Note: Here! Have some answers at last! You have no idea how long I've held on to this.

It is rather long, but hopefully worth it.

Another thing to mention: the Master's canon can be a bit conflicted, post and pre-reboot. Where there's conflict I come down on the side of the RTD era, so bear that in mind.

I'm now on hiatus until mid-January, but I'll still reply to PMs and reviews etc. (and please do leave a review if you enjoy what you read - it makes me happy). Also, I wanted to congratulate some of you on your detective skills - three of you PMed me with questions about their history, and your suspicions are confirmed below. You clever things.

And the blog post - finally - is now up. You can find the link on my profile, as always.

Interlude III

The Tardis had a way of stealing time.

Jack had no idea how long it had been since the Doctor had dragged him through those doors – head spinning – and placed him on the floor, but if he had to estimate, he'd say he had been here no more than a day and a half. In that brief time, Jack had been taken on a whirlwind tour of insanity, chaos and devastation – in more ways than one – that had left him with a dizzying sense of confusion.

He began to think about what the Doctor had said to him, just before this strange journey had begun: that it would change the way Jack saw him. That was true, though maybe not in the way the Doctor had expected. After seeing just a fraction of what life had been like for him on board the Valiant; after realising how much had actually happened to him that year, and how complicated the situation really was, all Jack felt right now was an even deeper sense of respect and affection for the man than before. The very fact that he had survived with any semblance of sanity left seemed like a miracle.

He was beginning to think that his own experience - being chained up, fed on dregs and repeatedly dying – had probably been the quieter life.

He bowed his head and sighed, the sound of it lost in the Tardis' own noises. He would have closed his eyes, but he knew what would be waiting for him there: that look of rage and pain on the Doctor's face seemed to have etched itself into the backs of his eyelids, and the ear-splitting roar hadn't stopped ringing in his ears. It was as though even after the memory had faded, he could still hear the Doctor screaming inside his head.

If Jack really did live forever, that was one memory he was sure he would never be rid of.

A sharp snap interrupted his thoughts and he looked up. The Tardis doors creaked open, a patch of blinding sunlight falling across the floor. The tall, thin figure of the Doctor stepped in. He was carrying something under his arm, and his face lifted into a half-smile as his eyes found Jack's. Jack wondered how he could so easily pretend that everything was normal after what they'd seen so far, but then he supposed that nine centuries of practice had taught him well.

"Dinner."

"Oh thank god." Jack laughed weakly. "Didn't wanna say anything, but I'm starving."

"Well, had to make sure that hangover was out of your system first." His nose wrinkled and he shook his head. "Tardis… not a fan of vomit. She tends to get a bit uppity."

The doors swung shut behind him as he pulled the paper parcel from under his arm. The brief glimpse of sunlight receded to a sliver and then disappeared.

The Doctor threw the package down carelessly on the step above Jack, then sat down opposite him, his back against one of the poles lining the steps. Jack felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably. The position reminded him of the bridge of the Valiant. Not that he told him that: since they'd left that last memory, it had been painfully obvious that the Doctor was avoiding the subject, as though he too needed breathing space; a chance to clear his head. After the last scene, Jack didn't blame him.

"So…" Jack reached forwards and began undoing the paper. "What we got?"

"Ooh, delicacy."

But before the paper was even undone, the captain knew what it was. That smell was all too familiar.

He stopped short and looked up, an eyebrow raised.

"Chips?"

The Doctor grinned, reaching forwards to finish unwrapping them himself.

"The cuisine of the whole of time and space to choose from, and you choose chips?"

"I like chips." He said simply. He raised one between his fingers, frowning at it thoughtfully as he inspected it. "Chips are good."

Jack snorted at the words. "What, they run out of bananas today?"

A reminiscent smirk made its way across the Timelord's face as his eyes moved away from the food in his hand. He tossed it carelessly into his mouth and rested one of his feet on the step between them, getting comfortable.

