Fic: There Was a Master in a Game (15/25)
Title: There Was a Master in a Game
Author: azriona
Characters: The Master mostly. This week’s guest stars are Sally Sparrow, Rose Tyler, and Ten2.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Spoilers: Everything. The majority takes place after The End of Time, but there are references to events through the end of Season Five.
Betas: runriggers and earlgreytea68
Summary: Gallifrey wasn’t entirely lost when it went back into the Time Lock; it just got stuck. The Master wants out. Isn’t he lucky that the Doctor left him a way?
Chapters One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six ~ Seven ~ Eight ~ Nine ~ Ten ~ Eleven ~ Twelve ~ Thirteen ~ Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen: Horizontal O to Vertical G (and Back Again)
The Master frowned at K-9.
“You’ve outlived your usefulness,” he told the little tin dog.
“I apologize, Master,” said K-9.
“No chance I can disintegrate you without destroying my chances of escaping the Time Lock, are there?”
“Negative, Master. Should any of the pieces be eliminated from the playing field, you will be unable to break the code.”
The Master frowned at his notes. “I hate him.”
“I understand, Master.”
“No, I really hate him,” said the Master longingly. “You can’t possibly understand how much I absolutely despise him. He could have just tossed us in the Time Lock, but nooooo, he had to actually make us think there was a way to get out. He’s taunting us, K-9.”
“Affirmative, Master.”
“First thing I’m going to do,” said the Master dreamily. “When I get out, first thing I’m going to do is track him down, the bastard, and kick him. Repeatedly. I might video it, so that I can watch it later when I’m feeling down. That would cheer me up. Think I should pop back to that Star Wars story and nick R2-D2? He had a record function, didn’t he?”
“Affirmative, Master.”
The Master looked at his notes again. “Don’t suppose you’re going to tell me if I’ve got any of these right.”
“Affirmative, Master.”
The Master paused. “Affirmative, you’re going to tell me, or affirmative, I have something correct.”
“You have successfully entered the items in Diagonal Right. Allowing for your own personal commentary.”
The Master looked at the entries in question. A slow smile spread across his face. Had there been anyone to see it, other than a small tin dog, they would have been shaking in their shoes.
“Really,” he said, very satisfied. “Well. That’s very good to hear. Thank you, K-9.”
“You are welcome, Master,” said the little tin dog.
Only the Master wasn’t there to hear it.
*
“Good heavens,” said Randolph Spencer-Churchill, staring at the space where the strange artist wearing the even stranger clothing had stood only moments before. “Where did the man go?”
“I expect he’ll return,” said Sally dryly. She sat down on the nearest couch, and smoothed out her skirts. It was odd, but she couldn’t help but feel enormously pleased with herself.
“What was he carrying on about?”
“Oh,” said Sally airily. “Artistic things. I wouldn’t worry about them. Is your gentleman still in the library, Randolph?”
“Oh,” said Randolph, as if he only just remembered his guest. “Yes. Yes, I should really go - it’s only very strange, isn’t it, I blinked and-“ Randolph shook his head. “Never mind, darling. Is it all right if I-“
Sally watched as poor, flustered Randolph searched for the words he wanted to say. Normally he was very well spoken, and didn’t hesitate about anything. She wondered if it was the Master’s presence, or perhaps the gentleman in the back room, that had him so discombobulated.
Or maybe, the small voice in the back of her mind said, it was her. Seeing as she wasn’t meant to be there, marrying him in the first place. And if she did….would the world end in flames? Or right itself by killing her? Sally might have grown fond of Randolph, but all the same, it wasn’t something she wanted to find out.
“I’m fine,” said Sally. “I shall let out a holler if anyone so much as enters the room.”
Randolph chuckled. “That’s all right, my dear. I’ll just be around the corner.”
The moment Randolph left the room, Sally slumped on the couch, which was quite a feat, considering how uncomfortable it was. She closed her eyes, and would have considered her options, except she didn’t really have any.
“Bit of a fop, isn’t he?” asked a familiar voice next to her. Sally opened her eyes and looked at the Master, crouched behind the sofa, resting his head on the wooden frame.
“I think you need to reexamine the definition of ‘fop’,” said Sally. “He’s very important and influential.”
“Not as much as his son would be,” said the Master casually, and Sally winced. “Well, to work. I have some questions for you.”
The Master vaulted easily over the back of the sofa, and pulled out the familiar stack of papers. Sally sat up.
“Did it work? Did you make friends-“
“I don’t make friends,” said the Master shortly. “What do you dream about?”
The question wasn’t what Sally was expecting. “Dream?”
“Yes, dream,” said the Master impatiently. “You know, close your eyes, count sheep or whatever, run little plays in your head in which you’re Queen of England.”
“I know what dreams are!”
The Master shook his papers. “You’re on my card, Sally. So’s Jack Harkness.”
“I told you, I don’t-“
“He dreams. And his dreams match the other lines of the card.”
Sally grabbed the papers from the Master and studied them. “You’re sure?”
The Master grabbed the papers back. “It’s a theory. He wasn’t exactly willing to share.”
Sally snorted. “Oh, and I am?”
“More so than anyone else,” said the Master.
“Linda’s in more of a position to tell you about dreams,” Sally pointed out.
“And yet, here I sit,” said the Master, throwing his arms wide. He leaned back. “So, Sally - tell me about your dreams. I don’t suppose you’re dreaming about Star Wars.”
“I hated that movie.”
“Not answering the question,” sang the Master.
“No.”
The Master frowned, and looked at his notes. “Bugger. Don’t suppose you’re robbing a bank in these dreams of yours?”
“I don’t really remember,” said Sally, a bit cross. “The only thing I ever really remember about the dreams when I wake up is that it always takes me a minute to remember that they’re dreams. They’re so…real. It’s like when I’m dreaming, I’m actually living, and the bits now - they’re the dream.”
