A/N: We have RETURNED! ConfusedinTime's computer has been ressurected and LiteratiAngel's exams are no longer consuming her soul, so now we can get back to the two most important things in the whole wide Universe: Doctor Who, and crack!fic =D
...
In which there isn't a swimming pool in the library...
It took a whole week for the Doctor to realise that he'd never visited Torchwood.
It was during one of the blissfully quiet moments on the TARDIS, when the Doctor wasn't remembering to feel guilty, and the Master wasn't sulking, and neither of them could summon the will to bicker with each other.
They were sat in the smaller of the TARDIS's kitchens, both sat opposite each other at the small, slightly wonky table. The Doctor stirred sugar into his fourth cup of tea, and glanced at the Master, who was hunched over the table, hands locked together, a slight frown on his face.
"We should go to Torchwood." The Doctor said, abruptly, without thinking.
This revelation had taken a surprisingly long time to sink in, especially considering that the Doctor was, well, the Doctor. Since their accidental visit to a flat in Cardiff (something which they had yet to discover the cause of - the Doctor was worried that there was something wrong with the TARDIS, the Master didn't particularly care), they'd dropped in on ancient Rome, met the Beatles ("After the first four times, the magic has definitely gone," The Master muttered, when they got back to the TARDIS), saved a planet or seven, and, to the Master's disgust, drank an unbelievable amount of tea.
The Master glowered at the dainty, willow patterned cup of tea in front of the Doctor, and didn't bother replying.
"Jack's Torchwood, I mean." The Doctor explained, dropping the teaspoon onto the table with a loud clatter. "What d'you think?"
The Master stared at him.
"You're genuinely asking me this question?"
"Well..." The Doctor considered for a moment. "You could stay in the TAR- No, no, forget that." He backtracked, hurriedly, at the Master's sudden, scheming smile.
"You're right." The Master said, clapping his hands, enthusiastically. "We should visit. Take some flowers. Lilies, maybe? I'm sure Jack's completely forgotten about the time I killed him. And that other time that I killed him. That's without mentioning the other hundred or so times. His brain's so tiny I bet he's even forgotten about my other minor indiscretions. You know, like the slight slip-up that was the Valiant, and-"
"Ok, ok." The Doctor interrupted, heavily. "I get the point."
"He does have those handy little amnesia pills." The Master said, thoughtfully. "Retcon."
"We're not drugging Jack."
The Master shrugged. "It's a plan. Do you have one?" He snatched up a sugar cube from the pot between them and bit it in half, absent mindedly.
"It wouldn't be for long," The Doctor said, pulling a face as the Master took another sugar cube. "Honestly, a day at the most, and afterwards...afterwards, we can..." He faltered, apparently remembering that making promises to the Master wasn't exactly advisable. "We can do something you want to do."
"Really." The Master said, voice devoid of intonation.
"No." The Doctor said, frowning, as though it had only just occurred to him. "Anything, excluding murder, violence, destruction...You know the rest."
"In short," The Master sighed, managing to sound extremely hard-done by. "We can do anything I want to do, excluding everything that I really want to do."
"That's about right."
"Wonderful." The Master said, slouching a little further down in his chair. "I look forward to it."
...
"We couldn't have landed inside the base?" The Master demanded, as the Doctor locked the TARDIS door, glancing surreptitiously around at the swarms of tourists wandering by, giving the two of them strange looks.
The Master didn't blame them; it wasn't every day that police boxes appeared, parked neatly in empty spaces in car parks. Resisting the urge to make rude hand gestures at them, he turned to the Doctor, who seemed to be making sure the TARDIS was utterly and completely locked.
"Of course not." He said, at last, stowing his keys away in his coat pocket. "That'd be rude, just landing in the middle of Jack's house."
"Like that's ever stopped you before." The Master muttered. He narrowed his eyes at the Doctor, who met his stare, wide eyed (or 'clueless', as the Master preferred to call it). "You're scared, aren't you? You really are."
The Doctor became very interested in his fraying shirt cuff all of a sudden. "Admittedly, I'm slightly...worried, about seeing Jack again," he said, starting to amble away down the pavement, painfully slowly, evidently hoping to draw out their walk to the Plass. The Master followed.
"But of course, I'm really looking forward to it," he scoffed. "You're such an idiot."
"Ok, so neither of us want to be here." The Doctor said, swallowing nervously. The water tower was now visible in the distance, reflecting the sky and the surrounding buildings. "But I owe Jack this much."
