A/N: Really long chapter! Say it's an act of kindness as Doctor Who that was on tonight was good 'un!
Minor, teensy weensy spoilers from "The Doctor's Wife"!
Once again, I own nothing. If I did, Daleks in Manhattan would have never happened.
Somehow, someway happened very quickly for the Doctor. Within a week (relative time), the Doctor and the Master met each other again. The Doctor had taken the Ponds to New York City on August 14, 1945, to celebrate V-J Day, as they had just ended a thousand year war between the Batus and the Lintangs and, the Doctor thought, they needed to celebrate this happy occasion, but in a manner they were more familiar with and not on a planet where the custom, in times of great joy, was to bang one's head against the table.
"Besides"—the Doctor said as he gave the Ponds a gleeful smile and flickered some switches to go towards the 1940s—"I have the strangest craving for a banana daiquiri. That's new."
Once they had touched down in Times Square—amid the partygoers and gala—the Doctor immediately lost sight of Amy and Rory. "No matter", the Doctor muttered to himself, somewhat blending in with the blissful crowd, as he trudged to a bar for a daiquiri, a remnant of his previous regeneration. Somehow, the throng of people had pushed him into a series of alleys and, not knowing New York City, the Doctor instantly became lost. "Right", he told himself. "Lost, but fine. If I just keep following these alleys and head towards the sound of the festivities, I'll be fine."
However, due to either bad luck or the Doctor's impeccable sense of direction, he, instead, found himself in an old apartment building, as he thought that this would be a shortcut. "Right", he told himself again, "I should really take a GPS sort of thing with me the next time I go anywhere I'm not familiar with." He spun around and walked back to the door in which he entered. He gently turned the knob, but it wouldn't open. He turned it again, harder, but, yet again, it wouldn't budge. He quickly took out his sonic screwdriver from his tweed coat pocket, but was stopped by a low, cool, baritone voice from behind him.
"It's deadlocked."
All at once, a shiver went down the Doctor's spine and his mouth curved into a giddy smile. "Not only that", the Doctor said coolly and spun back around to face the voice, "It's made out of wood."
The voice was coming from the man who had saved the Doctor from the Monty gas a week earlier—the Master. "Extra precautions", he said offhandedly. "Hello Doctor", the Master greeted taking a step towards the Doctor.
"Hello Master", the Doctor responded.
"I always love it when you say my name", The Master smirked at him. "Do you get the same feeling I do when I say your name?" The Doctor didn't respond; they were both sizing each other up and the Doctor was strangely reminded of the showdowns one would see in Westerns between the Sheriff and the Villain.
"See you're a ginger", the Doctor said, trying to keep the envy out of his voice, cutting through the uneasy silence that had followed.
"Why yes", the Master drew his hand up to his mop of orange hair and ran a hand through it. "And I've also got eyebrows", the Master oppugned the Doctor's lack of eyebrows by smoothing down his right eyebrow with a finger.
"Rude and ginger", the Doctor muttered out sullenly. "Not fair." The Master gave a smug smirk at him before the Doctor noticed something different about the Master. His eyes were more focused and clearer than they had been in years. 'It could just be chalked up to a new body, but no—I've never seen his eyes this sharp before.' The muscles in the Doctor's shoulders and the grip on his screwdriver tightened when the realization hit him. His teeth clenched before he asked, in a strange meek voice, "The drums? Are they gone?"
His muscles tightened even more in anticipation when the Master casually shoved his hands in his coat pockets. "Yes—they're gone", he finally said simply, with no hint of emotion.
The Doctor's shoulders sagged in relief and he let out a soft, "Thank goodness."
"I don't know why you're so happy about it, dear Doctor", the Master flashed a pearly white smirk at the Doctor. "If anything, the absence of the drums makes future events and conflicts between us, in your favour, even worse and shifts the balance of victory in mine—no more distractions, no more disturbances, and no more agitation", he said carefully.
The Doctor snapped at action to that and his muscles immediately resumed their stiffness. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly and cautiously.
"Oh, don't play coy with me Doctor—we can tell each other anything, right?" The Doctor didn't respond, but the Master noticed the slight flex of the Doctor's fists as if he was going to attack him at that moment. The Master gave him another smirk, one reminisce of the Cheshire Cat. "I think clearer now—I think bigger now", the Master glanced down at the ground and leisurely took a step. "With no more taptap-taptap of the drums, my mind is free and sharper than ever. Really, I'm an entirely new man and it's not just the body. The universe is mine for the taking, Doctor. And, oh"—he shyly looked back up at the Doctor—"I do love me some redheads", he said in a playful, flirty voice.