“Hmm,” said the Master. “Very clever of him. Well, only one thing to do.”
The Master stood up and pulled out the little gold pen from his pocket. Sally watched, curious.
“Sorry about this,” said the Master, and then shrugged. “Well, not really.”
Sally let out a cry of surprise as the waves hit her, and slumped over on the sofa, asleep.
And didn’t know anything after that.
*
Rose Tyler had been waiting an extremely long time for this moment. She was determined to savor it.
“Don’t move a muscle,” she warned her companion, and he let out a squeak of protest.
“Rose, if you don’t-“
“Just give me a moment,” she said, and closed her eyes. “Oh, this is good.”
“Thanks.” He would have sounded amused if he hadn’t sounded so strained.
“I mean, I was hoping, but I didn’t want to say anything. You know? I mean, what if it hadn’t been all that? And I’d talked it all up, and then it fell flat - it’ll just be a let-down we’d have to face in the morning. But this….”
“No, really, you can stop now!” He sounded somewhat annoyed now, and Rose opened her eyes.
“It really is beautiful,” Rose told him honestly, and rested her hand on the polished paneling.
“It’s not very big,” said the Doctor, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Still bigger on the inside,” said Rose, and she walked around the small space - no larger than a medium-sized kitchen, really - trailing her fingers along the wood. “Besides, there’s only the three of us. It doesn’t need to be big.”
“She’ll grow,” said the Doctor hopefully. “Give her a few more years, we’ll have an entire back room. In a decade, a dozen!”
Rose laughed, and wrapped her arms around his neck for a hug. “Three years ago, all this was just a bit of coral that could fit in your pocket. Don’t apologize for anything!”
The squeeze he gave her in return nearly cracked her ribs, but Rose didn’t mind. She’d long since vowed never to complain about a single hug ever again, no matter how badly she needed oxygen.
“So, Rose Tyler,” he said, rolling the words in his mouth as if they were peppermints, “where to first?”
“You never did take me to Barcelona,” Rose teased.
“Oh, you don’t want to go to Barcelona?” he exclaimed. “Thing I never told you about dogs with no noses - they don’t notice the smell. But we would!”
Rose laughed. “We need to wait for Sally, anyway. You promised her, remember.”
“Funny old world, this world of Pete’s,” said the Doctor, and he fell to his knees to inspect something under the console.
“Yours, too, now,” chided Rose.
“No Sarah Jane, no Martha Jones, no Donna Noble - and her the most important woman in the other universe!”
“Just as well - imagine two of your gobs here,” said Rose, and dodged the wiring flying toward her head.
“But there’s a Sally Sparrow. Imagine that. Sally Sparrow, still photographing and wandering about falling-down houses.”
“And still a Doctor to warn her about the Weeping Angels,” said Rose. She sat down next to the Doctor. “That’s a thought, we could go back and find her friend in 1920-something.”
“Can’t, her timeline’s-“
“Set,” Rose said with him. “I know.” She stretched out her legs and listened to the Doctor tinkering for a moment. “I saw you, you know.”
“Hmm?”
“Him, I mean. When I was using the Dimension Cannon, I turned up in the Powell Estate one day, and saw him from a distance in the snow. Real snow.”
The Doctor’s frown was audible in the way he banged at the pipes under the console. “I don’t remember ever being at the Estate in real snow.”
“I don’t think you were,” said Rose. “I…I think it was a later him. You know, him after he sent us here. I think he was saying goodbye. But I phased back before I had a chance to say anything to him.”
The Doctor slid out from under the console. “Just as well you didn’t, if it was after Davros for him.” He frowned. “What makes you think….”
“Because I didn’t remember it happening at the time,” said Rose.
“I’m lost,” said the Doctor. “And that doesn’t happen often.”
Rose smiled. “It was New Year’s Eve, the year we met. Mum had just left for a party - no idea which - and I was going to meet Shireen at the pub, and there was this man in the shadows. I thought he was drunk, he didn’t know what year it was. And I told him, and he said it’d be a very good year for me.” Rose laughed. “It was.”
“Me, too,” said the Doctor, quiet. “He said it to you?”
“The me in 2005. God, my hair was squashed flat by that hat.”
“I like your hair flat,” said the Doctor honestly, and Rose grinned at him. “Why do you think he was saying goodbye?”
“He wasn’t well,” said Rose quietly. “I didn’t see it originally - I mean, the younger me didn’t, but I didn’t know that face in 2005. I know it now. He was sick. I think he was….” Rose closed her eyes and let her head rest against the console. “Would you know if….”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’d like to think so.”
Rose hesitated. “Have you?”
“No.”
Rose opened her eyes, and then smiled with relief, as if she’d half expected a different man to be sitting beside her. “Sally’s running late.”
“Rose-“ He caught her hand as she tried to stand up. “Why did you tell me this?”
Rose shrugged. “Dunno. But he didn’t mess up the timelines by coming to see me. Maybe we wouldn’t mess up the timelines by going to see Sally’s friend.”
There was a scratching at the door, which slowly opened. “Hello?”
Rose scrambled to her feet. “Sally! I was beginning to worry.”
“Sally Sparrow!” shouted the Doctor. “First person to visit us in our new ship - what took you so long?”
“Fell asleep,” apologized Sally. “Stupid of me, I know, but…um. There’s a bit of a problem.”
The Doctor frowned. “Don’t tell me we’re needed at headquarters….”
“No, no,” Sally assured him. “It’s a bit trickier than that. It’s…well….I’m not sure how….”
“Out with it,” said the Doctor firmly.
Sally sighed, and threw open the door the rest of the way.
“Hello,” said the Master cheerfully, waving.
