When the Doctor woke, he was alone.
His senses told him that he'd slept for a long time, far more than he was accustomed to. It was early in the afternoon already, and he'd had the most vivid nightmares. Sighing, he sat up, glancing at the bedside table. The Master's place beside him was cold; he'd been out of bed for some time.
There was a sticky note on his bare thigh, and he nearly smiled as he plucked it off. He recognized the Master's neat handwriting instantly.
Dearest Doctor, it read. Taking the kittens to get their shots. Be home soon, but call if you need me. Didn't want to wake you up, you seemed a little ill. Breakfast/lunch/whatever the hell it is is in the microwave. I love you.
It was signed in Gallifreyan, the intricate language made mostly of circles spelling out Koschei. The Doctor smiled slightly and caressed the note with a thumb. It wasn't like the Master to say 'I love you' at all, let alone on a sticky note, nor to sign his name as Koschei. That was a forbidden name, something the Doctor was only rarely allowed to call him, and it made him nervous.
"Something's going on," he murmured, and slipped quietly out of bed.
Despite the promise of food in the microwave, the Doctor just couldn't bring himself to work up an appetite. He felt strangely drained, empty, and a quick glance in the mirror confirmed that the reason he felt like he'd been crying was because he had. Dried tear tracts trailed down his face. Taking a deep breath, he splashed his face with cold water, trying to wake a little more life in him. It didn't work.
He could hear the rain coming down on the rooftop and sighed. It certainly felt like a rainy day. His head hurt and he was emotionally exhausted from the nightmares that had plagued him.
"What's wrong with you, Doctor?" he asked his reflection. The Master had suggested illness, but that wasn't what this felt like. It felt like...heartsbreak.
He hardly even noticed his legs carrying him down the stairs and out into the backyard until he felt the thick wet raindrops sliding down his face. He plopped down on the grass in his jim jams, just letting the rain fall down thick and steady, soaking through his clothes. He didn't feel the cold. He didn't feel much at all, to be honest.
He found himself speaking out loud, to the rain, perhaps, or to himself. He wasn't quite sure. Whoever was listening, he supposed. "Something's wrong," he murmured. "So very, very wrong and I know what it is but I don't."
The Doctor's thoughts drifted to his nightmares and he tilted his head back, closing his eyes. "Alone in the TARDIS," he informed the rain quietly. "Just me and the old girl and a cold cup of tea. But everything hurts. It's the worst feeling in the universe, being alone. Because there's this great big gaping hole in my hearts and I need to fill it with something but I don't have the energy. Everything means nothing and I can't care if the whole universe dies around me. Because I'll always be alone."
Tears were falling now, mixing with the rain and tasting salty on his lips and tongue. This was worse than pain. It was emptiness.
"Why?" he asked the sky, in a voice that was choked with sobs. "Why does it hurt? Why can't I feel? What's happening to me?"
No answer came, and the Doctor just rocked and sobbed and hugged himself, not knowing why it hurt so much and why he felt so alone when the Master was only out for a bit, he'd be home soon. But somehow, deep inside, he knew this was wrong. He knew he was alone. He was the last one, the only one, and this was a lie.
When the Master found him an hour and a half later, he was soaked to the bone and utterly numb, unable to move in his ridiculous grief that he didn't understand. The Master's hearts broke to see him like this, and without speaking he scooped the sobbing Time Lord up a little awkwardly in his arms and brought him inside.
"Doctor. Shhh. Breathe."
He sat them both down on the couch, the Doctor in his lap, and just stroked his hair, kissing his forehead and holding him tight. He was scared. The Doctor knew what was happening, and any moment could be his last with the man he loved so fiercely and so much that his dying wish was that he could have him, even if it was all a dream. None of this was real, at least not for the Doctor. The Master had known that from the beginning, and the more time he spent with him, the more convinced he was that he should have said something, should have set aside his stubbornness just to have the Doctor at his side.
The Master knew he could have never done that. Not since Koschei died and the drums had swallowed him whole until he was nothing but a shattered mess desperate for revenge against the man who'd broken him in the first place.
"I've got you," the Master whispered, but the words sounded hollow, even to him. He held the Doctor close and wept.
The Doctor didn't let himself think about it. He didn't want to ruin it, whatever this was. He pushed the nightmares to the back of his mind, along with the dreaded truth that he refused to let himself know. He was happy here. Happier than he could remember being in a very, very long time, and he wouldn't let himself ruin that.
"You're sick," the Master had lied, the words sounding fake even to him, and the Doctor shut him up with a fierce kiss. They made love until neither of them could move, round after round until all they had the strength to do was curl up against each other and wish for more time, naked on the floor of their living room.
"I love you," the Doctor whispered, tracing his fingers across the Master's still slightly flushed cheek. He was beautiful like this, no, he'd always been beautiful. For as long as the Doctor had ever known him, he'd loved his Koschei, his Master. Why had it taken him so long to admit it?
The Master smiled, affection in his brown eyes, and opened his mouth to speak, but the Doctor pressed a finger against his lips.
