Other character include Jack Harkness, Torchwood, Martha Jones and other characters. Warning: some parts of this stort will be rated M but mostly rated T.
Jack sighed and looked out of the window of the small craft as it skimmed the surface of the water.
He could see of the lights of the Capitol in the distance and his stomach fluttered with nerves.
He looked away and closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to another time; a happier time; a time when the smile of a certain person would chase away the demons and the monsters that lived in the darkest recesses of your dreams.
He opened his eyes again when craft banked sharply.
"Sorry, they've changed the security sweep since the last assassination attempt."
Jack became alert then. "Assassination?"
"Yeah, stupid rebs, thought they could kill him when he went for his morning walk."
"Who?" Jack sat forward.
"His Consort, the one that calls himself the Doctor," the pilot snorted.
"Was he hurt?" Jack's heart raced.
"Wounded, so the rumours say. No-one really knows, the rebs were strung from the palace walls the same day. We were lucky to get before the Master went on the rampage."
Jack let out a relieved breath...he wasn't dead.
"How many escaped?"
"About a hundred, it was sheer luck that the main group were out in the wastelands. I'll drop you just outside the east sluice gate. One of our spies will meet you there."
Jack nodded and let his eyes close again; it might be a while before he could close them again.
The Master woke suddenly, sensing that something was out of place. He looked over to his right; one side of the bed was empty.
He sat up and quickly scanned the room. The doors to the balcony were open and he could see him silhouetted in the moonlight.
He sighed and slid out of the bed and walked out onto the balcony. He wrapped his arms around the slim figure and pressed his mouth into the slender neck.
"Come back to bed, you need your sleep."
The figure tensed a little when he felt strong arms around him and shivered when a breeze played across his skin.
"I can't sleep."
The Master breathed in deep and the spice-like scent of his lover filled his nostrils.
"You must or you'll get sick and I don't want you to get sick."
His lover let out a laugh. "But you love looking after me when I'm sick."
"Yes, but the servants don't like it. You get grouchy and throw things at them and grouchy staff makes for dissention. Now come back to bed."
His lover sighed and nodded and let the Master lead him back to bed. He lay on his side and tried to relax, but a tremble ran through him.
"Ssh now," the Master said and moulded his body against his lover's. "Sleep now, no-one can hurt you here Doctor."
Jack sprinted away from the shuttle that lifted off as soon as he'd stepped out. There was only a small gap between the patrols and he really didn't want the pilot or himself to be caught.
He tried to make as little noise as possible as he walked through the steady trickle of water. He stopped when he saw a figure move in the shadows.
"Nice night for a stroll," Jack said.
"Only if you're a bat," the figure answered.
Jack smiled. "Captain Jack Harkness."
"I could have guessed that. My name is Matthew."
Jack shook his hand and noticed the tattoo on his wrist. "You work in the palace?"
"I'm just one of the household staff. Their personal servants are mind-read, I wouldn't pass the test. I can only take you as far as the safe house. It won't be long before I'm missed."
Jack nodded and followed him along the pipe and into the city.
They skirted the main street as it would certainly be patrolled and kept to the back alleys.
The smells of rotting meat and other less pleasant odours assaulted Jack's nose...this was the reality for those that weren't part of the elite or were not willing to sell their souls to the Devil and his Advocate.
Matthew had stopped outside one of the houses and was rapping on the door. Jack heard the shunk of a lock and low whispered words between Matthew and someone else.
He gestured to Jack and he followed; more than a little nervous. He knew who he'd left in charge, knew who he'd left behind.
"Hello Jack," a voice said from the dark of the room they'd stepped into.
"Ianto," Jack said quietly.
The room had emptied apart from a few of the senior members of the rebel group.
"I wasn't expecting you to come back, not after the fall of Beijing," Ianto said, the anger in his voice more than evident.
Jack went to touch his face but he recoiled and gave him a 'don't touch' glare.
"I'm sorry for that, but there was so much carnage. I got stuck behind enemy lines, they wouldn't let me, forced me to go."
Ianto grunted and seemed to change the subject. "So, what does bring you back?"
"That can wait, I was told there was an assassination attempt on the Doctor, was that your idea?"
Ianto looked at Jack and could see the hard edge on the lines of his face.
"If I had, I would have shot him in the head, no regeneration," Ianto snapped.
Jack sat back, the bitterness in Ianto's voice not really surprising him. It was a huge burden when you were the only one of a handful of people who knew the truth; knew that this wasn't the true reality.
So he could forgive Ianto his anger and his fear.
"Yes, you would. So someone else is trying to stop them. Do you have any idea who?"
Ianto didn't reply at first, almost looking uncomfortable at giving an answer.
"Ianto, who?" Jack pressed.
"We think, well I think and he's the only one who could. I think it's him,"
Ianto paused and let Jack work it out for himself.
Jack stopped breathing for a second. "White Coat."
The Master lay awake, his arm protectively covering his lover. His hand touched the still lived scar that ran across his belly.
He snarled silently and his anger spiked for a few moments and his whole body tensed...only he had the right to harm his lover.
The Doctor stirred in his sleep and whimpered in Gallifreyan.
The Master tightened his hold on him and tried to quench the anger running through him. The dreams the Doctor was having were getting more frequent, just like his psychotic outbursts.
The wrongness of him still made the Master quiver; the insanity was like knives driven into his skull, almost drowning out the drumming.
He knew it was wrong, knew that this shouldn't be. Knew that he should rid the Doctor of his sickness.
But he couldn't.
He would lose his lover and the only other of his kind. But most of all, he would lose his new Empire.
It was the Doctor's insanity that held the paradox in place...the Doctor was the paradox.