Archive of Our Own

“You’re not dying, don’t be stupid. It’s only a bullet, just regenerate.” 

“No.” 

The Master smiled. The Doctor begged. It wouldn’t work—the Master refused. He refused to be kept like some kind of pet, like those Earth girls the Doctor was so fond of toting around. He’d rather die. Here, in the Doctor’s arms, like he always knew he would. Like he was always meant to. 

“How about that. I win .” He was weak now, his body too heavy for him to hold up by himself. He was letting himself die faster on purpose, speeding up his own decay out of spite . Even his mind was weakening, enough that he couldn’t stop himself from asking, from hoping. “Will it stop, Doctor? The drumming. Will it stop?” 

His eyes slipped closed. 

“Regenerate!” 

The essence of pure time flooded his senses, blinding him even through his eyelids. The Master felt lighter and yet still weighed down all at once. Like death and life, dark and light merging into one. Then the golden light faded almost as quickly as it had arrived, and he felt himself fade with it. 

And then he woke up. 

He was in the TARDIS. He could feel it. Not the main console room, somewhere far less grungy. He was on a single wooden-framed bed, and looking around the small space it seemed like any regular Earth guest room, comfortable but impersonal and plain. He wasn’t chained down like he expected to be so he sat up, rubbing at his eyes as he did. His body ached, especially where he’d been shot. All things considered it wasn’t the worst he’d ever felt. Still, he took it slow.

The next thing he inspected was himself. He was still in his dress pants, though his shirt and jacket had been replaced by a plain grey t-shirt. Right, there would’ve been blood on his button-up. He was shocked the Doctor even owned anything plain. 

“I guess he does intend to keep me after all…” the Master muttered with a scowl rather unfairly directed towards the innocent carpet. The scowl melted into a frown, then, as he realised something. Something he couldn’t tell until he’d spoken aloud, having another sound as a point of reference in the silent room. 

The drums. 

They weren’t gone, they were still very much there. The thing he noticed was that they were quiet. Quieter than they’d ever been, at least since he’d come back to himself after being freed from the chameleon arch. Enough that when he turned his focus back to the room he could basically ignore them. A dull thrumming in the back of his mind. 

“What…?” He looked up to the ceiling, squinting for signs of any cameras or microphones, any sign of the Doctor keeping an eye on him. He had to be, he wouldn’t just leave the Master unsupervised. “What did you do?” he demanded, standing up on slightly unsteady feet and barely managing to stay stable. “To the drums, to me? I should be dead!” 

“TARDIS telepathic field,” the Doctor’s voice answered back simply and far too casually. “Asked her a favour after I fixed everything you did to her, turns out those drums in your head are a psychic signal that she can block.”  

A psychic signal? Someone had done this to him on purpose?   

A flash of rage shot through him. He would kill whoever had done this when he found them, and he would find them. He let himself bask in his fury for a moment, then closed his eyes and pushed that feeling down from a bonfire into embers. He could save that fire until then, until he needed it. Let it grow inside his hearts so his unknown torturer could feel the full force of it. 

“Well, can’t completely block it, it’s far too powerful for that,” the Doctor continued when the Master didn’t respond after a moment. “Most of it, though. It’s the best I can do for you for now. I’m sorry.” His voice softened at the end, in that way it always did. 

I forgive you.  

The Master’s frown deepened and he growled, low in his throat. “You didn’t answer my other question.” 

The Doctor was silent for a long moment. The Master fought the urge to scream, just to fill the quiet room. 

“Forced regeneration.” The Master sucked in a breath. “I… I used up one of my own to heal you, keep you alive. I’m sorry about that, too. I wasn’t thinking properly. It’s done now, though. So, I can try and help you. We can get rid of those drums for good. Together. Travel the stars whilst we’re at it.” 

There was a silent “like we always said we would” that the Master was glad the Doctor didn’t say.  

Forced regeneration. The Doctor had forced life back into the Master whether he liked it or not. He was still figuring that last part out—if he liked this. He’d had a plan, a way to come back, he always did. One that didn’t leave him shackled to anyone else. This, however… well, the most he could say is that at least he was whole. Though, looking down at his hands, he realised that he hadn’t actually regenerated at all. These were the same hands he’d had for the past two and a half years. 

Forced to stay alive, and forced to keep looking like the now former Prime Minister of Great Britain. Brilliant. 

He could still feel the energy pulsing under his skin, so maybe it just wasn’t over yet. He didn’t know how long he’d been out but he did know that some regenerations could take days depending on what caused them. The more likely answer was that it hadn’t been his regeneration so nothing had happened beyond what was needed, like the process had been cut in half. Did that mean the Doctor had half a regeneration? The Master didn’t spend long pondering that thought—it was of no consequence to him what happened to the Doctor because of his own foolish actions. 

The door slid open, contrary to its appearance as normal wood with a handle, and snapped the Master out of his thoughts. The Doctor stood on the other side with those big, sad eyes of his, pleading before he’d even said a word. The Master didn’t like that they were brown and unfamiliar. He was so used to those eyes being blue. His hands shook and he wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted to punch the Doctor and make his escape or if he wanted to punch him for being an idiot . 

“What do you say?” 

“Why?” the Master asked in place of an answer. He didn’t care that his voice was shaking, the Doctor had seen him worse. “Why waste a regeneration on me? Why do any of this?” 

The Doctor got that look in his eyes. That pathetic self-pity that the Master hated so much. 

“Because I miss you,” the Doctor said as if it was obvious. As if it explained everything, as if it made sense. 

“You’ve spent the last year with me.” 

“I miss the real you. Not what that sound has turned you into. Not what you’ve become without anyone around to help you.” 

“This is the real me, and you can’t keep me trapped here forever.” The Master took a step towards him. The Doctor was unfazed. “What, do you think if you drag me around with you I’ll just magically become a better person? That’s not how this works , Doctor.” He practically spat the name. “I’m not your patient.” 

The Doctor waited for him to finish, then sighed. “I don’t want to trap you, I just… I want you by my side. I want to help you in any way I can. I want my friend back, Master. We’re all each other has left, and we could do wonderful things together if you’d just let me help you. ” 

It was the Doctor’s turn to step closer. The Master stepped back. 

“You can’t change who I am.” 

“I don’t plan on it.” The Doctor shook his head. “You aren’t those drums. You aren’t every awful thing you’ve ever done. You’re brilliant, and I know you can do so much good with that brilliance if you’d just let me try. If nothing works, if we never find a solution, then fine. You can go. We can go back to what we’ve been doing, this neverending cycle of you trying to hurt people and me trying to stop you.” He stepped closer again. “But please, Master. Let me try and help you first.” 

The Master swallowed around a lump forming in his throat. Regeneration energy buzzed in his head. He decided to blame that for what he asked next. “You really think you can make them stop? For good?” 

Maybe he could make this work. Maybe he could use it in his favour—do what the Doctor orders right up to the point where he has some real peace and quiet, and then get out. Make his grand escape and get back to conquering the universe, now with his head clear so he can plan even better. So he can get one over on the Doctor without anything getting in his way the next time. He hoped he remembered that plan once he’d finished healing. 

“Yes. I really do. I—” 

The room shook, interrupting whatever the Doctor was planning to say next. He stumbled back and grabbed on to the door frame to keep himself upright. The Master fell back down on the bed with a grunt. 

“What?” the Doctor whispered, turning to look in the direction of where the Master guessed the console room was. 

“What was that?” 

“No idea.” The Doctor ran off without another word. He left the door wide open 

The Master growled in frustration and followed after him. He was sick of that little room already and as soon as the current problem was dealt with he would demand a better one, if he stuck around at all. He was still deciding on that part, too. Either way, he was the Master. He deserved better than some bland, human bedroom. 

The Doctor skidded to a stop once he got up to the main floor of console room and the Master nearly slammed into his back, halting just short. He had to lean around the Doctor to see what was happening. There was a shocked pause for just a moment while they both stared at the wall. 

“What?” the Doctor repeated. He rushed further into the room, picking up a piece of rubble off the ground. 

“Is that a boat?” The Master had frozen, incredulous at the giant hull that had smashed through the wall. 

“Not just any boat,” the Doctor said, sounding as confused as the Master felt. He turned the lifesaver he was holding around so the Master could read what was written on it. 

Titanic.  

“The— I’m sorry, how exactly did the Titanic manage to crash into the TARDIS? How bloody bad are you at flying this thing?” 

The Doctor dropped the lifesaver in order to scurry around the centre console, flipping switches and turning a crank until the ships hull was pushed out of the way by the wall repairing itself. 

“I left the shields down while I was doing some maintenance,” the Doctor explained as he fiddled with the controls some more. The Master felt the TARDIS moving through space like it was an unstable elevator, the floor shifting under his feet without actually moving. He’d always hated that feeling, just a little, even as he’d gotten used to it. “Got a bit distracted by you waking up and didn’t get a chance to turn them back on.” 

“Saints, you really are an idiot,” the Master shook his head. “My wellbeing is in the hands of an idiot.” 

The Doctor snapped to look at him, surprised. A wide grin spread across his face and the Master fought the urge to run back to his boring little room. 

“Does that mean you’ll stay?” 

The Master already regretted this before it had even begun. 

“Trial run. If I don’t like travelling with you, I leave and you don’t stop me. Deal?” 

“Deal. Guess I’ll just have to make sure you enjoy it. Now, stay here for a minute, I’m gonna go see what this ship is doing here.” The TARDIS shuddered to a stop and the Doctor spun on his heel to head for the door. 

“Wh— hey!” The Master moved to follow after him. “What’s to stop me from just stealing the TARDIS again?” he asked, sarcasm and condescension dripping from his words. 

The Doctor shot him a cheeky grin. “Oh, yeah. One of the repairs I did when fixing her up was bio-locking you out of the controls.” 

Okay, not a complete idiot then. 

“You could go get changed whilst I’m gone, if you want. You remember where the wardrobe is.” 

Then the Doctor disappeared out the door, leaving the Master standing alone in the dust and debris still left from the crash. He let out a long-suffering sigh. 

