The sleek, black car navigated them through the bustling streets of New York. Taking in the sea of humans and cars crisscrossing through the city through the tinted window, Hally could appreciate how much the city had changed since her last visit. Hopefully, there would be no Daleks in the sewers this time. The car, or it might be more accurate to describe it as a small limousine, had met the four of them at the airport. The private airport. After they'd departed from their private plane. She was still itching to pull answers from The Master but for the whole journey, he'd not dropped even a crumb of information regarding where their sudden rescue had come from, keeping her incessant mind at bay during the entire ten-hour flight.
John had been equally curious and had spent the majority of the flight seeking answers from The Master. Sadly, to no avail.
"And this isn't a trap?" John pressed, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
The Master, maintaining an air of assured nonchalance, replied, "It's not a trap."
"How can you be sure? It sounds exactly like a trap," John persisted, leaning further back in his seat to survey the two of them.
Hally, curled up in the seat between the window and The Master tilted her head up to shoot her husband a curious glance as he batted away John's concern with a bored stare. "It's not a trap."
"Alright, and what if UNIT decides to blow you out of the sky?" John offered, eyebrow arched in an accusatory manner while his voice lilted over the words with childlike finesse.
The Master shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Let's all cross our fingers and hope that they don't." His tone betrayed a hint of playful sarcasm.
The interior of the private jet boasted a laid-back yet effortlessly sophisticated atmosphere. The upholstery, in varying shades of beige diverged from the typical aircraft setup, featuring expansive seats that resembled plush lounge chairs through the middle, with two larger sofas up front near the cockpit where Armitage was currently sat. Slightly detached from the rest of the group, but close enough to be passively present. On the opposite side of the aisle, facing Hally and The Master, John lounged back in his own armchair.
The plane, as they'd discovered was apparently flying itself. That hadn't put John at ease at all. Hally had tried to distract him with small talk, but that had backfired and now Hart was incessantly asking questions about the pair of them.
"So… let me get this straight…" John's face scrunched. "You posed as the Prime Minister and hypnotised the whole planet just to show the middle finger to her old man?"
Armitage gave a non-committal hum from the front.
"Hence the sexy little Biodampener? I assume?" John's eyes met hers and she exhaled a weak huff, giving him a short nod. "Huh…" A twisted sort of excitement flickered over his face. "Kinky. Well I have to hand it to you Special K, you've certainly got a beautifully twisted penchant for revenge. Why just torture a man the normal way, when you can take over his favourite planet, hold him hostage and fuck his dau-"
"Okay!" Hally interrupted. "Yes. Very clever." She clipped swiftly. "I managed to snag the most proficient villain in the universe. Well done me. ANYway. Where are we going?" Hally placed a wide smile on her face, eyes glinting with an edge of impatience.
The Master tilted his head towards her, amusement swimming behind his eyes at her swift intercept. "New York."
Light surprise sprinkled across her face. "Oh… right. Good. Yeah… That's… good. That's where I was going to suggest."
A sly smile tugged at The Master's lips. "Oh is it? How serendipitous."
"So, do you have the same last name? Like humans?" John cut across them, evidently involved in his own train of thought.
The Master glanced at him, bemused. "What?"
"Like humans have two names, are you one of those? Or do you just have one name?"
"Not really." The Master shrugged at the same time as Hally responded, "Kind of."
Both of them exchanged a glance. Hart's face pulled into a grin. "Do you keep your name? Or does it change when you marry?"
A moment passed between the two of them, a realisation that they'd never actually discussed it. Hally cleared her throat, answering for John. "Well... I suppose traditionally one party would change their house to match the others..."
"House?" Hart prompted. "We talking Hufflepuff style?"
Hally snorted a laugh, shaking her head. "No. It's very much like a surname or a second name. So you'd be from House Hart, or John of House Hart... however you want to say it."
Hart hummed, chewing on his lip with a wry smile. "Uhuh... so which name would you both have?"
The Master gazed down at Hally, a subtle smile playing on his lips. "Well, it's customary and beneficial to take the name of the house with the higher status." He remarked, his eyes twinkling with The Master's particular brand of smug satisfaction. Her eyes rolled of their own accord.