But Jack's words were only meant in play. If there was one thing he missed about Earth it was the food. As unhealthy and unimaginative as it could be, there was something oddly comforting about it. He leaned up to the white paper between them and started eating.

After a moment, the Doctor made a noise of enjoyment in the back of his throat and closed his eyes. "Oh yes, now this was definitely worth the detour." He said, his mouth full. "Best chips in Cardiff."

Jack stopped chewing. For a moment he looked like he was about to choke. He looked into the Timelord's face, leaned forwards and frowned, but the Doctor had his eyes fixed on one of the walls.

"…Where?"

"Cardiff." Said the Doctor, as though the word held no significance whatsoever.

"So…" Jack swallowed the mouthful of food and turned his head almost nervously towards the doors. "Outside right now… is –"

"Cardiff." Confirmed the Doctor, still in that light, conversational tone. He snatched up another chip and threw it into his mouth, his eyes still averted from Jack's face.

Jack had stopped eating, his eyes fixed on the white panelled doors. Cardiff. On the other side, just a few small steps away, would be Cardiff Bay. They would be right on top of – what was possibly now – a completely abandoned Torchwood. He felt his fists squeezing shut as they rested on the step beside him. Memories came back to him unbidden; memories he'd spent the last few months trying to forget. Memories of Gwen… Tosh… Owen… Ianto.

The Doctor didn't move; however his eyes flickered down to Jack's while he knew the captain was looking elsewhere. He seemed to read his thoughts.

"You could always take a peek?"

The sound of the Doctor's voice brought Jack back to reality. He looked towards him. The Timelord was now watching him carefully, an eyebrow raised just slightly. His head twitched towards the Tardis doors. "See what you've missed?"

Jack let out a strained sigh and looked back at the doors. He shook his head slowly, unable to think of what to say.

"Oh go on." The Doctor urged gently. "A peek wouldn't hurt."

He shook his head again silently. After a moment he turned bodily away from the doors, turning on the step towards the Doctor. A painful grimace pulled at his features and he looked down at his hands in shame. "I… I can't go back."

The Doctor watched him for a moment, chewing his food slowly. His blinked, his eyes lidding tiredly while Jack gazed downwards. Even if he'd hoped otherwise, he understood the sentiment all too well.

Eventually the Timelord sniffed and looked away. "Ah fair enough." He settled himself a little more comfortably on the steps and rested an arm on his knee, tilting his head back against the pole to look thoughtfully at the ceiling of the Tardis as he ate.

It was a few moments before Jack moved again. When he did, the Doctor was lost in his own thoughts. That look of deep tiredness that only seemed visible occasionally had returned to his face.

He didn't want to break the silence. However the Doctor wanted to pretend, he knew that that last scene must have been painful to remember, but there were questions that now desperately needed answering.

"Doctor?"

The word seemed to make the Timelord frown. His throat tightened visibly and Jack noticed that his fingers twitched as they rested against his knee. For a moment he wondered what was wrong, but then as if out of nowhere he suddenly realised what it was: the Doctor was expecting him to ask about what the Master had said; about the Time War, and about him refusing to carry weapons. His heart sank. That was an aspect of the other man that he knew he had no business asking about. Everybody had their demons. It only stood to reason that someone who had seen and been through as much as the Doctor would have his fair share.

Almost reluctantly, the Doctor lowered his eyes from the ceiling and back to the human sitting opposite him. His face seemed calm, but Jack saw that element of worry lurking behind it.

"…when you were on the bridge," Jack had worded it very carefully, trying to give the Timelord some reassurance about the topic he was approaching. It worked. The Doctor's face seemed to relax a little, "when you were tied up…" but this was still an awkward subject to talk about, and Jack was struggling with how to do so. Eventually he grunted in frustration and looked at the food between them. Perhaps this would be an easier subject to broach without eye contact. "…I gotta admit I was worried that…"

The Doctor suddenly understood what he was trying to say. He felt his stomach churn and he frowned. He realised that he was shaking his head strenuously. The last mouthful of food seemed to go down in lumps, and suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore. "No."