"Don't you dare touch Amy", the Doctor furiously snapped at him, dark clouds coming over his blue eyes. "Or I'll"—
"You'll what, Doctor?" the Master interrupted him and narrowed his blasé cat-like eyes at the Doctor. "I much prefer your previous regeneration, if you ask me. He was more amusing with his talk about us being the last two Timelords and how 'We have to stick together!'" The Master paused for a moment, "Much more entertaining. Although, your bow-tie is very amusing—I mean, c'mon, a bowtie?"
"Hey! Bowties are cool", the Doctor automatically and quickly retorted back, used to this by now. But, immediately, he mentally flogged himself for getting distracted and, so, he continued in a threatening voice, "And, whatever it is you're thinking of doing, don't. I'm giving you one free pass. New body, clean slate. Mess up once, you're done."
The Master just narrowed his eyes back at the Doctor before giving a practiced chuckle. "I was wrong—this regeneration seems more delightfully interesting than the last. Much more menacing and prone to violent outbursts. No wonder the ladies goes gaga over you." To anyone else, his words would sound good-humored and teasing, but, to the Doctor, his words seemed planned and cold.
'As if he planned this whole thing—but how does his plan end?' the Doctor thought and a frown appeared on his face.
An upward curve appeared on the Master's lips, as if he knew, what the Doctor was wondering. "Spoilers!" he shrieked River's catchphrase. "Isn't that what the dear Professor says?"
"No touching her either", the Doctor said severely, something boiling in the pit of his stomach.
"But, you hardly know her! Are you telling me that you trust her more than you trust me?" the Master yelled at him, fake hurt shining through his eyes and voice. The Doctor, once again, didn't reply. The Master pointed to himself and said in a fake bewildered and slow voice, "I, for one, am shocked."
The Doctor let out a sigh, as if to signal a digression, "I assume you have your own TARDIS again?"
"Yes, I procured a TARDIS", he patted a red telephone box that the Doctor just noticed next to the Master, "Unlike some people—who shall not be named—that stole theirs."
"Borrowed. And the TARDIS and I have come to the understanding that we stole each other", the Doctor clarified. "Besides, I willing to bet that, by some hook or by crook, you obtained your TARDIS in a similar, dishonest manner as well."
The Master tapped his chiseled nose with a finger and gave a smirk, "I'm not saying anything, Doctor."
"Tell me your plan then!" the Doctor vociferated at the Master, pointing at him.
The Master smiled fondly at him, "One day that'll work—I'm sure of it. Nevertheless, you'll know of my plan soon enough, dear Doctor. But, I don't want to give it up too soon, you see."
"Just a hunch and all", the Doctor started slowly, "But does this plan somehow involve you killing me?"
"Why, yes—yes it does", the Master said simply. "Not yet, though."
"But why not? Why don't you just kill me now? Get it over and done with—me being alive and aware of your presence will, if anything, delay and, inevitably, foil your schemes of universe domination", the Doctor shifted his weight onto his other foot. "Or destruction", he quickly added.
"No, no. I'm saving it up for something big", the Master cocked his head, "Why do you think I rescued you from the Monty gas?"
"'Cause we're friends! The last two of our kind—those are the two reasons why I'm giving you a warning...stop whatever it is you're planning. It will not end well", the Doctor replied darkly.
The Master let out a sharp laugh, "Oh, Doctor, you'll have to do better than that! Moreover, I could kill you right here and—'cause why the hell not?—I'd also kill your companions, but I won't." His face then turned hard and he said frigidly, "So, take this as a friendly warning, my dear...back off."
"And if I don't?" A pit of fear was brewing in his stomach, although the Doctor was trying to smother it with reminders of his past victories over him.
"You're clever enough to know that there can be but only one outcome. It'd be a pity, really, but the ends justify the means." A small chuckle escaped the Doctor's lips and the Master's teeth clenched as he sought to control his anger. "You laugh now, but, I assure you, in an unaffected manner, that killing you would be a grief. It really would be."
"Eh, danger is part of my trade", the Doctor shrugged and said in a matter-of-fact tone.
"I'm not talking about danger—I'm talking about the inevitable and utter destruction of you and your companions. You stand in the way of my plans of universe domination. I completely intend to get rid of any and all obstructions and those who seek to derail these plans—back off now or you will be trampled under my full might", the Master said in a harsh and bitter voice.
