Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the BBC, really, everything, and Matt Smith is creepy …
Rating: T, I think … no change planned right now …
Summary: The Master, the Doctor: the last two Timelords are travelling the universe, discovering and saving worlds … everything seems fine … isn't it? Sequel to my "Two Sides of the Same Coin"
A/N: Yeah, I'm finally back! Well … after all, I promised it, didn't I?
If you don't know "Two Sides of the Same Coin" yet, please go and read it. This story is probably also understandable if you haven't read the first part, but there will be some points where it will be complete rubbish without the knowledge.
Anyway, I'm getting epic with this story. I have so many ideas for it that I think about dividing this second part so it will become a trilogy. I'm still not sure about it, though, because there is no moment in it planned were I could make a "break" …
However, there are still many little holes to fill in my great big plan, and I'm just two chapters ahead with the German original (any German readers, go to my profile and click on the link, I know you want to…) so please don't expect a quick update. Additionally, university is still breathing down my neck and tortures me with exams and homework, but I'll try and write as quickly as I can.
Again, oddood was my little magic beta. Thank you that you still let me pester you with my ideas, and also a great, big "Thank you" to all the readers who returned and, hopefully, are enjoying the sequel :D
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A Threat Unseen
Chapter One – It's just a beginning
The door had barely closed behind the Master when the Doctor started the time-engine and transported them out of this unfortunate incident.
"First laserguns on Sa-Nox and now muskets on your beloved earth in the 17th century … I'm actually thinking about New Earth being a better idea after all!" The Master took in a deep breath, leaning back on the cool wood at his back, exhausted from the run. This had been tight, really, bloody tight …
"Yeah, this time I blabbed it … I did completely forget that the Spanish were so superstitious." The Doctor grinned and looked at the other Time Lord for the first time since he had sprinted into the Tardis; but he didn't like what he saw: The Master had his eyes closed, pressing his hand on his left shoulder, his face tensed and unusually pale.
"Everything alright?"
The Master opened his eyes, looking at the Doctor out of small slots. "Yes, yes, I'm just not used to running all day long for my dear life", he answered cynically.
The Doctor went round the control desk of the Tardis and towards his comrade. "Master, don't try to lie to me." Almost a yard away from the other Time Lord he stopped and pointed at the Master's left shoulder. "Did you get hurt?"
"Just a scratch." The Master seemed to cling on his shoulder even more tightly.
"Let me see." Another step; the Doctor was now really close, too close.
"Stop badgering me!" The Master took automatically his right hand to push the Doctor away and left a bloody stain on the chest of the Timelord.
"Shit."
"You're bleeding!"
"Wow, what a realization!" The Master pressed his hand quickly back on the wound and ignored the blood running down his arm. "Apparently not all of those stupid soldiers were bad at aiming."
On the Doctor's face was every aspect of worry, fear and pity visible. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I can take care of myself pretty well", the Master muttered as he pushed himself slightly off the door and setting his sight on the entrance to the corridors, but suddenly the world span before his eyes and his legs felt like rubber. He realized that he fell, how the grating under his feet came nearer and nearer, but there was no impact, something prevented him from it …
The Doctor had caught him, trying not to fell down himself despite of the additional weight of the Master.
"I don't think so…" the Doctor groaned and attempted to help the Time Lord in his arms back on his feet. "Off to the Med Bay with you; there I can treat your wound."
The Master sighed, giving up. Arguing now was completely senseless, he couldn't even stand upright, let alone comment on the actions of the Doctor sarcastically … Additionally, Yana was right, even Time Lords could die of a too high loss of blood.
Bloody damned, everything.
+M*D+
"Argh!"
The Master pulled a face and clenched his teeth. Why the hell had he to insist on doing this without any local anaesthetic?
"Keep still, unless you want it to hurt even more."
Again, warm blood flowed down the Master's arm and torso. He sat on the operating table of the Med Bay and clung desperately onto the small rest of dignity that was left inside of him. His shirt and hoodie lay cut into two next to him, and the Doctor poked in the wound in his left shoulder for a seemingly endless eternity.
"At last…" The Doctor let the lead bullet fall into the bowl on the table together with the bloodstained tweezers, and finally turned away the too bright operating light, so that the Master could see the worry in the other Time Lord's face. The wound shouldn't bleed anymore, actually …
The Doctor pressed a cotton wool pad carefully on the shoulder. "Could you just put a finger on that, I have to choose a fitting needle." The Master followed the instruction with a quiet mumbling, but noticed after a few seconds that his fingertips were already wet. Damn, why did this always happen to him?
"Thanks, that's enough." The Doctor was next to him again and had a small plastic packet in his gloved right hand. "You don't want an anaesthetic for this, either?" He took the needle out of the packaging and peeled the blood-soaked pad of the wound with the other hand.
"I'm not a kid anymore, just start." The Master closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The Doctor knew what he was doing…
The first stitch into his skin hurt a little, but it was more endurable than the endless poking in the bullet wound. The Doctor sutured with an accustomed, even rhythm; stitch, knot, next stitch. The injury wasn't that big, but a fine suture ensured that the Master didn't die of losing too much blood.
For a few minutes it was completely quiet; the Doctor concentrating on his work and the Master listening into himself. He searched for any sign, the famous little itching in the stomach which every Time Lord sooner or later felt when he or she was wounded. It could be suppressed if the injury was small, and only if it was life-threatening this inner energy was stronger than any mind's control, however … there was nothing. Really, nothing, not even a tiny little spark which could accelerate the healing … just … emptiness …
Besides, after this whole dilemma he heard Koschei again, slightly laughing, and the drums, deep, deep below, not much louder than his own heartbeat, and that nearly … frightened him more than his sudden incompetence to regenerate. And he hated it so much to be frightened.