"Ahh, so you married up?" Hart interjected with a teasing grin.
Hally shot him a scowl. "I did not 'marry up.'"
The Master hummed in amusement. "Yes, you did. You most certainly married up."
She had to swallow the noise of displeasure caught in her throat. "Oh, I hardly think I married you for the money." She retorted, levelling a pointed glare towards him, hoping to nip his obvious provocation in the bud.
"I had estates," The Master mused, mirth twinkling behind his eyes.
Hally hummed knowingly, her mouth curving into a sharp smirk. "Yeah, 'had' being the operative word there. Actually, if you think about it, House Oakdown and all its fancy estates are dust, whereas House Lungbarrow—with our TARDIS, our two living descendants, and our 'future Queen'—we're not doing so bad." Her face curled with a confident sneer.
The Master's expression dropped into one of disgust. "I would never take The Doctor's name."
Her face dissolved into a soft smile and she gave his arm a squeeze. "Oh, I know." She pressed a chaste kiss to the side of his face. "And I'll never ask you to." The Master visibly relaxed under her touch, his eyes scanning over her face as she looked back to Hart. "So, Oakdown it is." Neither human would have noticed the almost imperceptible change in The Master at her admission. Not that it had ever really been up for debate. He practically vibrated with a deep but satisfied possessiveness. "Sounds better anyway." She quipped up at him in an attempt to lighten the heavy aura that had surrounded him.
Hart observed the interaction before interrupting once more, "Oh yeah, so what are you Queen of again?"
Finally, the car glided to a halt, encircled by towering glass structures that ascended high into the sky. A harsh barrier of metal and concrete against the grey sky. Koschei slipped from the vehicle first, met with an expectant doorman, who promptly guided them into the unnecessarily giant lobby. The doorman, who somehow seemed to know exactly who they were, provided The Master with four key cards before leading the group towards a discreet lift nestled at the back of the lobby, its only button elegantly marked 'penthouse.'
Once the four of them had stepped inside, The Master swiped the key card and with a press of the button, the elevator commenced its ascent. The doors parted into a wide hallway, The Master, with an air of confident assurance, stepped out first. Though a trace of uncertainty clung to him, he walked away surveying their new surroundings as if he were the proprietor of the entire building. A triumphant smirk adorned his face as he turned back to Hally, beckoning her over with a nonchalant nod.
Following him, Hally moved through the hallway, which eventually unfolded into a spacious living area boasting a breathtaking panoramic city view. The penthouse was vast, probably five times the size of the flat she'd been living in while at Torchwood, effortlessly sleek and modern, and bathed in white and warm oak. Expansive glass windows offered an unimpaired perspective of the urban sprawl below. It was like they'd stepped out into the clouds.
John wasted no time and hopped away from the group to explore all the rooms. Armitage did something similar, although vastly in contrast to John, undoubtedly assessing the penthouse's security. Hally found herself drawn over to the nearest window, eyes fixed on the stretched horizon. A pleasant tingle shivered up her spine.
As The Master joined her, his hands found a place on her hips, and the hum of his voice resonated against her ear. "Looks like the House of Oakdown is on the rise." He murmured, nipping sharply at her earlobe. Breath fell from her lips in a weak laugh.
"Oh, is this yours?" She taunted.
The warmth of The Master's breath tickled across her shoulder. "It's ours."
His words ignited a warmth within her, and she swallowed.
"Do you like it?"
"Mmm…" She bit her lip, the words not quite forming on her tongue.
He nuzzled into her neck, fingers digging into her hips as he inhaled. "At the top of the world. We'll be untouchable. Gods. Up in our tower, looking down on the ants below." His mouth trailed warm breath from her ear to her neck. "Do you like it?"
Her breath fell from her lips. "I love it."
A satisfied moan vibrated low in his chest. "Of course, you do…"
"Oh look. You wrote a book." Both turned at John's words, their attention drawn to a high coffee table separating the room from the lounge area. Moving closer, Hally picked up the book Hart had spotted, the familiar 'Vote Saxon' poster splashed across the front. She furrowed her brow as she turned it over, discovering the insert on the back page featuring a picture of The Master, or 'Harold Saxon' above a short blurb.
