'what is it with you and prisons?'
In the early evening hours, when one of the Gallifreyan suns has already set and the other was about to follow, the hallways of the Academy seemed completely abandoned. Being Time Lords, its inhabitants didn't need much sleep at all, but they sure cherished their privacy. Once the daily duties were over, students and professors alike hid in their personal rooms, alone with their books and their thoughts. And that was the perfect time to sneak out.
Theta Sigma was practically crawling through the library, careful not to make any sounds. This was the shortest route to his destination, but it wasn't the easiest one. Even though he knew it like the back of his hand, he kept stumbling into something and hitting his toes and ankles. Theta wasn't used to his limbs being that long. In fact his own anatomy stopped making sense to him some time ago. At the delicate age of 102, most students were just starting to shed their childlike features, but he seemed to have gone through puberty overnight. And it wasn't helping him stay unnoticed.
Once the library was behind him, the task was fairly simple. As long as he doesn't stumble into an adult, he should be fine. He stayed close to the wall, almost holding his breath in excitement. Finally he could see a faint light in one of the corridors. He smirked, making a left turn, and a minute later he was in front of a heavy wooden door.
Koschei was in detention again. This time he became a prisoner after a real act of heroism – taking the blame of their shared crime all on himself. Theta was grateful. Only one of their professors weren't satisfied with the punishment. 'It is unlikely that the walls of this ancient room will ever be restored to their original colors'. Nevertheless, detention was the only price he paid.
The room had no windows, only one locked door and a layer of isolation in the walls. It blocked out light, sound and even telepathic waves, so that the person inside couldn't communicate with others in any way. Two people were in possession of the key, and they kept it with them at all times. Two people, and also Theta Sigma. One time he nicked the key right off the belt of an old Time Lord, and made a copy using a piece of stolen equipment from the time capsule workshop. He returned the original before its owner even noticed. The copy was crude, but, astonishingly enough, it worked perfectly.
-Surprise! – He stepped over the threshold and quickly closed the door behind him.
-Hardly a surprise. – Koschei replied, not even bothering to turn his head in the right direction. – You've been doing this for years.
-Does that mean you aren't glad to see me? – Theta asked.
-Depends on what you brought with you.
-Some decent food.
-Okay.
-A new book, fresh from the library.
-Sure.
-And math homework.
-Well now you're talking!
They sat together on the bed, and Koschei went over the connected module of computable 7-chains elements for the third time while Theta pretended not to understand it. Koschei was beyond outstanding at math. Their mathematics professor was almost afraid of him. 'With a talent like that', she said, 'he has the power to do anything: solve unsolvable equations, hack into the Matrix, and maybe even conquer an entire planet with a single string of digits'. Koschei pretended not to care.
-I'm sorry you ended up in here. Alone. – Theta suddenly interrupted him. – I meant to say 'me too', but the words got stuck in my throat.
-It's okay. – Koschei shrugged. – It was worth it.
-Sure. – He grinned. – Borusa was proper mad. And Rani was kinda jealous.
-You know, Thete, I think this Academy will remember our names long after we graduate. Or in your case, long after you get kicked out for terrible grades.
-Shut up. – Theta laughed. – But yeah, I think you're right. We sure make a long-lasting impression. – He paused. – By the way, I didn't come here so that you could help me with math.
-I know that, silly. You came because you wanted to see me. And that's fine, - he assured him, - I wanted to see you too.
-You did?
-Of course. We're best friends.
The coat that the Doctor held in his hand was brushing against the dirty floor, sending small clouds of dust into the air. He grunted and put the coat back on. This part of the prison hasn't been used for years, so no one bothered to clean it anymore. Still, it was the only way to get to the Master's cell with a minimum of witnesses.
He touched his grey, curly hair to make sure he didn't look too messy, and put on a warm small. He wasn't big on politeness, but if he wanted the guard to keep his secret, he needed to be nice.
-Good morning, lieutenant. –The Doctor said. – Nice weather today. Why don't you go for a walk?
