Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.

Modern Crusaders

Chapter 8

"It's a new world

It's a new start

It's alive with the beating of young hearts

It's a new day

It's a new plan

I've been waiting for you

Here I am"

Here I am- Bryan Adams.

"We're on Svartos." The Doctor gleamed down at the scanner, eyebrows raised with a funny, childlike grin. The Master had not seen that smile since encountering him, and though he would never, ever admit it, he was glad to have it back.

"Never heard of it." He clicked away at the keys, glancing over at the other man with mild interest, who seemed to be gaining in strength.

Having made his way over to The Master prior to their materialization, he now only need lean a little on the console, his feet supporting him the rest of the way. He wondered for a moment if The Doctor had not, in fact, been faking his whole infirmity; and had simply forgotten that he was supposed to be motionless. After all, this regeneration of his (human though it may be) had the attention span of a Vortasaur.

Then again, he wasn't sure The Doctor would go so far as to fake vomiting all over The Master. He may be an idiot, but he wasn't stupid.

He decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The Doctor's eyes shifted to The Master, eyeing him up and down, as if seeing him for the very first time. "Course you have. Svartos. Tidally locked! Big white planet- full of myth and legend and concession stands. We came here when we were kids, remember?

"Can't say that I do." His eyes flicked back to the scanner.

"We had iceys."

"Nope."

"Moobleberry iceys."

"Nada."

"Blimey." The Doctor scratched at his neck, staring down at The Master with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth, clearly insulted. "You really have a selective memory, don't you?"

He received no reply, as per usual their discussions these days, and turned his attention to the scanner. "Fair play to you, it's been a while since I was here last. I'd say, oh, 300 years?"

"Earth years, no doubt."

"Yes. Earth years. Relative, of course. Thing is, the whole dark side of the planet was actually a gigantic prison ship. Friend of mine, Glitz-"

"Oh I know him."

"Yeah, you would wouldn't you? He flew off with it." The Doctor did a little twirl with his hand over The Master's head. "Him and Mel; old companion of mine, terrible scream, actually went a bit deaf in that regeneration; but they flew! Out to the stars, taking the whole ship with them!"

"Fascinating."

"It was! But they also took all the concession stands…"

"Doctor." The Master sighed, wishing he himself might go deaf.

"Hm?"

"You said this was a tidally locked planet?"

The Doctor scratched his head again, making The Master very aware that he would have to scan for lice. "Yeah, far as I know, why?"

The Master pointed at the scanner. "So why is it in orbit?"

"Round, round, roundward we go
roundward we crow
and roundward we grow

Round, round, roundward we fly
roundward we live
and roundward we die."

And so the children sang.

"I'm not going out there." The Doctor's arms were folded against his chest, defiant in his place next to the console.

Across from him, The Master stood equally stubborn. "Why? So you can; oh, I dunno." He motioned at the space around him. "Steal The TARDIS while I'm gone? I know your tricks, Doctor, I've known you for far too long. They won't work on me." He lowered his voice to a deadly whisper. "Not this time."

The Doctor rolled his eyes, "Oh, right, as if I would. Really, Master, you don't know me at all. I'm not going out there because there's obviously something wrong with this planet and it's none of our concern."

Bewilderment spread across The Master's features. "You're The Doctor. It's always your concern! When did you become such a pansy?"

"When I lost my ability to regenerate."

"Ahh, I see! I get it now!" The Master grinned manically. "So that's why you're always travelling with those humans! Little monkeys who couldn't regenerate if their lives depended on it, right? How many of them have died for you, Doctor, really? What was that one boys' name?" He brought his fingers to his chin, stroking the beard that wasn't there anymore. "Ah, let me think…Adric? How many others, Doctor? Were there more? Was it worth it? Were they afraid to walk out the front door?"

"Stop it!" The Doctor seethed, breathing heavily in his poor attempt at self control.

But The Master continued to stab at him, speaking sardonically and slowly, like an inexpert parent scolding its child.

"Does it make you proud, Doctor, that he's dead? Did you teach him well?"

"I said stop it!"

"And poor little Nyssa of Traken. Oh, Doctor, if you only knew what happened to her. You should never have left her."

The Doctor froze, angry but caught off guard. They say ignorance is bliss, but ignorance was not something to be swimming in when The Master had the higher ground.

He couldn't speak, and so The Master spoke for him.

