AN: Written for The Muse Bunny's prompt contest. Prompt: kiss.
The Master is trying to escape.
And so far, he considers, he's doing a marvellous job of it.
The Doctor lies face-down on the grass at his feet, clutching at his stomach in agony as the Master looms over him and laughs. They've been in the TARDIS together for months -- or what passes for months to time-travellers -- and although the Doctor has the controls on isomorphic, commandeering the TARDIS isn't the only way for the Master to free himself.
Most of the time, he'd be allowed to wander, through the long corridors and the vast rooms -- bedrooms, libraries, kitchenettes, even a zeppelin hangar although the Master still can't fathom why -- and he'd find things. A piece of wire here, an old circuit board there. He'd collect them, bits and pieces that were harmless on their own, probably things the Doctor had long since forgotten were there, and he'd tinker.
Now he stands on this windswept hill on some far off planet whose name doesn't matter, clutching his new laser screwdriver, a makeshift thing made from junk that certainly isn't as good as the last, nor is it fatal, but it does the job well enough for the moment. He points it at the Doctor, hits him with another quick burst and smiles in satisfaction at the man's yelp of pain.
"Did you actually think it was going to work?" the Master taunts, sneering. "Did you really think I was going to let you keep me, just like that? Stay in the TARDIS with you like a good boy?" Another blast from the screwdriver, making the Doctor whimper. "Did you really expect me to follow you around like one of your humans, Doctor?"
The Doctor looks up at him with wide, baleful eyes. "No," he breathes, the wind still thoroughly knocked out of him. "No, I didn't. I expected you to realise."
The Master frowns. "Realise what?" he asks, although he's quite sure he knows what's coming.
"We're the only ones left now," the Doctor tells him weakly. "We need to stay together. We're all we've got."
He scoffs; he's heard all this before and it's not impressive or meaningful to him, or anything the Doctor's intending it to be. "I don't need you," the Master hisses, and knows it's a lie. He's always needed the Doctor, as the Doctor has always needed him. Two sides of the same coin, they are, the light and the shadow. Where one exists, the other is eternally never far behind. Well, that doesn't mean the Master has to like it.
Suddenly he's overcome by a powerful urge to kick the Doctor viciously right in his eternally lonely and well-meaning face, so he does. The Doctor gasps and rolls onto his back, clutching at his nose in a feeble attempt to stem the flow of blood. The Master smirks; he knows it's a petty thing to do, but really he's always wanted to do it. Besides, when he becomes Master of all the worlds of the multiverse, well. The pain the Doctor will feel then is going to more than make up for this juvenile instance.
Turning, the Master surveys the rolling yellow-green hills of this world, which is to be the first world of his new empire. It's nothing special yet, but oh, he'll make it so.
Turning, the Master will realise all too soon, was a mistake.
In an instant the Doctor is on his feet, trainers splodging on the dewy grass, and the Master barely has time to register the sound and whip round to face him before the Doctor has grabbed him by the lapels and is kissing him. He tastes coppery from the blood, but otherwise like honey and tea. It's a mad, furious, frantic kiss with all the loneliness and desperation that is the Doctor fed into it, and it makes the Master -- to his disgust -- go a little weak, grasping at the Doctor's coat.
A little weakness is all the Doctor needs. The floodgates of his mind open and the Master shudders as he's filled with all the Doctor's emotions and memories and impressions through the telepathic link all Time Lords share. There's sorrow and pain and misery, as the Master expects, but he's shocked at the happiness and admiration of life and the hope that swarm in as well. He pushes back as best he can, trying to shove his own pain at the Doctor, his madness, his malice and greed and envy and hate and the drumming, the ceaseless drumbeat that pounds in his head over and over, never leaving him, never releasing him. The Master feels the Doctor recoil beneath his hands, but still he maintains the kiss and the mental bond, taking the drumming into himself so that they share it and it's a little easier on the Master now, having a second mind to carry half the weight of the thing. He's not used to this feeling of relief and honestly it terrifies him.
Then he hears the Doctor's voice in his mind, and it flows with his own thoughts and becomes his voice speaking the Doctor's words.
(I can help you)
The Master wants to push him away now. Wants to run and run to the end of the universe just as he's done before, wants nothing more than to escape the Doctor and his forgiveness and his pity.
But he doesn't. And now the Doctor's breaking the kiss but the link between their minds remains, drumming and all, reaching across the gap, an intangible thread. The Doctor smiles earnestly. The Master smiles mockingly, but that's only to be expected.
They walk back to the TARDIS in silence and leave.
The Master doesn't try to escape for a long time, after that.
Fin.