The Doctor and the Master studied each other for a moment. The Doctor realized, by the sharp and determined look in the Master's face, that he had lost this round and would have to go collect Amy and Rory to plan out his next move. He had seen that face many times on Amy's and knew what victory of words, insults, and comebacks looked like. Therefore, he took in some air and finally said, haughtily, the only thing coming to his mind, "Although this has been such an interesting conversation, I do have plans elsewhere." He turned sideways and shifted his eyes towards the deadlocked door.
"Pity", the Master said simply as he lifted up his laser screwdriver to the door and pressed the button; the lock on the door exploded. "But, I have done what I could." He then shifted his screwdriver to the Doctor, who, immediately, tightened his grip on his sonic screwdriver. "This is a duel now, Doctor, between you and me. If you aim to stop me and if you think you're clever enough to do so, hear me now—destruction will rain upon you and your companions."
The Doctor fully faced the Master again. "With you as well", he replied back, formally, but with a blank face.
The Master studied the Doctor's face, narrowing his eyes, and memorizing each curve and depression of his face. The Doctor could see and practically hear the cogs and grinds in the Master's head working, trying to beat back the hate and anger. "Ciao, Doctor", the Master said, uncaringly, before turning and entering his TARDIS.
"Arrivederci, Master", the Doctor said as the Master's TARDIS emitted a wheezing noise and dematerialized, before he turned and walked out the door, back to the celebrations.
Amy gently sat her soda down on the table and gave out a small burp, both she and Rory decked out in 40s style clothing. "Ugh", she muttered, disgusted, wiping her mouth with a napkin, "I just tasted that bird we ate on planet Fredonia."
"That was bird?" Rory asked in an astounded tone, leaning towards his wife. As soon as Amy and Rory had left the TARDIS, they had lost sight of the Doctor, but, figured, that they would find each other soon, like they always had. They immediately went to a nice-looking bar and ordered a round of sodas, not wanting to drink alcohol, especially in a foreign country and times, and, especially, since they had no idea where the Doctor was at and didn't want to risk getting drunk without a responsible adult present.
"If it barks like a dog and looks like one, then it is—and it looked like a bird, so, yes, I'm calling it a bird", Amy said simply, nodding at her husband.
"It tasted more like fish to me", Rory shrugged and said quietly, not wanting to get into an argument with his fiery wife, but, wanting to get the last word.
"Fine—a compromise...'Chicken of the Sea' then", Amy sighed out. Marriage had, if anything, softened her a bit and she had quickly come to know what kind of arguments were pointless and of no use or value to argue about. This was one of them. "Doctor!" she called out when her eyes snapped to him, like a dog to its master.
"Hey", the Doctor greeted back to Amy in a strained cheery voice as he slipped into the chair next to her. "I'm glad I found you two unharmed."
Rory gave out a small chuckle, "Well, of course we're alright, Doctor. The war is over!" When Rory said that, there was a wave of applauds from around the bar. "They keep doing that whenever someone says that. It's like their cheer or something—I bet this is how mascots feel", Rory said excitedly and with a smile on his face. "One banana daiquiri please", Rory told the waitress as she passed by their table.
"There's something that we need to talk about. So we have to go back to the TARDIS", the Doctor urgently said, his voice rising so that he could be heard over the roar of the growing fête.
"We can talk about it here, can't we?" Amy asked the Doctor, her lips ready to turn into a pout.
The Doctor heaved out a weary sigh and closed his eyes. He didn't exactly want to argue with Amy over something as trivial as where would be the most appropriate setting for this discussion. "I guess here is as good as a place as any", he muttered out in a resigned voice. "I just ran into"—The Doctor was interrupted by the waitress. "Thank you", he muttered quickly, examining his drink. On second thought, he didn't want a banana daiquiri anymore. Banana daiquiris, like martinis, were a happy drink—you drank them when you were happy, not when you were depressed or beaten like the Doctor was feeling at the moment. In times like that, you drank whiskey, but, when you were really depressed or beaten, as the Doctor was about to feel like as the bar became more crowded with happy partygoers, you drank beer. The Doctor despised beer and, thus, was the reason why he only drank it when he was down in the dumps. It made him feel even more miserable, even if he didn't deserve to.
"I just ran into the Master", the Doctor repeated himself, loud and tired. "And, just as I suspected, he hasn't"—somebody bumped into the table, almost causing his drink to spill on his lap. He looked up at Amy and Rory, annoyance burning in his eyes. "Could we really take this someplace else?"
"Yeah", Amy said immediately, standing up. "Sorry 'bout that", she was apologizing for both their delayed, but needed departure and the almost spillage of his banana daiquiri in his lap, although the latter was not even her fault. "C'mon Rory."
