Title: Déjà vu
Pairing: Doctor/Master, Master/OFC
Featuring: The Valeyard, the Master (unspecified but probably Simm!Master), Nine, Ten, Eleven. Mentions of Three, Eight, Twelve and Gene Hunt.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything
Warning: Slight spoilers for the End of Time pt 1.
Word count: 2, 288
Summary:In which the Master will argue that the Valeyard is probably not the most evil Time Lord ever but there is no doubt he's the most annoying Time Lord ever.
In which the Master will argue that the Valeyard is probably not the most evil Time Lord ever but there is no doubt he's the most annoying Time Lord ever.
*****
Since the drums were gotten rid of, the Master will admit that things have been better, that he's been better. Sure, he's no saint, he hasn't completely given up plans for universal domination, things still get blown up and the odd planet is taken over (peacefully), at least for a while. But mostly he has been good and there has been a marked decline in the number of deaths that are his fault. He hasn't even managed to get himself killed.
This though is enough to drive him back to evil, which may or may not be the ill-conceived plan, he's not entirely certain.
Right now he's lying on his back, on something suspiciously wet and mushy feeling, some light source is blinding him and the Valeyard is crouching over him, grinning manically and wearing his cape.
Rassilon, how he misses the Doctor. He never had to put up with this sort of rubbish with him.
"Master," the Valeyard says in greeting, inclining his head and grinning even wider.
"Valeyard," the Master returns tiredly, this is the 27th time now. He considers addressing him as Doctor, but that would most likely end with both of them being blown up in a fit of anger. Again.
He ignores the hand the Valeyard offers and hops to his feet. Then he looks down to see what he landed on and oh yes. It's guts.
It seems to be the body of some armadillo/jellyfish/umbrella henchman that the Valeyard is fond of these days. The only consolation the Master has is that while it has just ruined his suit jacket, his trousers are fine. On the other hand, this was his favourite jacket.
He glances around him, and finds that once again, the Valeyard has chosen a building not dissimilar to an abandoned aircraft hangar. He snorts; at least he chose different locations each time. There's some monstrosity of a machine chugging away in the centre of the room. The Valeyard's TARDIS is sitting in the background, a bright red police box now for some reason. The first chance he gets the Master is changing it back.
"Master, you're looking well," and the Valeyard manages a leer that would have made the rest of his regenerations faint. With embarrassment. Though, the Master supposes, a lifetime of celibacy and this was bound to happen.
The Master looks back towards him, "Valeyard, you're hair seems redder every time I see you," he lies smoothly.
This seems to be the right thing to say, although anytime the Master says the right thing now the Valeyard takes that as an invitation to "go ahead and shag me silly".
He steps forward presumably to kiss him, but the Master takes a step back and then runs his fingers over the Valeyard's chest when he sees him frown angrily.
"Darling," he says in his best syrupy sweet voice, "now's not the time, why have you called me here?"
The Valeyard chuckles, "you're right, now's not the time." He then spreads his arms, in what the Master assumes he thinks is an impressive gesture, "behold my doomsday machine!"
Doomsday machine? Again? Well, that is surprising; the Master thinks and rolls his eyes.
"With it, I shall harness the power of every sun in this galaxy!" then he drops his hands and looks at the Master, smugness all over his face, ""Master, join me, be part of my axis of evil."
Axis of evil?
The Master does what he does now when presented with such horrible clichés; he runs.
*****
Unfortunately, for him the armadillo/jellyfish/umbrella's (which are green incidentally) are quicker than they look and have rather big guns.
He is unsurprised when the Valeyard gives him a betrayed look, tuts condescendingly and says he should take some time to think about his generous offer (i.e. spend a few hours locked up in some poorly constructed cell. The longest it has taken him to escape yet is about two minutes).
This is unsurprising, as it has happened 17 out of the 28 times that the Master has found himself transported to some backwater planet to listen to the ramblings of a certain manic.
He refuses to believe that he deserves this; after all, it was the drums.
What is surprising though is that when he gets to the cell, it's not empty.
"Doctor...Doctors," he amends, "Nine, Ten," and crouching down to look at the man lying unconscious on the floor before standing up again, "and Eleven. Where is Twelve? I rather liked Twelve, he was the best dressed yet, quiet too."
Nine and Ten, who had been sitting side by side on a bench that ran along one wall, but pointedly not talking to each other, both jump up. Nicely complementing expressions of utter shock, confusion and anger on their faces.
He ignores the barrage of questions, threats and pleading, and hunkering down again, tilts Eleven's face to the side to get a better look at him, simple concussion it seems.
"What happened here? I rather like Eleven you know", then he glances up to see a rather guilty looking Ten rubs the back of his neck and then runs a hand sheepishly through his hair.
"Ah, I see."
He doesn't know why these particular versions of the Doctor are here, he wouldn't be surprised if the Valeyard, in a desperate attempt to rekindle their "relationship", had sought help from his past selves. If that is the case, the Master wonders why Three isn't here.
Ignoring them all he pulls his i-pod out of his trouser pocket and sits down on the bench against the opposite wall. His jacket makes a horrible squelch noise when he leans against the wall. He sighs, pulls off his jacket to examine the damage closely and then looks at the various Doctors.
"You," he says, not really addressing any one of him in particular, "will be hearing from my dry cleaner and possibly my tailor."
"Why?" asks Ten
"How are you alive?" Nine asks at the same time.
"Spoilers Nine," he tsks "and this is your fault" he gestures at the guts covered garment.
Various "What?" ring out, even from Eleven, who is still apparently unconscious.
"Ah music to my ears, but you're still paying for it."
Ten puffs himself up angrily, no doubt still miffed about the whole dying-in-his-arms- incident.
"I'm not paying for what some manic in a cape did you your suit."