-Third time this month. – The lieutenant shook his head. – You're quickly becoming a regular.
-Our agreement still stands, doesn't it? – The Doctor put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small envelope.
-Sure it does. – Lieutenant carefully took the envelope out of the Doctor's hand and smiled. – And I think I'll be here, just in case.
It isn't difficult to please people when you have a time machine – even if it is currently stuck on Earth. Some people want money, some want information, and some want power. Lieutenant Rogers though, he wanted rare postal stamps. It was a simple request, morally unsoiled, and easy to fulfill. He let the Doctor in and didn't tell anyone about it, and the UNIT scientific adviser brought him his precious stamps. A modest and elegant deal.
The Doctor always entered the prison cell like he owned the place. There was something delightful about having the Master to his disposition, metaphorically chained to one place, as was the Doctor himself. On some days he loathed his exile, and that's when he came here, to, somehow, for some reason, make it better. Each time he brought gifts, small tokens of appreciation for the Master's company: a box of cigars, a few books, even a houseplant to cheer up the prison cell. This time he brought a mini set of chess, and soon regretted the decision.
-Checkmate. – The Master proclaimed, proudly, and pulled the board closer to himself. – In case you get an impulse to kick over the board before I can savor my victory.
The Doctor smiled. He hated losing at chess, which is why he tried not to play with other Time Lords. Today he was too bored to be annoyed.
-Next time we will play Chinese checkers. I doubt you are smart enough for those.
-Still hoping to find a game that I can't beat you at? – The Master asked. – Well, that will take a long time.
-Good thing you aren't going anywhere then.
And calmly, they set the board for another game.
The Master wasn't sure why he put up with those visits. There was something ever so humiliating about them: the Doctor coming in whenever he pleased, bringing bribes, and keeping the whole thing a secret. But for some reason he always felt excited when he heard the door click open. Perhaps he needed some distraction, some mental stimulation to keep him from becoming lazy. Perhaps, on some level, he simply wanted him around.
-Next time I want scotch. – The Master tells him, when the Doctor is about to leave.
-It's in a glass bottle. The guard might have a problem with that.
-Pour it in a plastic one then. And make sure it is a proper drink, not something you can buy in a corner store.
-Is it a ploy of some sort? A part of a plan?
The Master chuckled, enjoying the confused expression on the Doctor's face.
-Oh, my dear Doctor, you have no idea what I'm planning.
The Doctor pretended not to notice the iconic evil laugh.
-Good afternoon to you, then. – He said, closing the cell door behind him.
-Till the next time. – The Master whispered.
Once again, he was left alone with his thoughts.
The Canis Minor asteroid cluster was the grimmest, most miserable place for hundreds of light years away. Nobody came here by choice – they were dragged, tied and screaming, from one spaceship to the other, until they were locked in a tiny room. This wasn't your usual high security prison. It was hell on Earth – or, rather, on an asteroid.
The Doctor walked down the steps, clutching his security pass in his hand. His palms were sweating, and not because it was hot. He wasn't sure coming here was a good idea. Standing in front of another metal door, he took the celery leaf off his jacket and put in the pocket of his trousers. The vegetable looked too much like the plant of Aerisa, a known symbol of humanoid elitism – something the slug-like guards would not appreciate.
After numerous checks and signed protocols, the Doctor was finally allowed to enter one of the cells. It was unnaturally bright, and contained only the bare necessities any living thing required. And there, on the simple metal bed, sat a person who wore the face of the Tremas of Traken, but was usually referred to as the Master.
-Will you believe that? – The Master's mouth stretched in a pretentious smile. – I have a visitor. And such visitor!
-Don't tell me you're glad to see me. – The Doctor said, not taking even a step closer.
-I won't. – He assured him. – What did I do to deserve such an honor?
-I guess I wanted to make sure it was really you they captured. I had my doubts.
-Do you believe it now? – He asked. – I could be a hologram. Or an android.