Before going to get some fresh clothes he first tried to at least kind of clear up some of the mess, mostly just pushing larger chunks of rubble out of the walkway with his foot. Not his TARDIS, not really his problem, however he was admittedly quite fond of the Doctor’s current face. Even in spite of the too-dark eyes. It wouldn’t really do for him to trip over in all his flailing and rushing about and hit his head so hard he regenerates. The Master wasn’t sure how many he had left now, so there was that too. This could very well be his last one.  

He found the wardrobe easily enough, even with the TARDIS seemingly hiding it from him until he reminded her the Doctor asked him to find it. She wasn’t going to make things easy for him outside of the drums being blocked, and he was surprised she even agreed to that. It was probably just because she had missed the Doctor. 

The Master wandered around the large room, running his hands along old dresses and jackets, eyes glancing over various hats and shoes. He was right that the Doctor didn’t own much that could be described as plain. He even spotted that old rainbow suit he used to wear, back with that curly blond hair and round baby face of his. The Master had liked that face, too. If only it hadn’t been paired with such an eyesore of an outfit. 

He paused in front of a sleek, red dress. 

Lucy.  

Some small, minuscule part of him hoped she was alright. She’d been so loyal, sticking by his side and helping him rise up in the government using her family’s connections. It wasn’t her fault he’d gotten bored during the past year—or not -year—and she had happened to be the most convenient source of entertainment. It wasn’t her fault the Master’s favourite form of entertainment involved getting other people hurt. She had tried so very hard to make him happy, right up until the moment she’d shot him. 

He didn’t truly blame her. If someone had treated him how he treated her, they would’ve been dead long before a year was up.  

He shook his head, clearing that errant thought away, and pulled the red dress down from the rack it was hanging on. It was a different style to Lucy’s, more form-fitting and with a high collar and a slit up one thigh. There were no sleeves, the matte fabric of the dress stopping at the arch of the shoulder when he held it up in front of himself. Oddly enough, it looked like it would fit perfectly. He wasn’t sure why he was drawn to this in particular, he’d never had an affinity for dresses before. The thought occurred to him that it could be something to do with his half-regeneration—maybe he was supposed to be a woman this time around. He grimaced at just the idea of it, though he supposed he could accept it if it turned out to be true. 

“I don’t know if that’s your style,” came the Doctor’s voice from behind him. The Master turned to him with raised eyebrows. 

“Why not?” It wasn’t, the Master was just curious why the Doctor thought so. 

The Doctor hummed and stepped closer. “Bit bright, isn’t it? You normally go for all… black and monochrome.” 

“True…” the Master mused, eyeing the garment. A nice wine red, but still red. The Doctor hadn’t even mentioned the fact that it was a dress. Then again, most Time Lords did tend to get a little loose with gender, and the whole “dresses are for women” thing was so very human . Maybe the Master had been spending too much time on Earth, it was rubbing off on him. He almost shuddered at the thought. 

“Would suit where we’re going, though.” 

The Master snapped to look back up at the Doctor. “We?” 

The Doctor wiggled his eyebrows. “I told you I’m not keeping you trapped here. How do you fancy a mosey around a space-faring replica of the Titanic?”

While he picked out his own outfit, the Doctor explained that they were on a cruise space ship that was currently orbiting Earth. It had chosen the name and theming of the Titanic, possibly as an homage to the original. When the Master heard everyone was all dressed up he decided he had to wear that dress after all. No way he was blending in with all the men in suits when he didn’t have to anymore. He did love to stand out. Just to satisfy his need to be shrouded in darkness at all times, he paired it with black silk gloves, black heels, and a black fur shawl. 

It was when he stepped in front of a mirror, to check that everything matched how he thought it would, that he finally saw what had changed when the Doctor had forcefully healed him. 

“My hair!” He grabbed at the short strands and leaned in closer to the mirror like he was hoping it was just a trick of the light. It wasn’t; his previously brown hair had turned almost completely white. Secondary to that, he could swear there was some stubble on his chin that wasn’t there before. How long had he been out for? Thankfully his facial hair seemed to have been spared from the bleaching, so he at least still had visible eyebrows. 

“OH, right, sorry!” the Doctor called from wherever he was in the depths of the wardrobe. “There wasn’t a good time to mention it! If it helps, I don’t think it looks bad!” 

The Master could only cry a noise of anguish in response.  

“At least be grateful it’s not neon green,” the Doctor said, now much closer. He was approaching from the other end of the aisle of clothes that the Master stood in. He was in a nicer version of his usual brown suit. He had forgone dark brown pinstripes for a white dress shirt, a red tie to match the Master’s dress, a dark brown waistcoat with golden buttons, and a tan blazer with matching trousers. He was also, unfortunately, still wearing his grubby white high-tops. 

“Good to know you almost know how to dress yourself,” the Master said, giving a pointed look at the Doctors shoes. 

“And here I was just about to say how lovely you look.” The Doctor was being playful. He was being silly, and they were teasing each other, after everything that had happened in the past year. It made the Master pause. 

“Why are we doing this?” he asked. When the Doctor’s smile slipped into a confused frown, he elaborated. “Why are you letting me do this? I kept you locked up like an animal for a whole year, I killed millions of those little apes that you love so much, and you’re just… talking to me like this is normal. Like some part of you doesn’t hate me right now.” 

The Doctor stepped closer to him and this time the Master stayed put. Even in heels he had to look up a bit to meet his eyes. “I already told you that I forgive you. I won’t be letting you out of my sight the whole time we’re out there, so don’t think you can just wander off and mess with things, but… I’m looking after you, not keeping you hostage.” 

The Master paused to search the Doctor’s face for… something . For malice, for a lie, for anything the Master would be feeling if their roles somehow reversed. For what he knew should be there but wasn’t. He was going to be easier to use than the Master had thought, trusting as he was. 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I know. Ready to go?” 

He looked the Doctor over one last time. As sincere as ever. 

“You wouldn’t happen to own any makeup, would you?”

The Master ended up with deep red lipstick and black, slightly smudged eyeliner. It was the best he could do with what little experience he had. He wished he’d watched Lucy more closely when she did her makeup of a morning. He barely looked at her at all some days. Too late now. 

He and the Doctor did stand out amongst the passengers on board the ship. They had all seemingly gone for attire appropriate to the ship’s theming, with everyone in suits and Edwardian-style dresses. The two Time Lords looked far more modern by comparison, or at least a couple of decades ahead. He supposed it was fitting, just a bit. The two of them just slightly out of time. 

Whatever species was predominantly on this ship smelled far better than humans. The Master could sense that they were more advanced even if they hadn’t been on a cruise liner in space. Still, they weren’t nearly Time Lords, so the Master regarded them with a certain level of disgust. The Doctor kept a subtle but firm hold on the Master’s hand whilst he led him through the lavish reception hall to the even more ostentatious dining room. 

They caught snippets of conversation as they wandered through, though the Master didn’t pay much attention. There was too much overlapping noise for him to focus, plus the fact that he just plain didn’t care. 

There were two things that did catch his eye, however; the angel statues standing around watching everyone, and the obnoxious recording repeating in vintage picture frames and various terminals around every corner. 

Max Capricorn cruise liners. The fastest, the furthest, the best. And I should know, because my name… is Max.  

The Master could appreciate a conceited man after his own heart, but that tooth glint was a bit much. There was something off about Max Capricorn that the Master couldn’t place before he was being tugged over to one of the angels. 

“Evening, passengers fifty-seven and fifty-eight. Terrible memories. Remind us, you would be?” 

The Master was about to scold the Doctor for talking to the décor when the angel moved . 

“Information: Heavenly Host supplying tourist information.” 

“They’re robots?”  

“Apparently. Good thing they aren’t statues or we’d look very strange right now,” the Doctor replied. He turned back to the Host. “Right, so, tell me, because I’m an idiot. Where are we from?” 

“Information: The Titanic is en route from the planet Sto in the Cassavalian Belt. The purpose of the cruise is to experience primitive cultures.” 

The Master had to let out a laugh at that, earning him a sharp glare from the Doctor. “The robot said it, not me!” 

The laughter caused the leftover regeneration energy in him to pulse again and he couldn’t stop himself from giggling while the Doctor continued to interrogate the Host. It was all he could do to prevent himself from breaking out into full-blown laughter. It was like it was tickling his insides. 

“Information: All designations are chosen by Mr Max Capricorn, president of Max, Max, Max—” 

The two Time Lords stepped back with wide eyes as the Host began twitching, its voice rising and falling in pitch with each repetition. The Master stopped giggling. A steward rushed over to usher them farther back as two more arrived to turn the Host off and squirrel it away. 

“Bit of a glitch?” the Doctor asked. The steward nodded. 

“Nothing to worry about, sirs, we’ve got it handled,” he assured. “Just a software problem, that’s all. Leave it with us. Merry Christmas to you both.” He nodded to both of them in turn, then hurried off after the workers who were carting off the Host. 

“Merry Christmas…” the Doctor mumbled. “That was a bit odd.” 

“Did you also get the impression that wasn’t the first time that had happened?” the Master asked, squinting at the empty space where the Host had been. “They reacted far too quickly.” 

The Doctor shrugged and turned to survey the room again. “If it’s a software glitch, it could effect all of them, depending how they’re run. One central info hub or just internal. Maybe they just need an update.” 

“I guess…” 

“Something wrong?” The Doctor turned back to him with a grin and a strange glint in his eye. 

“Something feels off. Can’t you feel it?” There was a wrongness in the air that was making the regeneration energy inside him fizz. Every repeat of that stupid advertisement on the wall was making it worse. Maybe it was just irritation. 

The Doctor paused for a moment, feeling out the vibe of the room. His smile dropped down into a thoughtful pout. “Huh. Nothing. We’ll be careful though, yeah? Just in case it is something. We are on the Titanic, after all.” 

“Maybe spending so much time around humans has dulled your senses,” the Master said with a roll of his eyes. 

There was a sudden crash nearby paired with the sound of shattering glass. They turned at the same time to see a blonde waitress apologising and rushing to pick up the chunks of broken glass from her spilled drink tray. A man was scolding her for apparently ruining his suit. A genuine Earth antique. As if that was anything to boast about. 

The Doctor, of course, had to rush over to help and drag the Master with him. The angry businessman was gone by the time they got there, thankfully. The Master hadn’t really promised to stay entirely out of trouble, however it was a bit early in both the night and whatever this tentative truce of theirs was to be picking fights with annoying assholes. Especially those with bad dress sense. 

