Chapter One
He hated him.
Every time he looked at him he wanted to strangle him; because he was stupid, because he was too cheerful, because he was the exact opposite of him.
Mostly though because he was who he was, or better - because of who he wasn't.
The Doctor had fallen asleep over his work, whatever his work had been. Paperwork with scribbles written in Gallifreyan was scattered all over the big wooden table and the floor of the TARDIS, and an inkwell had fallen over and was the reason for the black puddle that the Doctor's face was currently lying in.
He hated him, or at least that was what he tried to tell himself every time he saw that face.
His bow-tie wasn't half as cool as the tie had been, the tweed-jacket was horrible and the hair was a matter of its own. And, seriously, you could hurt someone with that chin.
The most annoying thing, though, was his attitude; the way he talked without the accent, the fact that he was an old man in the body of a young man looking like a twelve-year-old while acting like a hyperactive five-year-old boy on dope, the fact that he didn't need the Master like his previous incarnation...
And there were at least around a dozen things more why he hated him.
Ten had been desperate, lonely, and he had been so glad that the Master was alive. He had needed the Master.
Eleven, however, was full of energy and could hardly sit still, was always bouncing around and couldn't focus on one thing without doing another at the same time. He didn't need the Master around, or at least not as much as Ten had needed him. He was naïve, dewy-eyed.
They never had arguments, no; instead they had small fights over little things and it always felt as if they were kids fighting over candy.
He didn't hate him, though.
Not really.
The Master just missed someone who the Doctor wasn't anymore.
You would think after the time they had travelled together he would get used to it, used to him, but he didn't. Especially after what had happened, especially now that he had to see those mismatched eyes day for day for day, a constant reminder of the years that could have lasted forever but had never been.
If he only had the opportunity of getting his doctor back, he would take it without thinking twice.
The Master huffed in annoyance as he walked down the long corridor, his hands now in the pockets of his black suit jacket. He wore a black suit because a black suit was more fitting and a lot cooler than the hoodie and the old jeans he had been wearing the whole time. However, it changed nothing about the fact that he still wasn't ruling the universe. But at least he was well dressed, and that was always a good start.
It was quiet here, only the soft humming of the TARDIS was to be heard.
No drums.
They were gone.
It was a bit sad, but he almost missed them. They had been there, all the time, a constant reminder of his sanity and the fact that he was alive, that he was himself.
Now they were gone, and all that was left was nothing but silence. He could hear his own thoughts now and that was a whole new level of madness...
He felt alone, that was it. The drums had been there to fill his silence, and now there was nothing and no one to take their place, because the Doctor was too busy minding his own business while the Master had no one left.
Well, there was the TARDIS of course, but she was out of question for she hated him more than anyone else, and that just because he had upgraded her a little but...
And there was the detective, Sherlock Holmes, oh yes, but he had no intentions of making new friends because all he wanted was the Doctors attention; he wanted to be the center of his problems, the thing that kept him awake at night because he was afraid of him but yet at the same time couldn't deny that he loved him with both of his hearts and...
The Master sighed dramatically.
He had planned to walk past the library, because what was there to do besides making paper planes out of old pages, but he stopped as he saw Sherlock and Balthazar playing chess.
The library was big and old, bigger and older than any library you could find on earth. Several floors of bookshelves after bookshelves filled with books that held knowledge older and greater than any human could imagine.
Several books here were about Gallifrey, one of them even about the Time War.
The Master had never touched these books, would never touch them. Gallifrey was long gone, and the last time it had tried to come back it hadn't ended well for anyone.
The Master leaned against the door frame.
Sherlock was leaning over a chess board, his cat-like eyes narrowed and his hands folded on the old wooden table. He seemed deep in thoughts, his eyes wandering over every single chessmen while he calculated his next step.
Balthazar grinned, his legs dangling over the armrest of his armchair while he watched Sherlock with amusement written all over his face.
This was not the real angel, it was the TARDIS playing Balthazar because she had stored the last bit of his Grace and memory in her system in order to keep at least a part of him alive. The Master could see the golden energy flickering and swirling inside the slightly transparent body, a constant reminder that Balthazar was nothing else than a hologram created and guided by the TARDIS.
A rather sad fate, to be honest, because this Balthazar was nothing but a shadow of the real angel himself.
It was almost as if Balthazar had heard him, because he looked up and met the Master's gaze. The hologram's face turned into an angry grimace and it disappeared in a rush of golden energy.
