Prompt: What if the Master hadn't been shot and died after the 'Last of the timelords?'

"You're just going to…keep me?" The Master spat out the words in horror. He did not at all want to be the Doctor's pet for all eternity. There was no being he thought he hated more than The Doctor. The Doctor that knew him so well it made him scream – he was the Master, not a slave!

"If that's what I have to do." He responded quietly, looking him up and down, "Now I have someone to care for." His brown eyes were laced by a tender sort of compassion.

"No…" He said, shaking his head. "No, I absolutely refuse!" He cried in protest, watching the Doctor come closer and closer to him. He backed away. "Get away from me!" He tried to kick at him awkwardly, but he fell back onto his rear without his hands to balance him while he tore his eyes away from anyone, knowing he looked foolish.

The Doctor squatted down next to him and tried to lift him up by his waist. The Master did not comply and shifted into a deadweight, becoming as heavy as possible. Unfortunately, he underestimated the strength of the other Time Lord, and was forced into standing, leaning against him, but standing nonetheless.

Getting him into the TARDIS proved to be an even harder task. He literally had to be dragged through the doors by his blazer. You might have me, Doctor, he thought, but don't think I won't put up a fight.

The Doctor had to be helped by a couple others in order to finally get him into the TARDIS and in his 'room'. It wasn't really a room. It was a cell, classic crisscrossed metal bars however well lit and cushy looking. There was a somewhat comfortable looking bed with a white sheet and floral patterned cover, carpeted floor and a slate coming out of the wall that could be used as a desk. The Master grimaced as he looked at it and was thrown in, onto the ground by The Doctor's assistants.

"Careful! We don't want to harm him." The Doctor chided, closing the cell door behind him.

"I couldn't care less if he got a scratch on his poor arm after this year!" Martha laughed bitterly.

The Doctor didn't try to defend him this time.

It was later that evening that The Doctor came with a bowl of soup to the cell's door. He looked down at it on his way there. It was, for a very specific reason, going to be The Master's first dinner here. Not fish, not chicken, but soup. Tomato soup. He stood at the gate-like door, pulled out his sonic screwdriver and opened the door.

The Master turned around, startled. "Good evening, Master." The Doctor greeted him. He only scowled at him, thinking about how that the Doctor now held the cards, he hated the name he had chosen. When the doctor said it before it sounded so sweet, when he felt in control. Now it only seemed like a cruel, mocking joke. Just one more reason to loathe him, he thought.

He was sitting on the ground, in a strange position with his hands behind his back. "Leave." He growled, trying to send as much revulsion as he could muster into one word. He didn't succeed in getting the Doctor to exit. His sworn enemy only smiled at him softly as he sat down next to him after putting the soup on the table. "Get away from me..."

"Shhh." The Doctor said, trying to sound comforting, approaching him. This only led to more anger.

Gracelessly, the Master scuttled away, trying to put distance between them. He gave the Doctor a look of absolute revulsion, but the other time lord responded without anger or hate, just a neutral facial expression. "Master," he began. For a second, something flashed through the his eyes. Surprise at the use of his name? ''I want you to know that I don't think of you as a lesser being."

"Oh really?" He pounced, leaning forward towards him, "Then I suppose that's why you've got me locked up in a cage, hands tied like a trapped animal?"

The Doctor smiled sadly. "You put me in a cage, Master. Remember? It was only a few hours ago."

"I am The Master, not a slave, Doctor."

"And you won't be treated as one. I don't look down on you now that you are in my captivity." The Doctor sat down near the man who wouldn't believe him. "I'm only doing this for the safety of the universe. You can't be trusted."

"The least you could do is take off these cuffs!" he cried in anger.

"No, I can't." Not yet, The Doctor added silently. "I don't want you to be living here and detest me, although I know I can't change that."

The Master smirked. There. That was something he could control…he did not have to give in to this treatment. He did not have to be obedient. He did not have to like the Doctor. He could rebel however he liked. He needed something to hold on to, something in his hands to be in charge of. He did not have to comply with anything the Doctor said.

"It is dinner time though." The Doctor sighed at the ceiling and then turned to the Master. "Soup."

"Unlock these so I can eat, then." The soft jingle of the handcuffs rattled in the stall.

"No, I can't do that." He chucked a little, "You'd probably strangle me. I don't want to get in a fistfight with you."

"Then how am I supposed to eat it?"

"Well," the doctor began, "I can feed it to you."

"What?" The Master recoiled and was now leaning against the farthest wall. "You'll do no such thing! You said you didn't think of me as a lesser being, but I have to beg for food from you?"

The Doctor smiled inwardly very faintly. "No, that wasn't what I had in mind. I would be serving you, Master." He paid careful attention to his reaction. His lower lip twitched in revulsion, but the Doctor saw something else in his dark brown eyes the second he had considered what he had said. But it was gone in an instant.

"I'd rather drink like a dog than be served by the likes of you, Doctor." His face turned away from the Doctor's.

The Doctor tried to look hurt on purpose and hoped he didn't 'over-react' to the Master's comment. "I'd hate to see you like that, but, if it's what you wish." He shrugged and got up to take the bowl from the table top. He brought it down carefully, still steaming in a bowl atop a saucer. There was a spoon next to it, but the Doctor carefully removed it and put it on the table top. "You won't be needing that."

The Master grunted, irritated, as a response.

Biting his lower lip, the Doctor tried desperately to conceal a look of pity. How he wanted to take off the Master's handcuffs, feeling bad that he had to eat in a such an…animal like manner. But then he remembered, -as much as it hurt him to feel anger at the Master-, how he'd kept him for a year that had never happened, so very helpless. Now, the Doctor would keep him – someone to look after.

The Master began to bend down and immediately came back up. "May I have some privacy, or do I not deserve that?"

"I'll leave." Then he took notice of the tie. It was still wound around his neck and would probably get in the soup. "Wait…" the Doctor got up and sat down next to him. The Master pulled away. Gently, he reached and took the black silk tie, carefully undid the knot with the light hands of a surgeon, the Doctor he was. He felt the back of his captive's neck as he pulled it off, the Master feeling the soft touch.

For a second he had the urge to let him serve him. Tell him, 'take the spoon and feed me like the god I am!'. That he deserved to be served as such – but the one thing he had control over was his reactions. He would not do what the Doctor had in mind. How he longed for some control…

There was a moment of silence between them. "Do you want me to leave this here?" he held the tie up.

"Take it." He commanded the Doctor.

Without another word, the Doctor pulled out his screwdriver, went out the door and locked it behind him. He didn't look back, although he felt the tie in his hands and noted how warm it was. It was nice, to have someone to go to at night, regardless of how much his guest despised him. The Master was truly the only other equal he had in the universe. They were the last two. If it were anyone else, he wouldn't have this much patience for someone who hated him so. But the Master was the only other who he could understand, who could understand him. No matter how many humans he surrounded himself with, however intelligent they were, they weren't his same kind. They could never understand him the way that the Master could and did.

He'd been wandering for too long, he needed someone. Someone to be with, and there was no one he'd rather care for.

Well, how'd you like it so far? (will be publishing a few more chapters). I'm sorry, this is my first Doctor Who fic, I don't know the characters extremely well which is why I'm sorry for how OOC this is. Critiques are really helpful, thanks! Please review.