This chapter is pretty chill. I guess I needed a break. And I've always been partial to the Master's propensity for white collar crime and political machinations.
Chapter 6
"What is your plan?" Rassilon asked.
The Master looked up from the meticulously-crafted cover story he was adding to the Matrix databanks.
It wouldn't do to have the Gallifreyan citizenry know of their more crushing defeats...
This particular coverup had required a touch of extra ingenuity and the Master had been delighted to assist in creating a more palatable truth for the masses.
"Which plan would that be?" the Master asked casually. He had lots of plans at any given time. All of varying levels of complexity and seriousness.
He wasn't about to spill the details on the wrong one.
He had grown too old and cautious for that.
And anyway, it wasn't as if Rassilon wanted to hear which cartoons he was planning to watch when he got home.
"With the Doctor," Rassilon elucidated.
The Master gave him a deadpan stare. "You'll have to be more specific," he said. Plans involving the Doctor? That hardly narrowed it down.
"Why do you tolerate his company?" Rassilon asked outright. His eyes were piercing, curious.
The Master hid a momentary smile of satisfaction.
Had he really fooled even Rassilon?
"I have my reasons," he said. Words conveying no meaning whatsoever. But it was shocking how people would trip over themselves to fill in the blanks. Another thing the Master had learned through long experience.
"I assume you are biding your time but I wonder what you are waiting for," Rassilon proffered.
The Master gave an impish glance over his shoulder. "I'd hate to ruin the surprise," he teased.
"Come now," Rassilon smirked. "Indulge my curiosity. Perhaps I could even help in some way."
The Master paused, realizing he may have intrigued the President a bit too much. "I'll let you know when the time is right," he said smoothly, going back to work. "Making a move too early could ruin everything."
Rassilon sighed but when he spoke, he seemed to have accepted the Master's delaying tactic. "Very well, keep your secrets." The Master could feel the President's eyes on the back of his skull. "But when the time comes, be sure to include me in whatever you are planning. I have my own reasons for wanting to see the Doctor brought to ground."
The Master wanted desperately to ask what those were, to glean information, to hear about ways and means and contingencies...
But this was a dangerous moment.
Ask any questions and he would lose the upper hand.
And if Rassilon wanted a part in his plan... Odds are he didn't have anything definitive himself.
So the Master thought about revenge, about hatred burning cold, about waiting for just the right moment to spring the trap.
About all the things Rassilon expected to see.
All the things he didn't feel when he thought about the Doctor.
He turned to Rassilon, letting him get a good look at what he assumed the Master should be feeling.
"Wait your turn," the Master said darkly. "The Doctor is mine."
Rassilon chuckled, low and sinister.
The Master smiled and went back to work, rewriting the truth.
Rassilon wouldn't have understood in a million years. He was prey to the same weakness as the rest of the Universe: he saw only what he wished to see.
He accepted the lie because to him it was more believable than the truth.
Through the lens of his own understanding, there was no other explanation for two "enemies" fighting together, protecting each other.
The Master had always been somewhat confused by everyone's haste to label his rivalry with the Doctor as enmity.
If two teams played against each other in a sports tournament, would you assume the players were enemies once they left the field? Did opponents in a chess match consider themselves nemeses after the game was over?
Perhaps so, perhaps not.
Either way, it had nothing to do with the game.
The Master wasn't biding his time. There was no grand plan to destroy the Doctor. And he didn't tolerate the Doctor's company.
They were friends, pure and simple. Fighting on the same side against a common enemy.
It wasn't anything new. They'd done this off and on for centuries. Their current arrangement was just more stable than usual, as befitted the long-term and extraordinary nature of the threat.
But no one would believe that explanation.
Judging from past experience, the Master doubted anyone would even understand it.
Least of all Rassilon.
The Master already knew plenty about Rassilon's version of friendship.