A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! It's good to be back! ^^
An update – Aww, thank you! Yeah, it's been a while; I'm not surprised people thought it was long since dead. x)
Ravenlupa the DragonSage84 – So far there's nothing planned for this fic that will go into the actual episodes – right now it's all happening between 'A Christmas Carol' and the start of Season 6. It's a mark of how long I've been writing this that, when I started it, 'A Christmas Carol' hadn't come out yet and there was no Season 6 to write about or work into the plot. O.o I do have a snippet of 'The Doctor's Wife' with the Master in it though, which I might eventually tidy up and post as a one-shot. :)
Sage Q – Sanctuary avatar! 8D Currently River's not planned to be in the fic beyond occasional references, like in this chapter, because when it was first plotted out River's background was still almost entirely unknown and I didn't want to end up with major inconsistencies between my story and canon. =/ Probably just as well, considering that what I was thinking for her would have majorly conflicted with what actually happened, but she might still be in other fics involving the Master later on. ^^
GoodApollo – Thank you so much! ^^ I'm glad you like it! :D
versenaberrie – Yup! :) I hope you enjoy this new one as well!
Person-without-a-FF.N-account – Hee, thank you! ^^ It's always good to hear that I'm writing the characters and their interactions believably, especially with characters who never actually met in the show itself. I shall certainly attempt to keep it up, and thank you again! :3
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all related content and characters belong to the BBC; no infringement is intended.
With a tremendous wheezing and rumbling of engines the TARDIS shuddered to a stop, and the Doctor sprang up from the floor to swing the monitor over and check where they were. "Ah!" he crowed. "Right on time, no one around to see us, missed the shed, not in the flowers, and in short…" He twirled in a circle with his hands raised in a triumphant flourish at Amy, who was sprawled on her back under the console with one hand still grasping the support bar. "A perfect landing."
"No matter how many times you say that, River's still a better pilot than you," Amy said, hauling herself up and poking her head around the rotor column to see where Rory had ended up. At least the Master wasn't a concern this time – he had retired to his room as soon as they'd all returned to the TARDIS and hadn't emerged since. "She actually keeps the floor under us when she's flying." Across the platform, Rory disentangled himself from the yellow chair he'd been thrown behind and nodded in silent agreement.
The Doctor's face fell and he gave them a slightly sour look, but then a slow smile grew across his face. Leaning close, he gave Amy a conspiratorial nudge with his shoulder. "My way's more fun though," he said, his voice soft but assured. In resistance to the Time Lord's knowing grin and sparkling green eyes Amy struggled to keep a poker face, but as he raised his eyebrows expectantly she felt giggles bubbling up that she finally couldn't hold back any longer, and the Doctor pointed gleefully at her. "Ha-ha, gotcha!"
Standing and stretching a crick out of his back, Rory joined the two at the console. "I could do with a bit less fun, actually. Are we back in Leadworth now?" he asked, reaching for the monitor. His hand was batted away by the Doctor before he could touch it, and he shrugged and held his hands up in surrender. "Okay. Just wondering."
"Of course we're in Leadworth – pay attention, Rory," the Doctor replied peevishly. "Specifically, in your own back garden and just before lunch. Which reminds me: if the Master should bother to surface while we're here, make sure not to let him out unless he's already eaten. We don't want any accidents with the neighbours." At the implications Rory grimaced and Amy cocked her head thoughtfully, but the Doctor didn't wait for any reply from them before he clapped his hands eagerly. "Well, come on, you two! No point dawdling all day!" He leapt down the stairs to the main floor and jogged to the doors, flinging them open and striding out. A sharp sound of shattering pottery immediately echoed through the TARDIS, and the Doctor's voice called back, "I've broken your geraniums."
The Ponds exchanged tired glances that quickly became alarmed, and Rory yelled after him, "Doctor, we don't have any geraniums!" There was no reply, and he gave Amy a frustrated look. "What's with the big rush anyway? He never gets this excited about Leadworth."
Amy pursed her lips and leaned back against the console with a light shrug, folding her arms. "I may have told him we had several boxes of fish fingers in the freezer." At Rory's sigh, she said defensively, "You said you wanted to get home right away."
"We'd better catch him before he breaks into someone's house," he said, heading down the stairs, but he paused at the base of them. "We are in Leadworth though? Definitely?" Amy twisted to see the monitor behind her and nodded, and Rory continued on his way with a little more confidence.
The Doctor's voice drifted in through the TARDIS doors, cooing "Who's a good doggy, then? Yes, you are! Aren't you just a lovely big fellow? Now stand back so I can get this open…", and Rory bolted outside after him while Amy rested her forearms on the railing and waited. Amid the sounds of deep barking and Rory's panicked yells of "Wrong house! Wrong house! That dog is not friendly!", she idly wandered over to the monitor and noted that the ship had landed one street over from their place, although the time at least did seem spot on.
