And Then... There Was Silence

The End of Time

AN: No Eleven, but does come with added Ten and Wilf.

...

The Doctor stumbled out of the radiation chamber, holding onto the frame with one hand and holding the other in front of him, the golden glow of the regenerative energies already flowing through him, flickering under the surface of his skin. He let out a heavy breath, hearing even clearer now the sound of the obviously still alive Master, laughing insanely and still in the same place he'd been in after collapsing when Gallifrey had returned to the Time War, locked once more. Still alive, but for the life of him, he couldn't bring to mind the will to think up some sort of theory as to why, or how. Only a spreading mix of anger and hurt and resentment and relief settling in his stomach that caused him to slowly slide himself down, whereupon he rested his head back against the hard, see-through wall.

He could hear Wilf coming closer, hesitantly but stubbornly. For a moment he thought of warning the man away – the Master was still there, still dangerous, after all – but he knew what the dangers were. He'd been there, for all of it. And so he didn't protest when Donna Noble's grandfather gingerly sat himself next to him, careful of the shattered glass that had flown everywhere as a result of the Doctor's extraordinary entrance through the roof.

For a small few moments, there was silence between them. They both knew, more or less, what had happened to the Doctor, and the consequences – what was going to happen. That, they did not need to talk about. 'Are you all right' in this instance, simply wouldn't do. And yet at the same time, they understood that. Wilf hadn't asked for what the Doctor had given him, but, even though it may have seemed grudgingly, the Doctor had given it anyway.

The Doctor sucked in a breath.

"So," he said. Breaking the silence. "What do you think I should do with him?"

'Him' being the Master, still unaware of their conversation. Tiring already, although trying not to take any notice of it.

Wilf looked at the Doctor.

"That man tried to kill Donna," he said. "He tried to kill my little girl."

The Doctor breathed, and thought of Donna, and how the Master had inadvertently almost burnt up her mind by making her remember without even realising it. He thought of Jenny, who had died in his arms.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I know."

But Wilf was still looking at him, intently and with those eyes that Donna had inherited from him, that way of looking at, and through, a person.

"But you're going to look after him anyway, aren't you." Not a question, no hate, and no resentment. Simply a stated fact – that was what was going to happen. "Because that's what you do, isn't it, Doctor? You fix people. Look after them. You're not perfect – no one is. But you try. You wouldn't be you if you didn't try."

At first the Doctor had looked away, not wanting to face up to the possibilities that might occur from his choices, uncertain, but then he laughed. Not at all like the Master's earlier laughter, this – gentle, soft and full of a sort of nostalgic feeling.

"Wilfred Mott," he said, with something more in his tone than simple respect. "You're amazing, you are. You haven't even known me that long, and look at you. You already know me so well."

...

A few minutes later, as the Doctor walked over to where the Master was sitting, glass crunching underfoot and acting as a warning system to the man who he still didn't trust. The Master looked up, smirking in private victory, and perhaps the only one that the Doctor would never wish to take away from him.

Rassilon... the one who had founded created so many of the integral parts of Time Lord culture, had done that, to the Master. To the one who had once been the Doctor's friend in a lifetime long ago, far away, and never entirely forgotten.

Hands in pockets and face showing its proof of his regeneration in progress, he cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable.

"...What?"

The Doctor almost smiled. Half dead, demeaned, the last of their kind and having just managed to both save the Doctor's life and save Earth – albeit incidentally – the Master was still able to inject the expected amount of patronising hatred and bored, impatient resignation into one word. Still the same old Master. By this point, it would be wrong if he reacted in any other way.

"...Are you all right?"

The Master laughed again, not just insane but seeming to find something absolutely hilarious in the Doctor's statement.

"All right? I almost had Gallifrey back, Doctor! Almost had the Time Lords within my grasp, and they wouldn't even take responsibility for what they'd created! Me! But all right? Oh, Doctor – I feel so alive."

The Doctor refused to flinch. They both knew that he was dying. Dying, and it hadn't even been the Master's fault.

The Master smiled widely and spread his arms. "The link is broken, Doctor! Do you even know what that means?"