It was an autobiography.
Harold Saxon's 'autobiography'.
An impossible autobiography seeing as the book seemed to cover practically all of the fabrication Hally herself had come up with only hours ago. More than puzzled, she shifted her gaze to the propped-up place card on the table and picked it up, unfolding it.
You're welcome.
Yours,
M
Her gaze locked with The Master's as everything clicked into place. "This was all you?"
He replied with a ghost of a smile. "Yes and no."
She rolled her eyes at his unnecessarily cryptic reply. "This, will be you? You did this? Future, you, did this?"
"Well, you did ask." He smirked, popping the book down with a self-satisfied thud. "A head start on your masterful plan." He added with a wink, eyes twinkling with mirth at his less-than-subtle play on words.
Hally spluttered incredulously. "Are you telling me there was another version of you hanging out on Earth this whole time?!"
"It's likely there are multiple versions of us all across our timelines, darling." He corrected coolly. "But you know we can't simply cross into the wrong timeline. Timey Wimey and all that."
Her scowl deepened. "Don't quote The Doctor at me."
"Holy shit," Hart's voice echoed from the other side of the partition wall, leading to the dining and kitchen areas. Hally looked up at The Master, a sigh escaping her as they traipsed after the ex-Time Agent. She moved around the partition to find Hart standing before a painting. Her face lit up in soft surprise.
"Oh… I like that one."
Hart looked from the painting to her. "Oh… huh… right… do you?" He laughed in a bemused, almost maniacal way. "Well yeah, most people like Starry Night." He shook his head. "But most people don't have the original in their dining room." Turning to shoot The Master an incredulous stare, he laughed to himself, moving closer to the painting to examine it.
Hally's eyes widened as she looked from Hart to The Master. "What?"
Hart chuckled, shaking his head. "You have one of Van Gogh's most famous paintings hanging on your wall, darling."
"Oh, shit…"
Armitage returned, having evidently completed his survey of their new home. "Shouldn't that be in a museum?"
Hart nodded a stupid grin etched onto his face. "Mmhmm. Yep. It should be in the Museum of Modern Art, just a few blocks away. And yet here it is." He clapped his hands together.
Hally shot The Master an accusatory glare. He raised his hands in a mock surrender. "Don't look at me. I haven't done anything." He offered an insincerely sympathetic shrug, sauntering away from the group.
"But you will!"
"I am not guilty of a crime I haven't committed yet." The Master lazily wagged his finger in the air, not bothering to turn around as he meandered to investigate the rest of the penthouse.
It really wasn't that hard to 'settle in' to a multi-million dollar penthouse.
The Master had claimed the master bedroom for them both. Obviously. And Hart had swiftly stolen what he deemed to be the second-best room. In total, the penthouse boasted four bedrooms and six bathrooms. Why they needed more bathrooms than people, Hally wasn't sure but she wasn't complaining. Equipped with a small library, office, gym, gated roof garden and state-of-the-art 'Torchwood' lab, they were fully set up and able to base their entire operation from their glass box in the sky. The Master had provided everything, wardrobes and fridges already stocked, they barely needed to leave.
Hally had pressed her hand over her mouth, quelling her amusement as she'd watched The Master finger through the hanging items on his side of the walk-in wardrobe, scepticism written all over his features, not trusting anyone else to have picked out his clothes for him. Only to skulk away irritably upon realising that everything was utterly perfect.
She snorted at the irony.
Hally sighed and shifted on the couch, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing against her. The never-ending slog of events leading up to the official book launch and their carefully orchestrated reintroduction into the public eye left her drained. Her head rested in The Master's lap, his hand absentmindedly caressing through her hair as Armitage ticked through their packed schedule on his phone.
The Master had initially 'forgotten' to tell her about their new PR entourage. Although she was partially thankful that someone else, a whole team of someone else's, were taking over the logistics of their publicly documented 'redemption arc'.
A head start indeed.
The book, 'Voting Saxon', was being published at the end of the week and the two of them had spent almost every waking hour for the last three weeks being thrust into the public eye. Anywhere there was anyone. Anywhere there would be press. They'd held interviews. Spoken with journalists. CNN had even put aside a 15-minute slot during their live news broadcast to get them both.
