Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who

Modern Crusaders

Chapter 5

"We're talking away
I don't know what
I'm to say
I'll say it anyway
Today's another day to find you
Shying away
I'll be coming for your love, okay?

Take on me, take me on
I'll be gone
In a day or two

So needless to say
I'm odds and ends
But that's me stumbling away
Slowly learning that life is OK.
Say after me
It's no better to be safe than sorry"

Take on me- Aha

"Get out of the way."

But The Master did not move, frozen in his place in front of the TARDIS.

What was going on?

It was definitely The Doctor; that much was certain. But there were so many things off beam about him, he had to look quite hard to see the resemblance. From his head to his naked toes, the whole thing was just…wrong.

His hair was a lion's mess of a mane, unshaven stubble extending from ear to ear, hidden behind long tresses. His clothes were nothing like what The Doctor, his Doctor, would wear. A black v-neck, tight-fitted against his skin so that his ribs were visible. His brown slacks were terribly loose on him, seemingly in danger of falling down, and had this been any other occasion, and not one involving a gun pointed at his head, The Master would have been tempted to laugh.

He swallowed, a nervous smile shaking on his lips. "Hey there, Doctor. Long time no see, eh?"

The Doctor said nothing.

This only made The Master more nervous. He kept still, but his eyes wavered to anything that he might use to his advantage. There was nothing that could help him that would not require moving. Looking back at The Doctor, he decided his best option was to try and talk his way out of this. "Okay, so it hasn't been that long…for me, anyway. What about you?" He looked him up and down, trying to sound amused. "How long did it take for you to grow your hair out like that? Oh, I must say, Doctor, it doesn't really suit you. Best find a barber, I think." He beamed at him, but his attempt at small talk seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"I said move."

The Master shook his head; a small motion, barely visible to The Doctor's human eyes. "I don't think so." He scoffed, then seemed to loose any sense of pretension. "What's with the gun?"

"To shoot you with." The Doctor said simply. "If you don't move."

The Master's head rolled back, a loud laugh echoing through the junkyard. But even as he chuckled, he could feel an unsettling chill move up his spine. Something was very wrong. The Doctor's face said he was serious, and the fact that he held the pistol firmly in his hand, told him he had done this before. How many times, he wondered? And in spite of all this, there was still the tantalizing question; why had he not sensed him?

Despite all these warnings, both verbal and otherwise, he continued to laugh.

"Shoot me, Doctor? You couldn't shoot me when the whole universe was at stake; you're not going to do it now!"

Bang.

Howling, The Master fell to the ground. He had been shot in the foot.

Growling up at The Doctor, he yanked his laser screwdriver out of his pocket, not bothering to fiddle with the settings, and fired it at The Doctor.

A red beam slammed him in the chest, and he sunk to his knees. Gasping with pain, he cried up at the sky, clutching his ribs as he curled into a ball against the dirt.

Night was falling.

Glaring at his wounded adversary, The Master seethed with rage. He could feel the blood soaking into his shoe, his wound pulsating with a sharp throb. Heaving himself into a sitting position, using his TARDIS for support, he stared at his screwdriver.

It had been set to default.

Panting, he began to crawl over to The Doctor. Whether this was from curiosity or the laughable prospect of concern, one could not say. Either way it was hard to miss that he seemed to be in much more pain than he should be for such a low setting, and much more pain than even The Master himself was in. Even that bloody Martha Jones's mother had taken this method of affliction with more valor.

"Doctor?" He hissed the name.

No answer.

The Doctor was wrapped into himself, arms covering his face and his knees simultaneously, as he lay shaking on his side. The gun was still in his hands.

Growling, The Master yanked it from his clutches, putting it into his own pocket for safe keeping. At this, The Doctor let out a quiet, choked sob, and The Master once again felt that something was definitely very, very wrong.

But what was he going to do about it…?

Dozens of voices whispered into his ears. Voices from the past, his own past selves, cheering him on.

Kill him. Leave him. Destroy him. Abandon him. Torture him. Make him hurt, make him suffer.

Help him…

Snarling, he shooed Koschei's voice away from his ear, as if it were an insect buzzing around his head. His voice was always the quietest, no doubt, but still the most annoying.

