Author's Note:

OK, the thing was, I got bored. So I wrote this cracky little piece of silliness to pass the time. This is sort of set in the "One Moment in Time" series, following on from the end of "Return to The Valiant" - so if you haven't read those, this will probably totally confuse you.

SUMMARY: The Master faces his worst nightmare.

Anyway, cheers everyone - hope you all have a fabulous Easter!

CRACKETY CRACK

The Master hunkered down in the corner of his hiding-place, trying to make himself as small as possible, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Sweat beaded on his brow in tiny droplets and his breathing sounded ragged in his ears. His double heart-beat pounded wildly in his chest, the driving beat cruelly reminiscent of the drumbeat that had once tormented him every waking hour. He knew he was close to having a panic attack, but somehow he managed to hang on, fighting back the weakness. There had to be a way out of this, there had to be. He was the Master. He was a genius - stone-cold brilliant, in fact. His ingenuity and cunning knew no bounds. He would think of a way. He just had to force himself to focus.

He wasn't safe here. They were out there. He could hear them in the distance, moving about, talking together in their high-pitched, terrifying voices. Soon they would find him. Soon this last, unlikely sanctuary would be penetrated and then the torture would begin all over again. He couldn't help the violent shudder that racked him at the thought.

Somehow he had to escape from here without them seeing him. Somehow he had to get back to the stronghold of his TARDIS. And yet, it wasn't that simple. He had no real idea where the TARDIS was. His mouth went dry with fear as he thought of the labyrinthine landscape that lay outside. Harsh, white light glaring down on him from above, the never-ending pathways that went on and on, each one seemingly identical, leading nowhere but to more endless pathways...an eternal recursive paradox, closing in on him, choking him, driving him slowly insane.

And, of course, they patrolled the maze with deadly, single-minded purpose, navigating the bewildering paths with ease of long practice, seeking and ruthlessly homing in on their unsuspecting quarry.

The awful irony of the situation was not lost on him. The predator had become the prey. He, who so many times before had been the hunter, had now become the hunted, cowering like a cornered animal as the blood-thirsty lions closed in on him.

They should never have come here. He had known it from the beginning. He'd heard stories of this place, tales of those who came here and were never heard of again, accounts of strong men who returned but were never quite the same, the hidden horrors crippling their souls for the rest of their benighted lives. But Ana had only laughed when he told her, tossing her long, copper hair over her shoulder in complete unconcern. As much as he loved her new regeneration, one of her more problematic new characteristics was a total lack of fear. She had absolutely no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. She had been determined to visit this place, no matter what, and refused to take no for an answer. And so, like an idiot - like a stupid, soft fool - he had eventually caved in and brought her. Now he was paying the price.

It had seemed all right at first, despite his anxiety. The place had appeared harmless enough, welcoming even, with its ambient temperature, bright primary colours and soothing sounds. Reassured, telling himself he had been concerned about nothing, he had allowed Ana to draw him in further, leaving the safety of the TARDIS far behind them.

But too late he realised the terrible secret of this place. It was designed to draw you in, an elaborate snare to dull and lure the senses, until eventually it completely took over your mind and left you at their mercy. He had lost Ana early on, before he even really knew what was happening. The signs had been almost too subtle to notice at first – a slight widening of her eyes, an exhilarated flush on her cheeks, a quickening in her respiration, a peculiar intensity in her expression.

But then she had turned on him and his nightmare had begun.

Now she was out there with them, between him and the TARDIS, waiting and watching, circling like sharks that had tasted blood. The Master ran his shaking hands through his ash-blonde hair. He thought back over the last nine hundred years of his life, a tapestry of events flashing before his eyes. He knew he hadn't exactly been a good person. Yeah, OK, probably a lot of the stuff he'd done could even be construed as downright evil, depending on your point of view. But surely not even he deserved this. Nobody deserved this.

Then there was a rattle of rings and the curtain was torn back, leaving his hiding place fully exposed and with an ominous sinking sensation he knew it was all over. Ana stood there, her arms crossed as she surveyed him sternly, flanked by two of them, one on each side of her. There was nowhere to run. He was trapped.

"Haven't you tried that shirt on yet?" she said in an exasperated tone, clicking her tongue impatiently. "There's no point just sitting there sulking. Honestly, Koschei, it's worse than shopping with a toddler."

Turning to the beaming shop assistant on her left, she grabbed another bundle of clothes and brandished them triumphantly. "Hurry up, then, I've got another three here for you to try on when you're finished." Seeing the look of abject terror on his face, her smile widened maliciously, her green eyes dancing with wicked merriment. "And guess what? This one comes with a free bow tie!"

The Master gave an involuntary moan of defeated horror, deep in his throat. Of all the tortures ever devised for a man throughout the history of the Universe, shopping with a woman had to be the worst.