-Don't flatter yourself on your ingenuity. I know your brain print. I can feel you.
-Sounds very intimate.- The Master replied, almost whispering. – Yet you can never see through my disguise. Why is that?
-Take a guess. Maybe I am an idiot. Maybe I just don't want to.
For some reason, it always came down to this. They were enemies, arch enemies even, but they struggled so much to truly hate each other. Were there rivalry, daring fights, even murder attempts? Sure. And still they couldn't find it in themselves to loathe each other, no matter how hard they tried to convince others, or believe it themselves.
-So, how come you let yourself get caught?
-A villain must keep his secrets. – The Master told him. – But I'll give you a hint: you can meet the most interesting people in prison.
-Oh, right. – The Doctor smiled. – Making new friends then. Who will be your 'allies' now? Cybermen? The Rutans? Maybe the Autons again?
-You'll find out soon enough. A good plan takes time.
-Well, at least the universe can relax a little while you're here. It is so calm out there when you're not around.
-Boring, perhaps. – The Master smirked. – Like during a commercial break. The part everyone wants to mute and skip. – He looked the Doctor in the eyes. – Peace doesn't suit you, Doctor. It is not challenging enough for you.
-Compliments now? – The Doctor laughed. – So unlike you.
-On the contrary. I'd be a fool if I didn't appreciate worthy competition.
-I guess I should leave before you talk me into taking part in your schemes.
-I can't keep you here. – The Master shrugged. – Don't forget to write!
The Doctor stood outside of the cell, his back to the door. The Master laid on the cold metal bed and stared at the ceiling. Both wanted to go back. Both didn't know why. Both understood with bitter clarity that they absolutely couldn't.
-What a beautiful day to ruin lives!
The Master was back from his regular inspection of the Valiant. Not trusting his servants anymore, he checked everything for himself. This time he was satisfied with what he saw. Jack Harkness was still chained to a wall, right where he belonged, the engines were in perfect condition, and Martha Jones's pathetic family was under his total control. Lucy was concerning him - she seemed more tired and less engaged every day – but he stuffed those thoughts deep into his mind, and tried to focus on the positives.
-Good morning to you too. – The Master said, looking at the Doctor.
He sat in his wheelchair, silently, as if nothing was happening. The Doctor knew that the Master wanted attention above all, so he was sure not to give him any. Every time the Master would bring him coffee (which he knew the Doctor hated) and a fresh news report about all the deaths and suffering on his Earth (which he knew the Doctor hated much more). Nobody knew if it was an elaborate torture, or if the Master genuinely expected the Doctor to enjoy the 'gifts'.
As he drank his own coffee, the Master babbled about his new victories, plans and worries. His monologues kept getting more and more incoherent, but he didn't seem to notice it. He knew very well that the Doctor wasn't listening, yet he insisted on these one-sided conversations. He just wasn't quite sure if he really wanted the Doctor to respond.
-Oh, Doctor, why can't you see the beauty of it all? I will bring Gallifrey back! Isn't that what you wanted, ever since the Time War? – He sighed. – You make exceptionally boring company, do you know that? – He smiled. – Well, look at how tables have turned. You're the prisoner now.
-What is it with you and prisons? – This was the first thing the Doctor has said in weeks.
Intrigued, the Master quickly left the table and took a seat near the Doctor's wheelchair.
-Care to elaborate on that?
-It's almost as if you prefer enclosed spaces. Have you developed agoraphobia somewhere along the way? Must be difficult being the ruler of the universe when all you want to do is hide.
-I don't wanna hide! – He was quick to lose temper. – I want to stand tall, as the owner of every star, planet and speck of dust in his world.
-How can you stand tall when you're so short? – The Doctor asked. – You have always been short. You know it.
The Doctor expected an outburst of rage from his oldest enemy. Instead, he got a hysterical laugh.
-Do you seriously think that petty insults will get to me? – The Master shook his head. – Oh, so adorably naïve. You've got nothing, Doctor. No friends, no weapons, no TARDIS and no hope.
