A/N: Only a small note today: I've started work on an epilogue for this story, so it's now a 27 chapter long story... for now.
The Doctor did not bother opening his eyes. He had seen enough of this world. He was tired of it. Something in the back of his mind longed for just one day in which the world did not need him, in which he could leave it and escape. But day after day he woke up to the same broken world. He wondered for the millionth time how long this had gone on for, and how much longer it would take.
He had no idea how long it had been since Charlie's death, but it felt like years. The Master had begun locking Letitia in the holding cells overnight, so she could no longer visit him. A scared solemnity had overtaken the guards, servants, and crew after the murder of one their own, and the Doctor's own hearts wanted to simply give out. Nothing he could do made anything better. It only made things worse.
They had tried to keep fighting; they knew that they must be running out of time. The Doctor continued to invade the Archangel network, and Jack continued to invent new ways of wriggling out of his bonds. He had gotten out twice since his escape from the Valiant, but was less successful each time. By this time most of the guards, even those still sympathetic to their cause, thought Jack honestly out of his mind. The Master enjoyed his games, however, and found new ways of punishing the band of rebels each time. The last, although the least physically scarring, may have been the worst.
For their impudence, the Master had decided to punish the world below. He gathered them on deck to witness his show of power and took great joy in making them watch their world crumble and bow before him. He had chosen one of the most populated areas on the earth, and he had utterly destroyed it.
The islands of Japan were nothing but haunted, blood-soaked ashes; worse than the aftermath of World War II. And they had watched it burn, helpless to stop him. Tish had taken it the worst, and the Doctor feared that she or one of her family would do something rash. He did not want them hurt, or to hurt themselves. He had made a plan for another distraction with the help of Jones family some time ago, but had insisted that they not act against the Master again unless they must. He did not want any more of the earth to follow the fate of Japan.
As he saw the earth below, the Doctor saw how much damage the Master had done, and how close he was to beginning his galactic war. He knew they had to act and act soon. But as he lay for one peaceful moment alone in his tent, he did his best to keep his mind off of all of this and tried to relax as best he could.
He was so tired. Even though his body looked to be whole once more, he could still feel the painful wounds the Master had given him, and his body had become slower than ever to heal. The Master did not even bother chaining him up anymore; he was practically useless. He sat, day after day, sinking ever lower into despair. The Doctor told himself it was all to buy time and heighten the Master's overconfidence. But he had begun to wonder if he really was useless after all.
As he lay for a blessed, peaceful moment in the solitude of his small tent, he tried once more to focus on anything other than his miserable life. He delved each night into memories of long ago, desperately trying to remind himself of that there was still some good left in this world, and there was some time when he had experienced it. His eyes still closed, the Doctor floated somewhere between sleeping and waking, reliving his past in his mind.
He thought of Martha, and of his TARDIS, and of their adventures. He thought of meeting Donna, and wondered if she was still alive somewhere on the earth below. He thought of Rose. And for once, he was almost glad that she was not there. Almost. He would not wish this terror of a world upon anyone, least of all her. She was safe in Pete's world, safe from all of the danger he brought with him wherever he went. But something in him still screamed for her to be with him, to hold his hand and smile and tell him she trusted him, and that it was going to be alright in the end.
With this thought a faint smile dared to emerge on the Doctor's lips. It had been so long since he had smiled. It had been so long since he had laughed. He lost himself to his memories and dreams once more, but his joyous relief did not last long.
"Citizens rejoice! Your Lord and Master stands on high, playing track three."
Sudden music blasted into his once peaceful shelter, piercing into the Doctor's sleepy mind and slapping him awake. Even the bright light of morning seemed to join in the assault on his senses as he dragged his eyes open. He sighed heavily as he contemplated another day aboard the Valiant. He probably should have been used to it now, but even though all of the pain and ache, each morning seemed to surprise him a little – although a little less every time. A dying corner of his mind still hoped and prayed that this was all a terrible nightmare, and they one day he would awaken from it to find he was still safe on the TARDIS. With Rose.
He could hear the Master going through his normal morning ritual, utilizing all of his ample opportunities to generally degrade, humiliate, and patronize everyone else on board, including Lucy his wife, who the Doctor knew bore many scars of her own by his hand.
