing he could do to stop himself arching painfully off the ground and writhing against the Doctor's unforgiving body.

The Doctor kissed him through his agony, pausing only when the Master thought he might find an escape in the unconsciousness oxygen deprivation would provide. As the Master gasped, the Doctor trailed open mouthed kisses down his jaw, and bit at the skin around the metal collar. He pressed a wet kiss to the Master's ear. "Scream for me." The Doctor caressed the Master again, lighting up his pain receptors, and the Master did.

The Master tried to regain himself as he thrashed. He could feel the Chief inside his head, subtly manipulating his sight, and stimulating his pain receptors. While his eyes saw only the Doctor, there was no way for the Chief to disguise his mind. The Master tried to block the Chief out, but this served only in encouraging the Chief to increase the amount of pain he felt.

It felt like hours had passed by the time he felt it. His arm was free, and the knife was still in his hand. In his mind he felt the Chief realize it at the same time.

The Doctor's hand flew from his jaw in an attempt to restrain his wrist, but the Master was faster. They both stilled as he buried the knife in the Doctor's stomach.

The Doctor's face was covered in betrayal, before he again became the Chief.

The Master twisted the blade, and grinned when the Chief cried out in agony and warm blood slicked his arm. As he began to slump, the Master pulled out the blade and stabbed the Chief again and again, until he began to glow gold. Once the regeneration started, the Master kicked the Chief's body off him and moved far enough away that the Chief's regeneration would not trigger his own. He pounced on the Chief the second his new body appeared and slammed his head firmly against the ground, knocking him out.

The Master backed away, panting. He didn't understand what he was feeling. He felt... nothing. Blank.

Normally he would keep cutting into the Chief, burning away all his regenerations for what he'd done, but for some reason right now he felt no desire to end the Time Lord's life. Unconscious was good enough.

The knife slipped to the floor, and the Master's hands drifted to his head. His whole being resonating with the silence. His breathing sounded too loud, his pulse was hammering against his ear drums, and in the quiet of the room he was beginning to panic. He tried to ground himself, but he didn't know how. He'd never needed anything but the drums before. He closed his eyes and his mind spiraled down until it found the one remaining solid space in his mind. There was still a mark from where he'd exited, and the outside was covered in dark scorch marks from the Chief's attack, but it was otherwise intact. It brought him some comfort to know that even in the shattered wreckage of his mind the Doctor was safe.

He wrapped his mind around it, and breathed.

Then he opened his eyes, picked up the knife, and stepped into the darkness.

It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. When they did the room came into definition, and he realized his initial feeling had been right. There were rows of benches set up to allow an audience to watch the interrogation. His red shirt and black hoodie were carelessly draped over the last bench, and had clearly been searched through. The Master checked, and grumbled. His laser screwdriver was gone.

He considered the shirt and eyed his chest uncertainly. He was covered in deep gouges, many still leaking blood. It was a bad idea to let his open wounds press against a shirt that was probably filthy. The Master rolled his eyes and tugged the red shirt on, grimacing as it settled over his frame. Fuck it. It would teach his immune system a lesson in self preservation. He pulled his black hoodie on over it and shook the cloth out, rolling his shoulders. His wrists burned around the fabric and the Master tugged at the cloth uncomfortably. He itched to pull the sleeves up over the metal cuffs and settle them high on his arm, but he stopped himself. His attire was going to be surprising enough on Gallifrey, but in a world of travelers, the outfit could be explained away. The collar and cuffs however would undoubtedly get him reported.

The Master sighed and forced himself to ignore the feeling. He grabbed the knife off the floor, and walked to the far wall where a small indention reveled the door. He scoffed when he reached it. Another design flaw. The door was unlocked. He understood that prisoners were supposed to be restrained at all times, but as he'd just proven, sometimes restraints fail. It really was a pity he didn't intend to stay. The Master opened the door soundlessly and looked out into the hallway beyond. It was deserted. The Master stepped out and closed the door softly behind him.