The Master has a rather joyful thought, "You mean you don't know who the carrot top out there is?"
Confused faces and it looks like it will be a good day after all. Now how to break the news. Would it be better to let him/them figure it out, with a few helpful hints? Decisions, decisions.
"So you really don't know? Huh, not the brightest of your regenerations is it? I wish Eight was here, now he was bright, sexy too. He would have figured it out like that." He snaps his fingers to demonstrate "that".
"Lemme guess, you rather liked Eight did you?" Ten asks dryly, he seems to have elected to do the talking for himself/them. But then again no one else is going to get a word in edgeways with Ten, not even himself it seems.
"How did you know Doctor? Maybe you're not so clueless after all. So can you tell me who's behind door number 13 then?" he laughs insanely and claps his hands. It is a shame to do this before Eleven wakes up and he can see the look on all of the Doctor's faces but the Valeyard might turn up and propose at any moment. Again. And the Master's running out of ways to turn him down. He's half-afraid that he might say yes, just to get him to shut up.
In the meantime, it seems the Doctor(s), well Nine, has figured it out judging by his expression.
"What? No it can't be he-I-we look different!"
The Master really should be escaping by now, those idiot henchmen didn't even take his laser screwdriver, search him or cuff him, but this is so much more fun.
"Well done Nine you got it! I can only guess that something's interfered with the timelines a little since you've last seen the Valeyard. You are red headed though, silver lining to every cloud. Hmm...maybe you're not so slow, why couldn't you have been my Doctor?"
"Hey!" Ten protests.
"Shush, dear, you know I still love you." The Master says condescendingly.
The Valeyard takes that moment to appear, and selectively imagine an event where the Master declared his undying love for Ten and then had wild, kinky sex with him right there on the cell floor. Needless to say, this did not bode well for the Master, or Ten.
*****
Tied to a rocket, with the Doctor, (any version of him) is not how the Master likes to spend his afternoons.
He's not even sure where the rocket came from. The Valeyard wasn't using one in his universal conquest and the most advanced life form on this planet is the green armadillo/jellyfish/umbrella minions, so it wasn't from them either.
The Master huffs out an annoyed breath, and manages to twist around so he can see the Doctor's shoulder, "You're a complete git."
Then he twists back around to his original position.
"And why is that again?"
"The second I get myself uncrazy, you decide to do this! Next thing I know you'll be falling into a black hole and surviving!"
The Doctor ignores him, continues struggling and trying to escape. The Master's not too worried; he can see Nine and Eleven looking ridiculous in the distance. Must mean they will be coming to the rescue soon.
He senses rather than sees Ten still, "What do you mean uncrazy?"
"I am no longer crazy, what else would uncrazy mean?"
"The drums...?"
"Gone, gone, gone and gone" he would make appropriate hand gestures if he wasn't tied up.
"How?"
"Spoilerssssss"
"And the killing?"
"None in eight months, bit like quitting smoking, one day at a time," the Master says proudly.
"Wait a minute, so did we-"
"If we go married or back together in any form do you think I'd be tied to this rocket now?"
"Why-"
"Because you went crazy stupid."
"Oh."
*****
Nine and Eleven manage to rescue them without too much difficulty. The Valeyard's cape is inexplicably tangled up in the rocket and then he is shot into space, not before Ten tries to save him, of course.
"Bye darling," the Master shouts, as the rocket whizzes away, "I don't think we should see each other anymore! I'm not strong enough for a co-dependent relationship!"
The Master and the three Doctors then watch in silence as the rocket disappears out of sight. The Valeyard's henchmen have all vanished and the doomsday machine seems to be powering down nicely on its own. Some quick work with his laser screwdriver and a swift kick and the Master has the control panel fused and unusable.
He turns to look at the Doctors, "I assume that you are competent enough to get back to where ever you came from."
"Yeah, should be no problem" Eleven agrees.
"Good, because I'm late for my wedding reception" the Master makes a show of glancing at his imaginary watch.
"What?!" come three separate exclamations. Not entirely unexpected.
"Yes" says the Master slowly.
"Wait a minute, it's not Gene is it!" Eleven shouts.
"Yes it is in fact, we've decided to tie the knot." The Master's finding it hard to keep himself from cackling, the look on the Doctor's faces are priceless.
"But he's...he's..."
The Master glares coldly at him "He's what?"
"He's rude and horrible. And he's human! You don't like humans!"
"Well you were always singing their praises so I decided to give one a go and he was good. So I've made an exception this time."
Ten makes a funny strangled noise, Eleven looks miserable and Nine's knuckles are turning white. Such a good day after all.
Ten makes a flappy motion with his hands. "But if you care about him, it's just going to hurt horribly when he gets old and dies. Humans are fragile; anything could happen to him, do you really want to risk it?"
The Doctor's wonderfully subtle way of saying, "pick me instead!"
The Master grins, "No, that's all sorted, the high council own me a few favours. It won't be too hard to turn a human into a Time Lord."
"High council...owes...you...favours?"
The Master examines his fingernails, "High council? What are you talking about Doctor? I fear the stress must be getting to you, making you hear things. Better get you home, have a lie down and some tea."
The Doctor(s) looks like he wants to argue, but the Master brushes him off, "Go on off you trot, there's nothing you can do here about this since you're from the past." He points up, "the only one of you that could do anything is hopefully suffocating as we speak."
Defeated looking the three Doctors trudge off in the direction of the contraption that brought them here.
"Don't forget to erase those memories!" he shouts after them, then gleefully rubs his hands together. He has a reception to get back to. But first, he has some work to do. He highly doubts that the Valeyard is gone; he will be back just to annoy him sometime.
The Master hopes he will enjoy trying to take over the universe in a hot pink and tangerine TARDIS.