The Doctor scrambled to his feet. “What the-“
The Master stepped inside. “Oh, this is lovely, it really is. You did all this from scratch? Very impressive craftsmanship, not to mention a bit of temporal tweaking. Not your usual style, you so like to do things by the book.”
“But you’re dead,” exclaimed the Doctor.
“And you’re not a Time Lord,” countered the Master. “So I think we’re even. What are you, anyway?” He sniffed in the Doctor’s direction. “Some human half-breed?”
“Oi!” said Rose, and the Master turned to look at her. “Nothing wrong with being human!”
“Blonde,” he said dismissively. “Another blonde. What is it with you and blondes, anyway?”
“Oi!!” shouted Rose and Sally together.
“All right, fake blonde,” amended the Master, waving his hand at Rose.
“I’m a clone,” said the Doctor. “Of him. First of my kind. Well, only. That I know of, anyway. It’s a long story, but I’m him, only human. That’s all you need to know.”
“Don’t call yourself a clone,” snapped Rose.
“It’s true,” said the Doctor. “I’m not ashamed of it.”
“But you’re human,” groaned the Master. “I didn’t want the human you, I wanted the useful you.”
“Oi!” shouted both the Doctor and Rose.
“You’re not the clone I’m looking for,” said the Master, and then froze. “Oh, you are kidding me.” He pulled out a roll of paper from his back pocket, and began erasing furiously. “I hate him.”
“Who is this guy?” Rose asked the Doctor.
“He’s the Master,” said the Doctor, still glaring at the intruder. “Another Time Lord. A not terribly nice one, I might add.”
“The proper term is evil,” said the Master, still scribbling on his papers.
“Megalomaniac would be a better description.”
“But so much harder to spell.” The Master looked up. “Just remember, I was human first, before you went and made it the popular thing to do. You know what bothered me most about being human? The hair. All that time spent making it look perfect, and two months later, you had to cut it again. Must be driving you completely spare.”
Rose stifled a giggle. The Doctor crossed his arms.
“Get off my TARDIS.”
“Oh, I will. I have a few questions first,” said the Master. “Clones, that’s you, obviously. Sally here, she’s represented, of course. This one-“ He focused his eyes on Rose. “She’s a mystery.”
“Rose, you don’t have to answer anything he asks you,” said the Doctor quickly.
“Rose! Very pretty name,” said the Master. “Let’s see. Had any dreams about the Sycorax lately, Rose?”
“No,” said Rose, glancing at the Doctor.
The Master made a note on his papers. “Too bad. You, the Sycorax, and fantasies? Quite a story there waiting to be told.” His grin was more of a leer, and the Doctor took a quick step forward, brow furrowing.
“Leave her alone.”
“Really?” said the Master, now surprised, and then shrugged. “I thought you were more into the redheads myself, but I suppose clones are inexact copies at best.”
Rose put her hand on the Doctor’s arm. “Doctor-“
“You know the best part about being human, Master?” he growled. “I have no compunction against violence.”
“Didn’t in the end as a Time Lord, either,” retorted the Master, but the startled look on the Doctor’s face stopped him from going further. “Oh. You…you don’t know.”
“Know what?” asked the Doctor, in a tone saying he didn’t really want an answer.
“You don’t,” said the Master, barely breathing. “Do you even know where you are?”
“Different universe, other side of the Void,” said the Doctor. “How can you not - unless - you didn’t cross the Void….”
The Master shook his head. “Time Lock. I’m caught in Gallifrey’s Time Lock.”
The shock leached out of the Doctor, but Rose didn’t let go of his arm. “When I put you on the burial pyre…”
“No, this was after that,” said the Master. “When I killed Rasillon and sent the rest back into it, when they tried to escape.”
The Doctor’s mouth dropped open, and then he closed it with a snap. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” said the Master. “Bloody arse deserved it. You know he’s the wanker who put the drums in my head, all those years ago? It was his way of getting out of the Time Lock. This Time Lock.”
“I’m not in the Time Lock,” said the Doctor.
“No, not precisely. You’re in the Key.” The Master waved his papers. “These. I’m trying to get out, thank you. This is my bloody ticket back to Reality.”
“I can’t let you do that!”
The Master reached into his pocket, pulled out his laser screwdriver, and aimed it at the Doctor. “Do you really want to test me, Cloney Boy?”
The Doctor paused.
“Oooo! Remember this, don’t you?” He waggled the screwdriver between his fingers. “I’m very happy to bring Star Wars into this storyline, too, Yoda, so I’d suggest letting me finish up with your girlfriend here, and then you can all get back to playing Happy Families, yes? Because I wouldn’t be so sure that it’s so easy for a Human Clone to get back to normal as it was for the Time Lord edition.”
The Doctor made a strangled cry, but didn’t move.
“Right, so,” said the Master, and glanced at his papers. “Blondie-“
“Rose.”
“You’ve been dreaming about a blonde girl named Linda, haven’t you?”
Rose’s eyes widened. “How did you-“
“Figured as much, if you weren’t dreaming about being a Sycorax love slave. Makes sense that you’re not on that line, though, considering Overprotective Cloney Boy here. I suppose Time Lord Almighty was in love with you, too?”
Rose swallowed. “He never said it.”
“He wouldn’t,” snorted the Master. “Right proper little nincompoop, him. You’re better off with Cloney Boy.”
Rose slipped her hand down the Doctor’s arm to grab his hand and hold it tightly. “I know.”
“Hmm,” said the Master thoughtfully. “Think you’re the first girl he’s loved?”
“She’s the first person I’ve loved as a human,” said the Doctor quietly. “And the only. That’s all that matters.”
“First person,” snorted the Master, frowned, and scribbled something else down on his charts. “Well, works as well as anything else. One more question. Anyone steal anything around here?”
The TARDIS was so silent, he could have heard a pin drop. If there had been a loose pin, anyway.