“You two enjoying the cruise?” the waitress asked. The Master tuned back in at being addressed directly. He realised he hadn’t caught her name, if she’d said it, and felt slightly embarrassed. His time as a politician was coming back to bite him—he still had the instinct to be polite. 

“Oh, yeah, it’s lovely. My first time on one of these,” the Doctor replied with a wide grin. 

“And you, mister…?” She turned to the Master. The Doctor gave him a look that told him he probably shouldn’t ask this random waitress to call him Master.  

On the one hand, he wasn’t one to do as people told him to. On the other hand, he needed the Doctor to think he was cooperating, and he was still a bit giddy on regeneration. Much easier to just take the path of least resistance. 

“You can just call me Harry,” the Master responded with a smile of his own. It wasn’t a bad name, all things considered, and he was already used to being called by it anyway. “And yes, it’s been tolerable for the five or so minutes we’ve been here.” 

The waitress fixed him with a confused smile. “Five minutes?” 

“Stowaways,” the Doctor whispered with a conspiratorial raise of his eyebrows. And here the Master was thinking he was going to get scolded for even hinting that they weren’t here legitimately. 

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide. “Kidding.” 

“Seriously.” 

“How’d you get on board?” 

“He’s an idiot.” The Master tilted his head towards the Doctor. The waitress very visibly held in a laugh. 

“Oi! I was looking after you!” The Doctor gave him a light smack on the arm. 

“I don’t need looking after,” the Master said under his breath. 

The Doctor shook his head and turned back to the waitress. “Anyway, it was an accident. We have this, sort of, ship… thing. I was doing some repairs, left the shields down, bumped into the Titanic. Here we are! Bit of a party, I thought, why not?” 

We. There it was again. He said it so easily, like the Master was meant to be here. Like they belonged together. Though, he supposed, the Doctor was more used to having some little human pet around than he was to being alone. Of course referring to himself in the plural was natural. The Master immediately switched to trying to figure out how possible it would be to hijack this ship, if only for something to do.  

The waitress walked off after saying more things that the Master ignored, and then he was being dragged around again. When the Doctor said he wasn’t allowed to wander off he didn’t realise that had meant being leashed like a dog. The Doctor brought them to where a couple who looked even more out-of-place than them was seated, steadfastly ignoring the people around them laughing at their expense. The Master had to laugh a little too—they were both dressed as bright purple cowboys. The Doctor sat himself and the Master down at their table without consulting anyone involved, as was his way. 

“Just ignore them,” purple cowboy man said to purple cowboy woman. 

“Something’s tickled them,” the Doctor commented with a jerk of his head towards the laughing group. 

“Yes, I assume those ridiculous outfits.” That one earned the Master another smack on the arm. 

“It’s not our fault!” the woman huffed. “We were told it was fancy dress. Very funny, I’m sure.” 

“Bit funny.” Smack. “Though I guess you could’ve done worse. At least you’re not neon green.” He echoed the Doctor’s earlier joke about his hair. It really was the best “compliment” he could come up with. 

“True! Purple suits you both quite well,” the Doctor added. He shot the Master a proud smile. It made the Master feel sick. 

“Oh! Thank you!” The woman smiled at him. 

“I reckon they’re just picking on us because we haven’t paid,” the man said. He turned to the Time Lords. “We won our tickets in a competition.” 

“I had to name the five husbands of Joofie Crystalle in By The Light of the Asteroid. Did you two ever watch By The Light of the Asteroid?” 

“Was that the one with the twins?” the Doctor asked. The Master scoffed. 

“I thought she only had three husbands. What was wrong with Tamerah?” The Master knew he’d made a mistake when the eyes of the other three all lit up. Oh no, I have to actually make conversation now.  

“He went and cheated on her!” The woman leaned forward in her seat, pointing the buffalo wing she was eating at him. “With her sister!” 

The Master sat back, eyes wide. Okay, maybe he was a little invested. He wondered if he could blame that on the regeneration energy too, if this was brought up again later. “No. Volie or Klumilla?” 

“Volie! Can you believe that?” 

“What? But she’s hideous! Klumilla I could at least kind of understand.” 

He felt the Doctor’s eyes on him and turned to give him a questioning look. The Doctor shrugged and smiled. 

“Just glad to see you’re enjoying yourself,” the Doctor said, voice soft. 

If I don’t like travelling with you, I leave and you don’t stop me.  

Cheeky bastard. It hadn’t even been a full half hour. 

“Give it time,” he grumbled back, excited expression dropping away. 

“I’d be enjoying my self more if those folks over there would shut up,” the woman scowled over the Doctor’s shoulder, her distraction gone now that the Master’s attention was off her. 

“They seem to think we should be stuck in steerage,” the man added. 

The Doctor glanced behind him and hummed as if pondering something. “Well, in the interest of having a good time…” 

The Master caught him slipping his sonic screwdriver out of his coat pocket and carefully kept his eyes forward, even when he heard the cork pop out of the champagne bottle and more rich men getting upset about their suits. Cheeky bastard. Purple cowboy couple both gaped at him. 

“We like you two,” the woman said with a smile. 

“We do.” The man leaned over to shake both their hands. “I’m Morvin Van Hoff. This is my good woman, Foon.” 

“Foon!” the Doctor exclaimed, delighted by the name. “Hello, I’m the Doctor. This is Harry.” 

“Oh, I’m going to need a doctor, time I’ve finished with that buffet. Have a buffalo wing,” Foon gestured to the bowl of them in the middle of the table. “They must be enormous, these buffalo. So many wings.” 

The Master used a napkin to pick one up without getting his glove dirty and turned it around in his hand to inspect it. Did buffalo have wings? He couldn’t say he’d ever seen one, so he wasn’t quite sure. The overhead speaker crackled to life, distracting him from his buffalo thoughts. 

“ Attention please. Shore leave tickets Red Six Seven now activated. Red Six Seven. ” 

“Red Six Seven!” Foon patted at her pockets and after a moment both her and Morvin produced red tickets. “That’s us. Are you Red Six Seven?” She looked between them expectantly. 

Shore leave. Going back to Earth. The Doctor wouldn’t trust him there, and the Master didn’t want to be seen there. Especially at Christmas, it would be so crowded. They shared a look. 

“Nah, but we’ll come see you off.” The Doctor stood, bringing the Master with him.  

“Oooh, we’re going to see Earth!” Foon clapped her hands and a big smile spread across her face, mirrored by her husband. “I’m so excited!” 

“It’s not—” the Master started, only to be cut off by the Doctor’s hand on his mouth. 

“It’s wonderful, especially at Christmas,” he interjected. “You’ll love it.” 

The Master rolled his eyes. 

The Doctor and Morvin chatted about Earth while the Master listened to Foon trying to summarise everything that he’d missed on Asteroid before they got to the reception area. She didn’t get much in so she promised to continue catching him up when her and Morvin got back up to the ship. The blonde waitress bustled over to where the Doctor and the Master stood off to the side, two champagne flutes in hand.  

“Got you those drinks,” she said with a smile, handing one each to the Time Lords. The Master sniffed his before taking a sip, then grimaced. It was far too sweet. The waitress didn’t seem to notice, eyes trained on the Doctor. 

“I got you a treat,” the Doctor leaned down to tell her. He slipped his psychic paper out of his inner coat pocket and into her hand. He gestured to a man in a tweed suit handing out teleport bracelets. “Go over there, open that, show him. Tell him you’re Red Six Seven.” 

She looked between the paper and him, eyes wide. “I can’t! I’ll get the sack!” 

“Brand new sky.” He raised an eyebrow at her. The Master had to assume this was in reference to whatever they’d been talking about earlier.  

“Oh, thank you!” She looked like she was going to hug him before aborting the move and settling for a nod and a wide grin. She hurried over to get her bracelet and the Doctor watched with a smile on his face.  

He hadn’t stopped smiling since they got on the ship. It was jarring after the year they’d had together, and after how he’d looked on the TARDIS. How he’d looked pleading for the Master to stay. Some small part of the Master, the part that still considered the Doctor his closest friend, was happy to see him happy, even knowing it was only because they were around other people. 

“You never could resist a pretty girl,” the Master snarked. “Especially blondes . When was the last time you were blond?” 

“Four… five faces ago? Why?” 

“Just wondering.” 

The Doctor gave him an odd look, but was thankfully distracted by the historian with the teleport bracelets giving out incredibly incorrect information about Christmas, and a Zocci rushing over to join the shore leave party.  

The Master did some quick maths in his head. There were clearly a couple of faces he’d missed, because he was fairly certain the Doctor was referring to curly with the rainbow coat. Five faces ago, plus the regeneration he wasted on the Master, so he was on his twelfth life. One more and if he died after that he’d be out. The Master had already run through and extended his own regeneration cycle once before, he knew it could be done. He also knew the Doctor wouldn’t do it. 

“What are you smiling about?” the Doctor asked while he sauntered back over to the Master. He was always doing that; sauntering .  

“Just thought of something funny.” Like the fact that as soon as the Doctor gets rid of the drums for good, the Master only has to kill him twice to be rid of him for good. 

That small part of him tried to flare up, to say no. The Master squashed it back down before it could grab a hold of him. 

They made their way back into the dining hall. The Master tipped out his drink into a plant pot on the way. 

“So, what else can we do here? Make some more friends? ” The Master made air quotes around the last word and the Doctor rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, come on, you liked Foon. I could tell.” 

“I think you’re projecting, and can they stop with the Max Capricorn advertisement?” He turned to the screen next to him with a glare. “We’re already on the cruise, why does he need to advertise to people who have already given him money?” 

The Doctor squinted at the screen. “Yeah, it is a bit weird. D’you think anyone would notice if I turned them off?” 

“Probably, they’re all over the bloody place. Makes it impossible to think straight, especially with—” He froze for a second. He’d almost forgotten about the drums , they were so quiet and the room was so loud. He blinked a few times. The Doctor looked at him expectantly. “I… I forgot until I thought about them again, how does that…?” 

“That signal blocker’s good, innit?” The Doctor’s smile was smug. The Master scowled. 