Well, that's some consolation at least, she thought, studying the readout carefully. Ah, and there's why we ended up here instead – those two numbers're swapped around. Put the right number in and we'll land right on the garden walk. Pleased with herself for working it out, Amy went back to the railing with a smirk. Oh, Doctor. I could probably fly this thing better than you if you taught me how. Hmm, wonder if he would? Or maybe the Master would… No. Asking him for flying lessons would probably be a really bad idea. She sighed and propped her chin up on her hand. And so, the Girl Who Waited has to sit around waiting some more. As usual.
Once the Doctor and Rory made their hasty return and had slammed the door shut behind them, Amy pointed out the navigational error, which the Doctor corrected while scolding both humans for not saying anything about it sooner. "Really," he huffed, yanking down a lever and clinging to it as the TARDIS shook, "if people just paid a little more attention and didn't always pester me when I'm trying to set coordinates, this sort of thing wouldn't happen. I'll have you know those were some very nice geraniums."
Standing next to him and gripping the edge of the console, Amy watched his movements carefully as the ship settled down again. "Yeah, about the coordinates thingy," she said as he peered at the monitor, "I was thinking, y'know, since I already kind of know how that works and which controls do what, that maybe you might teach me how to fly the TARDIS." The Doctor gave her an incredulous look, and she frowned at him. "What? You taught River, so why not us? Or is that only for your very special friends?" She tucked her chin down and gave him a coquettish moue from behind her shoulder, hoping to tease him into agreeing. "C'mon. Please? Just a little bit? For emergencies?"
Rory quickly raised his hand. "Amy, remember that one time I let you drive my car? You were the emergency."
"Shut up!" Amy hissed at him before turning back toward the Doctor, but the alien had already moved on, bounding down the stairs and to the doors. "Besides, I've flown the TARDIS before and nothing bad happened." Seeing her husband's surprised expression, she waved one hand dismissively. "That was when you were… either dead or a plastic Roman."
The Doctor called over, "Looks okay out there - definitely got the right place this time." As the Ponds joined him at the open door he swept one hand out to indicate the garden they'd landed in, and Amy noted with relief that it was indeed their own house.
"Great, we'll just run in, drop off the shells and grab our stuff then," Rory said, rubbing his hands together. "It shouldn't take very long." Amy elbowed him firmly on the arm, not looking at him, and he paused and slowly corrected that to, "This… might take a while?" That met with Amy's approval, and after a moment of thought Rory's eyes widened and he nodded keenly. "Oh… yeah. A while. Maybe quite a while."
"You go ahead," the Doctor said, waving them out the door. "I'm going to wait for the Master, make sure he doesn't go wandering off out here." The humans quickly made their exit, and the Time Lord strolled back to the console and busied himself with flicking switches and scanning readings until he heard soft footsteps coming down the upper stairs. "About time," he grumbled, glancing up. "I thought you were never going to show up."
The other Time Lord made a rude gesture and joined him by the console, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve and blinking blearily at the lights; casting a sidelong glance at the Master, the Doctor noticed that his clothes and blond hair were even more rumpled than usual. Is he sleeping in the middle of the day now? he thought, frowning slightly, but he said nothing, instead turning his attention back to the dials he was adjusting until the Master asked, "So, what marvellously exciting backwater have you landed us in this time?"
"Leadworth," the Doctor replied, twisting a knob curiously and quickly spinning it back when the rotor column gave a warning hum.
"Still? But I thought… Where were we before?"
"Also Leadworth." At the Master's puzzled look, the Doctor drew in a breath and held it for a second, gesturing vaguely with his hand. "There was a slight… discrepancy in the coordinates that had to be corrected."
"You landed in the wrong place, as usual," the Master said flatly, hooking his elbows over the railing and gazing at the Doctor while he worked. "You know, you should really give me at least some access to the TARDIS controls – I've always been better with ships than you, and I actually passed my flight exams. Could be useful in an emergency, and I could fix those stabilizers you're fiddling with, too. It's bad enough that you're a rubbish pilot; we don't need to be rattled to pieces every time the old bucket takes off."
The Doctor sniffed at him and turned to pat the TARDIS console comfortingly. "'Old bucket'! Never mind, old girl; we both know that -" His hand froze in mid-pat, and he spun back to face the Master. "What did you say?" The Master squinted at him, perplexed as to his meaning, and the Doctor strode over to him. "Amy just asked me to let her fly the TARDIS, not moments ago, 'for emergencies', she said. And now you're asking for the same thing. Why?"
The Master stared at him in silence, his expression shifting, and the Doctor watched him intently. Usually he found his counterpart's latest face very easy to read, every emotion in plain sight, but this time he couldn't quite figure out what was behind it. Finally the Master shrugged. "Because any time someone has to suffer through your flying, they immediately think about how much better a job they could do of it?" The Doctor continued to eye him suspiciously, and the blond Time Lord sighed with aggravation and rolled his head back. "Oh, I suppose you think I've hypnotized her and that under my malign influence she's planning to steal the TARDIS for me. Well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not much up for the hypnotizing these days. And even if I did get your TARDIS," he added bitterly, "where would I go?"
That made the Doctor pause, and he tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement. Regardless of what the Master might have in mind for the future, the Doctor knew he would never show his hand until he was actually ready to play it, which he certainly wasn't at the moment. Unusual though it was, it seemed the Master was probably telling the truth, and he rather reluctantly eased back from the other man and forced himself to relax. "Right. Okay, then. Just checking."
