Title: Passage
Author: Skye Aerrow
Rating: K+
Warnings (if any): Brief mention of death
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, and I am in no way affiliated with the BBC.
Summary: The Doctor and the Master had everything in common until they both turned eight.
"Passage"
By Skye Aerrow
They were eight years old, and it was the middle of the afternoon.
The twin suns blazed hot overhead in a cloudless sky when the people came to take the Master away. He and the Doctor had been playing a traditional Gallifreyan card game. The older Time Lords grabbed the Master under the arms and carried him away, kicking and screaming. The Doctor remained seated on the ground. The cards disappeared into the pocket of his robe.
They were nine years old, and it was early morning.
The Master met the Doctor in an abandoned field on the outskirts of the city. In his hands, he held a shovel and what looked to be a shoebox. The Doctor approached him with his hands in his pockets.
"I'm sorry," said the Doctor.
"It's part of life," the Master said. "Everything has its time."
Pensive, the Doctor stood idle as the Master dug a hole in the sweet-smelling grass. "Suppose you could get another one someday."
The shovel went in and out of the dirt. Dark earth piled up beneath the Master's shovel. "No," he said. "I'm too old to have another pet."
They were ten years old, and it was midnight.
The roof was rough beneath their backs as they sprawled out on top of the schoolhouse. Eagerly, they took turns naming constellations and guessing how far away each galaxy was.
"Someday," said the Doctor, "I'm going to run away."
The Master laughed, but it was mirthless. "Every day," he said, "I tell myself the very same."
They were eleven years old, and it was evening.
The suns were starting their descent, and the Doctor was waiting for the Master to come outside. He had been with the older Time Lords for the whole day. As soon as he came out, they were going to go swimming in the glittering lake near the old abandoned field.
When the Master finally emerged from the big double doors, his face was drawn and the color of snow. "I'm tired," he said. "No swimming today."
The Doctor reached for his friend and pulled him into a hug. Once the Master felt the Doctor's hearts, he screamed and twisted away from him. "No!"
The Doctor looked at him in horror and confusion.
They were twelve years old, and it was the middle of the night.
The Doctor threw pebbles at the Master's bedroom window until he poked his head out into the darkness.
"What are you doing, you idiot?" he asked.
The Doctor grinned up at him. "I want to look for a TARDIS."
The Master scoffed. "They're locked, you moron."
"You assume they're locked."
"They're always locked!"
"Quiet down," the Doctor said. The folds of his robe billowed softly around him. A cloud passed in front of the moon, blocking out all light. "Are you coming or not?"
The Master drummed his fingers against the windowsill, lost in thought. A familiar four beats emerged from his fingers and frightened him so badly that he slammed the window shut.
They were thirteen years old, and it was just before sunrise.
The Doctor had gone to say goodbye to the Master, but he refused to come out of his house. In lieu of never speaking to him again, the Doctor made do by pressing himself against the Master's bedroom door.
"I'm stealing a TARDIS, and I'm running away. You might not see me ever again."
The Master sniffed, but he didn't reply. In his head, the drumming grew louder and louder.
The End