The Master snorted and crossed his arms in front of his chest; the TARDIS couldn't even stand to be in the same room with him, even if it was just a hologram that she used to take form. She really couldn't stand the Master.
What a pity.
Sherlock was surprised by the sudden disappearance of Balthazar and raised his head to find out what had caused the action. He found the Master standing in the doorway.
"She is still angry at you." The detective stated, even if it was obvious.
"Yeah, well , we have... history." The Master smiled cooly.
The ship hissed and rattled and the Master rolled his eyes. "She just can't get over it. Now she's just bitching around."
"It seems that she is rather upset." Sherlock mused, his gaze directed at the ceiling and the flickering lights as if he was searching for something. "You must have caused her great damage once."
"Ha, great damage!" The Master shock his head. "She was beautiful! But that stupid thing doesn't know what's beautiful and what isn't."
There was an angry buzzing sound, then the lights went out.
"Hm..." Sherlock sighed and looked around, but it was almost impossible to see anything without the lights. "I assume this means we continue our match another time." That was directed at the TARDIS.
"Whatever." The Master replied, not caring at all, and turned away. He had better things to do than watching Sherlock while he was crying over his unfinished game of chess. Setting things on fire, for example, was always fun.
"You wouldn't be interested in a chess match?" Sherlock asked casually as he followed the Master.
The Time Lord had to suppress the urge to push the detective back into the dark library. "No, thank you." He turned around the nearest corner without looking back. "I have more than enough things I would rather do than spending my precious time with a human."
Time Lords had invented chess and therefore a match against Sherlock would be boring and a waste of time.
Yes, he would rather set himself on fire and jump off a cliff.
Wait, stop, wasn't that a scene from The Lord of the Rings?
The Master shock his head as he searched for his cherry-red mp3 player. It was time for some music!
Several minutes later and the Scissor Sister's I can't decide echoed through the whole TARDIS while the Master was dancing around the console, pushing various buttons and grinning to himself.
"NO!" A scream that was barely hearable over the loud music.
He chuckled and swirled down the glass stairs, placing one foot in front of the other and singing along. "I can't decide whether you should live or die!"
"What have you done?!" It seemed that the Doctor was awake now. Ah, good!
"Master!" And he was rather furious! Splendid!
"Oh, you'll probably go to heaven please don't hang your head and cry!" He was screaming over the music rather than singing along.
"MASTER!"
Oh, he loved when the Doctor used his name.
.
"Oh, yes, let's stop somewhere, somewhere nice!" The Doctor bounced around the console, his eyes bright. Again he looked like a kid being excited about cookies.
The Master eyed him from afar while leaning against the wall, his hands in the pockets of his pants. It had been a while since they had landed somewhere and the Doctor was getting restless.
"Sherlock, tell me, where do you want to go?"
Sherlock had no time to answer because the Doctor continued. "There is a planet made of glass!" He was babbling, talking fast and without thinking. "Or do you want to go to earth again? How about the future, or the past? We could visit the nineteenth century or -"
"I would like to go back." Sherlock's voice was calm.
The Doctor stopped in his tracks, his face blank. "Back?" He echoed, sounding lost, and the Master felt almost sorry for him. Almost.
Ah, and he tried so hard to hide it, his fear of being left alone - again.
Sherlock nodded slowly, patently. "I never thought I would say this but I think I miss..." He paused, struggling for words. His face was calm, though.
"You miss that friend of yours." The Master sneered, amused by the whole situation.
"John, yes." Sherlock agreed, and smiled slightly at the thought of his friend. "And my work." He added.
Yeah, of course, the Master rolled his eyes, that's what you keep telling yourself.
The Doctor looked almost hurt, his hands nervously fiddling with a switch. "Ah, yes, yes of course! I understand that." He smiled politely and managed to hide his sadness.
No, the Master thought, you don't.
Sherlock had a normal life, with normal friends, and a normal job. He even had a family.
The Doctor had neither of them.
So how could the Doctor understand any of this? He was selfish again, wanting Sherlock to stay because he didn't want to be alone with the Master - because he wanted a companion.
A human companion.
Because he was so bloody fond of them.
But Sherlock had to leave them eventually, because everyone who stayed too long at the Doctor's side was likely to die somewhere far from home.
He broke them, his little human companions.
