So I wrote this in less than three weeks and hated every second of that. But I'm about as proud of it as anything I've written. Please be aware, this is the darkest thing I have posted to date. CONSISTENT THEMES OF MIND CONTROL, VIOLENCE AND CHILD ABUSE. Cross-posted on AO3, if you want to check the tags for more details.
The concept I began with was to dedicate a fic to the darker Time War Team stuff: namely, the stuff surrounding Rassilon. It was supposed to be like four scenes but it grew. For those of you following this series, the first scene picks up right after Home ends, and goes all the way through to when the Master runs from the War.
For those of you not up to date on this series, you can read this alone... The Master was resurrected as a kid, the Drums are mind control forcing him to fight for Gallifrey, and he has pieces of the Doctor's personality in his head. That's about all you need to know.
For those of you who want to skim through the better parts, might I suggest Chapters; those are the nice ones.
I'll be posting this all at once. All Canon-complaint, but VERY expanded. I've worked a long time on this headcanon.
Chapter 1
The Master was asleep, floating in an ocean of golden light.
He would have been perfectly content to stay there, as he had for an indeterminate number of years...
But there were sounds from outside, a sense of wrongness and danger nagging at his consciousness.
A persistent knocking sound pulling him out of sleep.
He frowned, realizing he'd have to face the waking world again.
The Master opened his eyes with a regretful sigh to find himself cocooned in blankets under the TARDIS Console. He glanced around, noting the changes to the room. It was spacious, the floor steel and concrete. The walls were white, the far corners slightly shadowed, so much like how the TARDIS had looked when they had first met, so long ago.
The biggest change was the coral pillars surrounding the Console, supporting the high ceiling.
The Master stared at them, puzzled. New TARDISes were grown from such coral but it was seldom seen once the ships were complete.
Perhaps in dire emergencies... Or when the damage was so great that it couldn't be patched together or covered up.
Energy deficit, the Doctor had said... How bad must things be for the TARDIS to have sustained damage she couldn't repair properly?
'Hello, Little One. Do you like my new design?'
The Master smiled. It was fun having someone to talk to in his head. And the TARDIS's voice carried the warm, golden glow with it, chasing out the cold.
"I do, yes," he replied internally. He indicated the coral pillars. "What happened, though? What's going on?"
'You are about to find out,' she responded. 'Do not be afraid, we will both take care of you.'
He didn't quite understand that. But that was often the way with the TARDIS. In their years together, he'd come to accept her strange sense of timing, the way she communicated at her own pace.
She nudged his attention towards the exterior doors. They were ajar, and the Doctor stood there, having a hushed conversation with someone outside. They seemed to be disagreeing over something.
The Master couldn't make out the words.
"Doctor?" he called out.
The Doctor stopped and turned. The voice on the other side of the doors started up again but the Doctor just waved it off dismissively and shut the door in the unseen person's face.
He hurried over to the Console, settling on the floor with a reassuring smile. "Good morning," he said. "How are you feeling?"
The Master rubbed his new face with his own unfamiliar hands and sat up. "Alright, I guess," he said. Adjusting to a new body always took some time, as the Doctor was well aware. It was just like the Doctor to focus on insignificant pleasantries when he should be answering important questions.
Such as why they were on Gallifrey, for starters.
And why he was alive again.
The Doctor was just sitting there, watching him with a quiet smile and that light of curiosity in his eyes.
He must have a million questions himself...
He'd have to wait his turn.
"Doctor," the Master said with his most no-nonsense expression. He wasn't quite sure how it would play on his new face but he wasn't ready to worry about that yet. "What's going on?"
The Doctor shifted uncomfortably and glanced away. "Quite a lot, actually."
"Such as?" the Master prompted. Sometimes dragging pertinent information from the Doctor was like pulling teeth.
A tentative knocking came from the TARDIS doors.
Knock knock knock knock.
The Master got distracted for a moment, wondering who was out there.
The sound echoed in his head even after it had faded from the air.