“Please, if I still had my TARDIS, I could do the same thing. Don’t act like you did something special.” 

“Oi! I still had to figure out how to do it, that favour I asked of the TARDIS was just to see if she’d let me.” 

“My point stands.” 

“Oh, whatever.” The Doctor rolled his eyes. 

There was the sound of the teleport bracelets from back in the reception area not even a few minutes after everyone had gone down. The two Time Lords shared a frown and headed back to investigate. 

“Right, sorry about that, everyone,” the man in the tweed suit said. “Bit of a problem. If I could have your bracelets.” 

A steward clapped his hands to get the rooms attention. “Apologies, ladies and gentlemen, and Bannakaffalatta. We seem to have suffered a slight power fluctuation. You may return to the festivities, and free drinks will be provided on behalf of Max Capricorn Cruise liners.” 

“The Host acting up, and now this.” The Doctor spoke as if he was talking to himself. “Wonder what’s going on here.” 

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to get involved. We should leave before this ship blows up or something.” 

“Doctor!” the waitress called out. She made her way over to them, psychic paper in hand and ready to hand back to him.  

“Astrid! How was it?” The Doctor went from curious mode to social mode like a light switch. The Master didn’t bother hiding his scowl. 

If something did go wrong with the ship and the two of them got killed right after the Doctor had given one of his own lives for the Master, he was never going to let him live it down. 

“It was wonderful! There weren’t nearly as many people as you said, only a lovely little old man selling newspapers. I didn’t get to ask him anything before we were brought back up, though.” She looked a bit disappointed at that before perking up again. “Still, an alien street! Under an alien sky! Thank you so much for letting me experience that, Doctor!” This time she did pull him into a hug, which he laughed and gladly returned.  

The Master stepped back, which for whatever reason prompted Astrid to pull out of the embrace. She glanced at him, then back to the Doctor, then sheepishly apologised before excusing herself to go back to work. She was gone before the Master could ask what that reaction was about. As soon as she was lost in the crowd the Master watched curious mode switch back on. 

“I’m going to see if I can find out what’s going on with this ship,” the Doctor said, voice hushed. “Join me?” He held out his elbow like he was expecting the Master to link their arms together. 

“Do I have a choice?” 

“Could always go wait in the TARDIS.” 

The Master hadn’t gotten all dolled up just go sit in the ship while the Doctor did who-knows-what for who-knows-how-long. “Lead the way,” he said, giving the Doctor a sardonic smile and bow. The Doctor grinned and dropped his arm, taking the Master’s hand instead. 

He led them over to one of the screens that was nearby a window and looping that same video again and again. He let go of the Master’s hand and put on a pair of glasses to work at getting the screen to swing open. He didn’t even need the glasses. The Master stood nearby and made sure nobody was paying too much attention. 

“What are you doing?” he leaned over and whispered. The Doctor didn’t respond for a second, just poked his screwdriver around in the electronics behind the screen. 

“Seeing if I can— a-ha!” 

The screen switched images, now showing the ships status. There was a radar showing the ship and three blinking dots heading their way. Below that was a large, red warning that said— 

“The shields are offline,” the Master read out. The Doctor circled around him to get a better look out the window. The Master looked too and his eyes went wide. “Are those…?” 

“Meteoroids,” the Doctor finished. “We have to warn everyone.” 

“Can’t we just leave?” the Master looked back over the room. “What will warning them do besides make them panic?” His attempt to appeal more to the Doctor’s sensibilities only earned him a glare. 

The Doctor rounded back to the screen to do who knows what else, bumping into the Master as he did and almost knocking him over. 

“I’m wearing heels. You can’t be flailing around like that, you ass!” 

He was ignored in favour of the Doctor trying to contact the bridge through the electronics. The Master contemplated waiting in the TARDIS after all, if only to save his ankles. He spotted Foon and Morvin across the room and wondered if he could sneak away from the Doctor to get some more Asteroid talk in with them before they died. Just as he was about to make his escape he and the Doctor were both cornered by two of the stewards. 

“Come with us, sirs.” One of the stewards grabbed onto the Doctor’s arm and made to drag him away from the screen. 

“Hey!” The Master pushed the steward but he didn’t let go. 

“You’re both causing a disturbance, and I’m going to need you to—” 

“Those bloody rocks heading straight for us are going to cause more of a— get your filthy hands off of me!”

The other man had taken a hold of him, tighter than the Doctor was being held and with his arms pinned behind his back. He’d clearly been identified as more of a threat. He took a small amount of pride in that fact. The Master tried to twist himself so he could bite the taller man holding onto him but he couldn’t get the right angle for it and ended up writhing around gnashing his teeth like a caged dog. 

“You’ve got a rock storm heading for this ship and the shields are down!” the Doctor hissed, gaining the attention of a couple of nearby passengers. He was going along in a much calmer manner than the other Time Lord, though the Master could feel his anger and panic crackling in the air. 

The Master wished the Doctor had given him back his laser screwdriver, he’d have them free by now. With some casualties. 

The Doctor managed to break free by jabbing his pointy elbows back into the escorts ribs and jumping away. He left the Master to handle himself and bolted over to the stage to yank the microphone away from where a woman was singing some Christmas song. The Master gave up and threw his head back in an attempt to knock out his own escort. He managed to get free and gave himself a headache in the process, as well as almost losing his balance because of those damn heels again. When they were back on the TARDIS he was going to practice running in them. 

“Everyone, listen to me! This is an emergency! Get to the lifeb—” 

A Host placed its hand over the Doctor’s mouth, silencing him and beginning to drag him away again. The Master growled and bent down to yank off one of his shoes. He wasn’t having the Doctor be taken away when he was still bio-locked out of the TARDIS controls and couldn’t fly her to safety. He threw the shoe at the Host. The heel of it lodged itself right in the Hosts eye, causing it to spasm before going limp and letting the Doctor go. The Doctor grinned at him. The Master grimaced back. 

He hopped over to retrieve his shoe while the Doctor directed the other passengers to look out the window at the oncoming meteoroids. The Master realised he probably would’ve been better off in flats, though the sharp heel had come in handy this once. When he yanked it out he managed to get a better look at the now defunct Host. Its halo was ever so slightly crooked, like it had come loose on the spokes that held it up when his shoe had hit it. Or like it was removable. 

He heard the sound of glass breaking for the second time that night and turned around to see a small hole in the window. 

Oxygen membrane holding. Oxygen membrane holding.  

The man who had earlier been complaining about his antique suit frantically looked between something on the ground and a nearby Host before going over to it. The Master took off his second shoe and looped the straps around his wrist, figuring he was going to have to run soon if the way everyone was panicking was any indication. He didn’t see the Doctor anywhere. 

“You there, has anyone checked the external shielding?” the man asked the Host. The Master scanned the room for any sign of that ridiculous spiky brown hair. 

“ Information: You are all going to die. ” 

Well. That didn’t sound good.  

“Harry!” 

He turned at the sound of his name and saw Foon waving him over to the reception area. He jumped down off the stage and hurried his way over to her. 

“The steward’s taken the Doctor below deck, come on!” she said, slightly breathless. “Figured you’d want to stick with him.” 

“Thank you.” He nodded to her once and followed her lead. Someone else was following them. A glance back told him it was antique suit man again. The Master ignored him. 

They entered a maintenance corridor to find the Doctor, the head steward, and a small group all arguing with each other. The Master yanked the steward back by his collar, cutting off his next argument. He got right in the man’s face, pulling him the few inches down so they were on the same level. 

“Me and that gentleman in the dusty old suit over there just watched a rock fly through one of the windows in the dining hall, and heard a Host say everyone was going to die ,” the Master growled. “If you don’t want your worthless little life to end faster , listen to the bloody Doctor.” 

“Hey, what’s wrong with my s—” 

BANG  

The room filled with fire and the walls started caving in as a meteoroid found its mark, crashing into the side of the ship. The floor was shaking and everyone was sent tumbling down and slamming into walls, scrambling to at least stay upright if nothing else. The Master dropped his shoes when he was thrown against one of the machines in the chaos, and that was all his mind latched onto even when he hit his head and brought back his headache. 

He was still dizzy even when the shaking creaked to a stop. Everyone else in the room was mumbling and asking each other if they were okay, wondering what had happened. The Master sat quietly slumped against the machine he’d fallen into. He brought his hand up to gingerly touch the spot where he’d hit his head. His fingers came away wet with deep red-orange blood that darkened the silk of his gloves. He groaned at both the pain and the insane thought that now his outfit was ruined. 

Then everyone was yelling and the Master’s headache was getting worse and he kind of just wanted to lay down. He knew he was in a dress, though, so maybe that was a bad idea. He could use his shawl as a blanket. As soon as he moved his head throbbed and he let out a sharp hiss, finally catching the Doctor’s attention. 

“Harry!” He was knelt in front of him within seconds, eyes filled with worry. He brought out his sonic to use as a light to inspect the Master’s head wound. He placed a hand on the Master’s cheek to keep him steady and the Master found himself leaning into it, almost wanting to use it as a pillow. 

“Not my name.” 

“It is tonight. I think this cut looks worse than it is, but you might have a concussion.” The Doctor shined the light in his eyes and his brow only furrowed further. 

“Where are my shoes?” the Master asked. He remembered he dropped them and he hoped he hadn’t lost them. He liked those shoes. He tried to lean around the Doctor to see if he could see them on the ground anywhere but he was held in place. 

“Stay still for a few minutes until your head heals, you idiot.” 

The Master looked down at his lap and screwed up his nose, but stayed put. The slit in his dress was exposing a dangerous amount of his hip, so he pulled the fabric back over. 

“A few minutes?” Astrid asked, astonished. “You said he has a concussion! That’ll take days to heal!” 

“Not for him.” The Doctor shook his head. “It’s, uh, part of something our species can do.” 

It took a fizzing sensation around where his wound was for the Master to remember that he was still in the midst of the regeneration process. He blinked a few times in an effort to clear his vision. For one strange second the Doctor’s dark brown eyes seemed to lighten and turn an odd hazel-blue, while everything else turned red and silver and sort of fluttery. It went away with another blink. He wrote it off as a weird trick of both the light and his head injury. 