The Master was the only one strong enough to handle him, oh yes, because the Master wouldn't break so easily. Or maybe, maybe because he was broken already.
However, there was something else, something that the Doctor hadn't been telling Sherlock, something he should have told him long time ago.
John, Sherlock's dear John, was missing.
Oh, glee began to fill the Master, Oh Doctor, Doctor! What are you going to do now?
He had tried to find him. They had tried to find him. Oh, but he was nowhere to be found. And the Doctor had taken Sherlock with him, hoping that he could keep him away from the twenty first century long enough until they had found his John again.
Oh, but neither the Doctor nor the Winchesters had been able to find him.
"Okay, okay but-" The Doctor pointed at Sherlock, a big grin on his face. "One last trip."
Sherlock raised one eyebrow, probably because he was skeptical. One trip usually meant ten more... or twenty more.
"Really, just one more!" The Doctor promised, the excited gleam back in his mismatched eyes. "You have to meet them, Amy and Rory! Haven't seen them in a while, have to visit them again, so why don't you come along? I bet you'll like them, yes, you will, they are brilliant and nice and -" He made a weird gesture with his hand. "Friends of mine. Human. You'll like them."
The Doctor's eyes wandered to the Master, almost as if trying to search for support. However, the Master had no interest in helping the Doctor because it was always much more fun to watch him while he was struggling to remain calm and collected while in reality he was about to have a mental breakdown. The Master smirked and the Doctor's gaze returned to Sherlock.
Sherlock was silent for a few minutes. He was seemingly in thoughts, but the Master was sure that he had already figured out that something was wrong. He was Sherlock Holmes, after all; he always knew when something was going on.
Or,maybe he didn't?
The Doctor was a good actor...
"Alright." The detective nodded in agreement, and the Doctor grinned from ear to ear.
"Good!" The Doctor clapped his hands. "Great! You should take a nap now! It will take a bit till we reach earth and I don't want you to fall asleep -" He was babbling, waving his hands. He wasn't looking at Sherlock but played being busy with the console.
Sherlock gave the Master a quick and almost questioning glance, but the Master stared ahead. He didn't want to interfere, didn't want to explain things. He could mess it up ,yes, but the Doctor would be very angry and the Master was too lazy to deal with an angry Doctor right now.
"I see." Sherlock hummed.
He knew that something was up, he knew it. And the Doctor was all suspicious now.
Sherlock followed the Doctor with his gaze, his brow slightly furrowed. The Master was sure that he was trying to deduce something, anything, that he was trying to get behind the Doctor's weird behavior.
The Doctor, however, was too busy playing busy, his hands sliding over the console with its buttons and switches, his feet dancing over the glass floor.
"Is everything alright, Doctor?" The detective asked warily. "You seem a bit...nervous."
The Doctor stopped in his tracks and looked up from the console. "Me? Nervous? Nooo, no! I am not nervous, I am excited! Excited, yes!" He gave Sherlock a big grin before he turned his attention back to the console, humming to himself.
Sherlock turned to the Master, who shrugged his shoulders as if to say 'don't look at me, I don't know what's wrong with that idiot'.
"Alright." Sherlock nodded to himself and turned towards the corridor. "See you in a few hours, I suppose."
He didn't put up a fight, didn't argue. He would probably go back to his room where he would ponder about the Doctor's words and his weird behavior.
The Master waited till Sherlock was gone until he raised his voice. "When do you plan on telling him the truth? Or -" The Master's eyes narrowed as he walked up to the Doctor, who stood silently at the console. "Do you want to lie to him, like you always do, until he has figured it out on his own?"
The Doctor pressed his lips together and tried to avoid the Master's intense stare. Instead he looked at his own hands which fiddled with the console.
"No, no, of course not..." He mumbled. "It's just...I just need more time, we need more time. I am sure we can find John..."
"So you plan on lying to him until you have found John?" The Master snorted. "Great, you're right, you're totally not lying to him at all."
The Doctor sighed heavily and pushed himself away from the console, his brow furrowed while he was shaking his head. "No, well, yes. But, no." He sighed again and walked towards the railing so he could lean against it with his back.
"I am only trying to keep him and everyone save." It was a poor excuse.
"You are only afraid of the consequences." The Master straightened his back as he watched the Doctor.