"You're a coward, Doctor. Those humans you love so much are better than you, if you can't even walk out that door. Did you think they felt safe, being with you? Did you think they were blind to the danger? No, Doctor. I'm afraid not. The stupid little rats followed you, but they did it knowing they might not come home that day.

You're a fool. And now you have the nerve to tell me that it's none of your concern? I don't care if you're human, if you have any chance of regaining what you once were, you are coming with me. Right now. Otherwise I'd be happy to kill you; because like this, you're not even worthy to fight me."

He was inches from The Doctor's face now, and though he was admittedly shorter than the other man, he had managed to effectively tower over him.

"Well go on." He glared. "Prove me wrong." He held up his Laser Screwdriver so that it was the only thing separating them. "One flick of the switch and your brain gets roasted. And vainglorious I stand." He spread out his arms, as if he might hug his counterpart. "The Master, last of the Time Lords. The Doctor, dead at his feet. I'd love to hear what Miss Martha Jones has to say about that."

"Mrs." The Doctor finally mumbled.

The Master's arms dropped to his sides, what he thought as a rather convincing speech having been ruined. "I'm sorry?"

"Mrs." The Doctor repeated, drawing in a deep breath and exhaling it through his mouth rather loudly. "She was engaged, last time I saw her." He cleared his throat, looking at his feet rather than The Master, who was still very much put out about having lost his moment to shine.

"Tom Milligan, I think his name was. Odd fellow, bit of a beard…You'd like him!" He finally chanced a glance at The Master, trying to smile a bit; but it was rather hard as said captain was hovering over him very eerily now. Trapped against the console, The Doctor's eyes wandered to the weapon still gripped tightly in his hand.

Finally, after a long minute of overwrought stares, The Master stepped back. "Are you coming, then? Or do we have to go to the reception first?" He rolled his eyes, brandishing the screwdriver absentmindedly.

The Doctor smiled a bit. "Nah, she's saving me a piece of cake…do you mind putting that away now…?" He glanced nervously at the screwdriver, swallowing some built up flem that had been accumulating in the time taken for the prior rant.

The Master looked down at the object, still pointing it at The Doctor like a sword. "Well, if it scares you. Off we go then." He headed towards the door, screwdriver tucked safely in his pocket.

A meow, and he was required to jump 3 feet in order to avoid stomping on a small bundle of black fur, which had very artfully crept up behind him.

"No, Lucy, you can't come!" He pointed a finger at the cat, relieved at not having embarrassed himself by tripping over her. "Bad kitty. Bad, very bad kitty."

She meowed up at him, quite unconvinced of his argument.

Annoyed that the cat got better treatment than him, The Doctor strolled over to the door. Strolling being a relative term when you're still learning to walk.

For a while there he had been worried. Something was off, though. It was not like The Master to be the voice of reason, for anything, in any sort of situation, and he wasn't sure he was comfortable with it.

Had something changed, in the time that the real Doctor had been allotted to spend with him? Why was this new Master so keen that he be his old self? And on that note, he'd definitely have to start trying harder in order to pass off as just that. He couldn't have The Master getting suspicious, not when he had him wrapped around his finger so tightly.

Or was it the other way around? Was he just fooling himself? Could The Master know something he didn't?

His hand lingered on the door handle as he looked over his shoulder at the Time Lord vs. feline epic.

He needed to be more careful. He definitely, definitely needed to watch him.

"Are you coming…?" Lucy had made her way into The Master's arms and was now receiving incoherent coos whispered into her fur. Seeing this reminded The Doctor of the many films in which an evil villain kept company with a cat, always stroking it firmly as they carried out their transgression. Vaguely he wondered if this attachment was caused by the premise of unconditional love from the animal; but then was his own friendship with The Master not blatantly unconditional, if a little frayed around the edges?

Maybe he just missed his cheetah friends.

"Master…?" If they were going to venture on his insane attempts at universal conquest (as if The Doctor suspected anything less than just that) they might as well start now. And to be frank he didn't want to go out on his own (though no one needed to know that.)

"Yeah, yeah, impatient now that your pride has been bruised, Doctor?" Setting Lucy down, he skipped over to the door. Appearing as though he was about to exit, he suddenly twirled around; and before The Doctor knew it, had fastened a metal ring around his wrist.

"Oi!" The Doctor faltered, stumbling back in shock. "Where'd you get that?!"