“Bannakaffalatta has Harry’s shoes!” The Zocci hobbled over with the heels in hand and gave them to the Master, who took them back gratefully. The heel on one of them was almost snapped off and they were a bit scuffed from being thrown around but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be glued back and polished away. 

“Thank you, little cactus man.” The Master held the shoes close to his chest. Bannakaffalatta was put off by the cactus comment until Astrid apologised for the Master. 

“He’s injured, he probably doesn’t know what he’s saying,” she assured. 

“No, no, he would’ve said that anyway,” the Doctor said. “Honestly it’s the thank you that was weird.” 

“Doctor has terrible taste in men.” Bannakaffalatta sniffed and walked away. The Master frowned after him. What was that supposed to mean? 

“Right,” the steward said, getting everyone’s attention. “I am going to go ascertain the exact nature of the current situation. If you would all stay here, please.” He headed over to a hatch in the wall and the Doctor scrambled to his feet. 

“Wait, don’t open that!” he called out, but it was too late. The Master hooked his arm around a nearby pipe and held on tight to both it and his shoes. The door swung open to reveal nothing but stars and debris, and then the body of the steward as he was sucked out into open space. 

There was more screaming and yelling and headache as everyone left held on tight to whatever they could. The Master could hear the whirring of the sonic underneath everything, and then something about an oxygen shield, and then everything went still again. 

“Everyone alright? Astrid?” the Doctor asked, breathless. She called back an affirmative. “Foon? Morvin? Mister Copper? Harry? Bannakaffalatta?” 

Everyone groaned and mumbled back that they were okay too. The Master slowly wobbled to his feet. Morvin moved in to try and help but the Master waved him off, using the wall to steady himself instead. His head was feeling a bit clearer and he didn’t feel any more blood dripping down his face so he got the sense that he was almost healed anyway. 

“You, what was your name?” the Doctor asked antique suit man. 

He brushed dust off himself with a look of disgust. “Rickston Slade.” 

“You alright?” 

“No thanks to that idiot.” Rickston jerked his head towards the hatch the steward had opened. 

“The steward just died. ” Astrid looked aghast at the man. He turned to scowl at her. 

“Then he’s a dead idiot.” 

“It was his stupidity that killed him,” the Master added. “I’ve got no sympathy for him.” 

Astrid gasped and looked between the two of them. Her eyes were wide and the corners of her lips pulled down. She almost looked as though she was going to cry. 

“Alright, just calm down.” The Doctor cut through whatever retort she was about to make. “Everyone just stay still, hold on.” 

He took the Master’s hand again and turned to head further into the maintenance corridor. Astrid followed after them, though was very obvious in keeping a slight distance from the Master. 

“What happened? How come the shields were down?” she asked. 

The Doctor and the Master looked out over the floating bodies and debris that blocked their view of Earth. The Master spotted someone who couldn’t have been older than fifteen, face frozen in their final look of terror before they were jettisoned out into space. A shiver ran down his spine. 

“I don’t think it was an accident,” the Doctor said. There was a graveness to his voice that had the Master looking up at him. He kept his eyes on the carnage outside their pocket of safety. The Master could tell they’d seen the same thing. 

In the silence that followed that declaration he realised it wasn’t just the almost-healed injury that was making his head throb. There was a slow, rising pounding sound coming up from his subconscious. 

“Doctor. Where was the TARDIS?” The Master instinctively brought a hand up to his head in a vain effort to block out the sound. “The—” He squeezed his eyes shut. It was so much louder now, or at least felt like it was after how quiet it had been. He couldn’t hear whatever the Doctor said next, only caught Astrid asking what was wrong. “It’s so loud …” 

“The TARDIS is drifting down to Earth, we must be out of range of the telepathic field,” the Doctor explained, not really answering Astrid’s question. The Master struggled to listen. “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to deal with it until we can get back to her.” 

“Of course I can’t even get an hour of peace. Just my bloody luck.” 

“Hopefully we can get out of here quick then, eh? Astrid, can you keep an eye on him? I’m going to see if I can contact the bridge.” 

“Yes, because that worked so well the last time.” 

“Oh, sit back down, Grumpy.”  

The Master and Astrid moved away from the hole in the side of the ship while the Doctor went off to find a line to the bridge. They sat down back in the corridor they’d come from a bit away from everyone else. Astrid kept a good half metre of space between them. 

The Master scoffed. “I don’t bite, Blondie.” 

“It’s Astrid. What’s wrong with you, anyway? What was that about a telepathic field?” 

He debated telling her. She didn’t need to know, and she was already apprehensive around him. Then again, he wasn’t a politician anymore so he didn’t need to care what people thought of him. She could think he was as crazy as she liked. 

“I have— there’s these drums, in my head. Repeating pattern of just…” He tapped it out on the ground in time with the beat. “Constant, neverending drums. For almost my whole life. The Doctor’s ship has a way to sort of muffle it.” 

“Oh, that must be awful to live with!” Astrid reached over to pat his hand. “No wonder you’re a bit cranky.” 

The Master chuckled quietly but otherwise didn’t reply. 

He remembered just a year ago when he’d gladly fallen into the embrace of the madness that the drums had brought. When every plan he’d made had fallen perfectly into place and he finally had everything he’d ever wanted—total control, over both the Doctor and everything the Doctor loved and cared for.  

He remembered how much he’d hated it. The boredom once his goal had been reached and the novelty had worn off. The frustration that he couldn’t track down Martha, that Jack couldn’t bother staying dead, that even after everything he’d done it wasn’t perfect and he wasn’t happy. He had been just a little relieved when he’d felt that bullet pierce through him. When he got to see the Doctor cry one last time. It was peaceful. And then he woke up. 

The room filled with voices again before being silenced by the Doctor. 

“First thing’s first. One. We are going to climb through this ship. B. No, two. We’re going to reach the bridge. Three. Or C. We’re going to save the Titanic. And, coming in a very low four, or D, or that little iv they put in brackets they use in footnotes, find out why this happened.” He clapped his hands. “Right then, follow me! Harry, Astrid, come on.” 

The Master found himself regretting going with Harry. 

“Hang on a minute!” Rickston said with an indignant frown. “Who put you in charge? And who the hell are you, anyway?” 

The Master pushed himself back to his feet and watched the Doctor stand up to his full height. He fixed Rickston with a glare. 

“I’m the Doctor. I’m a Time Lord. I’m from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous. I’m nine-hundred-and-three years old and I’m the man who’s going to save your lives and all six billion people on the planet below.” He paused for dramatic effect. The room was hushed. “You got a problem with that?” 

Rickston, thoroughly put in his place, shook his head. “No.” 

“In that case, allons-y!” 

It didn’t take long for them to find a stairwell to another part of the ship. Unfortunately it was very much blocked off. The Doctor instructed everyone to follow him and began moving things aside to clear the way. The Master stayed near the back to let everyone else do the work. He didn’t want to get his hands any dirtier than they already were.

“Rather ironic, but this is very much in the spirit of Christmas,” Mister Copper said. “It’s a festival of violence. They say human beings only survive depending on whether they’ve been good or bad. It’s barbaric!” 

“Were you born stupid, or did you have to work at it?” the Master sneered. “None of that is true. It’s just a silly holiday where they all… give each other presents and sing annoying songs about reindeer and peace .” 

Mister Copper turned to him. “Excuse me, I have a degree—” 

“I’ve lived there. You’re just completely wrong and it’s irritating me.” 

“Didn’t know you were such a Christmas enthusiast, Harry.” The Doctor smirked down at him from where he was further up the stairs. 

“I’m not. Do you know how excruciating Christmas dinner with Lucy’s family was? I had to be so nice to everyone. I wish it actually was a festival of violence because then I’d have had an excuse.” 

Everyone except the Doctor turned to give him confused and concerned looks. The Doctor, for his part, just looked tired. 

“What?” 

“Let’s just keep going.” The Doctor turned back to the stairs and moved a sheet of metal out of the road. “Ooh, we’ve got a Host! Strength of ten. If we can mend it, we can use it to fix the rubble.” 

The Master craned his neck up to look at it. “Don’t.” 

The Doctor turned to him with a frown. “What? Why?” 

“Did you not hear what I said earlier?” The Master frowned. “One of those things told Dusty over here that everyone was going to die. You said yourself they could all be run from the same server, what if they’re related to whatever caused those rocks to hit the ship?” 

The Doctor hummed and pursed his lips. 

“Wait, hang on, who are you calling dusty? ” Rickston demanded. The Master ignored him. 

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to chance it with the robots. It’s safer to not risk it and get through the rubble ourselves.” 

The Doctor gave him an odd look, then looked back down at the Host. “You might have a point there…” 

“And here was me hoping we’d get to show off our robotics skills,” Foon said with a laugh. 

“I’m sure there’ll be another opportunity. Come on, let’s keep moving.” 

The Doctor climbed over the Host with Astrid and Bannakaffalatta following close behind. He only got a few steps before he stopped again. 

“It’s blocked!” Astrid said. 

“Thank you for stating the obvious.” The Master rolled his eyes. 

“So, what do we do?” the Doctor asked Astrid in the same tone as a teacher asking a student a maths problem. 

“We shift it,” she replied. The Doctor smiled at her. 

“That’s the attitude.” He turned to call back down the stairs. “Rickston, Mister Copper, and you, Bannakaffalatta. Look, can I just call you Banna? it’s going to save a lot of time.” 

The Zocci shook his head. “No. Bannakaffalatta.” 

The Doctor sighed. “Alright then, Bannakaffalatta. There’s a gap in the middle, see if you can get through.” 

“Easy. Good.” He made to climb through. Just as he did the ship shook again. Dust and small bits of debris showered down from above them. The Master lamented the amount of time it was probably going to take to get all the dust out of his shawl. When everything settled again the Master realised he’d grabbed onto Foon’s arm to keep both of them steady and quickly let go. She gave him a small smile. 

“This whole thing could come crashing down any minute!” Rickston huffed. 

“Oh, Rickston, I forgot. Did you get that message?” the Doctor asked. He was peering through the rubble to see if Bannakaffalatta was safe. 

“No. What message?” 

“Shut up!” The Doctor turned to him with a sharp look in his eyes. Rickston stood down and the Master laughed. 

“Bannakaffalatta made it!” the Zocci called out. Astrid moved forward next. 