"Oh, alright", Rory stammered out and hastily stood up. They rushed back to the TARDIS, them really being the only people in New York with scowls and worried creases on their faces.
"Alright", Amy said, when they entered the TARDIS, plopping herself onto the couch. "You ran into the Master and—?" Rory quickly joined her on the couch and the Doctor stood across from them, leaning against the control panel.
"And, he's back to his old ways", he said simply.
"World dom"—Amy started, but the Doctor interrupted her.
"Universe."
"Universe domination", she corrected. "So, what are we going to do then?" she leaned forward, her hands clasped together to stop herself from shaking in fear.
The Doctor promptly turned around and started pushing buttons and pulling levers. "You two are going home—going home to have babies and live a very long, good, happy life", he swiftly said.
"What!" Amy stood up, her face red with anger. "You're not taking us home, Doctor."
"I'm sorry, Amy, but that would be the best and safest option for you two", the Doctor said in a resigned voice. They were going to leave anyways—they always did—and, at least this time, he had the opportunity and the choice to let them go before they got hurt—or worse.
"Sucks to what's best and safest for us", Amy's fury boiled over in her tone. Her balled up fists were shaking in rage and the TARDIS seemed to be shaking as well, although it was not because of a malfunction.
"Amy, it's final. No ifs, ands, or buts", the Doctor retorted back in a stern voice. If Amy could sound motherly, then the Doctor could sound fatherly as well. Amy crossed her arms over her heaving chest and twisted her lips into a pout; tears of anger were threatening to escape from her eyes.
She finally sighed to calm herself down and went on the defensive. "You think what you're doing is right, but it's not!" Amy yelled back at him. "You kicking us out of the TARDIS is such a scurrilous act!" She placed her arms at akimbo; she'd yell at him and now it was his turn to yell back; she would get his reasons and motivations out of him soon—if only he would respond.
The Doctor spun back around to stare down Amy. "You find this scurrilous? I don't want you two to leave either, but it's what's best. I care for both of you two—my dear friends, but it has to be done." It was strange to hear such soft and caring words in an angry and heated manner.
Rory was still sitting on the couch when he lowly raised his hand to interject between the Doctor and Amy's standoff. "If I may interpose—why would we being away from you during your time of need be the safest thing?" he asked, timidly.
"Because—because I don't want anyone else getting hurt by him! I've already broken and destroyed too many people 'cause of my cowardice and selfishness. I don't want any more people to get hurt", he said, gloomily, but firm and unmovable in his reasoning.
Confused looks crossed over both Amy and Rory's face. He probably meant to say the Master, not himself, they thought. Too many people were broken and destroyed by him—the Master...not the Doctor.
Rory sighed and reminded himself of his daily job. Rory had the most impossible job in the universe. He had to, somehow, convince one of the most stubborn, fierce people in the universe to either let them stay with him or that it would be best if she listened to another just as stubborn person and leave. Rory, on the other hand, well, he would always follow his wife. If she wanted to stay, then, he'd stay right with her; if she left, he'd go with her. He waited two thousand years for her—he'd do whatever she wanted.
"Doctor", Rory finally said as his mind went blank. He said it with a resigned melancholy. "Uh—don't you think you'll need our help? If that Master bloke is as bad as he seems to be, then you'll need all the help you can get", Rory said in an ever growing strong voice. He stood up and faced the Doctor, and, that's when they both realized that Rory was taller than the Doctor. "We know of the risks and dangers associated with traveling with you—you've told us this dozens of times", Rory's voice was firm and bold. Rory found this to be odd, but empowering; Doctor found this to be odd as well, but felt himself shrink under the weight of Rory's voice and the growing confidence in his stance; however, Amy found this to be completely sexy and was now turned on. "But, we're still here. Now, listen to me carefully Doctor", Rory lowered his voice as if he was going to tell a deep, dark secret to him, "You need help, and we're here for you. We always will be, you know this."
"Yeah", Amy added, moving beside her husband and grabbing his arm. "Besides, what's best and safest for you is to have us here", she gently told him.
The Doctor stared at his two companions. They knew the risks and willingly and bravely accepted them. He didn't know whether humans, in general, were loyal or incredibly dumb. He let out a tired sigh and placed a hand to his forehead, massaging it, "I'm getting too old for this, so fine. You can stay—but, don't say I didn't warn you." He turned around and set the ship on autopilot, knowing that the TARDIS would take them wherever and whenever they were needed.
Me telling you to review won't get you to review, eh? So, don't review please.