“Well?” prompted the Master. “I’m not the Intergalactic Time Lock Police, and I haven’t seen a Judoon in centuries. Out with it.”
Sally pointed to the hard-wood floor.
“Sally!” moaned the Doctor.
“The floor?” the Master asked Rose.
“From my mother’s dining room,” Rose explained. “She never goes in there, and wood holds up better in the Vortex.”
“Did you have to admit it?” the Doctor yelled at Sally.
“He asked!” Sally yelled. “You said a little theft wouldn’t be such a bad thing, you’d be sure to go back when you were done and replace it! ‘A time machine, Sally,’ that’s what you told me!”
“Has she noticed?” the Master asked Rose.
“Not yet,” said Rose. “But we’ve been steering clear of the dining room, because none of us know when he’s actually going to show up to replace it and we don’t want to create a pair-a-dox.”
The Master stared at her. Rose’s poker face was perfect.
“I see why he picked you,” the Master said finally.
“Thanks,” said Rose.
“Are you done yet?” asked the Doctor, barely masking his annoyance.
“Probably,” said the Master. He knocked against the time rotor. “Does this thing really work?”
“Not with you in it,” said the Doctor heatedly. “I don’t care if this is your Reality or not - it’s mine, and I’m not going to let you wreak havoc in it.”
“There was a time you wanted me around always,” the Master said. “Screamed as I lay dying in your arms, you did.”
“Yeah, well,” said the Doctor. “Shove off.”
The Master looked surprised. “If that’s what turning human has done to your temper, I’ll be going then. I don’t suppose…”
His fingers wriggled against the laser screwdriver, motioning toward Rose, and the Doctor stepped in front of her.
“NOW.”
“Never mind,” the Master said to Rose. “I’ll find you another way. It’s been lovely, all, pleasant dreams.”
A blink, and he was gone. Sally slumped against the door, fast asleep.
The Doctor and Rose looked at each other.
“Who was he?” Rose asked again.
“Old school chum,” said the Doctor tersely.
“Nice choice in mates you got there,” said Rose.
“I got better at it,” said the Doctor, and together, they went to wake up Sally.
*
Sally Sparrow woke up on the divan in Sir Randolph Spencer-Churchill’s sitting room with a headache.
“Ow,” she said, and then winced, because her voice was uncommonly loud.
“Sorry about that,” said a voice on the other end of the room, not sounding terribly sorry. “I did put a pillow under your head,” it added, almost helpfully.
“Aren’t you meant to be evil?” asked Sally, putting her hand over her eyes.
“When did I say that?”
Sally frowned. “I think I dreamed it.”
“It’s true, anyway.”
Sally gingerly sat up, careful not to shake her head too much. “That you’re evil? I don’t believe it.”
“I attacked you,” the Master pointed out.
“You put me to sleep and put a pillow under my head,” Sally corrected him.
“It gave you a headache,” said the Master. “And I knew it would give you a headache.”
“I’ll drink some water,” said Sally, unconcerned. “Did you get what you needed?”
The Master unrolled his papers. “I think so. I still have some squares to fill in, but I don’t think you can help anymore.”
“Oh.” Sally picked at her skirt. “What happens when…”
“I break out?”
Sally nodded.
The Master shrugged. “No idea. It’ll destroy the Key, I suppose. You should go right back to where you started.”
“But…Randolph?”
“Fathers a prime minister. He’ll be fine.”
Sally nodded, wishing she could be as certain. “So.” She stood up and held out her hand. “It’s been a pleasure. Even with the headache.”
The Master stared at her hand, startled. “I - ah - “
Sally sighed. “You shake it. To show good intentions.”
“I know that! Just…didn’t expect you to offer.”
“Well, I am,” said Sally. “And I want to wish you luck. If you escape, so do I. And I don’t particularly want to bring the end of civilization, or end up dead myself.”
“No,” said the Master, half agreeing. He held out his hand, still trying to make up his mind, but Sally took that as invitation and grasped it for a quick shake.
“Better go,” Sally advised him. “Before Randolph comes in wanting to know why you haven’t started painting yet.”
The Master didn’t say anything. Before Sally was even finished speaking, he was gone.
“No need to stand on ceremony,” said Sally dryly.
“Is there to be a ceremony?” asked a cheerful voice from the doorway, and Sally turned to see Randolph and his guest entering the room. The man had a lanky sort of walk, and was looking around as though he’d never before been in a room with four walls in his entire life. Sally thought he looked vaguely familiar but she couldn’t quite place where she’d seen him.
“A wedding ceremony,” said Sally. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Mr.-“
“Is the artist gone again?” asked Randolph with no small amount of annoyance. “One wonders if he’ll ever finish, if he never starts.”
“I suspect he’s started,” said the visitor cheerfully. He sat with a thump down on one of the sofas and grinned up at Sally as he reached into a paper bag for a peanut. She frowned; there was something just a bit off about him. “Question is: will he finish? What do you think, Sally?”
“Have we met?” asked Sally.
“Will do,” said the man. “I’m the Doctor. Peanut?”
*
The Master watched the game with a thoughtful expression.
“You could join in, you know,” said Romana after a few minutes.
“No,” said the Master.
“Or you could stand there and stare, that’s quite all right, too,” Romana continued.
“Thought I would, thanks,” said the Master. “I’m evil, right?”
The Time Lords began to titter.
“Master,” said Romana, somewhat tiredly, “we’re playing Apples to Apples. In this game, you have to match the adjective to the noun. On the last hand, the adjective was ‘evil’. The noun every one of us chose, without one word of deliberation or collusion, was ‘Master’.”
“That’s good,” said the Master, but he didn’t sound convinced.
“I had Dalek in my hand at the time, too,” added Romana.
“Oh,” said the Master, brightening a little. “Well then.”
And he kicked Romana’s chair on the way out. Romana couldn’t help but smile.