“I’m small enough, I can make it through.” 

“Careful,” the Doctor warned. The Master snorted at the fact that he was very carefully not looking up her skirt, keeping his eyes towards the back of her head and then the ceiling. 

“I’m fine.” 

Once she was through, Rickston decided it was a good idea to open his mouth again. “Thing is, how are Mr and Mrs Fatso going to get through that gap?” 

“We make the gap bigger. So start.” If looks could kill, the one the Doctor gave Rickston would’ve had him dead on the ground. 

“I’m more worried about how your big head is going to fit through.” The Master smacked Rickston on the back of said head with his shoes. Rickston whirled around to fix him with his own death stare. 

“Do that again and you will be very sorry.” 

“What are you going to do? Bore me to death with talk about how rich you are? I was a politician, I’m sure I can handle it.” 

“Oh, Harry, stop,” Morvin said, placing a hand on his arm. “We’re alright, you don’t need to defend us.” 

He hadn’t even realised that’s what he was doing. He’d just burred up like a dog defending its owners. He sighed and sent another glare Rickston’s way, but otherwise let it go. He ignored the look the Doctor sent him. It was impossible to read anyway. 

He’d become strangely attached to the married couple. He mostly put it down to them being plain fun to talk to. They were also genuinely kind without wanting anything from him, which was a nice change after the whole rich handsome politician shtick he’d had going on. Even the Doctor seemed to only want him because he was the only other Time Lord left and he thought he could fix him. The last time he could remember someone just liking him he was still Professor Yana. That wasn’t really him, though. 

“What’s going on up there?” the Doctor called up to Astrid and Bannakaffalatta. They’d been talking in hushed voices that nobody below could make out. 

“I think Bannakaffalatta and I just got engaged!” Astrid said back with an audible smile. 

The Master was getting frustrated by how long it was taking to clear things away, so he stepped up beside Mister Copper to work on clearing what they could while the Doctor checked in with the bridge on a nearby terminal. The midshipman sounded panicked, saying that life signs were blinking out all over the ship. The Master turned to the Doctor when he said it was the Host doing it. The Doctor looked back, eyebrows raised high. 

“You might’ve saved our lives, Harry.” 

The Master pursed his lips. “I was only trying to save myself.” 

The Doctor sighed and shook his head, then went back to talking to the midshipman. The Master turned back too. He took off his gloves, shoving them into the toes of one of his shoes so they wouldn’t get too dirty while he worked on moving rubble. He took the heavier things that Mister Copper struggled with and Morvin shuffled up to help too. Foon seemed unsure of what to do, with there not being enough room for her to help, so the Master got her back on talking about By The Light of the Asteroid. Rickston stood around doing nothing, but as soon as the gap was wide enough he pushed to be the first one through. 

“Asshole,” the Master mumbled after him. 

He turned back once he was through the gap and looked at the Master incredulously. “What did you just say to me?” 

“I said you’re an asshole.” 

“I’m not the one who threatened to kill the steward earlier!” 

“I’m severely mentally unstable and my entire body is currently in the process of resetting itself after my ex wife shot me and that dickhead over there decided it’d be a good idea to save my life.” He jabbed his thumb back at the Doctor, who looked somewhat constipated. “What’s your excuse?”  

“Oh, good, I’m climbing through a broken ship filled with killer robots, and now I’m stuck with a crazy person .” Rickston threw his hands up in the air. 

“If it’s any consolation I’m not exactly happy to be here either!” 

“Shut up!” the Doctor yelled. He was finally fed up. “Harry, I know Rickston is a twat, but please just be civil until we can get out of here. You’re a politician, use that.” 

“No offence, but since when do they let mentally unstable people be politicians?” Morvin asked with a small frown. 

The Master blinked. “Have you ever met a politician?”

Once they were all upstairs the Master found a corner to sit in. Meanwhile, everyone else dug into the food they found there and the Doctor connected to a new terminal to see if he could find where the Host were being controlled from. He sat his shoes aside on the ground and wrapped his shawl around himself like a blanket. He could smell the artron energy on it from its time spent in the TARDIS and found it strangely comforting. It smelled like home. 

The ship itself was fairly cool since the heating was slowly dying. It wasn’t at a dangerous level for the Stovians, just a comfortable level for the Time Lords. As long as the engines stayed running and they didn’t run into any of the Host, they’d all be fine. 

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the sounds of the room. Foon and Morvin laughing over their vone bill, Mister Copper telling the Doctor and Astrid about his fake degree. In the quiet, though, with nothing to distract him and nobody to talk to, the drums grew louder again. He squeezed his eyelids shut tighter as if that would block them out. 

He didn’t notice that he’d curled in on himself, palms pressing against his ears and blunt nails digging into his scalp, until he felt the Doctor’s own hands prying them away. The Master was panting and his throat hurt and he figured out that he’d been screaming. The Doctor was whispering something that the Master couldn’t hear. 

There was a loud noise that broke through the drums and then he was being hauled to his feet and told to run. He clung tight to the Doctor’s hand and ran with him right up until they stopped in a room that was very, very warm. 

He didn’t know what anyone was saying. There was a thin beam over a pit of fire, maybe the engines? And he got the impression they’d have to walk across. The soles of his bare feet were already burning and it was hard just to stand on the metal catwalk near the engines, forget walking over them. He shifted back and forth on his feet in an effort to ease his discomfort. 

Then he saw Morvin about to slip over the edge. It wasn’t even half a second before he reacted, reaching out to yank him away from his death and back to relative safety. The Doctor and Foon’s hands joined his and they all managed to get him back on solid ground together. The drums were quieter again, the adrenaline having jolted his system enough to bring him mostly back into focus. He glanced up to see Rickston making his way across the beam, and then falling over onto it when the room shook. 

He felt cool hands on his face and a gentle voice in his mind before he even caught the Doctor’s eyes. 

“Are you alright? ” Hearing the words in Gallifreyan instead of Stovian was like a balm in and of itself. 

“Yes, they’re getting quieter now. Can you hear them, like this?” 

The Doctor was quiet for a second. “Yes, barely. They’re not loud at all for me, likely because of my connection to the TARDIS. Do you think you can get across this beam? The sooner we get to the bridge, the sooner we can get back to the ship.” 

The Master nodded this time instead of sending a thought back. The drums had drifted into the background and he was fully in the moment again. He became aware that the Doctor had been talking aloud to the others even as he’d been projecting his thoughts to him, which made him crack a weak smile. 

“Your telepathy has gotten better,” the Master whispered. 

“More like my multi-tasking has. It happens when you have to fly a TARDIS on your own for a few hundred years. Now come on, the Host are getting closer.” His hands dropped away from the Master’s psy-points and one slipped back down so their hands were clasped together again. 

The Doctor ushered everyone else across first, though the Van Hoffs volunteered to go last even though the Host had begun banging on the door they’d entered through. The Doctor repeated to everyone to go slow and steady but that didn’t stop the beam from creaking and shifting under the weight of five people.  

Rickston, Bannakaffalatta, and Astrid were all across when the banging abruptly stopped. 

“Are they gone?” Astrid asked after a beat of silence.  

“Why would they give up?” the Doctor turned back to look at the door. 

“Never mind that, keep coming!” Rickston demanded. The Master begrudgingly agreed with him—his feet were melting on this metal beam. He was afraid to keep shifting from foot to foot in case his weight bent something and they fell to their deaths. 

“Doctor, we can figure out the why when we’re not standing over a pit of fire,” he hissed. “Mr and Mrs Van Hoff still have to get across and they can’t whilst we’re just standing here.” 

“I’m afraid we’ve forgotten one of the traditions of Christmas…” Mister Copper was looking up. The Master followed his eye and his hearts skipped two beats. “Angels have wings!” 

Several Host floated down to just above eye level, settling into a circle around the three people still on the bridge. The Master squeezed the Doctor’s hand and found that he wasn’t fond of the idea of dying again. He didn’t even know if he would be able to regenerate so soon after the last one. 

One of the Host pinged. “Information: Kill.” 

“Arm yourselves, all of you!” the Doctor yelled. Everyone started grabbing whatever they could get their hands on to use as a weapon. The Master realised he didn’t even have his shoes anymore, so couldn’t do the same trick he’d done earlier. 

“Now would’ve been a really good time to have my laser screwdriver,” he muttered, more to himself than to the Doctor, while he ripped a piece of loose piping off the beam. 

The Doctor tried using his sonic on a Host. When that failed he made a frustrated noise and grabbed his own bit of pipe. The Host each took the halos off their heads and began throwing them at the members of their little party like frisbees. They were easy to bat away with the pipes up until the point where they just kept coming back.  

The Doctor screamed when one slashed him across the arm. Mister Copper did the same when another hit him in the side. The Master just barely dodged one on a collision course with his head. They were overwhelmed and couldn’t keep fighting them off forever. 

“I can’t,” Astrid cried. 

“Bannakaffalatta stop!” the Zocci’s voice rang through the room. He looked down to where Astrid was kneeling on the ground. “Bannakaffalatta proud.” She looked back up at him. The Master couldn’t see her expression from where he was. He also wasn’t looking too hard, he had halos to worry about. “Bannakaffalatta… cyborg!” 

He ripped his shirt open and a blue light burst forth from his chest. The Master looked away, keeping his eye on the Hosts, and watched as they all short circuited and fell out of the air. They plummeted down into the fiery pit below except one, which landed on the beam behind the Master. 

“Electromagnetic pulse took out the robotics.” The Doctor sounded impressed looking over the remaining fallen angel. He whirled back to the Zocci. “Oh, Bannakaffalatta, that was brilliant!” 

Bannakaffalatta stumbled a bit before collapsing to the ground. Astrid gasped and ran over to kneel at his side. The Master turned away to check on the Van Hoffs—they were huddled against the wall and holding each other tight. When he caught their eyes they gave him matching smiles and he sent one back. He looked down at the Host. His smile dropped. 

“Doctor.” He reached behind him to tap the uninjured part of the Doctor’s arm. “Doctor.” 

“Wh—?” 

“Information: Reboot.” 

Everyone started talking over each other, trying to figure out what to do. The Master got his bit of pipe ready to knock the Host down into the engines. He was stopped by the Doctor’s hand on his arm. 