Getting out of the prison wasn't difficult. The Master was used to getting out of tricky situations, and this wasn't the first prison he'd ever broken out of. Still, this was one of the easiest. He tsked under his breath. Really, they were just asking for a break out. He was half tempted to open a few cells and get a real riot going, but that would require time he didn't have. As he slipped through the final exit he hoped someone got in a lot of trouble for this. He just hoped it wouldn't be him.

The prison was located in the heart of the Capitol; it was the place where Rassilon kept political prisoners. There were more prisons across the planet, usually in some area where they could be made to work for the betterment of Time Lord technology. The Master was glad he'd been kept here; it saved him the trouble of working his way back.

Even though the Master could feel the city teaming with life, the streets were deserted. It was an unusual sight. As a child he and Theta had frequently snuck out to this major city, and had been easily lost in the press of bodies going about their daily lives. Now there wasn't anyone as far as the eye could see. Before everything had gone to shit and he'd gotten stuck in the portal the Doctor had warned him that Gallifrey at war was something entirely different, but he'd never imagined it would change everything in such a small but ultimately fundamental way.

The Master tugged his hood up over his face and forced himself to keep to the shadows and alleyways as he pressed forward. It made traveling slow and a bit tricky, but in a war bound planet, it was probably less conspicuous than projecting a mental deflection shield.

Eventually he found the city's major museum.

There were two guards on duty at the museum entrance. They were both nearing the end of their regeneration cycles and as such seemed weary. They eyed the Master's attire strangely, but he figured they were used to seeing children playing hooky, and adults keeping score. He walked as if he knew what he looked like, and he had every right to wear Earth style clothing. He wasn't sure if they bought it, but after he flashed them his "Vote for Saxon" smile and sent them a mental greeting they relaxed.

Aside from the guards and a bored tour guide two floors away, the museum was empty. The Master grinned. It was perfect. He hoped this would teach Rassilon a lesson about encouraging his subjects to ignore history.

The Time Lord museum was vast, and contained a room or at very least a wall about every planet any Time Lord had ever visited.

The Master's eyes skipped past them all.

As a child he'd been forced to look at them so much by an over enthused Theta Sigma that he had every placard memorized. At the time he'd been insulted at the mental space he'd just been forced to waste, but now it helped him move exactly where he wanted to go. Seven floors up to the time traveling section. This was arguably the largest section in the museum aside from the Shadow Proclamation, and was actually a dedication to Rassilon himself if one bothered to read the material instead of look at the displays.

The Master eyed the TARDIS model longingly. He knew it would be non functional. Time Lords were incredibly protective of their technology, and all TARDIS machines would be under lock and key.

He wasn't here for that.

He passed the model machine with a fond pat and began the trek down the line of earlier time traveling models.

He stopped by the vortex manipulators and eyed them carefully through their glass containers. They looked functional but without an inside look he couldn't tell for sure.

The Master cast his eyes around and spotted a small collection of tools. The sonic screwdriver caught his attention. It wasn't as good as his laser screwdriver, but it reminded him of his Doctor. It would do.

He calculated the time it would take for the guards to respond, then he slammed his elbow through the glass and grabbed the two vortex manipulators. He stuffed them in the pouch of his hoodie and quickly broke the glass protecting the tools and stole the screwdriver. He was out the door and down the back staircase before the guards made it to the room.

The Master kept running when he hit the street, a map of the city laid out in his mind.

After four blocks he ducked into another alley, scaled a fence and dropped soundlessly behind a brick staircase. If he was right, and he usually was, the staircase would lead to another museum. This one small and dedicated to art. If the major museum had been empty he was sure this one would be as well.

He waited in the shadows for ten minutes. He told himself he was waiting to see if he'd been followed, but the ache in his chest and his uneven breathing told another story.

At eleven minutes he allowed himself to sink to the ground and draw his knees to his chest.