The loud ringing of the Master's summoning hand bell somehow broke through the music, and the Doctor rolled his eyes and sighed once more, forcing himself towards the door.
"Oh I could throw you in the lake or feed you poison birthday cake, I won't deny, I'm gonna miss you when you're gone." The Master sang along to his song, hopping down from his place on the command deck and meeting the Doctor as he crawled out of his tent. "Oh I could bury you alive," The Master grabbed the Doctor buy his tie and pulled him up into a standing position "but you might crawl out with a knife and kill me while I'm sleeping, that's why…" The Master sang in his face, shoving him back down to where the Doctor crashed roughly into his wheelchair.
"I can't decide whether you should live or die!" The Master sang gleefully as he shoved the Doctor forward on his chair once more. "Oh you'd probably go to heaven, please don't hang your head and cry." He mocked as he spun them around with a laugh, but the Doctor paid him little heed. He barely reacted to this sort of thing anymore. He was tired of it.
"No wonder why my heart feels dead inside, it's cold and hard and petrified. Lock the doors and close the blinds, we're going for a ride…" The song went on as the Master finally pushed the wheelchair towards a window and stopped.
"It's ready to rise, Doctor!" He knelt beside his captive with a joyous smile. "The new Time Lord Empire!" He cheered. "It's good, isn't it?" he turned to the Doctor, who stared blankly out the window, watching masses of Toclafane pass by. "Isn't it good?" The Master teased again. The Doctor did not respond. He had defeated the last Time Lord Empire single handed. As he watched the Master's army, he felt practically useless now. "Anything?" His captor continued to prod. "No? Anything?" He waved his hand mockingly before the Doctor's eyes, but his captive did not grace him with a response.
He looked out the window, following the Doctor's despondent gaze, and smiled. "Oh, but they broke your hearts, didn't they, those Toclafane?" He asked in a much too amused tone. "Ever since you found out what they really are." The Doctor swallowed hard, but did not move his gaze. The Master sat for a moment watching him. He was the living image of defeat. But the Master knew one thing that might bring him even lower.
"They say Martha Jones has come back home." He broke the silence. At once, the Doctor turned to him. The Master smiled at the fear that shone in his captive's eyes. "Now why would she do that?" He asked proudly. He had taken everything else from his old friend and foe, Martha was the only thing that the Doctor had left to lose.
"Leave her alone." The Doctor said strongly. They were the first three words he had uttered in the past two days.
"But you said something to her, didn't you?" The Master pointed out. "On the day I took control."
The Doctor diverted his gaze, and the Master knew that he was hiding something. The Doctor hoped that he had not noticed, but it was too late now.
"What did you tell her?" He asked in a dark and serious tone.
The Doctor looked back into the Master's eyes, wondering how much he knew. All of his plans passed before his mind; the Archangel network, the human race, Martha's mission, they all had to work. But there was something even more important that would bring the Master down.
"I have one thing to say to you." The Doctor said softly, his eyes filled with a strange sort of hope that the Master could not grasp. He seemed to be looking straight into his enemy's soul. The Master raised an eyebrow in question. "You know what it is." The Doctor told him. In fact, the Master did not know, or he did not want to know. But something in his strange new defiance brought to the Master something he had not felt in a long time: Fear.
"Ooh no you don't!" He said loudly, trying again to belittle whatever it was that the Doctor did in an attempt to mask the hint of fear that it rose in his hearts. He stood and shoved the Doctor's wheelchair away into the corner, discarding him as useless once more.
"Come on, people, what are we doing?" He turned back to the Valiant and clapped his hands impatiently. "Launch day in twenty-four hours!"
The Doctor knew that they would have to enact their final plan today, if ever. They were running out of time. Although the Doctor did not want Martha captured, he now realized that he had delayed this day's coming long enough. Martha knew it was almost time. He turned silently to Martha's mother and gave a wordless message to Francine, who passed by with her tray. He held three fingers out discreetly, the sign that they would act at three o'clock that day. Francine would carry the message to the others. It was time to act at last.