Chapter Sixteen
Author: azriona
Characters: The Master mostly. This week’s guest stars are Sally Sparrow, Rose Tyler, and Ten2.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Spoilers: Everything. The majority takes place after The End of Time, but there are references to events through the end of Season Five.
Betas: runriggers and earlgreytea68
Summary: Gallifrey wasn’t entirely lost when it went back into the Time Lock; it just got stuck. The Master wants out. Isn’t he lucky that the Doctor left him a way?
Chapters One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six ~ Seven ~ Eight ~ Nine ~ Ten ~ Eleven ~ Twelve ~ Thirteen ~ Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen: Horizontal O to Vertical G (and Back Again)
The Master frowned at K-9.
“You’ve outlived your usefulness,” he told the little tin dog.
“I apologize, Master,” said K-9.
“No chance I can disintegrate you without destroying my chances of escaping the Time Lock, are there?”
“Negative, Master. Should any of the pieces be eliminated from the playing field, you will be unable to break the code.”
The Master frowned at his notes. “I hate him.”
“I understand, Master.”
“No, I really hate him,” said the Master longingly. “You can’t possibly understand how much I absolutely despise him. He could have just tossed us in the Time Lock, but nooooo, he had to actually make us think there was a way to get out. He’s taunting us, K-9.”
“Affirmative, Master.”
“First thing I’m going to do,” said the Master dreamily. “When I get out, first thing I’m going to do is track him down, the bastard, and kick him. Repeatedly. I might video it, so that I can watch it later when I’m feeling down. That would cheer me up. Think I should pop back to that Star Wars story and nick R2-D2? He had a record function, didn’t he?”
“Affirmative, Master.”
The Master looked at his notes again. “Don’t suppose you’re going to tell me if I’ve got any of these right.”
“Affirmative, Master.”
The Master paused. “Affirmative, you’re going to tell me, or affirmative, I have something correct.”
“You have successfully entered the items in Diagonal Right. Allowing for your own personal commentary.”
The Master looked at the entries in question. A slow smile spread across his face. Had there been anyone to see it, other than a small tin dog, they would have been shaking in their shoes.
“Really,” he said, very satisfied. “Well. That’s very good to hear. Thank you, K-9.”
“You are welcome, Master,” said the little tin dog.
Only the Master wasn’t there to hear it.
*
“Good heavens,” said Randolph Spencer-Churchill, staring at the space where the strange artist wearing the even stranger clothing had stood only moments before. “Where did the man go?”
“I expect he’ll return,” said Sally dryly. She sat down on the nearest couch, and smoothed out her skirts. It was odd, but she couldn’t help but feel enormously pleased with herself.
“What was he carrying on about?”
“Oh,” said Sally airily. “Artistic things. I wouldn’t worry about them. Is your gentleman still in the library, Randolph?”
“Oh,” said Randolph, as if he only just remembered his guest. “Yes. Yes, I should really go - it’s only very strange, isn’t it, I blinked and-“ Randolph shook his head. “Never mind, darling. Is it all right if I-“
Sally watched as poor, flustered Randolph searched for the words he wanted to say. Normally he was very well spoken, and didn’t hesitate about anything. She wondered if it was the Master’s presence, or perhaps the gentleman in the back room, that had him so discombobulated.
Or maybe, the small voice in the back of her mind said, it was her. Seeing as she wasn’t meant to be there, marrying him in the first place. And if she did….would the world end in flames? Or right itself by killing her? Sally might have grown fond of Randolph, but all the same, it wasn’t something she wanted to find out.
“I’m fine,” said Sally. “I shall let out a holler if anyone so much as enters the room.”
Randolph chuckled. “That’s all right, my dear. I’ll just be around the corner.”
The moment Randolph left the room, Sally slumped on the couch, which was quite a feat, considering how uncomfortable it was. She closed her eyes, and would have considered her options, except she didn’t really have any.
“Bit of a fop, isn’t he?” asked a familiar voice next to her. Sally opened her eyes and looked at the Master, crouched behind the sofa, resting his head on the wooden frame.
“I think you need to reexamine the definition of ‘fop’,” said Sally. “He’s very important and influential.”
“Not as much as his son would be,” said the Master casually, and Sally winced. “Well, to work. I have some questions for you.”
The Master vaulted easily over the back of the sofa, and pulled out the familiar stack of papers. Sally sat up.
“Did it work? Did you make friends-“
“I don’t make friends,” said the Master shortly. “What do you dream about?”
The question wasn’t what Sally was expecting. “Dream?”
“Yes, dream,” said the Master impatiently. “You know, close your eyes, count sheep or whatever, run little plays in your head in which you’re Queen of England.”
“I know what dreams are!”
The Master shook his papers. “You’re on my card, Sally. So’s Jack Harkness.”
“I told you, I don’t-“
“He dreams. And his dreams match the other lines of the card.”
Sally grabbed the papers from the Master and studied them. “You’re sure?”
The Master grabbed the papers back. “It’s a theory. He wasn’t exactly willing to share.”
Sally snorted. “Oh, and I am?”
“More so than anyone else,” said the Master.
“Linda’s in more of a position to tell you about dreams,” Sally pointed out.
“And yet, here I sit,” said the Master, throwing his arms wide. He leaned back. “So, Sally - tell me about your dreams. I don’t suppose you’re dreaming about Star Wars.”
“I hated that movie.”
“Not answering the question,” sang the Master.
“No.”
The Master frowned, and looked at his notes. “Bugger. Don’t suppose you’re robbing a bank in these dreams of yours?”
“I don’t really remember,” said Sally, a bit cross. “The only thing I ever really remember about the dreams when I wake up is that it always takes me a minute to remember that they’re dreams. They’re so…real. It’s like when I’m dreaming, I’m actually living, and the bits now - they’re the dream.”