"What, that's it?" the Master said, and at the Doctor's brief nod he slapped one hand over his hearts in mock anguish. "No apology for flinging false accusations at me? No protestations that you always believed in my innocence? I am wounded to the core that you would suspect me of such misdeeds, after all our long years of friendship, the boundless regard I've always held for you -"
"Don't push your luck," the Doctor replied drily, walking down the stairs. "You can take it as an expression of my trust that I'm letting you hold the fort for a bit. I've got fish fingers to attend to, and Amy and Rory seemed to think they'd be busy for some time, so you're to stay put until we get back."
The Master groaned, folding his arms and resting forward against the railing as the Doctor left. "While I'm not exactly aflame with anticipation at the prospect of seeing Leadworth, I hardly see any reason for me to sit around in here all day," he complained.
The Doctor twirled in the doorway to face him, already with one foot on the path outside. "How about because every human on the planet knows your face? Former British Prime Minister, the man everyone turned into last Christmas, one of the most notorious men in recent Earth history; we can't risk someone recognizing you and causing a fuss. Just stay here and keep out of trouble until I get back." He disappeared out the door, but then ducked his head around the corner and shouted, "And don't touch anything!" before darting out again and pulling the door shut, leaving the Master and his withering glare inside.
Sighing, the Master slouched over to his usual chair and sat down, regarding the empty console room. He didn't mind being alone, even preferred it, but he had to admit it did get boring after a while. At least when people were there he could mock them mercilessly for his own amusement, but it was impossible to start a quarrel when he was alone. Except with the TARDIS herself, of course, but he already knew too well that she would win and make his life miserable for days afterward. It just wasn't fun fighting with a machine that would wilfully electrify the food replicator.
Damn. Now he was thinking about food again. Perhaps the Doctor would bring some extra fish fingers back with him, although the possibility didn't arouse much excitement. In his gut the Master knew it wasn't food of the cooked variety that he craved, or even the already-dead variety, come to that. He gazed longingly at the door, wondering if anyone would notice if he popped out for a quick snack. It wasn't like there were many people around to see him, and surely there were a few stray cats around the place that no one would miss. To his irritation and slight embarrassment, that idea made his mouth water, and he slumped back in the chair and tried to ignore both that and the pangs in his stomach.
Try as he might to satiate it, the gnawing hunger that had been present ever since his resurrection still plagued him. He'd become resigned to it being a permanent feature, yet another mark of the damage done by Lucy's cursed death potion, but that didn't make it any less maddening when he could eat to the point of pain and still be ravenous. If anything it was getting worse over time. It wasn't like eating did nothing for him though – he had regained much of the weight he'd lost, and food certainly helped clear his head and push away the incessant faint voices that prowled in the back of his mind.
Abruptly he sat bolt upright in the chair, his eyes widening as he realized what his lapse of attention had caused, but even as he tried desperately to wrench his mind on to a different path he knew he'd caught it too late. At the casual brush of his thoughts against them, the whispers had stirred and were already responding enthusiastically, tendrils weaving out to take advantage of the brief connection and coiling tightly around it, forcing it to stay in place despite his efforts to tear it away. The noises were getting stronger now, taking over from the voices and rising inexorably up, spreading thickly across the mental link as his vision began to fade out under the thundering of blood and battle and screams –
"No!" he snarled, jumping to his feet and slamming his hand down on the TARDIS console. An arc of vengeful electricity snapped out and lashed across his arm with a sharp crackle, striking with enough force to throw the Master back a step, and he stumbled backward into one of the chairs. Clutching his sore arm and trying to shake some feeling back into his hand, he swore vehemently through his slightly hysterical laughter. There were some benefits to the TARDIS's dislike of him, one of which was the easy access to a short sharp shock when necessary – there was nothing quite like it for derailing dangerous thoughts. At the jolt his mind had gone quiet again, the brainwaves disrupted enough to snap the connection, but he could still feel his hearts pounding wildly from more than just the electricity.
He raised his head and let his eyes drift around the room in search of a distraction, but there was little to do when no one was around. Lacking anything else, the Master stuck his hand into his front pocket in search of the television, his usual refuge. For all that the Pond girl ridiculed his watching of children's shows, there was something oddly charming about the innocent worlds they depicted, so unlike the stories told to children of Gallifrey that were all about duty, tradition, and the Toclafane who snipped the noses off of bad little boys. He'd never cared much for those stories.
As he drew it out of his hoodie he flipped the device over to see the front, but the instant his eyes landed on the screen he recoiled with a yell and pitched backward off the chair, flinging the screen away from him in horror. It hit the far chair and bounced harmlessly on to the padded seat, and the Master scrambled back until he was pressed hard against the platform railing, his boots slipping on the glass floor as he tried to scrabble even a little further from where it lay.
The screen hadn't been turned on, still had the switch firmly set to 'off', and yet an image was clearly displayed on it in full horrible detail. There, with its tentacles in chains and its shattered casing still coated with clinging white nerve tissue, was the grotesque twisted form of a Dalek.