He sighed again as the Doctor just made the last knot.
"Everything alright?" the Doctor asked concernedly and looked up, but the other Time Lord shook his head a bit, a grim smile on his lips.
"Yeah, everything alright with me!" he said sarcastically. "I was only shot by a bloody rifleman who wouldn't strike a Slitheen on the distance of two yards, I'm bleeding like a pig and on top of all, you ruined my clothes!" He took in a deep breath and rubbed his eyes with thumb and index finger of his free hand. "And I have a hell of a headache…"
"This could be because of the blood you lost." The Doctor reached for the dressing material, and started to wrap the first layer of gauze around the Master's shoulder. "You should rest and sleep a bit, so the wound can heal quicker."
You shouldn't be so confident about that, the Master thought, but just shook his head and said grimly: "I won't take orders from you."
"Master, please…" The Doctor stopped for a moment, carefully holding the half unrolled bandage. "You're my patient, and it's also partly my fault–"
"Your fault?" the Master interrupted the other Time Lord harshly before the latter could drown in his own sentimental blabbering. "As far as I can remember I did voluntarily choose to join into this madness. So patch me up as good as you can, and if my doctor insists on it," he rolled his eyes and sighed, "I will go into my room for four hours and won't make a single sound. But not one second longer!" He tried to look at the Doctor as dangerously as possible, but he was quite sure that he looked more like wretchedness in person right now as the world-controlling Master of all.
"Right, four hours." The Doctor nodded smiling and unrolled the last bit of the gauze. He fixed the whole thing with two little clips and then patted gently the Master's other shoulder. "Already done!" The Doctor turned, grinned, pulled off the gloves and hummed some silly earth song while he cleared up the operating table.
The other Time Lord just sighed. Great, the Doctor had found his good mood again. He looked to the side where the sad remains of his clothes lay. He lifted his beloved hoodie carefully, but the fact hadn't changed that he could use it maybe as a fashionable jacket now or … as a rag.
"Here, for the dried blood." Suddenly the Doctor stood next to him, holding out some wet tissue papers. "Shall I go and look for a sling for your arm?"
"Did I already say that I can take perfectly care of myself?" the Master mumbled, but took the papers and started to wipe the crimson traces off his arm and side.
"Yep, you did, and I will do only one more thing…" The Doctor leaned behind the Master and grabbed the destroyed clothes. "I will give those to the Tardis; she is just magnificent in mending!" He grinned his famous 100-watt grin and put the clothes on a small table where normally the surgical instruments lay. The pile of cloth shimmered for a moment and vanished into thin air.
"You'll leave my clothes to a ship?" the Master yelled, utterly stunned, and threw the papers into the bin without looking. "What did you teach your Tardis beside that? Can she also cook?"
"Oi, I'm a very good cook myself!" The Doctor turned to the Master indignantly.
"Yeah, and it's very likely that you even burn the water!" the Master giggled and let himself carefully slid down of the operating table. He felt well, actually, but falling again literally into the Doctor's arms … no, he had a tiny bit of his dignity left, and he wanted to keep it, thank you very much.
"Oh, shall I prove you the opposite? What's your favourite meal?" The Doctor was miffed; he didn't like it when such untruths were spread about him
"Fast food lady, well-done" the Master said, grinning wolfishly. He had straightened himself a bit; still not really sure if his legs would carry him.
The Doctor pulled a face and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "No endangered or protected species."
"Oh, how sad…" The Master's grin became even wider, making him a perfect imitation of the Cheshire Cat. "Not even a teensy weensy finger?"
"Master, stop it."
"Aw, you're such a drag." He took a slow step towards the Doctor; another one and was very relieved that he did not collapse again. But he surely looked still very miserable, only half clothed, his shoulder bandaged, and probably patches of dried blood all over his body. "But it was just an honest answer to your question."
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Then it was a stupid question."
The Master stopped barely a yard in front of the other Time Lord. "The Doctor asks a stupid question? Oh, what has happened to the genius of the Prydonian Chapter?"
"He has grown up. And now out!" The Doctor was behind the Master within the blink of the eye and pushed him out of the room with gentle force.
"Grown up? You mean old!" The Master grinned as they stood in the hallway. He looked around; let's find out where the Tardis had hidden his room this time.
"Hey, who is old? As far as I can remember you're three months older than me!"
"As if three months would be important when it's 970 years!" He turned his back at the Doctor and took the corridor to his left. It didn't look so … dark.
"It's only 907!" the Doctor shouted after him.
The Master was already halfway down the corridor, but giggled at this comment and stretched out his hand and wiggled with his index finger reproachfully. "There is someone still lying about his age!" He did not turn, but could perfectly imagining the Doctor blushing as red as a tomato.
"Oi!"
However, the Master was already around the corner, and the Doctor realized that every further discussion with the other Time Lord was the most senseless and useless undertaking in the whole wide universe.
They both knew each other too well, so many, too many little secret details of the life of the other one, almost as if they were … married.
A chill ran down the Doctor's spine at this thought. Bad thought. Concentrate on something other. Bananas. Always good. Banana yoghurt? Even better.
He turned right, heading towards the kitchen. Let's see how filled his stocks of banana yoghurt were.
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I just remembered that I can't speak "clothes" out loud without accidently biting my tongue off. The more I try it, the more awkward it sounds … German hasn't got the "th"-sound, and the additional soft "s" makes it even more difficult … sorry, I'm rambling …
Anyway … there are two polls for you on my profile. Just do me the favour and go there, make two clicks, so I know what you think.
Oh, and don't forget to review! Reviews are love … and you'll even get answers this time, promised!