"Of course I am!" The Doctor glared at him, his fingers wrapped tightly around the railing. His body swayed slighty from side to side as if to calm himself. "It is our fault after all! If we only had been faster..." He trailed off and there was pain visible on his face.
Oh, so he was blaming himself after all, like he always did.
"Well, maybe." The Master shrugged his shoulders but made no move towards the Doctor. He really didn't want to comfort the Doctor, and that was why he stayed where he was and continued to guilt-trip him. That was much more of his liking.
The Doctor chewed nervously on his lower lip, deep in thoughts. The noises of the TARDIS filled the oppressive silence.
"Ah, but, I get to see my Ponds again." He smiled, suddenly in a better mood again. "I wonder if they have missed me? I mean, of course they did! But, you know, they have a normal life now, I don't think they need me, do they?"
He was so good at changing the topic.
The Master wasn't listening, instead he looked at his fingernails and pondered about different ways of conquering the earth and several other planets. Really, he had no time for the Doctor's sad feelings.
"You aren't even listening." The Doctor pouted. At least he had stopped talking about the Ponds.
"Of course not." The Master answered without looking up from his nails. He didn't want to see that face, he really didn't.
"Yes, of course not..." The Doctor took a deep breath through his nose and strode back to the console, his shoulders slouched forward. He was disappointed, the Master could literally feel it, and somehow it made him angry.
Why was he disappointed, he had no right to be disappointed, if there was anyone who had the right to be disappointed then it was him, the Master!
There was silence again.
How he hated that silence.
"And now?" He leaned towards the Doctor who leaned away a bit, although it was not to escape the Master's presence but to reach for a switch to his right.
"Now?" The Doctor smiled, his hand reaching past the Master to check a display. "Now we have no other choice than to go back to earth."
A jerk went through the whole TARDIS and the Master nearly lost his footing. He was about to scold the Doctor, but then he said it and the Master closed his mouth while his hearts ached a bit.
"Allons-y!"
The Doctor grinned and turned to the Master who met his smile with a blank face. The Doctor's smile faltered and he realization dawned on his face.
"Oh, oh! I am sorry, I did it again, didn't I?"
The Master nodded stiffly and the Doctor rubbed his face with one hand, the other still clutching the console.
"I didn't mean to..."
Of course he didn't ,but he had no control over it. It where words, gestures, things that had imprinted themself as an echo into his current soul, all because of the messed-up regeneration. Or, de-regeneration. However you want to call it.
It happened from time to time, and usually it were just little things, but sometimes it was as if he was back, and the Master hated it, hated it because it gave him hope, hope he didn't want and didn't need.
"Let's just ignore it." The Master snarled and turned away from the Doctor and the console. It wasn't his fault, but the Master blamed him nevertheless.
There was always someone who was to blame.
And if there wasn't you had to find someone and blame them instead.
The Doctor knew that it wasn't his own fault, that it really was the Master's fault, but he took the blaming and was silent about it, enduring it just because he hoped that the Master would feel better afterwards, but it made the Master so much more angry.
This was not what he wanted.
He was childish, throwing a tantrum again, but he didn't care, he never cared, that was who he was.
The Doctor cared enough for both of them anyway.
"I am sorry." The Doctor said, again, reaching out for the Master as if to soothe him. The Master wanted to scream into his face because it wasn't his fault! Why did he apologise for everything even if it wasn't his fault?
Because he was the Doctor, of course.
It was supposed to be the other way around, it was supposed to be the Master telling the Doctor that he was sorry.
"Ah, just shut up! I don't need your stupid apologies!"
Instead he only tried to push him further away.
The Master left the control room without looking back at the Doctor, who stood hunched over the console with both hands pressed flat against the steel while his hair was hiding his face.
The Master didn't want to see his face.
He really didn't.
.
The TARDIS materialized in the backyard of the Ponds. The Doctor wasted no time and jumped out of his ship with a big grin, his arms wide open.
"Ponds!" He shouted, and the Master had to cover his ears. "My Ponds, where are you?"
The Doctor had phoned them, had told them that he would visit them. The Master didn't know if they had agreed or not, the Doctor hadn't told him.
There was no answer and the Doctor furrowed his brow in confusion, his arms still raised as if to hug the Ponds.
"Amy!" He shouted. "Rory, I am here now. TARDIS, backyard, with friends."
Still no answer, and the Master could see that the Doctor was getting worried.
"Maybe they are out?" Sherlock suggested. "Or is it the wrong date again?"