Hally was fucking exhausted.
Turned out, lying to the whole planet and prancing around in front of cameras was really fucking tiring.
Koschei hummed in confirmation at something Armitage had asked, his fingers tracing delicate patterns through her hair. She groaned softly, crossing one leg over the other, both hanging over the edge of the couch. Shooting a tired glare up at her husband, the corners of her lips twitched with a reluctant smile. "I hope you're enjoying this, Master, appreciate the massive effort I'm going to to fix the problem your stupid face has presented us with."
He leaned down, a chuckle vibrating in his chest as he planted a light kiss on her forehead. "I am forever grateful." He quipped, his voice only slightly tinted with a teasing tone. "And I will be sure to show my appreciation again, and again… and again…" His voice lowered to a heated hum, his hand straying from its previously gentle caress as he gave a firm tug on her hair, forcing her to bare her neck. She huffed, mildly disgruntled and gave his chest a playful swat.
The Master had fallen into his role with perfect ease. It was almost annoying, how good he was at it all. Well, she had told him to be. But the truth of it was that he was naturally magnetic. He attracted attention and was more than happy to bask in it. She could see how he'd managed to weasel his way into high political positions on both Gallifrey and Earth.
He was so damn charming when he wanted to be.
Arsehole.
They'd both read the book, 'Voting Saxon', on the day they'd arrived. It laid out the story of Harold Saxon. Their backstory. How the two of them had met, how they'd fallen in love. They'd decided to keep his name. Humans did seem to be a bit funny about lying about names. So Harold Saxon he was. Which made her Hally Saxon. Which she really wasn't happy about but they'd compromised. A perfectly spun tale of espionage, shapeshifting extraterrestrials and the President of the United States. The narrative spun an artfully concocted tale, providing a seemingly straightforward explanation for the obliteration of their original identities. It offered a glimpse into the necessity of erasing every trace of their existence, paving the way for Harold Saxon to ascend to the esteemed position of Prime Minister—a strategic gambit aimed at unmasking the elusive President. But then, of course, the part that everybody knew… Harold Saxon had been shot. He'd ended up in a coma. Until. He wasn't. And there the story continued into the present day, with the pair of them reunited, rescuing children and being the heroic citizens that they were.
All complete bullshit.
Because, obviously, there was no trace of the two of them before The Master had introduced Harold Saxon to the world. And yet, they'd compiled a strategic gallery of footage and images, a mosaic of carefully orchestrated moments leading up to the Valiant broadcast. Because they had been seen together, albeit very rarely. There were photographs of her leaving the hospital with him, of her moving from his home into Number 10 Downing Street, and of course the broadcast footage on the Valiant before The Master had murdered the President. These visual breadcrumbs, though devoid of an official record, served as a foundation for a compelling and hopefully believable narrative, offering just enough substance to anchor their fabricated story in the public's imagination.
Then had come the relentless campaign of visibility. They became ubiquitous, gracing premieres, charity galas, and high-profile events where cameras and journalists congregated. The blend of mystery surrounding Torchwood's covert operations with the allure of celebrity culture meant that the public were eating up every second of it. Social media platforms had become a playground of 'information'. Forever adding to their narrative. Leaving their mark on the collective consciousness of a captivated audience.
And no mass hypnotism required.
Not to mention the fact that they were having to juggle their new crammed social calendar and actually investigate extraterrestrial leads within the city. For the moment, Hart and Armitage were mostly on top of that and Hally and The Master were simply slipping in to assist where needed.
Letting her eyes fall shut, Hally listened as Armitage continued listing their upcoming engagements. The two pre-recorded interviews for Monday, the photoshoot for Tuesday followed by a film premiere, the Broadway press night on Wednesday – it all blurred together in a haze of obligations.
"...and then Thursday and Friday are all book signings ahead of the launch on Friday." Armitage noted from his schedule, his tone forever professional but she swore she could detect a hint of boredom.
The Master's fingers worked their way down to her neck, massaging at the lingering tension as he made a noise of acknowledgement.