And that was extreme confusion in Jack's face. The Doctor's expression softened just slightly. He couldn't blame him, he supposed: watching from the outside must be difficult at best, and Jack was only seeing a miniscule part of a story that had been unfolding – from the Doctor's side of things, at least – for just over nine centuries. How could he possibly explain in words?

"No." He said, a little more gently. He took in a breath and looked away, then began talking in that matter-of-fact way that Jack had begun to relate with something painful. "Oh don't get me wrong – murder me? Always a possibility. Mental torture?"

"Definitely." Interjected Jack darkly, thinking about that last set of memories. The Doctor 'hmm'-ed in agreement.

"One of his specialities. Physical torture?" He seemed to think about that for a moment. Once again Jack interjected with a cold snort.

"I can vouch for that."

"Well you were human."

There was a brief pause. Jack looked at him oddly, and the Doctor suddenly realised what he'd said; how offhanded his words had sounded. Jack had spent a year in squalor and torment, after all. That wasn't something anybody should be offhanded about.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly, voice full of sincerity. He sighed. "That's just the way he was. Oddly enough, he never did like humans too much." The Doctor frowned deeply; thoughtfully, and then shook his head. "One thing we never saw eye-to-eye on, even before-"

The Doctor halted mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open as his eyes drifted away upwards. Jack got the impression that there was a particular memory replaying once more inside his head.

"It's fine." Offered Jack. The Timelord opposite him glanced back down with a dubious look, but Jack simply smiled. "Ah… believe me – that year on the Valiant? If I ever decide to write my – incredibly long and completely x-rated – autobiography? Not gonna make the edit."

"Shouldn't think a lot of things would." Replied the Doctor, quirking an eyebrow upwards. Jack's face broke into a grin.

"…but," he continued, "I've been through worse. Way worse. And on the plus side –" Jack flashed him a smutty smile, "I always did look great with my shirt off."

"Anyway…" Said the Doctor loudly, glaring at him warningly. "Murder, psychological torment… the odd backhander across the face, which – by the way…" he raised a hand to his jaw and winced slightly, as though it still ached, "he nearly made a habit of, that final regeneration. Definitely not one of his better traits. But that-" He shook his head again, frowning deeply. "No. His displays of power were all about spectacle. That was too…" but for once, the Doctor couldn't explain. At least not yet. There were some things he needed the other man to work out on his own.

Jack watched him, still as perplexed as before but a little relieved. "But what about the drums?"

The word sent a strange flicker of sadness through the Doctor's face. The very edges of his lips tilted upwards in a tired-looking smile. "He was mad, not stupid." He said quietly. "He'd lived with them for centuries; a few moments of peace wasn't worth it. Besides, he wanted me to give in on my own. Anything else… well, it would've spoiled all the fun." He concluded bitterly, then slid down one step, stretching his legs out and placing his hands behind his head. Jack stayed silent, still trying to process the information he'd been given. Trying to understand the Master's mind seemed beyond him.

The Doctor crossed his legs, his feet dangling over the side of the steps. He couldn't deny that he was a little disappointed – the very fact that they'd had to have that conversation meant that Jack was still missing the point of what he was being shown.

He couldn't blame him. It had taken the Doctor nearly three years after the Valiant to begin to unravel the truth; to make sense of the events that year, and Jack hadn't been there on Christmas Day; hadn't been there when the Master had begun to completely fall apart… hadn't been there at the end. All Jack had seen was the monster, and his perspective was coloured by that experience.

The Doctor felt his hearts skip a beat, though he kept his face neutral. He'd been leading Jack by the hand, hoping that he would make the connections himself, but it was becoming increasingly clear how difficult it was for him to comprehend. He had hoped so desperately he wouldn't need to do this.

Nonetheless he steeled himself, swallowed hard, and made the decision. It was time to share the story he'd kept hidden for so very long.

"When Martha asked if he was my brother," He said, in what he hoped was a conversational tone, though he felt Jack's focus return to him intently, "she was closer to the truth than she could ever have known."