The Master huffed and looked around. "It's more like they don't want us here." He mumbled.
"No, nono, no!" The Doctor shock his head as he walked towards the open glass door that was leading into the living room. "It's the right date, it's the right time, they should be here! I don't understand..." He paused. "Maybe they didn't hear me..."
He didn't sound convinced.
"Amy!" He shouted, his eyes searching for the Ponds. The living room was empty, but the Doctor didn't stop shouting for the Ponds.
The Master sighed loudly as he followed the Doctor inside the house. It was one of these boring human houses and the Master wanted to puke because of the stereotypical home decoration. They had given up their exciting life with the Doctor for a house like this?
How boring.
But, then again, they would be dead by now if they had continued to travel with the Doctor, so it was probably for the better.
"Maybe they went shopping." He yawned and flopped down on the sofa. Great, now they had to wait for those stupid humans, and the Master hated waiting! He couldn't even break something because the Doctor would probably strangle him if he did so. Hey, but, that was kind of kinky, maybe...
"No." Sherlock, who stood next to the sofa, cut through the Master's thoughts.
"What, no?" The Time Lord asked in return, surprised that someone disagreed with him. The Doctor was now somewhere upstairs, still calling for Amy and Rory.
"This is a trap." Sherlock said, slowly. "You see that cup of tea? It's not cold and not even finished to the half. Why would someone make a cup of tea if they know that they are about to leave?" He nodded towards the kitchen. "You hear that? That's the radio. No one leaves the radio on before they leave the house."
"Maybe they just forgot to do it." The Master disagreed. Really, this was ridiculous!
The detective turned again, ignoring the Master's statement, and pointed at the glass door. "The door to the backyard was open, which means they must have expected us, knowing that the Doctor would land the TARDIS in the backyard exactly like he told them." He turned to face the Master. "They are not here, but someone else is. We have to go."
The Master wanted to object, because wow this were mere theories, but then they heard the surprised scream of the Doctor and a loud bang as a door was closed forcefully.
"Run, run!" The Doctor yelled as he jumped down the stairs, waving wildly at his companions.
"Was someone upstairs?" Sherlock wanted to know, but he got his answer as the door from upstairs was thrown out of its hinges.
"Yes!" The Doctor yelled and grabbed Sherlock by his arm. "Now come on, come, we have to get out of here!"
The Master followed them outside. He dared to look over his shoulder and saw a human running after them. A woman in her thirties with red hair and a leather jacket stood at the top of the stairs. She grinned as she saw his gaze and her eyes turned black.
Well, great.
The Doctor and Sherlock had reached the TARDIS, and the Doctor opened her door with a jerk. He jumped inside, a hand outstretched for the Master and Sherlock, but then the blue door of the ship closed, leaving the Master and Sherlock outside.
"What the bloody hell!" The Master screamed in anger, his fists hammering against the doors. "Open the damn door! We're about to get killed!"
"I am sorry, I am so sorry! I am trying but she refuses to open the doors!" The Doctor cried from inside his ship. The Master could hear the frustration in the Doctor's voice. He turned his gaze to the window and saw the Doctor's desperate face from behind the glass, his mismatched eyes wide. "Don't worry,I'll open the door, I'll open it! Just wait!"
The sound of the sonic screwdriver was to be heard, but nothing happened. The Doctor cursed in Gallifreyan and turned away from the window. "Come on, old girl! Don't do this now!"
The TARDIS made a rattling noise and the light on top of the box began to blink.
"Oh no, no!" The Master pressed his whole weight against the door, trying to push it open. "You are not going to leave us here!"
But then the TARDIS began to dematerialize in front of their eyes!
"Fuck!" The Master hit the TARDIS with his fist and Sherlock had to hold him back so he wouldn't continue hitting the box. "Watch out!" The detective yelled and pushed the Master to the ground.
Black smoke filled the air, and at first the Master thought that something was on fire, but then he remembered and suddenly he felt a little sick.
"Demon!" He hissed, ready to jump up and face the creature, but the black smoke sneaked past them and managed to find its way inside the TARDIS.
"No!" The Master scrambled to his feet and there was panic welling up inside of him. He needed to stop the demon, but it was already too late.
The last thing the Master heard was the Doctor's scream and Balthazar's monotone voice saying "Emergency system activated."
Then the TARDIS was gone, as well as the demon and the Doctor.