Initially, she'd found his surprising willingness to embrace her plan quite unexpected. Executing it demanded concerted effort from both of them and he was actively participating. Together, they'd had to meticulously deliberate and align their story, practising answers to conceivable questions, ensuring that whatever came out of their mouths always fitted the narrative they were selling. And while the ceaseless cycle of networking and small talk tested her patience, The Master, in stark contrast, appeared to revel in it, his innate ability to craft words that effortlessly captivated his audience, capturing them in the palm of his hand.
The interviews glided by seamlessly. Tuesday's photoshoot was fine, although Hally thought she'd never not find them awkward as hell. The Master kept her focus on him throughout, a wink, a ghost of a caress, or a press of his lips against hers to pull her back into the charade. The film premiere mostly involved strutting around, striking poses for the camera. However, the absolute highlight of the week was undoubtedly the joy of compelling The Master to endure over an hour of a delightful new Broadway musical.
They left the buzz of the theatre foyer as the audience were called to their seats. As he lowered himself into his, The Master to cast a perplexed glance her way.
"What is this?" He inquired, a furrow forming on his brow.
Hally responded with a raised eyebrow and a sly smile. "Well, I'm pretty sure it's a musical."
"A... musical." He repeated, his voice lowered with a touch of scepticism.
"Mmhmm." She affirmed, mouth curving. "You know, singing and dancing and a bit of overacting for good measure."
A shadow of genuine fear flickered across her husband's face. "Oh no. No way. We're leaving." The Master muttered, tensing in order to rise from his seat.
Hally laughed, tugging him back down. "We can't leave now. People will notice!" She whispered urgently, maintaining a tight grip on his arm as the curtains were pulled back.
Reluctantly, The Master sank back into his seat, sulking and mentally berating her throughout the entire first half. It was incredibly hard not to succumb to the fit of giggles that so desperately wanted to be set free at the vision of The Master murderously scowling at the lively, joyous performers, singing and dancing their way across the stage. When the interval finally arrived, they slipped out discreetly.
With a text to their team, via Armitage, The Master had them whisked south into the financial district, inviting themselves up to an exclusive rooftop where some corporate billionaire was hosting a party for practically anyone in the city with too much money. The New York skyline glittered around them, serving as an effortlessly majestic backdrop.
The rooftop was adorned with chic furnishings and stylish decor, creating an unapologetic ambience of unnecessarily expensive luxury. The crowd, a blend of influential personalities and well-heeled socialites, seemed to ooze with self-interest. The Master guided her through the sea of 'elite' gently by the elbow, picking up two glasses of sparkling champagne for the both of them from the waitstaff as they passed by. Strings of fairy lights hung overhead, casting a warm glow above them, while the city lights stretched out in all directions. A low chuckle rumbled in The Master's chest as he caught her expression, passing her the glass. "Fix your face darling, you're one of them now."
"Hypocrite." She muttered under her breath, shooting him a swift glare before forcing a sort of dead, calm smile onto her face.
"Mm, now you fit right in." His smirk was hidden from view as he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. He manoeuvred them confidently into the nearest gaggle, injecting himself into the conversation with ease. Amidst the clinking glasses and never-ending small talk, the Master maintained an unyielding hand on her. While she could feel the possessive energy seeping from him, she was partially thankful, happy to allow him to take the lead as they traversed through numerous social circles. Watching him, his charm was undeniable, a magnetic force that drew the humans in. Yet there was an imperceptible edge to it, a sharpness that swiftly dismissed those he deemed of little importance. She couldn't resist the urge to watch him, her eyes tracing his every move. After a while, sensing her gaze The Master steered them away politely, guiding her over to the edge, leaning himself against the glass barrier separating them from the night sky, a knowing smirk graced his lips.
"Do stop staring, dear." He chided, a playful glint in his eyes. She pouted in response, curving into his hold, seeking the heat from his embrace against the slight chill of the night air. His arms wrapped around her, a protective shield against the background noise. "You're impossibly good at this." She remarked, the corners of her lips curling into a sly smile.
He grinned, mischief lighting up his eyes. "I know." A snort escaped her as he noticed her shivering, and with a theatrical flourish, draped his jacket over her shoulders.
