May 1 // The Doctor, The Master
Date: Backdated to about May 1. Timey-wimey. Something.
Characters: The Doctor, The Master
Location: Library
Summary: The Doctor and the Master have a brief chat. Backstory is marginally established. Antagonism is restrained to an almost surprising extent.
Warnings: Contains no actual timey-wimey.
On a table in the library, the Master had spread an array of physics texts and a few of the colony's reference manuals. He'd read them each several times already, searching for inconsistencies, and at the moment he was sitting, resting his head on his hand, staring at a particularly juvenile book on basic physics. He stifled a yawn.
The Doctor strolled into the library, ambling from shelf to shelf as if he hadn't come here for a particular reason. When he saw the Master, he didn't fake surprise or nonchalance, but sat down across from him, folding his hands together on the table.
"Well now," he said, smiling, "I think it's just about time you and I had a little chat about things, don't you think?"
The Master watched him out of the corner of his eye as the Doctor pretended to look around the library. Once the Doctor finally sat down, he glanced up, making a show of forcing a smile. "Right," he said. "What'll it be, Doctor? Are we tired of tolerating each other already?"
"Oh, well now," the Doctor said, shaking his head, "This is a very small colony and for the moment it seems like we haven't got a way out, so if it's all the same to you I'd prefer if we didn't break into open hostilities just yet." He sat back in his chair, eyes assessing the Master openly. "You're from my future yes? How far?"
True, open hostilities certainly wouldn't do in such a closed space. But that still left subtle hostilities. The Master shifted to a more honest smile. "Oh Doctor," he said, pity in his voice. "You don't want to know that."
"Now there you are quite wrong," the Doctor said, with just the beginning hints of impatience in his voice. He was agitated, but keeping it under control, "You know, at the current moment I've really a rather diminished respect for all of those old nonsense stuffy rules we are supposed to live by. Unless you're too afraid you'll get in trouble," he goaded.
He laughed at the implication that trouble was what he was afraid of. Disrupting his own timeline, perhaps, but punishment? Certainly not. "And it does please me to see you so soon after you've realized that. I'm only saying that you won't want to know," he said with a shrug, smile unwavering and now, perhaps, a bit patronizing.
The Doctor shifted in his seat, quite irritated by the unhelpfulness of the Master but knowing that, in his typical way, he was going to go on and keep doing whatever annoyed the Doctor the most. It wasn't worth pressing the subject, for the moment, because the more he seemed to want to know, the less the Master would tell him. He veered to another topic quickly, "Why didn't you just tell me who you were?"
The Doctor seemed genuinely curious about this, baffled by the Master's motives. As far as pranks or tricks went, it was an odd one. Of course, their friendship was a bit of a troubled one, and they hadn't seen each other since the Doctor had stolen his TARDIS and ditched Gallifrey, but what did that matter?
At this the Master was caught somewhat off-guard. It had, quite literally, been ages since he and the Doctor were on even relatively personable terms. It felt like he'd always had a reason to disguise himself from the Doctor. "Why would I do that?" he asked.
"Well why not!" the Doctor said, throwing up his hands. He leaned back in his chair, grinning again, his moods as highly changeable as they ever would be, "Sure you knew that I would find out eventually. You can't really think I am that stupid, can you?"
"And not give you the chance to figure it out?" he asked, recovering quickly from his confusion, and wholly ignoring the fact that the computer would have made it very simple riddle to solve, even if the humans hadn't revealed it themselves.
The Doctor nodded his head, acceding the point, "Yes, yes, I suppose you're right." He peered over at the books that the Master was reading, then lost interest quickly, turning his attention back to the other Time Lord. It was so strange, seeing him in this unassuming shape. The Doctor was used to him having a bit more flair, a bit more facial hair. Maybe time had mellowed him. The Doctor hoped it hadn't, for all his sometimes-friend's faults. The Master wouldn't be the Master without a little melodrama and a side of insanity.
"How much do these people know about us?" he asked, wanting to make sure he wasn't caught off guard.
"Only what I've told them," he said, watching the Doctor with equal interest though an obvious bit less curiosity. It was like like staring into his own past, and while the experience was vaguely nostalgic it was also incredibly unsettling. Something didn't seem right about meeting this incarnation of the Doctor here. "The Game of Rassilon, Doctor, have you dealt with that yet?" he asked, his patronizing attitude slipping just a little.
"How disappointed the High Council would be in you, asking me that," the Doctor said, not without a hint of mischevious relish. In truth, whatever event in his life the Master was referring to, he hadn't encountered it yet. The Game of Rassilon? But that was insane. The idea him being involved in all that was ridiculous.
Then again, he considered, his life since he had left Gallifrey had been one long series of delightful disasters. What was to rule out a trip to the Death Zone from that?