“Hmm,” said the Master. “Very clever of him. Well, only one thing to do.”
The Master stood up and pulled out the little gold pen from his pocket. Sally watched, curious.
“Sorry about this,” said the Master, and then shrugged. “Well, not really.”
Sally let out a cry of surprise as the waves hit her, and slumped over on the sofa, asleep.
And didn’t know anything after that.
*
Rose Tyler had been waiting an extremely long time for this moment. She was determined to savor it.
“Don’t move a muscle,” she warned her companion, and he let out a squeak of protest.
“Rose, if you don’t-“
“Just give me a moment,” she said, and closed her eyes. “Oh, this is good.”
“Thanks.” He would have sounded amused if he hadn’t sounded so strained.
“I mean, I was hoping, but I didn’t want to say anything. You know? I mean, what if it hadn’t been all that? And I’d talked it all up, and then it fell flat - it’ll just be a let-down we’d have to face in the morning. But this….”
“No, really, you can stop now!” He sounded somewhat annoyed now, and Rose opened her eyes.
“It really is beautiful,” Rose told him honestly, and rested her hand on the polished paneling.
“It’s not very big,” said the Doctor, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Still bigger on the inside,” said Rose, and she walked around the small space - no larger than a medium-sized kitchen, really - trailing her fingers along the wood. “Besides, there’s only the three of us. It doesn’t need to be big.”
“She’ll grow,” said the Doctor hopefully. “Give her a few more years, we’ll have an entire back room. In a decade, a dozen!”
Rose laughed, and wrapped her arms around his neck for a hug. “Three years ago, all this was just a bit of coral that could fit in your pocket. Don’t apologize for anything!”
The squeeze he gave her in return nearly cracked her ribs, but Rose didn’t mind. She’d long since vowed never to complain about a single hug ever again, no matter how badly she needed oxygen.
“So, Rose Tyler,” he said, rolling the words in his mouth as if they were peppermints, “where to first?”
“You never did take me to Barcelona,” Rose teased.
“Oh, you don’t want to go to Barcelona?” he exclaimed. “Thing I never told you about dogs with no noses - they don’t notice the smell. But we would!”
Rose laughed. “We need to wait for Sally, anyway. You promised her, remember.”
“Funny old world, this world of Pete’s,” said the Doctor, and he fell to his knees to inspect something under the console.
“Yours, too, now,” chided Rose.
“No Sarah Jane, no Martha Jones, no Donna Noble - and her the most important woman in the other universe!”
“Just as well - imagine two of your gobs here,” said Rose, and dodged the wiring flying toward her head.
“But there’s a Sally Sparrow. Imagine that. Sally Sparrow, still photographing and wandering about falling-down houses.”
“And still a Doctor to warn her about the Weeping Angels,” said Rose. She sat down next to the Doctor. “That’s a thought, we could go back and find her friend in 1920-something.”
“Can’t, her timeline’s-“
“Set,” Rose said with him. “I know.” She stretched out her legs and listened to the Doctor tinkering for a moment. “I saw you, you know.”
“Hmm?”
“Him, I mean. When I was using the Dimension Cannon, I turned up in the Powell Estate one day, and saw him from a distance in the snow. Real snow.”
The Doctor’s frown was audible in the way he banged at the pipes under the console. “I don’t remember ever being at the Estate in real snow.”
“I don’t think you were,” said Rose. “I…I think it was a later him. You know, him after he sent us here. I think he was saying goodbye. But I phased back before I had a chance to say anything to him.”
The Doctor slid out from under the console. “Just as well you didn’t, if it was after Davros for him.” He frowned. “What makes you think….”
“Because I didn’t remember it happening at the time,” said Rose.
“I’m lost,” said the Doctor. “And that doesn’t happen often.”
Rose smiled. “It was New Year’s Eve, the year we met. Mum had just left for a party - no idea which - and I was going to meet Shireen at the pub, and there was this man in the shadows. I thought he was drunk, he didn’t know what year it was. And I told him, and he said it’d be a very good year for me.” Rose laughed. “It was.”
“Me, too,” said the Doctor, quiet. “He said it to you?”
“The me in 2005. God, my hair was squashed flat by that hat.”
“I like your hair flat,” said the Doctor honestly, and Rose grinned at him. “Why do you think he was saying goodbye?”
“He wasn’t well,” said Rose quietly. “I didn’t see it originally - I mean, the younger me didn’t, but I didn’t know that face in 2005. I know it now. He was sick. I think he was….” Rose closed her eyes and let her head rest against the console. “Would you know if….”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’d like to think so.”
Rose hesitated. “Have you?”
“No.”
Rose opened her eyes, and then smiled with relief, as if she’d half expected a different man to be sitting beside her. “Sally’s running late.”
“Rose-“ He caught her hand as she tried to stand up. “Why did you tell me this?”
Rose shrugged. “Dunno. But he didn’t mess up the timelines by coming to see me. Maybe we wouldn’t mess up the timelines by going to see Sally’s friend.”
There was a scratching at the door, which slowly opened. “Hello?”
Rose scrambled to her feet. “Sally! I was beginning to worry.”
“Sally Sparrow!” shouted the Doctor. “First person to visit us in our new ship - what took you so long?”
“Fell asleep,” apologized Sally. “Stupid of me, I know, but…um. There’s a bit of a problem.”
The Doctor frowned. “Don’t tell me we’re needed at headquarters….”
“No, no,” Sally assured him. “It’s a bit trickier than that. It’s…well….I’m not sure how….”
“Out with it,” said the Doctor firmly.
Sally sighed, and threw open the door the rest of the way.
“Hello,” said the Master cheerfully, waving.
The Doctor scrambled to his feet. “What the-“
The Master stepped inside. “Oh, this is lovely, it really is. You did all this from scratch? Very impressive craftsmanship, not to mention a bit of temporal tweaking. Not your usual style, you so like to do things by the book.”