Then the Doctor had laid a hand on his shoulder. The Doctor's eyes were serious and sad. "There's something we need to talk about."
The Master's hearts picked up their pace. Suddenly he was afraid... More than that, filled with the dread of knowing that something irreversible was approaching. A turning point. Knowledge which would change everything, which couldn't be taken back.
Knock knock knock knock.
The Doctor sighed, disgusted. "Will they never stop?"
He scrambled to his feet and opened the door just long enough to snap at the messenger outside. "We will be there when we get there. Not one moment sooner. Tell him that from me." He slammed the door shut again and returned to his seat on the TARDIS floor.
The Master just stared at his friend, wondering if his new face looked as frightened as he felt.
Possibly so, because the Doctor smiled and inched a bit closer. "So, ah... You missed a few things while you were dead. Things are... Bad."
"Bad how?" the Master demanded, his voice breaking with stress. Why couldn't the Doctor just spit it out already?
"War," the Doctor said. His tone was grim but his eyes were so gentle. "Gallifrey is at war."
The Master let his gaze fall, taking a moment to process this information. "With whom?" he asked incredulously after a moment.
Who would be foolish enough to try to fight the Time Lords?
"Daleks," the Doctor said. And now he just looked tired. Tired and still so sad.
The Master's new eyes widened as he realized just how bad that was. "Oh... No..." he said.
"Yes," the Doctor agreed. "And it's worse than that. We're losing."
The Master laughed in outright disbelief at that. "Don't be ridiculous. We can't be losing!"
Gallifreyan society was ancient and immensely powerful. The Master could believe the Daleks would have the audacity to challenge that, could even imagine subduing that uprising could be difficult.
But... Losing?
It couldn't be true.
But as he looked at his old friend's haunted eyes, he saw that it was true.
His mind reeled.
And when it landed on solid ground again, it was with a far worse thought.
Had the Doctor been fighting this War alone?
For how long?
"How long?" he asked the TARDIS.
'Too long...' she replied.
The Master crawled out from under the Console and stood to put a hand on his friend's shoulder. It looked so small, even to him. He gave the Doctor the most confident smile he could manage. "You should have brought me back sooner," he said.
"I suppose I should have, yes," the Doctor agreed, returning the smile wanly.
"I bet we can win," the Master said, raising an eyebrow. "Now that I'm here."
He actually had no idea what the situation was, though it was clearly desperate. He was scared and in strangely unfamiliar territory and far, far behind on what had been happening...
But he didn't have to believe it himself.
Not yet.
He just had to fool the Doctor.
It seemed to be working. He managed to drag a more genuine smile out of the Doctor. "On that note..." the Doctor said. "The President wants to meet you. So we should probably go do that at some point. Not yet though, not if you're not ready."
The Master remembered that insistent knocking and shook his head. "No, better get it over with."
It seemed he'd have his work cut out for him. He should get started as soon as possible.
The Doctor climbed to his feet. The Master looked up at him with an amused grimace. This was a new record in terms of their height difference.
The Doctor must be loving this.
"Off we go, then," the Doctor said in an optimistic tone, dusting off his trousers habitually.
Getting to know this Doctor would be a very interesting experience. It was difficult to imagine the Doctor fighting a war for Gallifrey but already this Doctor was not what he would have expected in such a situation.
The Master had a lot to catch up on.
"Who's the President these days?" the Master thought to ask as they reached the TARDIS doors.
"Oh yes, ah... Rassilon, actually."
"Rassilon? Seriously?"
"Yes, seriously."
The Master paused, thinking of the Time Lady who had been President when he'd died.
"What happened to Romana?" he frowned.
The Doctor just shook his head, expression unreadable.
The Master regarded him, concerned, and made a note to ask about that again later.
"So they brought Rassilon back, too?" he mused. Were they just making a habit of resurrecting deceased Time Lords? That was... Worrying.
Although, as a policy, it was working out for him so far.
"Seems like he's not doing such a great job, though," the Master continued. "I mean, since we're losing." Perhaps all the stories they had grown up with of Rassilon the Redeemer, Founder of Time Lord society, had been exaggerations.