For a moment the Doctor stared. Then, as the Master laughed again, he realised, his expression going between shocked and guarded in an instant.

"The drums," he said, in wonder. "The drums are gone."

This changed... everything. Everything and nothing and created possibilities and futures and paths that he had never before had the courage to look down. The link was broken, Gallifrey could never return, not ever, and now, the Master was no more and no less than the Doctor himself, except for the fact that the man was still clearly not entirely sane.

"Give the man a medal – yes. Ah, the sweet silence!" He said, shouting that last word to the room at large. The Doctor didn't react, too used to the mood swings by now to be swayed by them. "And?" The Master stood, on not completely stable legs. "Here's the big question – what are you going to do with me now? Imprison me in the TARDIS? Leave me in the care of your friends? Drop me off on some forsaken rock in the middle of nowhere? No, wait, that's here."

"Oh, don't go off on that..." The Doctor sighed, too tired to take the Master up on his jabs. Instead, he held out a hand. "Come with me."

"Did that radiation just do something to your head? Because I've got this weird feeling that we've had this conversation before."

"I know. And I'm still offering."

The Master narrowed his eyes. "And what if I refuse?"

"Then you get to stay here. Or do whatever you like. So long as it doesn't mean trying to destroy humanity again."

"There's a catch. There's always a catch – you wouldn't just let me go that easily." He'd be disappointed if the Doctor did. There'd be no fun in it.

"Humanity knows who you are," the Doctor said after a moment's breath. "If you stayed here, without a TARDIS, then you might be able to get away to somewhere else. But in the state you're in, after all that you've done here? I doubt it, Master. So just this once, would you let me help?"

"A word, Doctor – no. I don't want your help, and I don't need your help, and if there's even a chance that I could get away without your interference, I'd take it. No questions asked, no hesitation, no delay!"

The Doctor's hand was still held out, his expression unchanging. "Then why are you still here?" The Master's face, on the other hand, wasn't so perfectly disguised when it came to his emotions. He never had been, and it showed in this incarnation even more than ever before. "Why not just walk out of here, leave all of this behind? If you can, do it. I won't stop you."

"I can! I..." The silence echoed in the Master's head and the words of the conversation reverberated, as his mind searched instinctively for something to fill the sudden void. One. Two. Three. Four. The last time he had heard the beat, he had been shouting it at its originator. One. Two. Three. Four. His hands went to his head – they were only words, not the drums that had called him to the battle time after time after time...

Hands. A hand, on his shoulder. The Doctor's hand. And for the first time in their conversation, there was concern, real worry in the other Time Lord. Too bad the Master didn't appreciate it.

"I can help you. I want to help you. But I can only do – do anything, if you let me." The Doctor paused, but only for an instant. "Come with me."

It doesn't even have to be what he wants. I could escape, get away, the next planet, next time zone. If he's not watching, anything could happen. I took the TARDIS from him once. I could do it again. Take a chunk of coral, grow my own – only a Type 40, but all the others are dead, dead and gone and I don't have any choice...

The Doctor, waiting patiently for an answer. The human, whose gun – gun! The Doctor never used guns! – had defeated his plan and saved them all by destroying the link, the white point star. And in the TARDIS, the things he could do... in the shadows, he smiled. And it faltered. The drums, instead of rising along with his intent, did nothing at all.

Because they weren't there any more. Now, it was only him, only his insanity, him and the Doctor and the TARDIS.

"Do you remember, Doctor? The first time you ever said that." Two boys, or at least that's how they looked. Only a dream, a hope for freedom from the stifling airs and graces and duties. But it was something to aim for. Only when the younger Doctor finally managed it, his old self had been left behind. "And just look at us now, Doctor. Look at us now."

...

AN: Unsaid things = The Master is stable due to Rassilon Gloving him back to normal. That way, Rassilon got less Lightning of Doom. Master has no drums because Gallifrey is now permanently back in the Time Lock, and there is no more possibility of a link back there.

I may or may not go on to do some of the later bits from this episode, but they'd mostly be that the Master's recovering physically and mentally in the TARDIS. He had just been caught in a brink between living and dying for at least a couple of days, after all.

...I really liked writing the bit with Wilf best. Especially his first line.