Hello again, dear readers...
This is a multi-chapter fic, totally COMPLETE! I will be posting a new chapter every day or so over the next couple of weeks. I'll start with two today, because I'm nice. ;)
Things You Should Know:
- SPOILERS for all of 12's story, all of Missy's story and consider any Clara continuity fair game. These are not small spoilers, so if you are not up to date on any of this, I advise against reading.
- This twelve-chapter fic is finished but the sequel is about 75% done. In case that bothers you.
- I don't like Missy. (See tag above.) She seems to me to be a very different character from the Master and this fic contains an alternate explanation for her existence. Just FYI. I know Missy has fans, I'm not trying to upset anyone.
- WARNING: You may find yourself rewatching The Doctor Falls and MANY other assorted DW episodes after reading this fic... #sorrynotsorry ;)
And so, without further ado...
...
Floor 507
Chapter 1: How It Ends
"I do what I do, because it's right!" The Doctor was shouting, passionate. "Because it's decent!"
The Master kept a tight grip on his composure, not without difficulty. In the man standing before him now, it was impossible not to see the little boy with whom he had become best friends so long ago on Gallifrey...
So small, so emotional, so brilliant... So baffling.
So endlessly fascinating.
Irreplaceable.
That little boy had always been his weakness. Always would be.
"And above all," the Doctor gestured upwards towards the false sky, "it's kind." His eyes traveled to Missy. The Master frowned, watching the Doctor try to place the origin of that word, trying to remember when it had first become so important...
But they both knew that memory was gone, lost.
The Doctor gave up, smiled, resigned but resolute. "Just that. Just it's kind."
Remembering but not remembering. A thread connecting to nothing.
In any other situation, the Master would have understood wanting to die rather than to live on like that... Or even worse, to become someone else entirely. Someone you didn't even know yourself.
Of course, in any other situation, it wouldn't have mattered at all.
But this was the Doctor.
"Hey, you know," the Doctor continued, "maybe there's no point in any of this."
Correct.
But when has that ever stopped you?
"But it's the best I can do, so I'm doing it!" He wouldn't be dissuaded. "And I will stand here doing it until it kills me."
No, Doctor...
Not today.
Not while I have anything to say about it.
The Master knew there was no point in arguing with his friend. The Doctor had given up instead of just asking for help. Or rather, had only asked for what he needed to justify the decision he'd already made.
Oddly, as much effort as he put into saving others, the Doctor always ended up thinking too small when it came to saving himself...
The Master had no such hangups. His priorities were properly aligned when it came to the Doctor's survival. No one was allowed to stand in the way of that.
Not a few hundred nameless humans.
Not Time Lords from the Old Days of Gallifrey.
Not the Doctor himself.
And as the Master knew from long and strange experience... There was always a way. There was nothing in this Universe that wasn't fixable with enough patience and determination.
It was merely a question of commitment.
And the Master was nothing if not committed.
He would rip apart all of Space and Time, live a billion lifetimes, die a hundred thousand deaths before he'd allow the Doctor to go to his death like this... For nothing.
"You're going to die, too." The Doctor pointed at the Master and Missy, emphatically, trying with all his might to keep their attention, to convince them to stand by and watch him die up close.
It was a horrifying thing to ask of your friends, really.
Selfish.
Stubborn, blind, selfish Doctor.
But he was very convincing... He always was.
"How will that be, have you thought about it?" the Doctor asked, his tone somber.
The Master had thought about it. More than that, had acted on it.
He had died once, long ago...
The Doctor still didn't know why. He would never know.
It wouldn't come to that this time, thankfully. That had been a last resort. But the Master would do it again in a moment, if necessary, and with no regrets.
"What would you die for?" the Doctor demanded, as if it was a brand-new thought.
The Master already knew the answer to that question, had known for a long, long time...
For you, Doctor.
Stupid, stupid Doctor.
The Master looked away, fearing the Doctor would see the truth... Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice.
But the question had brought the memories back.
A little boy crying in the night...
A small plastic toy in a cluttered workshop...
A man with so many faces, always different, always the same...
It hurt.
"Stand with me," the Doctor said, stepping closer.
It wasn't a request.
It sounded a bit like an order... And the Master didn't take orders.
Not anymore.
Not ever again.
"Why not," the Doctor asked, so clueless, so sincere, "just at the end? Just be kind?"
The Master felt the emotion overtaking him again... A rising flood, turbulent and chaotic.
Because the Doctor had reminded him of the the things he had spent the last week trying to suppress.
Oh, the Doctor hadn't done it on purpose... Not exactly, anyway. He didn't have enough information for it to have been entirely deliberate. But the Doctor had good instincts and knew his friend well. He was manipulating, pushing his friend's emotional buttons.
And it worked.
It would always work.
They were far too similar, had shared far too much for either to ever be entirely unmoved by the other's pleas.
But it hurt to remember.
It hurt to feel his friend's desperation, to see the pleading in the Doctor's eyes and know that he would have to refuse to help him in order to save him from himself. It hurt to know he'd have to leave the Doctor alone. He hated the thought of the Doctor being alone and afraid, had always hated that. But he had to think of the big picture...
He couldn't fix any of this by standing at the Doctor's side while he self-destructed.
The pain was too much for one person. He had to share it.
And the Doctor was so vulnerable in this moment...
The opportunity was just too perfect.
He smiled.
"See this face?" the Master asked.
It was the face born out of the Time War.
The face that had taken everything the Doctor loved in vengeance for what had been done to him.
The face that had chosen to die in the Doctor's arms simply to watch him suffer.
"Take a good, long look at it." The Master pronounced each word slowly, deliberately, knowing the Doctor would have no choice but to hang on every syllable. "This is the face... That didn't listen to a word you just said."
The Doctor's eyes fell. The Master saw his friend's pain, his disappointment.
The Master smiled, cold as the void of outer space... And walked away.
He heard the Doctor start to follow.
Oh, if only...
That would make everything so much simpler...
But, no.
Nothing could ever be that simple with the Doctor.
He turned back to Missy, pleading with her. Trying to win the game.
The Master reached out mentally, drawing her to him, enticing her with the promise of clarity, stability...
It worked.
She deserted the Doctor, and rightly so. If he was going to insist on doing something as stupid as dying, he should do it alone.
Meanwhile, the Master would focus on something more productive.
Fixing the real problem...
Saving the Doctor.