"I love you," he repeated, almost brokenly. "So...so much, and I should have told you earlier. I guess I just...didn't want to know. Everyone knew it but me. Even Alistair knew it." He couldn't help but laugh. "I dreamed of you and told him so and he laughed at me. Even he knew."
The other Time Lord laughed as well, holding his lover close. "You dreamed of me?" he asked curiously. "When you were that crochety old man at UNIT? I want to hear about this."
"Yeah," he admitted sheepishly, his flushed cheeks going even pinker with embarrassment. "You were laughing that stupid evil laugh of yours in Atlantis, with that crystal. You and your stupid beard." He smiled fondly in recollection. "I loved that regeneration."
The Master stilled for a moment before relaxing and smiling, giving the Doctor a light kiss. "Tell me more."
They were interrupted by a gaggle of kittens, all mewing loudly and climbing up across them. "There are innocent ears here," the Doctor said with a laugh, stroking Scootaloo when she started to nibble his hair. "Ask me later."
The Master wanted to be annoyed at the interruption, but with Luna purring and tucking herself under his chin, he couldn't be. He just laughed and petted her, comfortable where he was on the living room floor with his Doctor and their kittens. It was so domestic he could hardly bear it, if he thought about it, so he didn't, contenting himself instead with the warmth he felt from the Doctor's earlier confession, the feel of a lover's skin against his and the steady purring of seven kittens and two cats.
"I love you too," he told the Doctor, who just smiled at him and closed his eyes.
"We're going on a road trip," the Master announced, looking around at his little family. Ten pairs of eyes all looked up at him, bemused.
"We have a TARDIS," the Doctor pointed out.
The Master shrugged."We're going on a road trip and we'll leave in a few hours. It'll be fun, I promise." He stole a quick kiss and gently nudged several kittens off him before sitting up and stretching. He was sore in all the right places, and it felt good. Real. He wanted to hang on to that feeling.
The Doctor watched him and shook his head, chuckling. "Okay. Where are we going on this road trip?" He sat up as well, moving Scootaloo away from more tender parts of his body. She meowed, pawing at his arm.
"No idea," the Master said with a grin. "Let's just go."
That made the Doctor laugh and lean in for a kiss. "You're starting to sound like me," he reprimanded lightly. The Master scowled and shoved him.
"Go pack. Your Master says so," he told him, sticking his tongue out.
"And does my Master expect me to pack for him?"
He paused for a moment, considering. "Yes," he said decisively. "I'm going over to Jo's to ask if she can babysit for us."
The Doctor pouted. "We're not taking the cats with us?"
"No, idiot. Of course not. Don't argue, just go pack."
The other Time Lord sulked as he made his way up the stairs, opening up the closet and pulling out the dusty suitcases. They hardly ever used them. Most of their vacations were in the TARDIS, actually, but it had been some time now...since he hurt himself.
The Doctor frowned slightly. Why had they not taken the old girl for a spin since then? He hadn't even thought about how strange it was until now. Usually they did weekends with her, just for a quick trip, but they hadn't even so much as gone close to her since the Doctor had fallen down the stairs.
He packed slowly, folding shirts and jeans and tucking them away with practiced ease into the suitcases. That overwhelming feeling of wrongness had returned, and he swayed with the discomfort of it. He'd known for a long time that something was off here, something was very not right, but he'd been content to ignore it, satisfied with the life he was living here. It wasn't something he could just ignore anymore, not when his TARDIS had something to do with it.
There were some lines that should not be crossed when it came to the Doctor. Messing with his TARDIS was one of them. He closed his eyes for a moment and the dreams returned to him. The heartsache of grief, with no one but the TARDIS to comfort him...
By the time he came back down the stairs, he had some idea of what was happening, but he didn't understand completely. He'd have to ask the Master, demand that the man tell him. If he even really was the Master. The Doctor was starting to question even that.
The other Time Lord was in the kitchen when the Doctor returned. The cats were all at Jo's now, apparently, though the Doctor was having trouble believing that. He was having difficulty believing any of this. Oh, his head ached...
When the Master turned and met his fiance's eyes, he knew. He swallowed, feeling as though a weight had dropped into his gut. "Took you longer than I expected," he said quietly. "I almost started hoping that you wouldn't ever...that you'd..." He shook his head, feeling a hard lump form in his throat and cursing himself for it. He reached out for the Doctor, wanting to cup his cheek, but to his surprise, his hand had been rendered transparent, passing straight through the Time Lord's skin. He swore under his breath as the Doctor's eyes widened.
"So...you're not real," he finally said, his voice nearly a whisper. His hand extended, fingers brushing air where they should be touching his lover's face.
The Master shook his head, nearly choking on that lump now. "I'm dead," he whispered, eyes sparkling with moisture. "Real enough here but...I'm dead."
"A projection." The Doctor's voice was thick with emotion, his vision starting to blur with unshed tears. "My Koschei. Dead. Just like in my dreams. But those aren't dreams at all, are they?"
The other Time Lord shivered noticeably at the name. "Doctor..."
It was too late. Everything and nothing made sense and the world around them was spinning, melting, disappearing until all that remained was the darkness.