“Hang on, hang on.” The Doctor frantically shuffled them so that he was between the Master and the Host. The Master took that as his opportunity to get to the other side of the beam with the other four. “Override! Loophole! Security protocol ten!” 

“What are you doing, you idiot?” the Master yelled over to him. 

“Trying to get more information!” the Doctor yelled back without turning around. “Security protocol six six six.” The Host kept moving, getting ready to throw its fallen halo. “Uh, twenty-one. Four, five, six, seven, eight. I don’t know, forty-two?” 

The Master sighed. They were all going to die. 

“One!”  

At that the Host paused and the Doctor’s shoulders slumped with relief. The Master noticed he still held his injured arm a bit stiff. 

“Information: State request.” 

“Good.” The Doctor ran his hand back through his hair. “Right. You’ve been ordered to kill the survivors, but why?” 

“Information: No witnesses.” 

“But this ship’s going to fall on the Earth and kill everyone. The human race have nothing to do with the Titanic, so that contravenes your orders, yes?” 

“Information: Incorrect.” 

The Master could almost hear the Doctor frown. “Why do you want to destroy the Earth?” 

“Information: It is the plan.” 

The Master caught movement behind the Host. Morvin and Foon were approaching, and Foon had a length of rope in her hands. He tilted his head at them, questioning, but Morvin only indicated for him to keep quiet. He nodded minutely in return. He could guess what their plan was and he found himself hoping it worked. 

“What plan?” The Doctor was sounding frustrated at this point. 

“Information: Protocol grants you only three questions. These three questions have been used.” 

“Well, you could’ve warned me!” The Doctor stepped back. The Master saw his head twitch to where Foon was standing on the far platform. The Host didn’t notice. 

“Information: Now you will die.” 

Before the Host could even lift its halo it was caught by Foon’s lasso. The rope was pulled tight around it and the Van Hoffs laughter echoed through the engine room. 

“We got you now!” Morvin yelled at the Host. “Now pull!” 

The Doctor stepped back further at the same time that Foon yanked back on the rope. The Host hardly budged except to struggle against the rope. Morvin joined his wife and they both pulled as hard as they could until they finally managed to get it to tip backwards and fall down the pit. The Doctor laughed. 

The Master wasn’t close enough to catch them this time when they lost balance. 

“Morvin! I’m gonna fall!” 

Foon slipped first, since she was closer to the edge. She let go of the rope just a second too late and the weight of the metal Host tipped her off balance. Morvin tried to catch her, to hold on and pull her back. He only ended up falling with her. They screamed the whole way down. 

“NO!” 

It took the Master a second to realise it was him that cried out. It took another to realise that Mister Copper had grabbed onto his arm to hold him back because he’d been running towards the edge. The Doctor had fallen to his knees and was reaching down over the side of the beam as if he could catch them, as if he could save them. They and the Host were already gone. Consumed by the fire below. 

The Doctor slowly stood back up, his breaths coming out heavy. He caught the Master’s gaze and seemed startled at what he saw there. The Master schooled his expression into one of apathy in spite of the sting in his hearts. 

It was weird . He hadn’t cared when Chantho died and he had known her for almost twenty years. He had even been the one to kill her. It was like when the Doctor revived him he had shoved some of his softhearted sympathy in with the regeneration energy. He could still feel it in his head, in his limbs, in his abdomen where Lucy had shot him. He hated it. He hated that it made him care when people died. Caring was the Doctor’s job. 

They all filed in to the next corridor and the Doctor wasted no time giving everyone jobs. Mister Copper was in charge of sending out an SOS, Astrid got the EMP transmitter taken from Bannakaffalatta’s body, and for whatever reason he trusted Rickston with his sonic screwdriver. The Master stood aside and wrapped his shawl tight around himself again. He’d probably be better off without it, with all this running around they were doing. However, he had already lost his shoes and gloves and he wanted to keep at least some part of his outfit besides the dress. He made a mental note to wear something more sensible next time. 

He absently listened to the Doctor handing out instructions and wondered if he would get a fun little job. Probably not. He knew that he had only been allowed out so soon because the Doctor thought this would just be a quick night out, something to prove the Master wasn’t trapped. The Doctor didn’t trust him in the slightest, no matter how much the Master could see that he wanted to. It was a bit pathetic. 

“You’re talking like you’re not coming with us,” Astrid said. 

“There’s something down on deck thirty-one. Harry and I are going to find out what it is.” 

The Master perked up at his name. “We’re what?” 

The Doctor stood from where he was crouched with Astrid and turned to the Master. “On the map. I was looking over it to see what I could find, and there was an area on deck thirty-one of zero activity. No light, no heat, no sound. Nothing. I’m guessing that’s where the Host are being run from, and where we’ll find our answers.” 

“What if you meet a Host on the way there?” Astrid stood to ask, half charged EMP transmitter in hand.  

“Doctor, you wouldn’t have happened to bring—?” 

“No.” The Doctor pointed a finger at the Master. “And even if I had I wouldn’t give it to you.” 

The Master rolled his eyes. “What, worried I’ll make you all wrinkly again?” 

Astrid gave them both an odd look. “I don’t understand you two. What are you talking about?” 

The Doctor sighed. He turned to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. And we’ll be safe, okay? Trust me, I do this kind of thing a lot.” 

“What, running off into danger is a hobby of yours?” she asked as if she was joking but there was a note of concern under her voice. 

The Master said yes at the same time the Doctor said no. The Doctor turned to shoot him a look. He shrugged. 

“I’m a traveller. It’s what I do. Sometimes, though, the people in the places I travel to need help. And sometimes I know how to help, or I know I’m clever enough to figure it out, so I do. That’s all. So this is me, helping in whatever way I can to get to the bottom of this and to make sure that nobody else has to die tonight.” 

Astrid looked up into his eyes, her own wide, and nodded. “Okay. Just… find something to use as a weapon so you’re at least not completely unarmed, alright?” 

“Oh, I prefer to be unarmed.” The Doctor smiled at her. 

“I don’t,” the Master said, picking a metal pipe up off the ground. 

The ship shook with another explosion, this one shorter and far less violent but no less jarring. Once he’d regained his balance the Doctor turned to the terminal above the power point. 

“Mister Frame, you still with us?” he asked.  

“It’s the engines, sir. Final phase. There’s nothing more I can do, we’ve only got eight minutes left.” Mister Frame sounded like he was about to cry, or pass out, or possibly both. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get there,” the Doctor said with all the confidence of someone who definitely didn’t know how he was going to do that. 

“But the bridge is sealed off!” 

“Yeah, yeah, working on it. I’ll get there, Mister Frame, somehow.” He clicked off the terminal and turned back to address the room. “Astrid, finish charging that EMP transmitter, you’ll need it. Mister Copper, look after her. Astrid, look after him. Rickston… look after yourself. We’ll see you all again soon. Come on, Harry.” 

He turned to head back across the engine room. The Master groaned. 

“Wait, first, Dusty.” He turned to Rickston. “Give me your shoes.” 

“What?” Rickston took a step back and looked down at his loafers. “Why?” 

“Because I don’t have any and I don’t want to be running barefoot on hot metal any more than I’ve already had to.” He shifted the pipe in his hands. “So give me your shoes.” 

The shoes ended up being slightly too big on the Master but they were better than nothing. The journey back across the metal beam was much easier the second time around, especially with no Host around trying to kill them. He spared a thought for Foon and Morvin before swiftly brushing it away. There was no use mourning them. He didn’t even know them. 

They ran back through the room on the other side and down the stairs, over the defunct Hosts body, winding through hallways until they got to what seemed to be a kitchen. Filled with Host. The Master brandished his pipe and the Doctor picked up a nearby pot. Another Host approached from behind them, forcing them to stand back to back. The Master’s heartbeats picked up along with the drums. He swallowed and forced himself to focus on the robots. Now was not the time for that. 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait. Security protocol one!” the Doctor said. “Do you hear me? One!” 

The robots paused. 

“You’d better use those questions better this time,” the Master muttered.  

“Oi, shut it, you,” the Doctor hissed back. He turned back to the Host in front of him. “Okay, first question. What is on deck thirty-one?” 

“Information: Classified.” 

The Master turned to the Doctor. “Why would it just tell you?” 

“I said shut it. Okay, okay, think…” The Doctor blew out a long breath.  

“When you say you’ve been ordered to kill survivors, who is classified as a survivor?” the Master asked the Host. 

“Information: Passengers and staff aboard the Titanic.” 

“What are you—?” 

“We’re not passengers or staff.” 

The Doctor’s eyes widened. “So they…” 

“We’re stowaways,” the Master said, a bit louder so the robots could hear. “You should have bio-scans. You can scan us, there’ll be no record of either of us on this ship.” 

“We don’t exist, therefore they can’t kill us.” The Doctor broke into a wide grin and gestured around at the Host. “Ha! And stowaways should be arrested and taken to the nearest figure of authority, which I’d wager is on deck thirty-one. Final question.” He threw aside his pot. The Master tightened his grip on his metal pipe. 

“Are we right?” 

“Information: Correct.” 

The Doctor reached down to squeeze the Master’s hand. He was a bit too excited considering the situation they were in. “Brilliant! Now… take us to your leader. I’ve always wanted to say that.” 

“Oh, shut up. Let’s go.”

Deck thirty-one was just as much of a wreck as the rest of the ship. Defunct Host littered the floor and laid strapped down to various tables, half the room was on fire, and the Master was sure he could smell a dead body somewhere. He could see that the Doctor had smelt it too from the way he wrinkled his nose. 

“Bit of a fixer upper.” The Doctor spun in a circle to get a good look at the room. 

“Thinking of getting into house flipping on the side?” the Master joked. “Didn’t think renovation was your thing.” 

“Have you seen my TARDIS? She renovates herself all the time.” He clapped his hands and turned back to their escorts. “Come on then, Host with the most. This ultimate authority of yours, who is it?” 

“That’s her doing it though, not you.” 

“Point stands.” 

“It does not .” 

A pair of doors set into what looked like a large metal box on one side of the room opened. Some sort of fog poured out of the box. The Master could just barely see some blinking lights through it, attached to some sort of machine. 

