Change Me – Chapter Three

DoctorXMaster Slash

This story begins after season three ended – but! Lucy Saxon didn't shoot her husband and the Doctor is left in charge of the Master.

Rating T

And it stayed like that for a while. The Doctor would devote part of his day to spending time with the Master. There were good days and bad ones. Some days it seemed as if the Master actually wanted to see the Doctor and would allow the Time Lord to distract him from the monotony of his days. But there were other days when the drumming would consume the blonde and he would just lash out in anger at the Doctor. Curse him or hit him if the Doctor was in his reach.

He would perform little acts of self harm like scratching at himself or refusing to eat for days and days at a time, but there wasn't too much past these little acts of rebellion that the Master could do. The Tardis kept the Master's room safe, much like a mental ward, which was fairly appropriate.

The Doctor was never quite sure what mood the Master would be in, or what exactly prompted the spouts of insanity beyond the Master's claim of drums in his head, but the Doctor would heed the signs and stay away when need be or be there when need be.

Yesterday had been a bad day. What little food the Doctor had given his unwilling companion had been thrown across the room. Splattered everywhere. The Doctor hadn't even reached the bottom of the steps before the Master began yelling.

"I can't just be kept in here! I will kill you for this!" he had yelled. "I am the Master. You will obey me! And I order you to let me out! Now! Right now!" His fists clenched the bars and he would just yell. Scream for hours and hours until exhaustion overcame him.

His screams were the Doctor's lullaby the night before. They were maddening, but the Doctor felt guilt and he decided that he would listen to the pain he was causing the Master. He needed to take some form of responsibility, some form of punishment.

Today, however, the Master had been somewhat quiet. Docile. The Doctor went into the belly of the Tardis and up to the Master's quarters, resting his hands on the bars. He studied the Master for a moment. The Time Lord was sitting in his bed with his knees to his chest, just staring blankly out at nothing.

"I don't know how to help you," the Doctor confessed.

The Master grinned, giving a short harsh laugh.

"I'm not trying to hurt you," the Doctor said. "That has never been my intention."

"Yeah. Yeah," the Master said, waving his hand in a dismissive manner.

"What do you want from me?" the Doctor asked. "Can I do anything?"

"Yeah," the Master stood and the Doctor was visibly tempted to step away from the bars but he stayed planted to where he was. "How about you get rid of this." The Master shoved his index and middle finger against his temple, tapping the side of his head in sequences of four. "Just stop the beating in my head." His voice was wildly desperate.

"I don't know how," the Doctor said. "If there is even a way at all."

"It's calling to me."

"It's just your insanity."

"It's real, Doctor," the Master said, resting his head on the bars, next to the Doctor's hand. "It's real," he repeated, letting his forehead brush against the Doctor's fingers. He hesitated there and the Doctor was tempted to allow his fingers to softly brush back against the Master, respond and reciprocate the gesture, but it was much like trying not to scare a dangerous animal. So, he didn't give in to the temptation.

If only the Master was aware of how much power he really had over the Doctor… it was frightening to even consider.

"I believe that you think it's real," the Doctor said.

The Master pulled away. "Don't degrade me, Doctor. Don't try to make me feel better with your petty optimistic sentiments. I know I'm right and it doesn't matter what you think."

"I wasn't trying to offend you, but I thought we had gone over this before. You said you didn't want my help with the drumming."

"I don't want your help with the drumming," the Master responded through clenched teeth. "I need it. It's consuming me. It's eating away at everything I am, everything I was." He paused. "Itis what destroyed us in the first place."

The Doctor had to admit that the insanity of his companion is what truly began the rift between them. "I know." Sometimes insanity could manifest itself in many ways, but it was still ultimately incurable and unstoppable. There was always the chance the Master was too far gone and would never be how he was before.

"There must be a way to stop it," the Master said, placing both of his hands against the sides of his head. He gave a frustrated sigh. "Can you not hear it?" His voice was so distressed that the Doctor did strain to hear, but he could hear nothing. "It's so loud. I can barely think beyond the one two three four. One two three four."

The Doctor reached between the bars and laid his fingers against the Master's forehead. The Master allowed this, too shaken to care.

"Does it hurt?" the Doctor asked.