“But you’re dead,” exclaimed the Doctor.
“And you’re not a Time Lord,” countered the Master. “So I think we’re even. What are you, anyway?” He sniffed in the Doctor’s direction. “Some human half-breed?”
“Oi!” said Rose, and the Master turned to look at her. “Nothing wrong with being human!”
“Blonde,” he said dismissively. “Another blonde. What is it with you and blondes, anyway?”
“Oi!!” shouted Rose and Sally together.
“All right, fake blonde,” amended the Master, waving his hand at Rose.
“I’m a clone,” said the Doctor. “Of him. First of my kind. Well, only. That I know of, anyway. It’s a long story, but I’m him, only human. That’s all you need to know.”
“Don’t call yourself a clone,” snapped Rose.
“It’s true,” said the Doctor. “I’m not ashamed of it.”
“But you’re human,” groaned the Master. “I didn’t want the human you, I wanted the useful you.”
“Oi!” shouted both the Doctor and Rose.
“You’re not the clone I’m looking for,” said the Master, and then froze. “Oh, you are kidding me.” He pulled out a roll of paper from his back pocket, and began erasing furiously. “I hate him.”
“Who is this guy?” Rose asked the Doctor.
“He’s the Master,” said the Doctor, still glaring at the intruder. “Another Time Lord. A not terribly nice one, I might add.”
“The proper term is evil,” said the Master, still scribbling on his papers.
“Megalomaniac would be a better description.”
“But so much harder to spell.” The Master looked up. “Just remember, I was human first, before you went and made it the popular thing to do. You know what bothered me most about being human? The hair. All that time spent making it look perfect, and two months later, you had to cut it again. Must be driving you completely spare.”
Rose stifled a giggle. The Doctor crossed his arms.
“Get off my TARDIS.”
“Oh, I will. I have a few questions first,” said the Master. “Clones, that’s you, obviously. Sally here, she’s represented, of course. This one-“ He focused his eyes on Rose. “She’s a mystery.”
“Rose, you don’t have to answer anything he asks you,” said the Doctor quickly.
“Rose! Very pretty name,” said the Master. “Let’s see. Had any dreams about the Sycorax lately, Rose?”
“No,” said Rose, glancing at the Doctor.
The Master made a note on his papers. “Too bad. You, the Sycorax, and fantasies? Quite a story there waiting to be told.” His grin was more of a leer, and the Doctor took a quick step forward, brow furrowing.
“Leave her alone.”
“Really?” said the Master, now surprised, and then shrugged. “I thought you were more into the redheads myself, but I suppose clones are inexact copies at best.”
Rose put her hand on the Doctor’s arm. “Doctor-“
“You know the best part about being human, Master?” he growled. “I have no compunction against violence.”
“Didn’t in the end as a Time Lord, either,” retorted the Master, but the startled look on the Doctor’s face stopped him from going further. “Oh. You…you don’t know.”
“Know what?” asked the Doctor, in a tone saying he didn’t really want an answer.
“You don’t,” said the Master, barely breathing. “Do you even know where you are?”
“Different universe, other side of the Void,” said the Doctor. “How can you not - unless - you didn’t cross the Void….”
The Master shook his head. “Time Lock. I’m caught in Gallifrey’s Time Lock.”
The shock leached out of the Doctor, but Rose didn’t let go of his arm. “When I put you on the burial pyre…”
“No, this was after that,” said the Master. “When I killed Rasillon and sent the rest back into it, when they tried to escape.”
The Doctor’s mouth dropped open, and then he closed it with a snap. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” said the Master. “Bloody arse deserved it. You know he’s the wanker who put the drums in my head, all those years ago? It was his way of getting out of the Time Lock. This Time Lock.”
“I’m not in the Time Lock,” said the Doctor.
“No, not precisely. You’re in the Key.” The Master waved his papers. “These. I’m trying to get out, thank you. This is my bloody ticket back to Reality.”
“I can’t let you do that!”
The Master reached into his pocket, pulled out his laser screwdriver, and aimed it at the Doctor. “Do you really want to test me, Cloney Boy?”
The Doctor paused.
“Oooo! Remember this, don’t you?” He waggled the screwdriver between his fingers. “I’m very happy to bring Star Wars into this storyline, too, Yoda, so I’d suggest letting me finish up with your girlfriend here, and then you can all get back to playing Happy Families, yes? Because I wouldn’t be so sure that it’s so easy for a Human Clone to get back to normal as it was for the Time Lord edition.”
The Doctor made a strangled cry, but didn’t move.
“Right, so,” said the Master, and glanced at his papers. “Blondie-“
“Rose.”
“You’ve been dreaming about a blonde girl named Linda, haven’t you?”
Rose’s eyes widened. “How did you-“
“Figured as much, if you weren’t dreaming about being a Sycorax love slave. Makes sense that you’re not on that line, though, considering Overprotective Cloney Boy here. I suppose Time Lord Almighty was in love with you, too?”
Rose swallowed. “He never said it.”
“He wouldn’t,” snorted the Master. “Right proper little nincompoop, him. You’re better off with Cloney Boy.”
Rose slipped her hand down the Doctor’s arm to grab his hand and hold it tightly. “I know.”
“Hmm,” said the Master thoughtfully. “Think you’re the first girl he’s loved?”
“She’s the first person I’ve loved as a human,” said the Doctor quietly. “And the only. That’s all that matters.”
“First person,” snorted the Master, frowned, and scribbled something else down on his charts. “Well, works as well as anything else. One more question. Anyone steal anything around here?”
The TARDIS was so silent, he could have heard a pin drop. If there had been a loose pin, anyway.
“Well?” prompted the Master. “I’m not the Intergalactic Time Lock Police, and I haven’t seen a Judoon in centuries. Out with it.”