…
The Doctor sincerely hoped that the Torchwood Hub was more difficult to break into without the aid of a sonic screwdriver. It took a matter of minutes for them locate and activate the lift, hidden by a perception filter.
"Oh, so it's impolite to land straight in the Hub, but breaking and entering is completely acceptable?"
"I haven't broken anything. I gave it a little nudge, that's all. Sonicking and entering. Totally different." The Doctor protested, mildly. "It's genius, this is." He said, nodding down at the lift as it started to descend. "The perception filter's residual, of course, all thanks to the TARDIS, but it's...very resourceful. I'll have to ask Jack how they did it."
"You're still pretending he's going to welcome us with open arms?" The Master rolled his eyes. "I'm supposed to be the insane one in this relationship, in case you've forgotten."
Unfortunately, the Doctor appeared not to have heard him; instead, he was peering down at the Torchwood Hub. "Beautiful!" The Doctor's voice echoed around the large, underground base, only half lit. Inconsistent splashes of light dotted the Hub, leaving disconcerting patches of shadow.
"That's a matter of opinion." The Master muttered to himself, staring up at the blue patch of sky as it got further and further away.
With a quick blast of the sonic screwdriver, the speed of the lift increased. The Doctor was staring around, frowning. The Hub was deserted.
With a hiss, the lift reached ground level.
"Hello?" The Doctor called. The greeting was only returned by an echo. Water dripped from somewhere. He jumped down from the lift and took a few, cautious steps forwards. "Jack?"
There was still no reply. The Master moved to stand next to the Doctor, slouching in such a way that made it clear that if he had a watch, he'd be checking it.
"They're not in." The Doctor said hopefully.
"I wouldn't be so sure." The Master shook his head, staring into the shadows.
"Hands up!" Someone ordered, just as the lights flickered on fully.
"Told you so." The Master said, smugly, as the Torchwood team emerged, guns pointed directly at them.
"Torchwood!" The Doctor's attempt at an upbeat greeting fell flat; probably something to do with the guns - not to mention the hostile glares - that were being directed at them. "Is Jack not in?"
"I said hands up."
"He's not here." Gwen said, uncertainly. The aim of her gun didn't waver, but she looked apologetic.
"Oh, that's such a shame!" The Master said, clutching a hand to his heart before turning to the Doctor. "Can we leave now?"
"You're not going anywhere." The Doctor didn't recognize the man who moved forwards, his gun trained directly between the Master's eyes. "Tosh?"
A dark haired woman in glasses turned on one of the many computer terminals - the screen was full of numbers, some sort of high-tech scanning program.
"Two sonic devices, one psychic communications device, several items that don't register as weapons, high levels of energy, transcendental in origin…"
"Empty your pockets." Ianto - the Doctor was vaguely sure that that was his name - joined the welcoming party, gun in one hand, a large, clear plastic bag in the other.
"You're not going to do as he says?" The Master staring at the Doctor like he'd suddenly morphed into a woman.
The Doctor didn't respond, instead pulled the sonic screwdriver from his jacket pocket in a resigned sort of way.
"Be thankful it's not a strip search…" he murmured, dropping the screwdriver into the bag that Ianto held out.
"We haven't exactly ruled that out, yet." Gwen admitted, with a small, knowing smirk of the cat who had just been given all the cream with the bonus addition of two very pretty aliens on top.
A few, awkwardly quiet minutes passed, during which time the Doctor produced all manner of weird and wonderful items from his various pockets.
"Bigger on the inside." He explained, apologetically, as, with some difficulty, he produced a large, blue golfing umbrella from his trouser pocket.
"Oi," The man the Doctor didn't know spoke, gun pointing directly at the Master's forehead. "Saxon. Pockets."
"Owen, isn't it?" The Master said, perfectly calmly. "I don't have anything. It's this insipid fool who insists on carrying about his clutter."
"Is this really necessary?"
"It's standard protocol for any captives." The second woman, Tosh, addressed him - the Doctor was sure he'd seen her somewhere before.
"Actually, standard protocol is to shoot on sight." Ianto said, his smile wide, genuine yet oddly dangerous.
The contents of the Doctor's pockets, were, meanwhile, attracting some attention from the assembled team, who were peering at some of the more obviously benign items with interest.
"Is that...?" Owen indicated something on the top of the ever growing pile.
