I wasn't going to continue this - it's been around about 10 months after all - but the idea of leaving it unfinished was bothering me too much. If you're still reading, you're amazing. I'm not expecting anyone to. But here's the next chapter
Chapter 13
The Master's words created a feeling of terror within the Doctor so deep that he felt as though he would be sick. This man, this man who had once been his best and only friend. This man who had been his best enemy, the only one who could out smart him. This man who always seemed to appear randomly. The Doctor had never been scared of him before. Perhaps a trifled concerned, but never outrightly scared, not like he was now. The Master had always been a genius, an evil - or rather misguided genius - but now he was an angry and vengeful genius. An angry and vengeful genius with the power to tear him to pieces if he so wished to. There was nowhere the Doctor could go, no way of getting away. Rose had been killed, that Lucy had been killed and bigger than all of that, the whole of Gallifrey.
The image the Master had sent him, the sight of his brother's death wouldn't leave the Doctor's head. He didn't recognise his brother's form, had never seen him in that regeneration, but he knew it was him of course. He always knew. The death was horrific, the blood the pain. Swallowing, the Doctor tried to put it from his mind, focus on the present, what was going on around him not in his head.
As he did so, he became aware of the Master undoing the collar that was around his neck and letting him down. He was grateful that he as able to move without being shocked now, but except for getting to his feet and finding his balance, he didn't move much, watching the Master carefully, he couldn't be sure what the other was going to do and he couldn't risk anything. The Master wasn't playing with him or the universe for fun anymore, this was serious. The Doctor wasn't sure he was going to get out of this alive, he wasn't sure he'd be able to talk him down.
The Master's expression was cold and hard as he looked at the Doctor. He was tapping the beat of four against his side as he was watched, trying to think through what to do next. The truth was, he didn't have a plan, he didn't want one, he wanted to hurt the Doctor and he wanted to do it in anyway that came to him, not some ordered plan. War wasn't ordered, revenge shouldn't be either.
Slowly he reached for the Doctor's head again, "Hold still, Theta," he murmured. He knew how much the Doctor hated his old name. He knew it reminded him of the old days, before they were enemies, before Gallifrey was lost. He knew the Doctor couldn't bear to remember that. It was a simple and minor way of getting to hm, but the Master was willing to take anything that he could get.
He let himself into the other's mind, not intruding, just looking. The Doctor was so guarded, most things in his head where hidden behind locked doors. The Master didn't know them and the Doctor had pushed them so far away that he didn't think about them anymore, but the Master was about to open them up. Door by door the Doctor was faced with everything and everyone he had ever let down, everyone he had hurt, everyone who had died for him or because of him. Everything that had happened in his name. This form of the Doctor was weaker emotionally that many of the previous regenerations had been. The Master fondly remembered the one who was trapped on earth, that Doctor would never have betrayed Gallifrey.
The Doctor's body couldn't deal with and he fell to his knees, only staying that far up because of the Master's hold on his head. The pain from within his mind was all consuming. Tears streamed down his face for nothing in particular and everything.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" the Master's voice was light and taunting. The Doctor's pain was helping with his own. "You want to do something to it, you want to make it stop, you even think that even death would be better than the pain you're currently going through."
Letting go of the Doctor suddenly, the Master stood up. He looked down with disgust as the other fell into a crying heap on the fall. The Doctor swallowed, staying very still except for the odd shudder running through his body. On some level he was aware of how he should prepare himself for the next attack, but his mind was hurting too much for him to really be able to do anything about it. His eyes were tightly closed and he tried to make sense of the fragments of his mind. He felt like a puzzle in a box. All the pieces were there but the Master had taken them, shook them up and now he had the job of piecing them back together.
"And it never stops," the Master continued. The Doctor heard the words, but it was just words. A string on words in a sentence, but nothing more than that. He couldn't register or make sense of the meaning. "It never stops. There is no pause. There's no time to dust yourself off and prepare. Oh no, no no." He kicked the Doctor harshly in the ribs, enjoying the wince of pain that caused in the other but not as much as he had before.
The drums were quieter now. There were still there, but it was more like a steady backing beat, than the harsh loudness of a chorus. And when the drums were calm, the Master found himself calmer. Hurting the Doctor had made him feel better. He liked that, smirking to himself, he ran a hand through his hair. The Doctor was quite literally his to do with whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He was going to make the most of this. He was going to make this slow and painful. He wasn't going to kill him, no, no, no, that was too predictable, too easy. The Master didn't want him dead, he wanted thim to understand. He wanted the Doctor to see everything of the Time War, the way he had had to.