"Pet shop." The Master grinned, holding up a small receiver in his hand. "Made a little trip while you were ill with fever. I'll admit I had to augment it a bit." He tilted his head. "But your humans are smart when they need to be."

The Doctor pulled at the bracelet, words flowing out of his mouth in rapid vexation. "Now Master, stop it. This isn't for humans, this is for dogs; now take it off!"

His advocate continued to grin. "Oh I don't think so. I can't have you running off, now can I?"

"Why?" The Doctor bristled. "I've got no transport; I'm not a threat to you! What could I possibly do that requires this?" He held up his hand for inspection.

"Everything."

"Take it off."

"Are you coming?" The Master was halfway out the door.

The Doctor scrambled, trying to move his legs faster than they would allow. "No, wait, damn it Master!" A curse emitted from under his breath. In his head, Donna's voice seemed torn between laughing at him and telling The Master off herself.

"What's my range-?!" He called out, just before receiving a sharp shock throughout his body. It was far from dangerous, even by human standards, but the pain was just unbearable enough that he could not cope, and found himself crawling out of the TARDIS in an effort to kill any distance between him and The Master.

Once within ten yards the pain subsided, and he was able to pull himself to his feet, using a twisted tree for support. The Master was just ahead him, standing on the edge of a precipice. With the heavy wind picking his coat up behind him, he surveyed the world around him, his right hand perched above his eyes.

The Doctor followed suit, his human eyes taking in another planet for the first time. It was a barren, rocky land. The ground, like the sky, was pure white, shaded with an underside of shale, almost mimicking the effect of black ice. It was, however, void of any snow, and the dead leaves billowing beneath his feet seemed to indicate the presence of an early autumn.

It was a strange thing for a planet that, at one time, had never seen four seasons.

But the wind was cold enough; howling through The Doctor's hair viciously at home, and he drew his arms around him in an effort to keep warm.

"That jumper does nothing for you, does it?" The Master scrunched up his nose, eyeing the dark fabric loose against The Doctor's torso. "Your hair is a mess, though…"

"No thanks to you." The Doctor grimaced, trying to will the static electricity from his earlier shock to subside.

"What do you think?" The blonde man rocked on his heels, hands burrowed firmly in his pockets as he overlooked the canyon below.

The Doctor drew his arms tighter around himself. It had to be sixty degrees Fahrenheit, at the most. "Well…" He pondered. "Definitely Cold."

"What would I do without your keen observations?"

"Keep buggering on?" The Doctor grinned a little, ignoring The Master's exasperated eye-roll.

"C'mon." The Master began to look for a foothold on the cliff. "We'd better get going if we're going to make it down by nightfall."

The Doctor looked stunned. "What? Hold on. You're not actually thinking about climbing down there, are you?"

He received a mischievous grin in return, which was about to disappear beneath the edge; for he was already making his way down. "As a matter of fact, I am, why do you ask?"

"I'm not going down there!" The Doctor indicated his distress with a wave of his hand.

The Master scrunched up his face in frustration. "Oh not this again-"

"I'm not doing it!"

A sigh. "All right, fine, up to you. But just so you know, the voltage on that bracelet of yours increases the farther we stray from each other, and right now, in case you haven't noticed, there's a fire going on down there, which most likely means there's a civilization. Now if you'll excuse me."

The Doctor fidgeted, getting as closed to the edge as he could in order to avoid being shocked. "Hold on, why do you even care? There's nothing for you down there! Even if there is a civilization, the last time I was here the summer colonies had only just discovered fire, you won't find technology, or-" He pondered, trying to fit himself into The Master's way of thinking. "Or even good food to eat! It's raw, it's filthy, it's- ow, ow, ow!"

The shock was enough to send him clambering down the cliff-side, a bad idea on all accounts as he soon lost his footing and began to tumble against the sharp rocks. The Master watched; half amused, half worried, as The Doctor tumbled off a particularly stretched formation, and was now hanging on for dear life, with nothing but empty space separating him from the ground far below.

He kicked and flailed, trying to find a foothold beneath him, but the incline was far too steep and any attempt proved more laborious than supportive.

"Master, help!" He at last gave in to the need for assistance.

The Master smirked, putting a free hand to his ear. "I'm sorry, Doctor? I don't believe I heard what you said?"

The Doctor growled. "I'm gonna fall!"