"It's a pen." The Doctor explained, hurriedly, blushing slightly.
"Pretty big. For a pen." Owen commented.
"It's a pen!" The Doctor insisted. "I don't see what-"
"Nice pen." Ianto said, grinning.
"Listen, Owen," Gwen stepped forwards, gun still raised, but less purposefully this time. "The Doctor was in my flat a few weeks ago. If he had been possessed, wouldn't he have killed me there and then?" She glanced in the evidence bag. "Oh my God! Is that-?"
"The Doctor's 'special pen'?" Ianto said. "Yep."
With interest, Toshiko moved forwards to have a look for herself.
"Jack said you were asexual." She said, frowning at the Doctor, whose face was redder than a post-box.
"It was a present!" He said, hotly. "It'd be rude if I didn't…" He faltered. "Isn't the most important thing that it isn't a weapon? Scan it. It's harmless."
"A present?" The Master finally decided to speak, nudging the Doctor. "From who?"
His question went unanswered, while Toshiko pulled on gloves to scan the definitely-phallic whatever-it-was.
"It's…sonic." She said, after a moment's silence, with a valiant attempt to keep a straight face.
"Can we not, please?" The Doctor wasn't meeting anyone's eye, especially the Master's, who was evidently loving the direction the conversation had taken. "Least of all at gunpoint?"
"Standard protocol, I'm afraid." Owen said. "Now, can we get these two restrained, please?"
"Shouldn't we contact Jack?" Gwen said, taking the now-sealed bag of the Doctor's belongings and dumping it somewhat unceremoniously on a desk a few feet away.
"No." Ianto said, fiercely - so much so that they all turned to look at him in surprise. "We can deal with this ourselves."
…
Being held at gunpoint could be considered stressful. Terrifying, even. The fact that the Doctor and the Master were both time lords and wouldn't die if they were shot lessened the tense nature of the situation, of course, but that was besides the point.
After an hour, however, semi-almost-but-not-quite imprisonment in the Torchwood Hub was just plain boring. They'd been handcuffed to the nearest workstation, and then, to make matters worse in the Master's opinion - handcuffed to each other. The Torchwood team had retreated to a safe distance away, muttering to each other, presumably deciding what to do with them.
"They should be letting us go." The Master said, after a while. It had taken all of ten minutes for him to get irritated with their state of imprisonment. "I'm just the ex Prime Minister to them, right? They're not supposed to remember...any of that other stuff. What did you do?"
"Don't be an idiot, they don't remember." The Doctor muttered out of the corner of his mouth, staring at the Torchwood team. "There is the little matter of you assassinating the President, however..."
"Oh." The Master seemed surprised. "I'd forgotten about that." He grinned. "That was good, wasn't it?"
"Yes, the senseless murder of an innocent. Some of your best work."
"Get off your high horse, Mr. Genocide." The Doctor didn't even respond to that, and the Master slouched further against the desk. "What are you doing?" He asked, when the Doctor leant forwards slightly, squinting at the team, evidently concentrating.
"Trying to lip read." He gave the Master a passing glance. "You're not helping."
"That's it? No brilliant escape plan?"
"They'll let us out eventually. Besides, I don't want to escape, I want to know what they have against me."
"Hoping to gain a few more adoring fans?" The Master sneered.
"I'm trying to concentrate." The Doctor said, patiently, then fell silent for a few seconds, concentrating. "They're not going to tell Jack, from what I can gather. And then...something about carp?"
"Of course, they're going to make us clean their fishtank. Standard practice with all Torchwood prisoners."
"I did say I was trying to lipread, not that I was any good."
The Master rolled his eyes. "On that note..." He raised his voice. "As much fun as this has been, I'm getting tired now. So. Lock us up or let us go."
"You're giving us orders?" The one called Ianto asked, while the other one - Owen - drew his gun with impressive speed.
"See, he's the trigger happy one." The Master stage-whispered behind his hand to the Doctor, who closed his eyes and groaned. "Which leaves the sort of clever one, the pointless one, and the one with a dark and mysterious past. Take your pick."
The Master had barely finished speaking when all four guns were drawn, once again, and pointed directly at them.
"Master-"
"No, you're right, Jack's the dark, brooding, mysterious one. How could I forget? Alright, you've talked me into it! I guess that one's the coffee boy now!" He beamed at them all, not seeming particularly bothered by the situation. On the contrary, it seemed like he'd just started to enjoy himself.