"Such a gentleman…" Her tone dripped with sarcasm. He leant in, his voice vibrating near her ear. "Only in public." The promise hung in the air as he planted a sly, lingering kiss on her neck. She hummed in disgruntled agreement.
The interlude of solitude proved fleeting as two humans approached them from the left, the woman led, her bottle-blonde hair cropped into a severe bob. Unbridled confidence surrounded her. A man followed silently, his presence imposing and yet equally flaky. Plastering a warm smile onto her face she introduced the both of them with a corporate flourish. The woman, Gerri, looked them both up and down before her gaze settled on The Master, admiration evident in her eyes. "Your tenure as Prime Minister was truly fascinating," she began, her voice poised and complimentary. "And I must say congratulations on the launch of your autobiography. Such insight into the human condition." She remarked.
"Your kind words are appreciated." The Master replied, a modest smile gracing his lips. Hally could feel her own amusement mingling with his at the woman's unknowingly poor choice of words. "Although I can't take all the credit." He moved his gaze down to Hally. "After all my wife really was the brains behind the whole thing." His eyes glittered as he kept them trained on her.
Gerri hummed in poorly concealed disinterest. "Of course." A tight smile pulled across her face. She took a business card from her associate, passing it across to The Master. "It would be wonderful to stay in touch, we have some future openings coming up within one of our startups. I believe we could both greatly benefit from someone of your calibre being on the board. Your insights would be invaluable."
The Master accepted the card with a gracious nod. "I'll certainly consider it. Thank you for the offer."
As the couple departed, Hally's face scrunched back into its expression of distaste. "Humans are so stupid." She muttered under her breath.
The Master chuckled lowly, a wry smile playing on his lips. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was a fantastic Prime Minister." He quipped, swiftly ridding himself of the card over his shoulder.
"Mm... uhuh," Hally responded, her tone dripping with playful scepticism.
The shift in her husband was immediate, his eyes darkening with unapologetic insinuation. "Well, my dear…" His hand slipped inside his jacket to press into her lower back, forcing her chest against his. "I do believe it's time we leave. I have very important business to attend to in our bedroom."
Hally smirked, a playful challenge in her eyes. "Oh, well then perhaps I should stay here? I wouldn't want to disturb your important business."
He flashed her a wide, undeterred grin, capturing her jaw in his fingers. "Get yourself down that lift." The command was accompanied by a flash of warning within the dark pupils of his eyes.
She placed her hand against his chest, the curvature of her lips never faltering. "Mmm, oh Harry, how unlike you to be so forward." Her head tilted to the side innocently.
A sudden commotion on the other side of the rooftop shattered their attention. A concerned panic rippled through the crowd, emanating from the corner of the rooftop, just next to the bar. Taking his hand, Hally weaved herself and The Master through the crowd to get a better look at what was going on.
A man had collapsed, convulsing violently on the floor. Alarm was spreading, and Hally, instinctively drawn to assist, took a few steps towards the seizing figure. However, the Master's reaction was swift. He gripped her arm, pulling her back into his chest. His touch a silent command, halting her in her tracks. Confused, Hally looked up at him, finding urgency in his eyes that demanded her attention.
It took a moment for her to notice the men in black suits converging on the now unconscious man, or at least she hoped he was only unconscious. They moved with precision, it certainly didn't appear they were intent on offering medical assistance. The unmistakable shape of firearms lingered beneath their jackets.
As the men lifted the now still figure from the floor, Hally caught a glimpse of his eyes, still wide open and staring. They were bright and unnaturally blue. A shiver ran down her spine, a strange mixture of excited unease settling in. The Master's hold on her remained firm, his gaze fixed on the retreating group.
Hally twisted to look at The Master over her shoulder, her voice low. "What just happened?"
A breath fell from him as his eyes met hers. "I don't know…"
Curiosity sparked in Hally's eyes. "Let's go home…"
"I have a feeling the reason you want to go home is not the same reason I want to go home…" The beginnings of a pout began to press The Master's lips together in displeasure. Flashing him a wide grin Hally regained her grip on The Master's hand, pulling him towards the exit.