"All the time," the Master answered. "The louder it is the more it hurts."

The Doctor imagined a pounding headache and assumed it was much like that except the pounding was literal. The Doctor laid the back of his hand against the Master's forehead, closing his eyes and feeling. And…

He opened his eyes. He had felt something… or at least he thought he had felt something. Maybe it was his imagination playing with him. Or maybe it was just his hopes that he would feel something. But either way, he needed more. More touch.

"Come here," the Doctor said.

The Master looked at his distrustfully.

"Come here," the Doctor said again, physically pulling the Master closer to the bars. It was a rare display of command from the Doctor.

"Wha—," the Master began just as the Doctor placed both of his hands against the Master's head and forced their foreheads together. They had barely even touched for a second before the drumming was heard loud and clear within the Doctor's mind. He heard the succession of four, almost deafening, echoing inside of his head. His fingers dug slightly into the Master's head before breaking the connection and going back to his own thoughts.

The Doctor's mouth was slightly agape and he just stared at the Master.

"What?" The Master's voice was eager.

"I heard it," the Doctor confirmed. "I heard the drumming."

"You—," But the Master couldn't finish his sentence. He knelt as if his legs had given way beneath him. His hand clasp to a bar for support. "It's real… It's real."

And that's how the Master sat for hours. The Doctor spoke to him but never got a response. The Doctor touched his hand but still nothing prompted the Time Lord to move. The Doctor eventually became concerned and decided to enter the room.

He sat in front of the Master. "Master," he said for the fiftieth time. But the other Time Lord just continued to stare straight ahead of him. He would swallow occasionally or shift his eyes, but they would never meet the Doctor's gaze.

Finally, the Doctor reached his hands out and cupped the Master's face, almost forcing him to look him in the eye. "Master," he said firmly. "Are you okay?"

The glaze over the Master's eyes suddenly broke and he looked back at the Doctor. He didn't say anything, but he lifted his hand and rested it on the Doctor's shoulder, moving it unhurriedly up his neck and to the side of his face. The Master slowly closed the space between them, letting his lips cover the Doctor's, leaving the pressure light and open to cessation. But when the Doctor didn't protest, he deepened the kiss.

His actions were gentle and so unlike the Master. His mouth offered but didn't take from the Doctor. The kiss was mutual in power, mutual in want. The Master smoothly got onto his knees and crawled up the Doctor's body, guiding the Doctor to lie on his back. This was when the Doctor first mentally protested, but he couldn't verbally. This was just too nice to stop. This side of the Master was so, so rare and he would appreciate it when he could have it.

The Doctor expected the other Time Lord to grab his wrists or force his legs apart or perform some other form of dominance over him, but nothing came. The Master simply continued to kiss him, deep and sensual, with his fingers gently moving up and down the Doctor's torso, being strangely submissive, but still sensually firm.

This was the Master's thank you. Much like other declarations of emotion, like 'I'm sorry' or 'I love you,' the Master would show and not tell. And this was no different. Despite the Master's confidence in the validation of the drumming, it still helped to finally know that someone else truly believed and had heard the noise for themselves. And of course it was the Doctor who had done that for him. The Doctor was always "the one." Always. Always "the one" to destroy him, always "the one" to love him, always "the one" to redeem him.

Always "the one."

And it was moments like this where, if the Master knew it, he could have the Doctor. Take the Doctor and do whatever he wanted with him. It was in these such moments where the Doctor was mentally weak and frail against the Master, completely submissive. If the Master would just stay like this, then the Doctor would spend the rest of eternity showing the Master just how much he wanted him.

The Master broke the kiss, resting his head in the nook between the Doctor's neck and shoulder. He stayed like this for a couple seconds.

"Master?" the Doctor said weakly.

But the Master pulled away, sitting up and eventually standing. He moved over to his bed and lay on it. His back was to the Doctor.

The Doctor watched him for a moment before standing and leaving the cell. He moved to the stairs, looking back one more time.

'You're welcome,' the Doctor thought before ascending the steps.

** Yes, I know the scene in "The End of Time" in the wasteland confirmed the drumming in the Master's head, but technically that hasn't happened in this storyline yet. So, I took the liberty of rewriting the scene (not that it needed rewriting – because I think every single fangirl/boy LOVES that scene).