Warnings: Character Study, Introspection, Surprise!Character
A/N: Written for who_contest's Prompt:Stolen. I had a completely different idea for this prompt and (as per usual of late), no time in which to write it in (an irony, considering the Fandom, really). But once I sat down to actually write, this (also 'as per usual') decided it wanted to be written instead (and in under half an hour at that!). I'm still rather enamoured with my previous idea (as is the Musie), so that will likely be written another time, for another challenge. But for now, this one will do, methinks. As for its value, merit or readability, I leave that up to you, Dear Readers (as you seem to know best in the end). As it usually goes, this fic is mostly unbeta'd and written in one go, so please forgive any mistakes and/or blatant vagueness. And (as always), I apologize for any repetition, misspellings, sentence fails, grammatical oh-noes and general horridness. Unbeta'd fic is overly-thinky/wandery/blithery and unbeta'd.
Disclaimer(s): I do not own the scrumptious Doctor or his lovely companions. That honor goes to the BBC and (for now) the fantastic S. Moffat. The only thing that belongs to me is this fiction - and I am making no profit. Only playing about!
He was never quite sure who picked whom. Not that it truly mattered to either of them, but he always wondered – were events set in motion so they could meet? Or were the events always bound to happen, their coming together merely fortuitous happenstance?
A conundrum for the centuries; and there were many.
All across the cosmos, eons upon eons of Time traveled, spans of Space that were traversed and known by few but themselves. It was a lonely way to adventure, but they never minded that. They had each other.
They were the first, but not the last.
Sometimes, they wished they were unique among the stars: the only ones to steal one another and sail away to further (and further still) shores of the universe, but that was not to be. Many followed them, but none blazed the paths they had traversed. No one could dub themselves true pioneers of their Era (except for the very last so-called renegade and he hardly mattered at first); none but they two.
TARDIS and Pilot, wayfarers of the vast waves of time and space. It was poetic, (even as he'd always loathed poetry); the pirates of the Vortex, the looters of the treasures beyond the planet they once called home. The title was fitting in many, many ways (though, yet again, that idea, that way of life would be mimicked and copied, not once, but several times over) – the Stealer and the Stolen.
But which was which?
Always the ultimate Question, but one that they were in no hurry to answer (to themselves or anyone else); beholden to none but each other…at least, for a short while. Soon, others followed in their footsteps, forged new paths (similar, divergent) from their 'old' ones, found their Names through the stars they sailed towards.
But they were the first.
There was some comfort in that.
It was only proper.
He was always a natural leader, even if his lead was a hard one to follow.
That was probably why so many of the dozens that came after him, that saw potential in other realms besides the one they were born to, never made it in the end. She was an exacting mistress, the Universe. Only those forged in the hardest steel and wrapped in coolest velvet could survive Her (which was why only he and one other could truly say they had not just passed Her tests, but done so with flying colors – too bad he only passed because of the fiery will of the one who went before him, but that was of no consequence, either).
They were quite sure though, that when it came to pass, they would not only be the First, but the Last to gaze upon the Fire at the End of Time. It was a Truth he had foreseen and the only one (he would make damned sure) would come to pass.
The First. The Last. The true conquerors of Time and Masters of Space. Together they were unmatched, unstoppable – even by the one who dubbed himself the White Knight and Champion of the Universe.
He was a mere follower in the steps of his betters.
Koschei stroked the sleek console of his (stolen) Type 60 and set the coordinates for the Cydiianaan Cluster: a wholly unmapped series of planets and stars that were waiting for the right leader to crush them into compliance…
The Master and his TARDIS, off to shape the Universe.
There were always new galaxies to burn –
And all of the Time in the Universe at their fingertips in which to light the flames.