Title: Parallax
Author: kyrilu/Endless-chan
Fandom: Doctor Who and a little bit of Torchwood
Type: Fanfiction.
Rating: PG. Nothing triggering.
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Simm!Master, Captain Jack Harkness; Torchwood team, Theta, and Koschei alluded to as well
Pairings: Doctor/Master; tiny smidgen of Doctor/Jack
Episodes: Just after "The Last of the Time Lords." And somewhen after "Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang" for Torchwood?
Summary: There will be a day when the world will outgrow the Doctor. Doctor/Master.
A/N: Sadly unbetaed. This story is sadly random, however - scene breaks and switching is used unashamedly. And the conversation between Jack and the Doctor feels really, really weak - I don't think I have the characterization nailed down.

[Parallax]

parallax [par-uh-laks]
–Noun
1. Astronomy: the apparent angular displacement of a celestial body due to its being observed from the surface instead of from the center of the earth or due to its being observed from the earth instead of from the sun.
2. The apparent displacement of an observed object due to a change in the position of the observer.

-x-x-
This world is so loud and vibrant and alive.

The Doctor attempts to speak, to fill in a pocket of the conversation with nonsensical ramblings. This time, his tongue trips over words and half-formed sentences. This time, he is unheard and unnoticed.

He finally gives up and leaves. He doesn't like those empty words.

-x-x-

The TARDIS materializes in the lush meadows of a planet aptly named 'Eden'. She greets the area with its customary whooshing noises, and as she does so, gives the Doctor a reassuring mental nudge. She is connected to him so strongly that she knows, really knows how he feels and thinks and hurts.

"I'm fine, old girl. Really," the Doctor says, plastering a grin on his face. "Don't worry about me. We'll find something fun to do. Just you and me."

The answer the machine gives him is the equivalent of a disbelieving snort.

The man merely shakes his head fondly as he steps outside, welcoming the fresh air and the clear sky.

Gentle winds lap gently at waves of dew-green grass, which ripple with each breezy tide. It is like dominoes – tumbling, swelling, sighing – all at once. Grass stalks alternate between bowing and rising, never deciding whether to do the former or the latter or both.

The Doctor breathes in sync with the beating of his hearts. He feels young. There is an urge that beckons him to cast off his shoes and run barefoot across the fields, rampant and free and forever.

He doesn't.

Instead, he drinks in the impulse greedily and - in the first time in years - remembers the touch of Koschei's fingers on his.

-x-x-

The Doctor makes an effort to explore and have an adventure again, and finds himself trapped in a complicated system of caves.

Walls of jagged rock adorn the passage he is in, accompanied with the occasional crystal – calcite, the Doctor thinks – and there are so many ways to turn. Only the light of his sonic screwdriver illuminates pathways in the darkness.

"Hello?" the Doctor calls out into the darkness, hoping to chance upon a tourist or a miner or a rock climber. "Anyone here?"

There is no answer. Echoes of his voice bounce across the cavern, but the sound waves are lost, sucked in by the stones and jewels.

He shivers. It is cold.

So very cold.

-x-x-

There will be a day when the world will outgrow the Doctor.

He will be forgotten and unneeded; he will be simply a whisper and a legend and a memory. He will be cherished by those who he once aided, but in the end, they will fade away like sand in the sea, and the world will take care of itself.

People are strong, even in dark days and silent nights. They won't always need a protector.

The Doctor prays he will be gone by this point. But who does he pray to? It is only himself - the Doctor, the last of the Time Lords - who is the closest being to a god, and gods do not and cannot answer their own prayers.

-x-x-

He visits Jack one day. As expected, the captain is in Cardiff as usual, managing his team of violent gun-toting alien hunters. A thrill of gooseflesh shudders through the Doctor's body.

He doesn't like guns- (and then he thinks of)

...Lucy and Harold Saxon and Martha Jones and the Valiant. The Year that Never Was, but was, because who could forget the taste of tears and bitter smiles? The Master's still body in his arms, so dead and lifeless (please don't die; please don't die)-

And then the thought gets broken off once Jack catches a glimpse of the Doctor, and it is all hugs and grins and memories.

Of course, the moment had to be intruded upon by an impending alien threat ("Business as usual," Jack explains.), so Torchwood plus the Doctor hurries to stop it.

Jack manages to be killed just as the alien appears and attacks. The Doctor's mouth curves into a frown as he feels a temporal shift in the air – the captain is an anomaly, indeed.

Yet Jack springs back to life, chest heaving and heart beating erratically, and the Doctor can't help but wonder how it feels like to die without second-chances after second-chances.

-x-x-

After the Torchwood team succeeded in capturing the rogue alien, the Doctor and Jack settle down for a proper chat, which, with a bit of luck, won't be interrupted this time around.

Words spill out of the Doctor's mouth before he can control them. "Have I told you about a boy who used to be in the same class as me in school? He could be stupid at times – he was stubborn and he always seemed to be arguing with me. It was usually him who started our fights. I sabotaged some science projects of his whenever our arguments got particularly nasty; he stopped speaking to me for a while as a result. But we always made up in the end.

"Anyways, after we both graduated from the Academy, we were busy and barely saw each other. And then we had a falling-out...oh, it was more than just a vicious row, more than that. By the time we saw each other again - it had been ages – we both still hated each other. So we always fought and fought afterwards…"

The Doctor's voice drops. "Jack, I should have forgiven him earlier on. I forgave him so late that I might as well never had."

Jack gazes at the man intently, his eyes serious and solemn. "I don't know what you want me to say, Doc. I'm just one of those human apes – though a rather good looking one, though," he adds, beaming.

The captain's hand reaches over to curl around the Doctor's. "But you know what? I know one thing: I forgive you for abandoning me."

And the Doctor says the usual mantra, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

This is the nature of forgiveness, or perhaps, redemption.

It just depends on how one looks at it.

-x-x-

The Doctor has a dream that he and the Master are back on Gallifrey, and they are watching the stars. By habit, he recites the names of each star system and constellation, but before he finishes, the Master interrupts him.

There is a finger on his lips, hushing him, saying, "Oh, do shut up your prattling. Your voice gives me a headache."

Silence.

There is a question on the Doctor's mind. A question that has always been with him. "What am I going to do?" he whispers, holding a hand up to the stars.

Then the Master laughs. "Do what you've always been doing, Theta." He leans forward to kiss the Doctor, lips brushing the other's in uncharacteristic tenderness.

"Run," he murmurs to the quiet Doctor. "Just run, always run, and never, ever stop."

-x-x-

That isn't real running, the Doctor thinks.

Real running is clinging onto the illusion that the Master will always be there. No matter how many deaths they each may suffer. No matter how many times they fight.

Real running is retreating to the memory of Koschei, but not the person he had become.

Real running is falling.

And that is something he cannot do any longer.

-x-x-

End.