"I'll have to look forward to it," he said.
"I'm sure you will. Several times over..." he trailed off. That was the strange thing about crossing one's own timeline. None of the Doctors seemed to remember that particular event until they were experiencing it even though even for this incarnation of the Doctor it had already happened--and he'd solved it.
The Doctor's eyebrows climbed up at that cryptic remark. Well, at least this way he knew he'd get away from this place, sooner or later, whether in the growing TARDIS or by some other means. He was thankful to the Master for that little glimpse of the future.
"Tell me, which body are you on now?" the Doctor asked, hoping to get more of a sense of how large the gap was between their personal chronologies.
Ah, and this was a tricky question. Technically this was only his second regeneration since he'd been resurrected for the Time War, but that answer would hardly justify everything he intended to hold over the Doctor's head. And historically... he took a moment to count through the number of bodies he'd inhabited over the years. That number wouldn't do, either. Taking a quick average of the two, he settled on "The Eleventh."
"My, my, Master, you really getting on in years, aren't you!" the Doctor exclaimed, hardly able to believe it. How peculiar it was, to see the Master in a body that looked younger than this one, and to know that he was so much older. The stiff, stodgy magistrates and bureaucrats on Gallifrey seemed to favour old, dignified, silver-haired bodies, so it was a bit of a jolt, even for a Time Lord. His eleventh life. The Doctor hadn't expected either of them to get so far in their cycle of lives, with the dangerous streaks they both had in them. He felt suddenly young and disadvantage, not knowing the things about himself that this future version of the Master did.
"Well, I don't know about you but I'm rather peckish," he said, looking to the door and back at the Master, "I think I'm going to the kitchen for some sandwiches. I'll see you around, I'm sure."
"Weren't expecting me to keep on this long?" he asked, his tone teasing. "One thing you'll come to know, Doctor, is that I'll be around just as long as I please." In one form or another. Though, looking back, it was quite nice not to worry about whose body he was going to have to find a way to transfer into. That was one good thing out of the Time War, at least. Come to think of it, this was the first time, basically since their childhood, that the two of them had roughly the same number of regenerations remaining. That was an interesting thought.
Before he could decide whether to push the matter in a different direction, though, the Doctor's general distractibility interrupted. Or perhaps he just didn't want him pushing the issue further. He'd have to come back to it at a later date. He nodded, half waving, half shooing the Doctor away. "I'm sure you will," he concluded.
Characters: The Doctor, The Master
Location: Library
Summary: The Doctor and the Master have a brief chat. Backstory is marginally established. Antagonism is restrained to an almost surprising extent.
Warnings: Contains no actual timey-wimey.
On a table in the library, the Master had spread an array of physics texts and a few of the colony's reference manuals. He'd read them each several times already, searching for inconsistencies, and at the moment he was sitting, resting his head on his hand, staring at a particularly juvenile book on basic physics. He stifled a yawn.
The Doctor strolled into the library, ambling from shelf to shelf as if he hadn't come here for a particular reason. When he saw the Master, he didn't fake surprise or nonchalance, but sat down across from him, folding his hands together on the table.
"Well now," he said, smiling, "I think it's just about time you and I had a little chat about things, don't you think?"
The Master watched him out of the corner of his eye as the Doctor pretended to look around the library. Once the Doctor finally sat down, he glanced up, making a show of forcing a smile. "Right," he said. "What'll it be, Doctor? Are we tired of tolerating each other already?"
"Oh, well now," the Doctor said, shaking his head, "This is a very small colony and for the moment it seems like we haven't got a way out, so if it's all the same to you I'd prefer if we didn't break into open hostilities just yet." He sat back in his chair, eyes assessing the Master openly. "You're from my future yes? How far?"
True, open hostilities certainly wouldn't do in such a closed space. But that still left subtle hostilities. The Master shifted to a more honest smile. "Oh Doctor," he said, pity in his voice. "You don't want to know that."
"Now there you are quite wrong," the Doctor said, with just the beginning hints of impatience in his voice. He was agitated, but keeping it under control, "You know, at the current moment I've really a rather diminished respect for all of those old nonsense stuffy rules we are supposed to live by. Unless you're too afraid you'll get in trouble," he goaded.
He laughed at the implication that trouble was what he was afraid of. Disrupting his own timeline, perhaps, but punishment? Certainly not. "And it does please me to see you so soon after you've realized that. I'm only saying that you won't want to know," he said with a shrug, smile unwavering and now, perhaps, a bit patronizing.
The Doctor shifted in his seat, quite irritated by the unhelpfulness of the Master but knowing that, in his typical way, he was going to go on and keep doing whatever annoyed the Doctor the most. It wasn't worth pressing the subject, for the moment, because the more he seemed to want to know, the less the Master would tell him. He veered to another topic quickly, "Why didn't you just tell me who you were?"
