A/N: This is both the longest and the shippiest of all of them (even then, it's still pretty mild), probably since I find their ability to be close friends and enemies at the same time interesting. Anyways, thanks to my reviewers! Hope you enjoy this one. I might push this one to ten chapters, so if you have any PG-13 ideas or prompts feel free to share them!

7 Asymmetry

The Master had long since known his relationship with the Doctor was, fundamentally, asymmetrical. It hadn't been that way at first, of course; he took pride in reminding anyone who needed reminding that the Doctor had approached him that first day at the Academy, all puppy-dog eyes and nervous energy.

The Doctor had been as devoted to the Master then as he was to the Doctor, though they didn't call themselves that at the time. The Doctor had followed him around, admired him, killed for him...it was really that last one that had gotten the Master completely sunk into their relationship in a way he hadn't been with anyone before. He wanted to be with the Doctor all the time, travel the stars like they promised.

Then the trials happened, the drums.

And then the Doctor left.

And the Master was alone.

Rationally he knew the Time War was some of it, and the Master's new, less than wholesome habit of killing anyone who stood in his way was the rest of it, but outside of that...all he could think was, why did he leave me?

And then, the ultimate insult to injury: the Doctor had begun to run around with humans. Make friends with them. Love them, even.

The Master had never loved anyone else in his life.

They had both been married before, both to humans. But only the Doctor really cared for the primitive animal he wedded.

He had had some hopes with this incarnation, with the way she was withholding information from her companions like she never had before. Maybe she would try to reason with him again. Maybe, once he vented all the poison from his rage, it would finally leave him.

But she didn't try. For the first time in thousands of years, he actually had to wonder if he'd worn out her patience for good.

The Doctor was good at a lot of things. Running to avoid facing the crushing weight of...just everything, all the time. Running some more. Running to survive. And lying, to whoever she needed to (not to him, surely not to him).

But giving up on people? That had never been one of them. The Mi6 files even mentioned this version prided herself on second chances.

So why not for him?

He dived down deep into that, coupled with the ever-present pain of the Timeless Child, she's the Timeless Child, and decided: so be it.

If I'm right, he thought, she'll prove me right. Let me do the worst I can think of.

After all, why shouldn't I? She just doesn't want me anymore.

Me, the first person she ever killed for.

(...Probably.)

There had been no time to hurt Ko Sharmus, the ignorant fool who got in his way, as badly as he would have liked. He had to escape, leaving behind his perfect hideous army and the Cyberium in the process.

But after that, he had no idea what to do.

For some reason, his TARDIS couldn't seem to detect hers, and no signs of her telepathic energy came to him. It went like that for days, then years.

So the Master gave himself a rare treat: time to lick his wounds. He travelled space and time in his own borrowed TARDIS, visiting the haunts that used to be he and the Doctor's favourites. A goodbye to himself, a hello to sinking as low as he possibly good. He used the TCE to clear out bars and have some space, but outside of that, he didn't kill. He was in too foul a mood to get any enjoyment out of it.

Even that got too depressing, so he let himself sit amongst the noise and the other aliens, trying to disappear, trying not to feel.

The problem with having the smarts he had, was it opened up so many possibilities for misbehaviour. So many places across so many galaxies where he knew he could get his hands on something to help him.

Make him numb. Make him happy.

Make him forget.

That was a dark road, not one he could get himself out of easily.

It was perfect.

He ended up on a bar at the far side of the universe, managing to slip past while the owner had an argument with a lone Judoon. The bar inside was busy, packed to the seams with people from galaxies all over. This was the perfect place to find something to blow his brains out with - it was pretty obvious the place was crawling with criminals, cyber-trash and gamblers.

The Master pushed his way through the bar, looking for an open space to sit. He spotted an open space at the other end of the room and shoved his way towards it, then stopped dead.

The space was there because the crowd had parted a little to give someone space - a woman in dark clothes, with blond hair.

She looked different out of the sky-blue coat, but he recognised her instantly, the familiar way her hair fell at the back.

The Doctor.

He slipped his hand into his pocket, gripping his TCE, and moved silently through the crowd.

But as he got closer, he saw something was clearly wrong. There was a break in the crowd because the Doctor was bending forward, gripping onto a chair so hard her knuckles were white, her shoulders hunched up. The Master moved carefully to one side, relying on her not to notice him in the crowds.