It had always been his voice that had stopped him from killing The Doctor. Always Koschei, scratching at the back of his mind, trying to claw his way to the surface. Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't do it.

Well not anymore.

The Doctor was weak. He had him in his grasp. This time, he'd take the advantage. He'd kill him, once and for all. He'd do it. He'd do it now. He would.

But instead his fists were casing themselves around The Doctor's shoulders, nails digging deep into his flesh, pulling him into a sitting position. His face was still buried in his hands, and had to be forcefully pried from his skin.

"Look at me." The Master demanded.

His eyes were sealed shut, his mouth turned into a twisted smile; a soft giggle echoed in the night.

The Master eyed him carefully, trying to work things out in his head. But nothing seemed to make sense to him anymore, and he could only come to the conclusion that his old friend had finally, inevitably, lost his mind.

Welcome to hell.

"Why are you laughing…?" He tried to make his voice sound authoritative, but instead it was painted grey with confusion.

"Because it's funny!" The Doctor explained. "It's funny, isn't it? Isn't it funny?"

The Master shook his head a little, uncomfortable in the position he had been placed. "I don't understand."

"Because I tried to SAVE THEM!" His voice was weak and cracked against his decibels, sallow tears escaping his eyes and dripping down his skin. "And instead I KILLED THEM! That's funny, right?"

He gazed intently at The Master for a reply, like a child awaiting praise, but only received more confused turnings of the head and twitching of the eyes. "Who did you kill?"

"EVERYONE!" He screamed in The Master's face, glaring at him with all his might, as if doing so could drown out his guilt.

"And…by everyone, you mean Gallifrey? I thought we were passed that-"

"I mean EVERYONE!" He cried. "Everyone I've ever known! They're all gone!"

The Master finally laughed, rolling his head back in forth in an amused fashion. "Now that's just…Ridiculous, Doctor. You said it yourself, you know me; and I'm still here, aren't I?"

The Doctor choked, his head falling limp at The Master's words. "I thought you were dead…"

This earned him a smile. "No, I lived! See? I escaped!"

Hands clenching into fists, the other man shook his head in protest. "How could you escape? I saw you. I held you in my arms and watched you die. I burnt your body-"

"You actually gave me a funeral?" His jeering continued, until suddenly he stopped. "Wait, what?"

"What…?" The Doctor hung his head, still quivering.

"What…?" The Master was beyond confused by now. "…Doctor, the' bloody hell are you goin' on about? You knew I came back.

"I did…?"

Something seemed to snap in The Doctor's head, shifting him back into sanity for a blissful moment, enough time to register the miracle that had just happened.

It hit him like a stray cricket ball.

Of course.

The Master thought he was the real Doctor. He didn't know about Donna. He didn't know about the metacrisis. To The Master, he was genuine. He was pure.

But obviously he wasn't, because he was human. The Master should have figured that out by now. Soon he'd learn the truth, and then The Doctor would be done for. He'd spill his secret, and die a wretched, worthless, feeble death; At the hands of his best enemy. His most horrible, most precious friend.

Unless…

An idea struck him.

Oh. Oh, yes. This was brilliant. This was fantastic.

Shaking his head, he was huddled against the dust, staring up at The Master with piteous brown eyes. "I don't remember."

The Master stared back, absorbing the new information. This brought light to a lot of things, but at the same time, created twice as many questions that needed answering. How had this happened? Was it an accident, or intentional? And if so, who did this to him? And how long had he been like this? Weeks? Months? Years, even? It sure looked like it, judging from a small number of grey hairs protruding from his scalp.

Suddenly, he seemed to notice something. It had been several minutes since he had taken a good, long breath. He had always relied too much on his lung reserve, often forgetting to breathe altogether in situations that grabbed his attention, such as this one. But now, as he inhaled, he noticed two things.

The first being the absence of The Doctor's scent. Not just his scent, but the scent associated with any Time Lord, something akin to that of honeysuckle, was not present.

The second thing was that replacing it, was an all-too familiar stench.

He smelled like a human.

Scrunching up his nose, glaring at his fallen foe, he advanced towards him. The Doctor looked nervous, almost scared, but he did not have the strength to pull away; or perhaps simply chose not to, when The Master leaned his head in against his chest.