The Doctor seemed genuinely curious about this, baffled by the Master's motives. As far as pranks or tricks went, it was an odd one. Of course, their friendship was a bit of a troubled one, and they hadn't seen each other since the Doctor had stolen his TARDIS and ditched Gallifrey, but what did that matter?
At this the Master was caught somewhat off-guard. It had, quite literally, been ages since he and the Doctor were on even relatively personable terms. It felt like he'd always had a reason to disguise himself from the Doctor. "Why would I do that?" he asked.
"Well why not!" the Doctor said, throwing up his hands. He leaned back in his chair, grinning again, his moods as highly changeable as they ever would be, "Sure you knew that I would find out eventually. You can't really think I am that stupid, can you?"
"And not give you the chance to figure it out?" he asked, recovering quickly from his confusion, and wholly ignoring the fact that the computer would have made it very simple riddle to solve, even if the humans hadn't revealed it themselves.
The Doctor nodded his head, acceding the point, "Yes, yes, I suppose you're right." He peered over at the books that the Master was reading, then lost interest quickly, turning his attention back to the other Time Lord. It was so strange, seeing him in this unassuming shape. The Doctor was used to him having a bit more flair, a bit more facial hair. Maybe time had mellowed him. The Doctor hoped it hadn't, for all his sometimes-friend's faults. The Master wouldn't be the Master without a little melodrama and a side of insanity.
"How much do these people know about us?" he asked, wanting to make sure he wasn't caught off guard.
"Only what I've told them," he said, watching the Doctor with equal interest though an obvious bit less curiosity. It was like like staring into his own past, and while the experience was vaguely nostalgic it was also incredibly unsettling. Something didn't seem right about meeting this incarnation of the Doctor here. "The Game of Rassilon, Doctor, have you dealt with that yet?" he asked, his patronizing attitude slipping just a little.
"How disappointed the High Council would be in you, asking me that," the Doctor said, not without a hint of mischevious relish. In truth, whatever event in his life the Master was referring to, he hadn't encountered it yet. The Game of Rassilon? But that was insane. The idea him being involved in all that was ridiculous.
Then again, he considered, his life since he had left Gallifrey had been one long series of delightful disasters. What was to rule out a trip to the Death Zone from that?
"I'll have to look forward to it," he said.
"I'm sure you will. Several times over..." he trailed off. That was the strange thing about crossing one's own timeline. None of the Doctors seemed to remember that particular event until they were experiencing it even though even for this incarnation of the Doctor it had already happened--and he'd solved it.
The Doctor's eyebrows climbed up at that cryptic remark. Well, at least this way he knew he'd get away from this place, sooner or later, whether in the growing TARDIS or by some other means. He was thankful to the Master for that little glimpse of the future.
"Tell me, which body are you on now?" the Doctor asked, hoping to get more of a sense of how large the gap was between their personal chronologies.
Ah, and this was a tricky question. Technically this was only his second regeneration since he'd been resurrected for the Time War, but that answer would hardly justify everything he intended to hold over the Doctor's head. And historically... he took a moment to count through the number of bodies he'd inhabited over the years. That number wouldn't do, either. Taking a quick average of the two, he settled on "The Eleventh."
"My, my, Master, you really getting on in years, aren't you!" the Doctor exclaimed, hardly able to believe it. How peculiar it was, to see the Master in a body that looked younger than this one, and to know that he was so much older. The stiff, stodgy magistrates and bureaucrats on Gallifrey seemed to favour old, dignified, silver-haired bodies, so it was a bit of a jolt, even for a Time Lord. His eleventh life. The Doctor hadn't expected either of them to get so far in their cycle of lives, with the dangerous streaks they both had in them. He felt suddenly young and disadvantage, not knowing the things about himself that this future version of the Master did.
"Well, I don't know about you but I'm rather peckish," he said, looking to the door and back at the Master, "I think I'm going to the kitchen for some sandwiches. I'll see you around, I'm sure."
"Weren't expecting me to keep on this long?" he asked, his tone teasing. "One thing you'll come to know, Doctor, is that I'll be around just as long as I please." In one form or another. Though, looking back, it was quite nice not to worry about whose body he was going to have to find a way to transfer into. That was one good thing out of the Time War, at least. Come to think of it, this was the first time, basically since their childhood, that the two of them had roughly the same number of regenerations remaining. That was an interesting thought.
Before he could decide whether to push the matter in a different direction, though, the Doctor's general distractibility interrupted. Or perhaps he just didn't want him pushing the issue further. He'd have to come back to it at a later date. He nodded, half waving, half shooing the Doctor away. "I'm sure you will," he concluded.