Which was something of a shame, since there was much speculation and few answers about the extent of Rassilon's real powers.
The Master had always wondered if he was as impressive as the legends made him sound.
The Master had met one of Rassilon's contemporaries but had been busy with other things at the time. Curiosity had been the last thing on his list at the time and he hadn't stopped to ask Omega questions.
Far from missing his chance, it seemed he'd now have an opportunity to find out firsthand.
"What's he like?" the Master asked his friend curiously.
"Pretty much how you'd expect," the Doctor said with a sour expression.
"Hm," the Master responded. "This should be interesting. I've always wanted to meet Rassilon."
The Doctor gave him an odd look. Then they were outside the TARDIS and there were two Chancellery guards waiting to escort them to the Presidential chambers.
They walked through the drab, featureless corridors of the Capitol. So familiar yet now so alien.
There was a scent in the air, like electrical fires, like week-old rubbish, like despair...
The scent of the Universe falling apart around them.
He didn't like being outside of the TARDIS.
The Master reached up instinctively to hold onto the Doctor's leather coat. Instead, the Doctor caught the Master's small hand in his own and held it tightly.
It was a relief. An anchor in a sea of fear.
The entrance to Rassilon's personal quarters were enormous, dwarfing even the adults, making everyone in the group seem smaller than they were. The doors swung open and the Master shivered at the blast of frigid air from within.
He wasn't even certain that it was real, physical cold. His child body seemed to be sensing things on a level he was unaccustomed to.
Wonderful timing...
The chaos of a Time War would be resulting in a constant and varied array of unpleasant signals cascading out into the Universe.
The Master braced himself and tried to stop shivering.
Rough gray stone and polished obsidian met them as they entered. Crimson draperies hung around the massive stone pillars supporting a vaulted ceiling, stretching high above into darkness.
Like a palace.
Like a tomb.
And at the end of the room, in what could only be described as a throne, sprawled a figure. Statuesque but very much alive. The picture of frustrated power. A great man who had been made to wait.
He stirred as they approached, leaning forward with quiet eagerness.
"My Lord Master," he smiled. "Welcome home."
His eyes were pale and luminous, giving the impression of being the only light in the room.
The Master wondered why his view was gradually being obscured until he realized he was shrinking into the Doctor's leather coat. He wanted to stop, to present himself confidently as he always did but all of his instincts were screaming at him to run and hide and it was deafening.
The Doctor put a hand out to his head, as if to pull him even closer. "It's alright," he said softly. "I'm right here."
The Master couldn't find his voice so he just nodded.
"Nothing to say?" Rassilon inquired. "We specifically ordered a body with vocal chords." He smiled like it was a joke but his eyes were cruel.
The Doctor stiffened.
The Master narrowed his eyes and shoved the Doctor's hand away. Because he was the Master. He wasn't going to be intimidated by anyone. He'd communed with gods and demons and powers so old they had been forgotten by the oldest races in existence. He had held the entire Universe in his hands. He had survived death itself.
And after all, what was Rassilon, undying President of Gallifrey? Just one more blinkered, arrogant Time Lord, judging all of reality from the safety of his barren, living tomb.
The Master was so much more.
The Master had lived lives others Time Lords couldn't even have imagined.
He'd wielded power he suspected even Rassilon couldn't comprehend.
He knew secrets Rassilon would kill for, answers to questions the President couldn't even think to ask.
He was the Master.
And if there was one thing he could do, it was talk.
He stepped forward, standing on his own, tiny in the enormous stone room. Remembering everything he was despite what he seemed right now.
A body was just a vessel.
And he owed Rassilon nothing.
"And what were you expecting me to say with these new vocal chords?" he asked in open defiance.
"I'd expect you to thank the man who resurrected you from death," Rassilon suggested smugly.
Technically, he had died, yes. But living as pure consciousness within the TARDIS had been far from death...
But he'd keep that to himself. Let Rassilon wonder.
That was his.