After fifteen minutes he forced himself back into action. The Chief had to be conscious by now, which meant Rassilon knew he was out. The break in at the museum was sure to be brought to his attention at some point. It wouldn't take a genius to connect the two.

The Master shifted and laid out the two vortex manipulators on the step beside him and quickly popped them open. He scowled. Neither was functional. He settled down more comfortably against the wall and got to work. Using the screwdriver he dismantled the newest manipulator all the while humming a beat of four.

It wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been; only a few parts were actually missing. He quickly rectified that using the second.

He discarded the leftover parts in a nearby bin and tucked his finished creation back in the pouch of his hoodie. He kept the sonic screwdriver firmly in hand. He'd mocked the Doctor for it before, but he had to admit it had come in handy. It might work as a weapon if he used it right.

When he stood up he scowled at the small patch of blood staining the gray stone he'd sat on. He scuffed it with his shoe, but he was sure anyone knowing what to look for would see it. That made hiding here a poor choice. The Master tugged his hood back up and slipped back out onto the street. He needed to get out of the city before they figured out where he was going.

The suns were setting as he walked, glinting off the glass walls like fire, and he felt all that had happened to him. His chest burned, and his back was cramping. Every step seemed to drag, and his eyes were falling shut. He knew his body needed rest.

He eyed an alley longingly, and without the drums compelling him forward it was hard to resist the temptation.

He took a step towards the shadow and he felt it. A rising wave of anger and hatred. It was faint; if his shields had been up he would have missed it, but it meant they were coming. The Master swore and pushed himself forward.

He reached the red fields as the suns dipped down below the horizon. Waist high grass spread out under the expansive sky, rippling gently in the wind, and all around them were snow capped mountains and the occasional cluster of trees decorated with silver leaves. He let his hands catch the grass as he walked as far as he could before he collapsed, curling in to a protective ball as he fell asleep. Above him the grass moved as though it had never been disturbed.

The Master awoke warm with the sun on his face. He rolled onto his back and watched the grass wave above him.

His body was a dull throb. He moved to sit up and settled back with a groan. It felt better to just lie there in the fragrant dirt, breathing in the comforting smells of his youth. The wind whipped around him keeping him cool while the black cloth of his hoodie absorbed the light of the twin suns. His eyes grew heavy, and he did not fight when they coaxed him back to sleep.

The Master jerked upright, a silent scream on his lips. There was one long uncertain minute, and then he recalled all that had happened. He breathed deep and tried to calm his racing hearts. When he felt he'd regained what little remained of his sanity he forced himself to his feet.

The twin suns were high in the sky as he set his sights on Mount Perdition and began walking. He knew where he was going; he'd only been there once, but he would never forget the untempered schism.

Though it had been centuries since he'd last seen this land, the walk was easy and familiar. He'd distanced himself from the pain in his body with thoughts of Theta Sigma and how clever they'd thought they were as children. Their plots seemed so innocent now. They'd thought they were so adventurous, drinking in the Capitol while their classmates studied. If only they'd known what the future held. The Master closed his eyes and let his distraction carry him.

The Master opened his eyes at the base of the mountain. The air was frigid; the suns had been down for a long time. He hadn't realized how long he'd been walking. He was close.

The sun was just peaking over the horizon when he found the schism. The Master stared at it in fascination. It was beautiful; he'd never really appreciated it as a child.

He walked closer, his steps hesitant.

He remembered his initiation as an incredibly painful experience, and of course there was the drums... his mind itched with curiosity and fear. Would they come back? To help distract himself, the Master pulled out the vortex manipulator and strapped it high. It rested against the cuff uncomfortably.

He took a deep breath. It was time. Time to see if he was as smart as he thought he was.

He typed in the only coordinates he could think of. He didn't quite remember where it would land him, but he was fairly certain it wasn't the center of a sun.

He walked up to the schism and he jumped.

It feels to me like there is both too much plot and not enough... Anyway! Review! It encourages me to write faster! And it makes the Master less bloodthirsty!