Thump.

Thump.

He waited for two more beats; waited for the noise that he knew would startle him into thinking the drums had returned.

But there were only two.

He pulled away, slowly, staring at The Doctor in some sort of angry shock, who in turn seemed more tense than he had been the whole evening.

"You're human." The Master growled the words in blatant disgust. He hated humans. He hated them with a burning passion, hotter then the largest sun, and now The Doctor, his Doctor, was one of them.

He grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulling him inches away from his face.

"Change back." He hissed.

"I can't." The Doctor stuttered.

"CHANGE BACK!" This time he shouted, spit flying ungraciously in the process.

"I Can-"

But The Doctor did not get to finish his sentence, as The Master had slammed him against a trash bin, and was now rummaging furiously through his pockets. "Where's your watch?" He snarled, teeth bared. "Where the bloody hell is your watch?"

"That's not it." The Doctor panted, trying to force The Master off of him. "I didn't do this!"

The Master growled, picking The Doctor up by the scruff of his neck to look him in the eye. "What do you mean? Who was it, then?"

The Doctor considered, Eyeing his savior carefully as he attempted to swallow the sickness building up in his throat.

He couldn't afford to make mistakes. He had to do this carefully.

"I don't know…"

Simple enough. When in doubt, deny, deny, deny.

With a final growl, and a kick to The Doctor's knee for good measure, he finally let go. Standing up to observe his surroundings, he paced in a small circle, fists clenching and un-clenching in aggravated stress.

This was so wrong.

Even for his worst enemy, who he would pay to see tied to the bottom of the totem pole, this was just too shameful. It was far too degrading, too madly, ferociously sickening, too…

Perfect.

Because The Doctor was alone.

He was feral, savage. On the brink of insanity, like a wild animal needing to be tamed. He was wounded, and broken, and so deliciously alone. He was backed into a corner, with no one to depend on.

No one but The Master.

He grinned to himself, fists forming into widespread salutations, and he spun around to look at the crumpled form of a man that lay weak on the ground.

He did not move, as The Master walked slowly toward him, stopping to hover over him in a confident air, his blue coat falling in long strides around him. More weak than ever, it surprised The Master that The Doctor would be the one to break the silence.

"Help me." He pleaded.

The Master's grin faded, ears falling numb on the words that had been said. "Pardon?" He asked in a mock tone, bending over a bit with his hand pressed to his ear.

The Doctor fought for breath, almost as hard as he appeared to be fighting for mere consciousness.

"You can't move." He breathed, eyes flickering to The TARDIS. "My TARDIS is gone. It was taken from me. You're stuck, like me."

The Master's eyes shifted to the blue box, then back to The Doctor, who continued his plea.

"Take me with you." His voice was barely audible now, coming in hoarse rasps. "And I'll fix it. I'll give you absolute freedom. But you have to take me with you."

The Master seemed to consider this, eyeing the Doctor with an almost warning expression. Slowly, he cracked his neck, and his eyes once again wandered from TARDIS to Doctor, lost in contemplation. But the whole time, not once Did The Doctor's eyes leave him.

His gaze finally landed back on The Doctor, and he bit his lip as a devious grin found it's nesting place upon his frown. "Deal."

Oh, how glorious this was, to finally have The Doctor within his clutches.

He'd caught him.

The Doctor's eyes fluttered, and his vision blurred at the comprehension that The Master, fool that he was, had actually accepted.

At last, his final ounce of strength left him, and he collapsed into the dust, unconscious; but not before a final reflection rang loud throughout his mind.

'I've caught you.'

Author's Notes: This chapter is a bit shorter than the ones prior to it, my apologies. But since it mostly consisted of dialogue and only had one scene to focus on, it was bound to happen. This was, by far, the hardest chapter to write so far. I spent a lot of time contemplating what to keep and what to take out, and how they should react to one another. There were more lines I wanted to fit in to their conversation, but I then realized that it would be better to gradually have those things answered as the story progressed. I had a lot of trouble keeping them in character (even though they're both slightly OOC throughout the whole story) so please bear with me, it shouldn't be this bad in the next few chapters.