Jack snorted. "Did you marry him or something?"

There was a silence. The Doctor looked up at him pointedly; seriously. Jack's eyes widened and he shook his head. "Please tell me you're kidding?"

Suddenly the serious look on the Doctor's face broke. He smiled and began to laugh. Jack let out a breath of relief, but he still glared. The Doctor was being infuriatingly playful about something so serious.

"It never got that far." He said, the amusement evident in his voice. "Which – you know - everybody was glad about: having a failure in the family was one thing, but having the failure married to a madman?" He hissed through his teeth and shook his head. Apparently that idea would have been insufferable. "In fact," he continued, turning his gaze back towards the ceiling with a reminiscent smile, "there was only one person in the family who liked him."

The Doctor's smile fell slowly at his own words. That was another memory that had jumped out at him on Christmas Day, and the grief of it was still too raw.

Jack stretched his own legs out on the steps, watching the strange mixture of emotions that came with the Doctor's words. It seemed that answers were finally coming.

The Doctor's eyes flickered across the Tardis' ceiling. His face fell into a vague frown, and when he next spoke it was almost as though he had forgotten Jack was there. He spoke quietly, as if to himself.

"It started off innocently enough I suppose." He muttered. "Both sent to the academy on the same day… both initiated on the same day…" a shudder seemed to run down the Doctor's back, and this time, Jack knew, there was more to it than just fear of the event itself. The Doctor's frown deepened. "Even named on the same day. Our whole lives in parallel-"

"You and the Master were at school together?" he interrupted, disbelief in his voice. The very idea of a psychopath like the other Timelord going to school like a normal child seemed beyond bizarre.

The Doctor sighed. "He wasn't the Master then. And I wasn't the Doctor. Just two kids, taken away from our families; sent to learn the powers and responsibilities that came with being a member of the great, wise and noble race of Timelords." Those last few words had come out almost sarcastically. A bitter look swept momentarily across the Doctor's face. "Both of us hated it. Both of us hated in return. Because me? Ooh I was a coward – a coward and a know-it-all; and him? Well they were calling him mad even before the drums took hold." His eyes flickered back down to Jack and he raised an eyebrow. "Let's just say: he never did like playing by the rules.

"And so we became friends." Suddenly a painful smile appeared on the Doctor's face. His voice constricted. "Just two lost boys who found each other. But as we got older and that isolation grew… things began to change."

"You fell in love."

The Doctor looked away at the words. He seemed to swallow before he answered, and took in a deep breath.

"…we did, yeah." He said quickly, as though trying to get the words out of the way as fast as he could.

And finally, with every word the Doctor gave, Jack was starting to understand.

"But over time; so, so slowly… he began to lose himself. Started hearing noises… couldn't sleep… got angry; restless." The Doctor gritted his teeth in memory of the frustration. "I tried so hard to keep him stable, but nothing seemed to work. Eventually, it all became too much."

Jack remembered some of the strange comments that had passed between them on the Valiant; things that had made no sense at the time, but suddenly seemed painfully clear.

"You walked away." He said quietly.

"Oh I didn't just walk away," he muttered, and Jack heard that now familiar undertone of regret in his words. "I ran. As hard and far as I could. I had no idea how to help him. I was young… naïve." The Doctor let out a breath of cold laughter and looked at Jack, eyebrows arched, almost apologetically. "And I was scared. In the end, the Master's madness was corrosive… well -" his voice lowered to a growl "– you saw what it did to Lucy."

There was a moment of silence as Jack processed this new information. When the Doctor had told him that he and the Master had a history, he hadn't been sure what to imagine, but certainly not something quite so intense, complicated, and obviously painful. That first kiss, he realised, had been the first one they'd shared in nearly a millenium, and those moments when the two Timelords were alone - as complex and convoluted as they were - began to make a vague sort of sense.

His face softened into a sympathetic frown. "I'm sorry." The Doctor's eyes flickered across him curiously. Jack felt his stomach clench. He rubbed a hand over his eye subconsciously. "This whole situation… I misinterpreted completely."