"Thank you?" the Master challenged, perhaps unwisely but with no regrets. "For bringing me into your Time War?"
Rassilon's eyes narrowed, just slightly. "The Doctor told you."
The Master smirked. "He told me you're losing."
"The War is won and lost a thousand times a day," Rassilon stated, ego seemingly stung.
The Master smiled, knowing he'd scored a point with that one.
"So..." the Master gloated, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows judgmentally. "The Great Rassilon needs my help."
"Gallifrey needs all her children if we are to win." He shot a significant look in the Doctor's direction. "No matter how we may feel about them personally."
The Master took a moment to snicker. It seemed the Doctor was up to his old habits of irritating his superiors. He never had learned how to play nice with authority figures.
It was nice to know that hadn't changed.
"Naturally," the Master agreed. He cocked his head to the side with deliberate impertinence. "And how many others have you bought back from the dead?"
The President smiled, cold enough to make the Master shiver again. "Sadly, resurrection is not generally an option."
"Only in special cases, then," the Master smirked, ignoring the chill to pursue his advantage. He knew they'd gone to a lot of trouble to have him here... That much was obvious. But it was nice to make Rassilon admit it.
On the Gallifrey the Master had left, it was unheard-of to have an entirely new body constructed for a dead Time Lord.
They must really need him.
That was good. That gave him a strong bargaining position.
How the tables had turned...
It had been centuries now but the Time Lords' punishment for his "crimes" still lived fresh in his memory.
As if they cared what he had done out in the Universe. No, they had attempted to execute him, stolen his remaining regenerations because they were afraid. Threatened by anyone who knew so many of their secrets, who would be willing to actually use that knowledge.
They'd caught him that time purely by accident.
Never again.
The Master made certain from that day forth that he always had an offer too valuable to refuse in case his life was ever threatened again.
That he was too important, too indispensable to lose.
It seemed that policy had played out in an interesting and unexpected direction this time.
Rassilon wanted something. Something he believed only the Master could supply.
The Master may be a guest in this throne room but he knew who truly held all the power here.
And it wasn't the man in the throne.
He graced the President with an up-and-down glance. "Seems you weren't as dead as everyone said."
"Nor you," Rassilon replied. And there was a look in his green eyes which might have been respect.
The Master shrugged nonchalantly. "You can't believe everything you hear," he said. "Why me?" he asked then.
"Because your reputation precedes you, my Lord Master," Rassilon said.
The Master smiled, pleased to know that people talked about him. He wondered what stories they told.
He hoped they were accurate.
Rassilon was staring at him, seemingly deep in thought. Like he was waiting for something. "I look forward to our... Alliance," Rassilon told the Master. "I think we shall do great things together, you and I."
And here it was: the moment the Master had been waiting for, when he cemented his role as the superior in this relationship. Because the Master didn't work for anyone. Not without getting something back.
He started thinking about what he could bargain for.
A sound stopped him.
Rassilon was drumming his fingers idly on the arm of his throne.
The Master lost focus, his gaze held by the rhythmic motion of the tapping.
One two three four.
The repetition of it filled his head, crowding out everything else.
Abruptly, it ceased.
The Master found he'd forgotten what he'd been about to say.
Instead, he recalled Rassilon's words.
"Great things..." he had said. "Together."
Rassilon leaned forward in his stone chair. "Next time, be ready when I summon you," he commanded. His words held a thinly-veiled threat and his eyes moved to the Doctor again.
Normally, the Master would have bridled at the implication that he could just be summoned at the whim of someone else, even if that person was the founding father of Time Lord society himself.
But instead, for some reason, he just nodded.
It had been a long day. Coming back to life was confusing.
Nothing was quite the way he remembered it...
Rassilon turned away, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.
The Master frowned, dissatisfied. Somehow, the conversation had gotten away from him, though it had been going well initially.
He felt the Doctor lay a hand on his shoulder. "Come on," he said. "Let's go."
The Master started towards the door with the Doctor but turned back around to look at the President.
Rassilon saw and smiled, shark-like.