-No. – The Doctor agreed. – But I haven't lost everything yet. You're still alive.
He looked directly at the Master, and there was so much pain and so much suffering in his eyes, that it made them both freeze for a few seconds.
-Let's run away. – The Doctor placed his wrinkly hand on top of the Master's gloved palm. – Like in the old times. Let's leave everything behind and take off. I don't care if you need to blow up a planet every now and then, I won't even judge you. Just leave Earth alone.
-You, mister high moral grounds, will travel with me, a known murderer? – The Master smiled with a corner of his mouth.
-I have murdered our entire species. – The Doctor replied. – We are the only ones left.
For a moment, there was a spark in the Master's eyes. For a moment, a tiny piece of his old self was alive in his mind. The Doctor. Why did he hate him so much? Because he run away all these years ago, and didn't take him? Or because he refused to share his new, magnificent way of life, over and over again? Or maybe because right now, the Master was ready to abandon many months of work, and run away with him, and never look back.
But the drums got louder in his head, and he quickly removed his hand.
-I can't. – He said, getting up. – I've got things to do, and a planet to rule. Join me whenever you want.
And he walked away, closing the blinds, flicking the light switch and leaving the Doctor alone in the dark.
It was funny that not a single person in the university has ever found the vault. Sure, it was much bigger on the inside, but it was big enough on the outside as well – yet no-one has asked him about it, or acknowledged its existence. For more than fifty years by now he came there almost every day, and the only people who knew were him, Nardole and the occupant of the vault.
The Doctor stopped in front of the door, huge cardboard box in his hands, and knocked on it with his foot.
-Wash your hands! – He yelled, in case she was far away from the door. – I brought pizza. The good kind, with extra cheese - and hopefully no employee hair this time.
She wasn't replying, so he pressed his ear against the door, and heard music. Movement two, sonata eight, Beethoven. That's how he knew she was expecting him: Missy didn't care much for Beethoven, but she knew he was the Doctor's favorite. With a soft smile on his face, he opened the door and stepped in.
They ate the pizza and talked about nonsense, completely consumed by the peculiar conversation that made sense only to them. The Doctor could never think he would be content with staying on Earth for so long, and Missy could never think she would be fine with being confined to what was essentially a prison cell – yet here they were. Eating, chatting, and perfectly accepting of their current situation.
-Why do you look so gloomy? – The Doctor asked, once he finished the last slice. – Is the cable glitching again? I'll fix it. Wouldn't want you to miss out on Grey's Anatomy.
-It's not the cable. – She replied.
-What is it then?
-I wish I could listen to your lectures. I've heard you're a real star.
The Doctor didn't ask to clarify where she has heard that.
-Well, I have my talents. – He said.
-It is hilarious, isn't it? – She continued. – Who would have thought that after being absolutely terrible at the Academy they would make you a professor?
-This is twenty first century Earth physics. – The Doctor replied. – A thirty year old Time Lord child could teach it.
-And they would be better at it, no doubt. – She smiled.
Insults and bickering were their usual way of interaction. At the end of the day no one was really hurt by it.
-Do you miss the old times? – Missy asked, looking away for some reason.
The Doctor sighed. – Honestly? No.
-Why?
-Because nothing has changed, has it? It is you and me, together, stuck in an educational facility, and I'm sneaking in to bring food to your detention room. We've gone full circle.
Missy laughed, and the Doctor laughed, and it was such a rare, bittersweet moment, neither of them wanted to ruin it with words. It was as if all the years of hatred, regret, rivalry and mutual murder attempts haven't existed. Today they were Theta Sigma and Koschei again.
When the Doctor was leaving, Missy stood near the exit and silently watched his every move.
-Gotta go now. – The Doctor said, feeling a little bit guilty. – Professor duties.
Missy smiled. – I'm glad. – She said.
-Glad to sit in here for a thousand years?
-Glad that we are best friends.
Out of the infinite amount of lies she has ever told, this was the truest thing she said in her life.