The Timelord's eyes lidded. He shook his head gently. "You weren't to know."

There was a moment of deep silence. The Tardis hissed soothingly around them, but Jack felt as if his insides were missing. The Doctor had lost so much – Rose, his family, his people – and now it turned out the Master was another painful loss to add to the list. Jack had his fair share of pain, but nothing compared to what the Doctor had experienced.

"With me gone," continued the Doctor, his voice returning to that matter-of-fact tone. He sat back up on the step with a grunt and stretched, "without anyone to hold him back, all that rage and madness poured outwards. He started to become the Master – in fact as well as name.

"Eventually, I moved on. Got married… had kids… grandkids…" A sad smile came to his face at that last word, and Jack was sure it was yet another memory he was reliving. After a moment he pulled himself out of it and frowned. "…everything he could never have."

The captain opened his mouth to object, but then shut it again. Whatever Lucy was – whether the Master had loved her in his own way, or whether she was just some twisted plaything – she certainly wasn't what Jack would call a wife. He let the Doctor continue.

"…The next time I saw him, he was a different man. Literally a different man. And everything I'd ever-" he hesitated, "cared about, had gone. Or so I thought.

"And so it began." He bared his teeth, a bitter edge to his voice. "Nearly eight-hundred years of fighting. And I dunno…" The Doctor suddenly sighed loudly and looked at the nearly empty chip wrapper on the steps. He reached over Jack's leg and grabbed one. "Maybe it was better that way. At least when we were attacking each other with swords I knew what to expect."

The story he'd just been told had made Jack feel numb, but nonetheless he couldn't help smiling at that last sentence. "You had a swordfight?"

The Doctor's face lightened as he tore the chip in half with his teeth. He let out a snort of laughter and looked up. "In a lighthouse. I recommend it. Good cardio."

Again, the Doctor was being strangely upbeat, but Jack knew that this was probably the most open he'd been with anyone in centuries. Normally the Timelord was an extremely private man, never answering questions about his past unless completely necessary. He was seeing a side of the Doctor that was normally guarded, and apparently for good reason. He felt deeply privileged.

"So when Martha said 'brother'," Jack urged, "it was more than that."

"Mmm." Agreed the Doctor. The chip wrapper was now empty, and he reached over and grabbed it, balling it up between his long fingers. "He was my best friend. The first person I ever-" again, the Timelord stopped himself short, and Jack was beginning to wonder why, after all they'd seen. "But, more than that. Metaphorically speaking –" The Doctor suddenly rolled his eyes, "and please - understand that I'm talking completely metaphorically here. Any more than that would take this situation to a whole new level of wrong – but… metaphorically speaking, I suppose – in the end…" he took a very deep breath, frowned, and the next words came out in a quiet, constricted breath, "…he was family."

Those three words took the breath from Jack's lungs. It was as though a fog had suddenly lifted from his mind. "…And you abandoned him."

The Doctor didn't reply. He balled the paper tightly in his hands and stood up, avoiding eye contact.

But Jack was finally beginning to understand more than just the two Timelords' relationship. He suddenly realised that it was more than chance that had brought the Doctor to the bar that night. Despite what the Doctor insisted, it was more than the fact that he was the only one left. Jack gritted his teeth and bowed his head, interlacing his fingers distractedly. "…How long have you known about Gray?"

The Doctor's eyes finally lowered, watching him pointedly for a moment, then the Timelord walked away, over Jack's outstretched legs and back towards the centre console.

"So," He said loudly, "what happened to Alonzo? Good old Lonzy-lonzo. I would have thought he was perfect for you, Jack."

Jack still felt winded, but he took the hint. He forced a smile and looked upwards as the Doctor placed the rubbish down and began pressing buttons. "Maybe he was; I wouldn't know. He was only on planet leave for a few weeks."

The Doctor paused and looked back down at him. "I'm sorry."

Jack laughed.

"Oh don't be. They were good, good weeks."

A weak smile made its way across the Doctor's face. He turned back to his work with the expression still on his features.