Then they were back out in the drab halls of Gallifrey. The Master sighed, as if he hadn't even been able to breathe.
The Doctor got down on one knee, concerned face hovering at the Master's new eye level. "Hey. You doing alright?"
The Master took another deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. Fine."
"You sure?" the Doctor frowned. "Because you seem a little..."
"What?" the Master asked.
"Different," the Doctor finished uncertainly.
The Master scoffed and spread his arms wide, demonstrating his full three and a half foot wingspan. "Different? In what way?" he asked sarcastically.
The Doctor chuckled and stood. "Well, you do have a point there. I suppose you've had a somewhat interesting day."
"You could say that, yeah," the Master agreed wryly. He looked down at his Gallifrey-standard robe. "I need some new clothes. You think the TARDIS has anything in my size?"
"I'm sure she can figure it out," the Doctor assured him, eyes twinkling. "She's good with sizes."
The Master laughed out loud. Not for effect. Just because the Doctor was really funny.
Apparently his sense of humor was more pronounced in his current form.
Which was fortunate, as his current form was also blatantly ridiculous.
"Hey," the Master finally thought to ask. "Does this mean I have a new set of regenerations again?"
"Oh! Yes," the Doctor smiled down at him. "Whole new regeneration cycle. Thirteen more chances to get your beard just right," he teased, nudging the Master's chin. "Although it'll be a few years before you can start working on that."
"Ugh, you're right..." the Master realized. "I'm going to have to grow up all over again. Wow, I kind of hate this," he said, surprised at his own honesty. Apparently his current incarnation also didn't have much of a filter.
"I know," the Doctor sympathized. "On the bright side, you did manage to survive to adulthood the first time." He made a face. "... Barely," he added. "Maybe be more careful with these ones."
"Yes, well," the Master pointed out, "I'm sure the Daleks will have something to say about that."
"Not for a while, I would hope," the Doctor muttered, unlocking the TARDIS door.
"What do you mean?" the Master asked.
The Doctor turned to face him. "I'm not taking you out there until you're ready."
The Master squinted at him, confused. "I'm ready. Why wouldn't I be ready?"
"Let's just make sure you're settled first, alright? Come on, inside." The Master regarded the Doctor suspiciously. The Doctor just looked at him, forehead slightly furrowed. Uncomfortable. Confused, maybe.
And there was something in his eyes that the Master didn't recall seeing when the Doctor had interacted with him in past lives.
Something protective.
But the Master didn't need protection. Especially not from the Doctor.
The Master stalked past him into the TARDIS, his temper rising. "It's cause I'm small, isn't it?" It sounded unimpressive but he felt the need to get the story straight. He spun around, arms crossed. "You think I can't fight the Daleks cause I'm too little? Is that it?"
"No," the Doctor said patiently with the twitch of a smile. "I just want to be certain that you're ready."
The Master grimaced impatiently. "You're going to what, wait until I'm older? Cause, honestly, I doubt the Daleks are going to go along with that." The Doctor had the most absurdly unrealistic expectations sometimes.
The Doctor smiled kindly. "We'll talk about it later."
The Master opened his mouth to argue but the Doctor cut him off before he could say anything.
"You hungry?" the Doctor asked.
"Ooh," the Master realized. "Yes, actually. Starving." He laughed. "It's been a few hundred years since I ate breakfast, probably time for lunch now, right?"
"Probably," the Doctor agreed amiably. "Let's see what we can find for you."
"Do you have cereal?" the Master asked. "I really want some cereal..."
"Cereal..." the Doctor mused. "I think so. Let's find out."
This has some references to headcanons I haven't written about yet, mainly the Omega/TV Movie arc... Spoilers, lol. I haven't written that yet. If you're confused... Well, I haven't written it, so I don't have answers for you yet. ;)
Also for those of you who know the Classic Series, Rassilon and the Master have sort of met, briefly, in The Five Doctors. The Master doesn't remember that because Rassilon wiped that whole story from his mind at the end. (Open to interpretation in the Canon, but that's the conclusion I came to.)
On to Chapter 2...