He watched as, smirking, The Master made his way down with ease. It had to be the cheetah blood in him.

Once there, he crouched down to better see his endangered friend. "And I suppose you want me to help you, is that it?" He sounded vaguely bored with this situation.

The Doctor glared. "Considering that I'm human and only have one life, yes, I would!"

"Say please."

"Master!"

"Say, "Please, Master."

A low growl emitted from The Doctor's throat, and as he kicked the open air beneath him, he very much wished it was The Master's groin. "Please, Master."

"And who, Doctor; is your Master, exactly?"

"You are…"

"Very good." And with quite the accommodating grin, he took hold of The Doctor's wrists and began to drag him up to safety.

"Don't let me fall!" The Doctor had now taken the opportunity to glance over his shoulder and peer down at the world below.

"Oh don't get your knickers in a twist, I'm not gonna let you fall." The Master rolled his eyes, continuing to pull him up.

The brunette turned his head to face The Master, his legs still trying to find leverage. "Yeah, but how can I know that?"

This made The Master pause in his mission, and he stared down at his hands, wrapped firmly around The Doctor's own. "Well, do you trust me?"

There was a very long silence in which both of their eyes met, neither of them moving or shifting under the weight of their struggle. The Master's grip seemed to tighten with each second, and as he looked down at The Doctor, he could find no trace of dishonesty in the man's face.

"Not one bit."

And it was true.

It took them 3 hours to climb down the rock face, and though there had been many intervals of bickering and many of silence, they were both glad to reach solid ground again. Perhaps more so on The Doctor's part, as he promptly collapsed in relief, resisting any urge that he might have to kiss the sand beneath his feet.

"Tired, are we?" The Master raised an eyebrow, not sure whether to scoff or laugh at the human. In the end he decided that lightly kicking him in the side would suffice. "We're not done yet, Doctor." He pointed at the setting sun. "I don't know about you but I'm not becoming food for whatever creatures' prowl around here at night. Get your face out of the dirt and start walking, or I'm leaving without you."

The Doctor coughed, exhausted, but not in the mood for another shock from his bracelet. Slowly he pulled himself to his feet, and began to trudge forward. "I don't suppose you-"

But he was cut short by The Master grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him sideways, just in time to dodge the spearhead of an impending arrow.

The Doctor whizzed around to glance at it, stumbling as his eyes fixed upon the place where it had wedged itself between two rocks. Hastily, he crawled behind The Master for protection, who seemed too keen on finding the source of the arrow to take notice of any such amusing behavior.

Backing up, though, it was evident he was aware of The Doctor's presence, and had soon pushed the man into a small crawlspace between two boulders, protected from above by the cliffs and from in front by The Master.

"Show yourself!" The Master called out. "Come along, children, don't be shy."

The Doctor felt tempted to sigh at The Master's usual cockiness, but was surprised when out from the shadows, there indeed stepped twelve children.

They were small; all of them. With skin so pale, their long white hair flowing amongst their shoulders in fine threads, that they blended into the scenery almost perfectly. This was only amplified by their clothes, however scarce they may be; white silk, tied around them halfheartedly with imperceptible thread. Peering Closer, The Doctor could see faint markings on their skin. Barely visible in the dim sunlight, the only thing he could derive from them was that they were natural stains, and that they, somehow, were familiar to him.

The eyes were the last thing he noticed. A vibrant yellow, they seemed to glow in the oncoming darkness; constant, unblinking, and unafraid.

All were armed. In their hands some wielded spears, others arrows. To The Doctor they looked fairly ordinary, but The Master could smell the poison on their tips.

Finally two of the children stepped forward, one boy and one girl; both appeared to hold the position of leader in this small clan, and when they spoke, it was in perfect resonance.

"Stand aside, Gallifreyan."

Author's Notes: Well, I'm getting back on track, guys! This has got to be one of the most fun chapters to write so far, and I'm glad to finally have them out of The TARDIS. I struggled a long time with whether or not to keep The Master's voice-of-reason-speech, and I know I'm treading on dangerous territory with it being possibly OOC, so I apologize for that.

Svartos was a planet visited by the seventh Doctor and his companion Mel in the classic serial "Dragonfire." The planet is tidally locked so that it does not rotate, but I am also going to assume it does not revolve around the sun. (which, it obviously is, now.) Once again, apologies for any inconsistencies.