"We going back?" Sighed Jack, stretching as he slid back up to his feet.

"…Yep."

"How much left?"

"A bit." Said the Doctor evasively. Jack shook his head.

"Did he even know what he was doing?"

The comment made the Doctor pause once more. They hadn't discussed that last memory at all, but it had been at the front of Jack's mind. Apparently, it had been at the front of the Doctor's, too.

He stared down at the console in front of him. "Oh he knew what he was doing." He muttered darkly, and then frowned in thought. "In fact, I think that's about as close to clarity as it came for the Master, that final regeneration."

Jack made his way slowly up the steps again. Despite the explanations he'd got so far, that last scene still made no sense. The Doctor looked up at him, saw the confusion in his face and smiled. "Don't you understand? We were getting too close; too comfortable."

The captain looked at him in confusion. While some things were slowly starting to make sense, that last set of memories seemed anything but comfortable. "Comfortable's really not the word I'd use."

The Doctor ignored it and continued. "It was that comment about Lucy that did it, I think. He finally started to realise." The Timelord's eyebrows lifted upwards. "That first time on the Valiant, we'd opened a door." He said darkly. "A door that had stood locked for a very long time, and that neither of us knew how to close. So-" his lip twisted into a distasteful grimace, "he did what he always did – what he always had done when he was cornered: he lashed out.

"From the point he put the screwdriver away, as much as I'd like to think otherwise, the rest of that night was engineered." He sighed. He pulled his hands away from the console and tilted his head thoughtfully. "…more or less."

"He was pushing you away?"

"In his own twisted, dangerous way." Conceded the Doctor. He glanced into one of the screens, then strode to the other side of the console opposite Jack. "That should have been an end to it. And it probably would have been – if it weren't for Lucy."

Jack wasn't sure if he'd heard correctly. He walked towards the console and rested his hands on the edge, leaning forwards with a look of incredulity on his face. "The Master's wife?"

Again, the Doctor smiled at his confusion. "Didn't you notice?" he said, laughter in his voice. "Neither did the Master. He never did pay much attention to detail… right to the very end." A flicker of emotion seemed to flash behind the Doctor's eyes at those words. "The day he burned Japan… she cried."

"And that means something?"

"Oh it means everything." Replied the Timelord, looking at him seriously. "Of course, I had to wait another five months before she acted on it."

Jack frowned once more at his offhanded tone. Five months alone. The Doctor had fallen apart after ten days, before. Five months – especially after that last scene – should have sent him insane.

"Five months? How did you cope?"

"Well, the Master visited me from time to time. Had a bit of a gloat." He said, and then another strange smile flashed across his face. "I don't think he could keep away; not totally. And when I was alone, I concentrated harder than ever on what needed to be done."

For once, Jack understood. "The psychic network."

"Because it took me a few weeks to work out, but when the Master backed away, he made the choice not to kill me." The Doctor's eyes flashed brightly in the glow of the Tardis' core. "That little spark of mercy gave me the one thing he never wanted me to have."

There was a pause. Jack looked at him curiously. The Doctor's lip twitched in a bitter smile. "Hope."

"You still had Martha." But he knew before the words had even come out of his mouth that they were inappropriate: that wasn't the kind of hope the Doctor meant. He sighed. Admittedly Jack had now seen flickers of something in the Master that he'd never expected to, but he still couldn't help feeling that the Doctor was being extremely over-optimistic.

"You honestly think that was enough worth hoping for?"

"Better yet –" Said the Doctor, his voice once again loud, "here's a question for you, Jack."

And the Doctor had returned to being evasive. Jack raised both hands to his temples and massaged them furiously. "No more questions! Believe me, I've got enough of my own!"

"Oh but it's a good one." Said the Doctor lightly. He reached forwards over the panel and grabbed one of the levers. By instinct, Jack snatched out for something to hold on to. "If he knew we were so similar…" The Doctor was now smiling. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively as Jack's eyes darted to his face, "…what did that say about him?"