"If they were here to kill us, surely they wouldn't have surrendered?" Gwen said, indecisively.
"A murderer and Torchwood's number one enemy. Yeah, I'm sure they just dropped by for a cup of tea and a chat." Owen tightened his grip on his gun.
"Coffee, actually." The Master corrected him. "Black. I'm sick of tea."
No one bothered acknowledging that he'd spoken.
"I wanted to see Jack, that's all." The Doctor appealed. "I can come back another time, maybe...maybe by myself."
"So much for solidarity." The Master muttered.
"I think Gwen might be right." Toshiko piped up, uncertainly. "The Doctor's...well. Harmless, isn't he?"
"Well, I'd hardly say that." The Doctor began, then seemed to think better of it. "Sorry, sorry, carry on."
Toshiko looked at him for a minute, then continued.
"And the original sanction about him being an enemy of Torchwood is probably mostly defunct now, anyway."
"We can't have him here when Jack gets back." Ianto said, suddenly, using his gun to indicate the Master, who smiled at him, cheerfully.
"Fine." Owen snapped, throwing his gun down onto a nearby desk. "Let them go."
…
"Ouch."
The Doctor, who was lying on his stomach in the TARDIS library, rolled his eyes, the Master's unnecessarily loud declaration of pain apparently not enough to draw his attention away from the book he was reading. He finished his paragraph, then looked up for long enough to give the Master a withering stare.
"You walked all the way from the control room just for that?"
"It hurts!" The Master whined, flopping down onto the floor opposite the Doctor and fixing him with what he considered to be his saddest face.
"What do you expect me to do, kiss it better?"
"If you're offering."
The Doctor turned a page rather pointedly.
"Hey!" The Master slapped his hand down in the middle of the large book. The Doctor looked up at him. "It was your idea to visit Torchwood. You indirectly caused my pain!
"You caused your own pain." The Doctor said, unsympathetically, lifting the Master's hand off his book.
Much like many of the situations they found themselves caught in, leaving Torchwood wasn't exactly the smoothest exit of a place the Doctor had ever experienced. Jack had chosen the worst possible moment to arrive back at the Hub - just as Gwen and Toshiko were attempting to free themselves from their handcuffs, in fact. The Master had been unable to contain his glee at Jack's arrival. He'd also been unable to keep quiet, which was why, after mentioning the Year That Never Was (the phrase 'job well done' had been used), Jack had punched him in the face. Twice.
"Fat lot of help you were." The Master pointed out. "'Jack! Nooo! Don't hurt him! I'd die without him, I'd just die!'"
"I don't know what alternative reality you slipped into during that particular conversation-"
"One where Jack wasn't salivating over you, I think." The Master interrupted, his disgust evident.
"-but I didn't say that. And I don't think much of your impression of me, either."
"You're hardly in a position to talk! Remember when we first left Gallifrey?" The Doctor didn't reply, so the Master shifted forwards, leaning on the book with a triumphant smirk. "Whenever you'd had too much to drink, you'd come out with this hideous travesty of what I was supposedly like, and it was terrible."
"You were the only one who thought it was terrible, if I remember rightly." The Doctor said, folding his arms.
"Drawing yourself a beard with marker pen does not a good Master impression make." The Master flopped further forwards so that he was, effectively, using the Doctor's chosen book as a pillow. "You put all that crap back in your pockets, didn't you? Can I borrow your mirror?"
"If I give it to you, will you let me read?" The Doctor asked with little hope, fumbling in his trouser pocket. The Master sat up, accordingly, and the Doctor handed over a compact mirror.
There was silence, for a few, precious seconds, while the Master surveyed his slightly-red jaw, prodding at his face.
"Great." The Master held the mirror out to the Doctor, as though he couldn't bear to look at himself for any longer. "I'm going to bruise. I mean, I was expecting Jack to fly off the handle, but I foolishly assumed that you'd be the one he'd hit. But oh no, his creepy obsession with you apparently saves you from his fists."
Despairingly, the Master rolled over to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling, while the Doctor continued reading.
"Am I really harmless?" The Doctor asked, after a while.
"Of course not, dear." The Master replied, vaguely. He sat up, closing the large book with a smart snap - dust rose from its ancient pages. "Now," He said, catching hold of the Doctor's tie and pulling him forwards. "What was that you said about kissing me better?"