Sally pointed to the hard-wood floor.
“Sally!” moaned the Doctor.
“The floor?” the Master asked Rose.
“From my mother’s dining room,” Rose explained. “She never goes in there, and wood holds up better in the Vortex.”
“Did you have to admit it?” the Doctor yelled at Sally.
“He asked!” Sally yelled. “You said a little theft wouldn’t be such a bad thing, you’d be sure to go back when you were done and replace it! ‘A time machine, Sally,’ that’s what you told me!”
“Has she noticed?” the Master asked Rose.
“Not yet,” said Rose. “But we’ve been steering clear of the dining room, because none of us know when he’s actually going to show up to replace it and we don’t want to create a pair-a-dox.”
The Master stared at her. Rose’s poker face was perfect.
“I see why he picked you,” the Master said finally.
“Thanks,” said Rose.
“Are you done yet?” asked the Doctor, barely masking his annoyance.
“Probably,” said the Master. He knocked against the time rotor. “Does this thing really work?”
“Not with you in it,” said the Doctor heatedly. “I don’t care if this is your Reality or not - it’s mine, and I’m not going to let you wreak havoc in it.”
“There was a time you wanted me around always,” the Master said. “Screamed as I lay dying in your arms, you did.”
“Yeah, well,” said the Doctor. “Shove off.”
The Master looked surprised. “If that’s what turning human has done to your temper, I’ll be going then. I don’t suppose…”
His fingers wriggled against the laser screwdriver, motioning toward Rose, and the Doctor stepped in front of her.
“NOW.”
“Never mind,” the Master said to Rose. “I’ll find you another way. It’s been lovely, all, pleasant dreams.”
A blink, and he was gone. Sally slumped against the door, fast asleep.
The Doctor and Rose looked at each other.
“Who was he?” Rose asked again.
“Old school chum,” said the Doctor tersely.
“Nice choice in mates you got there,” said Rose.
“I got better at it,” said the Doctor, and together, they went to wake up Sally.
*
Sally Sparrow woke up on the divan in Sir Randolph Spencer-Churchill’s sitting room with a headache.
“Ow,” she said, and then winced, because her voice was uncommonly loud.
“Sorry about that,” said a voice on the other end of the room, not sounding terribly sorry. “I did put a pillow under your head,” it added, almost helpfully.
“Aren’t you meant to be evil?” asked Sally, putting her hand over her eyes.
“When did I say that?”
Sally frowned. “I think I dreamed it.”
“It’s true, anyway.”
Sally gingerly sat up, careful not to shake her head too much. “That you’re evil? I don’t believe it.”
“I attacked you,” the Master pointed out.
“You put me to sleep and put a pillow under my head,” Sally corrected him.
“It gave you a headache,” said the Master. “And I knew it would give you a headache.”
“I’ll drink some water,” said Sally, unconcerned. “Did you get what you needed?”
The Master unrolled his papers. “I think so. I still have some squares to fill in, but I don’t think you can help anymore.”
“Oh.” Sally picked at her skirt. “What happens when…”
“I break out?”
Sally nodded.
The Master shrugged. “No idea. It’ll destroy the Key, I suppose. You should go right back to where you started.”
“But…Randolph?”
“Fathers a prime minister. He’ll be fine.”
Sally nodded, wishing she could be as certain. “So.” She stood up and held out her hand. “It’s been a pleasure. Even with the headache.”
The Master stared at her hand, startled. “I - ah - “
Sally sighed. “You shake it. To show good intentions.”
“I know that! Just…didn’t expect you to offer.”
“Well, I am,” said Sally. “And I want to wish you luck. If you escape, so do I. And I don’t particularly want to bring the end of civilization, or end up dead myself.”
“No,” said the Master, half agreeing. He held out his hand, still trying to make up his mind, but Sally took that as invitation and grasped it for a quick shake.
“Better go,” Sally advised him. “Before Randolph comes in wanting to know why you haven’t started painting yet.”
The Master didn’t say anything. Before Sally was even finished speaking, he was gone.
“No need to stand on ceremony,” said Sally dryly.
“Is there to be a ceremony?” asked a cheerful voice from the doorway, and Sally turned to see Randolph and his guest entering the room. The man had a lanky sort of walk, and was looking around as though he’d never before been in a room with four walls in his entire life. Sally thought he looked vaguely familiar but she couldn’t quite place where she’d seen him.
“A wedding ceremony,” said Sally. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Mr.-“
“Is the artist gone again?” asked Randolph with no small amount of annoyance. “One wonders if he’ll ever finish, if he never starts.”
“I suspect he’s started,” said the visitor cheerfully. He sat with a thump down on one of the sofas and grinned up at Sally as he reached into a paper bag for a peanut. She frowned; there was something just a bit off about him. “Question is: will he finish? What do you think, Sally?”
“Have we met?” asked Sally.
“Will do,” said the man. “I’m the Doctor. Peanut?”
*
The Master watched the game with a thoughtful expression.
“You could join in, you know,” said Romana after a few minutes.
“No,” said the Master.
“Or you could stand there and stare, that’s quite all right, too,” Romana continued.
“Thought I would, thanks,” said the Master. “I’m evil, right?”
The Time Lords began to titter.
“Master,” said Romana, somewhat tiredly, “we’re playing Apples to Apples. In this game, you have to match the adjective to the noun. On the last hand, the adjective was ‘evil’. The noun every one of us chose, without one word of deliberation or collusion, was ‘Master’.”
“That’s good,” said the Master, but he didn’t sound convinced.
“I had Dalek in my hand at the time, too,” added Romana.
“Oh,” said the Master, brightening a little. “Well then.”
And he kicked Romana’s chair on the way out. Romana couldn’t help but smile.
Chapter Sixteen