Small chance of that. When he was able to get a view of her face, her skin was ash white, her eyes wide and just...staring, into the distance. The blue-skinned alien by her side had given up trying to talk to the Doctor and was worriedly asking patrons nearby what to do.

"Should we get the manager?"

"Forgot the manager, we need a shrink. Or a doctor."

Clear distress on the Doctor's face; she tried to say something and couldn't get a sound out. The Master growled to himself and shoved his way through the crowd.

"Move. I'm her friend, move!"

The crowd parted for him and the Doctor looked over, too beside herself to say a word. He raised his hand towards her temple. "Can I?"

She stared at him, a strange distance in her eyes, before nodding. The Master rested his hand against her temple, making a connection.

Images flashed through his mind - disjointed memories like the ones he had seen in the Matrix, of other faces, other lives. Something was playing out in front of the Doctor and she couldn't do anything but let it happen.

He'd done this. Showing her the most of what he could find had broken the seal, and now all her repressed memories were flooding back.

He leant back and offered her his hand. "I know a good place to stay near here. Take my hand."

She considered and for a second he was sure she was about to say never again, but after a second she just took his hand quietly.

The Master walked the two of them out of the bar, getting the Doctor away from the noise and out to the corridor. They stopped at the top of the stairway, the Doctor letting go of his hand to grip the banister. He could see the memories going through her in the tension in her shoulders, the white-knuckled grip, her ragged breathing.

"How bad is it?" he asked. She turned her face away and he reached over to rub her shoulder. "Sorry." She looked back at him, shocked. "I denied you the pleasure of killing them yourself."

She rolled her eyes and looked away again. But slowly, slowly, her shoulders dropped and she relaxed. She looked over at him with exhausted eyes. "All right," she said softly. "We can go now."

The Master grabbed her wrist in his hand and led the way down the stairs. The Doctor could walk without aid but let her lead him without complaint, the whole situation reminding him of when they were children. How they'd take turns to look after one another...how Theta would have his back when no one else did.

The place he led them to was a small traveller's inn, one of the few places he was on good terms with the owner for chasing away rabble-rousers. Today, though, the man looked skeptical.

"If she's sick, I don't want her in here."

"She's tired. We travelled a long way."

The Doctor stood quiet behind him, trying to look composed. It was hard when her skin was pallid and she looked like she wanted to faint any second.

The owner shook his head. "I appreciate what you've done for me, but-"

"My wife is just tired," the Master repeated, the Doctor giving him a look but saying nothing. "I guarantee you, we will not be any trouble."

"Oh." The owner took another look at her, then smiled at the Master. "Why didn't you just say so? Here. Double room this time?"

"Um...sure." The Master couldn't very well ask for separate beds without putting a bit of a crimp in his lie, so he took the key. He moved to escort the Doctor up the stairs, but she shook him off and headed up, alone. Her steps were heavy, lethargic.

"Anything I can do to help? Your poor wife looks like she's been through it."

"Yeah," the Master said, lump in his throat. "She has."

"What happened?"

"There were people who hurt her...hurt me, too. So I hurt them back. I don't think she liked that much."

"But you were getting revenge for her?"

It sounded nicer to say it was for her. Hadn't it partly been for her? He nodded, his throat dry. "But it still hurts. The monsters are all gone but it still hurts."

"At least she has you. Couples need one another, at times like this."

Tears pricked the Master's eyes. This damn new body. All it wanted to do was grieve, and grieve, shrink some people, then grieve some more.

He headed quickly up the stairs.

The Doctor had left the door open so he managed to find the right room. She was throwing her coat over a chair when he came in, her usual clothes replaced with a plain black shirt and trousers. He didn't have the heart to ask where the usual outfit was.

She slipped off her boots and climbed into one side of the double bed without so much as looking at him, burrowing into the covers and settling down on her side with a weary sigh. "I just need to sleep it off," she said, shutting her eyes. "Thanks for the room. Resume normal service tomorrow."

He shut the door and locked it. "Normal service?"

She shrugged. "Oh, y'know. Evil plans. That sort of thing."

He folded his arms and said nothing. She lay still, but as time stretched it became obvious she couldn't sleep. She was tense and shivering under the covers, fidgety too. Eventually he took pity on her and knelt down, hand hovering over her temple. "Need help? Just this once."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. The Doctor bit her lip, hesitated, then took his hand. She looked pointedly at the other side of the bed, then back at him. He raised an eyebrow. Was she actually...?

"Are you serious?" he asked quietly.

She looked down, then nodded. The Master considered. The urge to reject her was so, so strong, but...

He slid his shoes off and walked around to the other side of the bed. He didn't get under the covers, though, just laid on top of them with his back to her.

"How does it feel?" he asked. "They're flashbacks, right? How does it feel?"

She didn't answer for a while. He started to think she wasn't going to when she said, "Physical. I feel when they're coming on, then it's like I live all the experiences again...all the stress, all the sadness. All the emotions again, like a wave...And I see things. I see young men and women, boys and girls... I know they were me once, but I see it from the outside. Like it happened to someone else, even though I know it was me."

She had started to shiver again. He could feel the tension coming off of her in waves.

The Master slid off the bed, then got under the covers. He scooted over until he was practically spooning her, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Have you been sleeping?"

"Not much."

They were quiet again. The Master wanted to reach out to her, but couldn't help thinking, You left me. You left me to die. You were going to let him kill me.

You were going to take over the world with an endlessly regenerating army, she thought back. Apparently he hadn't been quiet enough. Was I supposed to sit back and let you do it?

You could let me win. Just once. Where's the harm?

But instead of the self righteous spiel he expected, she merely thought back, It won't satisfy you.

He waited for her to ask the obvious follow up - what would satisfy him? - but she never did. Stung, he thought back, Why couldn't you do it? Too scared to die?

An immediate response, so sober and matter of fact it brought him up short. No. I'm not afraid to die.

The Master frowned in the dark, not sure how to follow that. If she wasn't scared to die then...she didn't want to kill him herself? The cynical part of his mind thought, she just didn't want to be responsible for the killing directly.

Hypocritical, or hope-giving.

He didn't like his options.

The Master shifted, reaching his arm out and sliding it around her middle, pulling her against him possessively. She tensed, a little surprised, then raised her arm. He expected her to pry his grip away, but she just laid her hand on top of his. Then she looped their fingers together, gripping hard.

They lay together in the dark in silence. The Doctor's trembling was starting to calm, and she was receptive when the Master opened another telepathic link. Not to talk - bicker - this time. So they could just...be. But together. He felt tension draining from him, too, the feeling of being with her, their minds together, like seeing places he hadn't in a long time, like coming home.

He realised it was the first time in a long time that the both of them couldn't care if they lived or died.

"Look what they've done to us..." he said softly. Then, telepathically, How can you care I killed them? How can you?

He didn't get an answer, though, because the Doctor had finally fallen asleep.

It was an odd, broken night - the Doctor was having persistent bad dreams, and the Master would find himself comforting her in the middle of the night.

But it just kept happening.

The third time, when his sympathy was starting to turn to frustration and murderous rage at the Time Lords again, he remembered something else.

Something he used to do a long time ago, to help Theta when he was scared. It probably wouldn't work now, but he tried it anyway.

He rubbed a gentle circle at the base of her neck, where it always used to soothe her when they were children.

The Doctor calmed down straight away.

The Master swallowed down a lump in his throat. She slept the rest of the night peacefully. He knew, because he couldn't find it in him to fall asleep again.

He knew some of it was the fear of what morning would bring. Back to her constant anger with him, her wanting to get away from him. Maybe it was deserved, maybe he'd stepped over a line this time, but...why did she have to lie next to him, give him a peaceful night like this?

This was hope-giving. This was the complete opposite of his plan.

He saw the dawn light starting to rise outside the window. He had to get out of here. He had to get out of here now.

The Doctor turned towards him, muttered in her sleep. He half-expected the start of another bad dream, but then she stilled again.

"Master?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Yeah," he said, voice raw. "I'm here."

She scooted towards him, actually snuggling into his neck. His hearts skipped and just when he thought he couldn't disbelieve the whole situation any more, she reached out and wrapped her arm around him, clinging onto him tightly.

Then he noticed - the tension was back in her shoulders. The flashbacks were plaguing her again.

He lifted his arm, stroking the back of her hair until she started to calm and drift back to sleep.

Maybe both he and the innkeeper had been right.

The Doctor didn't want him.

But she still needed him.

And right now, that was the best he could hope for.