“Ooh, that’s clever. That’s an Omnistate Impact Chamber,” the Doctor marvelled. “Indestructible. You can survive anything in there. Sit through a supernova. Or a shipwreck.” Whatever was inside the box began rolling itself out on noisy wheels. “Only one person on board could have the power and the money to hide themselves on board like this.” 

The Master groaned when the head attached to the contraption came into view. 

“And my name… is Max .” Max Capricorn flashed that sleazy smile of his and that accursed tooth flashed with it. 

“It really does that?” the Doctor muttered. He sounded a little bit impressed. 

Max wasn’t the humanoid he’d been shown as in the advertisements. All that was left of his original body was his head, attached to a large box and encased in glass. The glass case was also filled with tubes and wires that came out of the bottom of his neck and went down into the heart of his machine. One eye was milky white, completely blind. 

“Who the hell is this?” Max asked. The Master wondered if hitting him in the head hard enough would make it burst like a melon. 

“I’m the Doctor, hello! And this is Harry.” He gestured to the Master. 

“We’re still going with that? Right now?” The Master scowled.  

“Information: Stowaways.” 

“Kill them,” Max commanded. The Host standing by Max made to move towards them. The Master lifted his pipe and got ready to defend himself. The Doctor jolted and held out his arms as if that would stop the Host. 

“Hey, no, wait, not yet. Not now. We need to talk first.” 

Max squinted at him. “About what?” 

“Well, I dunno. Mostly I’m just wondering…” The Doctor gestured around the room. “Why?” 

Max regarded him silently for a moment. “Host, situation report.” 

“Information: The Titanic is still in orbit.” 

“What? We should’ve crashed by now!” Max fixed the Host with a glare as if it was that robot in particulars fault that his plan was failing. “Let me see, what’s gone wrong?” He rolled forward and the two Time Lords stepped aside so he could look down over the engines.  

Was that glass around his head shatterproof? More importantly, was the Master willing to risk trying anyway? 

“The engines are still running! They should have stopped!” Max was somewhere between shock and anger. 

“When they do, the Earth gets roasted. I don’t understand. What’s the Earth got to do with it?” the Doctor stepped up beside Max to ask. 

The Master stayed carefully behind Max. He was so close to the edge of the pit. It wouldn’t be too hard to just… 

“This interview is terminated.” Max turned around. The Master had missed his opportunity.  

The Doctor flapped his hands about and ran around in front of Max. While he ran over why Max had done what he had, the Master tried to formulate a plan. He’d been quiet. Nobody was paying attention to him, not even the Host. He wrapped his shawl around himself and slipped into the dark shadows nearby. They were in an industrial area, there had to be something he could use. 

He eyed over the defunct Host lying on the ground near his feet. Its halo was still attached, so he pulled it off. Running a finger along its edge he found that it was sharper than it looked. That wasn’t what he needed, though it was good to know. 

A siren started wailing. The Master took another halo and hurried back over so he could get a clear view of Max. Max commanded the Host to hold the Doctor back, giving the Master a direct line. He waited until Max was distracted ordering the Host to kill the Doctor before he threw the first halo. He didn’t want to draw attention too quickly in case it didn’t work. Thankfully the halo heated up as it flew through the air and lodged itself right into Max’s life support system. 

The Doctor snapped to look at the Master, who was grinning ear to ear. Max swore and tried to order the Host to kill the Master too, however he couldn’t get the words out before he was hit by another halo. The second one hit just below the glass casing, sending a huge crack through it. It cut off something, because then Max was gasping for air.  

“Doctor, grab one of the halos!” the Master yelled. The Doctor looked down at the Host’s arms holding him in place. 

“And how do you expect me to do that?” 

“Kill… them…” Max wheezed. 

The Master huffed, rolled his eyes, then ran over to jam his metal pipe into the eye of the Host that wasn’t holding the Doctor. It powered down and he pulled the halo off its head before it crumpled to the ground. The halo was then sent spinning towards the glass that protected Max’s head. It was strong, thick glass, but it was already cracked. It shattered and the metal ring sliced right through his terrified face with a squelching crack noise. The Master breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t going to die, and neither was his ride out of here. Max, on the other hand, had been somewhat reduced to a strange bloody stump. 

With his death the Host let the Doctor go and resumed their default prayer positions. The Doctor looked at what was left of Max like he was something on the bottom of his shoe. The Master looked at the carnage with pride. Then the Doctor turned to the Master and his expressions darkened into something grim. 

“Come on, we have to get to the bridge.” 

Titanic falling. Voyage terminated.   

The Master had gotten so caught up in killing Max he’d almost forgotten they were in a sinking ship. 

“How? It’s too far to just run there.” 

The Doctor eyed the two remaining Host. “With Max gone they’ve diverted to the next highest authority. Me. They can help us now.” He looked up. “The bridge should be just up there.” 

“Why are you the next highest authority?” The Master sneered. “And what exactly are you suggesting, here?” 

“I’m the one that’s been doing all the yelling. Grab a Host, come on.”

They crashed through the floor of the bridge moments later, one Host holding each of them like damsels in distress. The Master was left coughing up dust while the Doctor jumped right into action. He took control of the helm and directed the Master on which buttons to press while he chattered away with the midshipman. The stress was making the drums louder again. He pushed through—he only had a simple task. 

Titanic falling.  

“What’s your first name?” the Doctor asked Mister Frame. 

“Alonso.” 

Titanic falling.  

“You’re kidding me.” 

The Master side-eyed the Doctor. 

Alonso looked confused. “What?” 

“That’s something else I’ve always wanted to say.” The Doctor smiled, almost manic. “Allons-y, Alonso!” 

“Oh, for fucks sake,” the Master muttered. 

The Doctor spun the wheel and then there was too much noise . The Master stepped back from the controls and covered his ears, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Drums on top of alarm on top of fire and crashing and yelling — 

It was all far too much. 

He curled up in the corner and pulled his shawl up over his head. It muffled the sound enough to calm him down just a bit, and yet there were still the drums. Thumping away in time with his heartbeats. As they got closer to the planet, and therefore closer to wherever the TARDIS had landed itself, they quieted down too. Still, he didn’t dare move. An irrational, childish part of him was afraid that if he did he’d be thrown right back into that noise. 

Slowly everything went quiet, and then the Doctor and Alonso were laughing and the Doctor was explaining how he’d started up the secondary storm drive engine. The drums had picked back up in volume as they’d gone back into orbit, though at a more manageable level now. The Master could sense when the other Time Lords eyes landed on him. Cool hands cupped his face again. 

“We’re safe now.” 

“I know.”

Astrid immediately pulled the Doctor into a tight hug when they got to the room where she, Rickston, and Mister Copper were hunkered down. The Master stood back again, only to be pulled into a hug himself a moment later. His eyes went wide and he held his hands out to the side, utterly unsure what to do with them. 

“You’re both okay!” Astrid beamed, looking between the two of them after she pulled away. “I was so worried!” 

The Master wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. The Doctor laughed at him.  

The Doctor scurried around, getting his sonic back from Rickston and seeing if there was anything else that needed his attention before he and the Master could make their leave. The Master handed Rickston back his shoes while they were at it. He was going to take a long shower when they got back to the TARDIS. 

“The engines have stabilised,” Alonso called when he walked into the room. “We’re holding steady until we get help, and I’ve sent the SOS. A rescue ship should be here within twenty minutes.” 

“Brilliant!” The Doctor clapped him on the shoulder. Alonso cracked a sheepish smile. 

“And, uh, they’re digging out the records on Max Capricorn. Should be quite a story.” 

Mister Copper shuffled on his feet and pursed his lips. “They’ll want to talk to all of us, I suppose.” 

Alonso frowned. “I’d have thought so, yeah.” 

“I think one or two inconvenient truths may come to light.” He sighed. “Still, it’s my own fault, and ten years in jail is better than dying.” 

Astrid threw an arm around his shoulders and gave him a sympathetic smile. “Hey, maybe they’ll let you off since you helped stop a planet from burning up. You never know.” 

“Not likely,” the Master mumbled too low for them to hear. 

Unfortunately for the Master, Rickston’s voice was loud enough to hear when he started going on about how rich this whole thing was going to make him. Ambition, the Master could appreciate. This was just downright greed . 

“Of all the people to survive…” 

“He’s not the one you would’ve chosen, is he?” Mister Copper was next to him now, leaning against the teleport station. 

“Not my favourite either, honestly,” the Doctor said, joining him on his other side. 

Mister Copper shook his head. “If you could choose… If you could decide who lives and who dies, that would make you a monster.” 

The Doctor and Mister Copper smiled at each other around the Masters head. The Master wanted to gag. Astrid hurried over to them with a sad smile of her own. 

“I suppose you’ll be going then, Doctor?” she asked. The Doctor looked down at the teleport bracelets. 

“I suppose we will. I think…” He grabbed two of the bracelets and held them out to Astrid and Mister Copper. “I think the two of you should have these.” 

“What? But—” 

“Whole alien world for you to explore. New people to meet.” 

Astrid gingerly took the bracelet and slipped it on. Mister Copper did the same, then the Doctor and the Master followed suit. 

“Everyone ready?” the Doctor asked. 

Alonso saluted them on their way out. 

The Master was hit with immediate relief once they hit the ground on Earth. They had ended up surprisingly close to the TARDIS, somewhere in Cardiff by the looks of it, and so the first thing the Master did upon seeing it was rush over to get inside. He groaned and slumped against the door when it wouldn’t open. He was getting what could be either snow or ash all over him and he was quite sick of being all dirty. 

“Doctooor!” he called out. He didn’t even care how whiny he sounded. “It’s locked!” 

“I’m just saying goodbye to—” 

“Just throw me the key, you idiot!” 

“I absolutely will not!” The Doctor shook his head with a sigh and ran over to unlock the door for the Master, Astrid and Mister Copper following behind him. 

“Goodbye, Harry,” Astrid said with a smile. “You’re a very strange man, but… for some reason I feel like the Doctor is lucky to have you around.” 

“You’d be the only one who feels that way.” The Master gave her a sardonic smile back. 

“I am,” the Doctor said, pushing open the door. “Lucky, I mean. Now go on, go get cleaned up. I’ll be in in a bit.” 

The Master didn’t know how to respond to that comment so he just scowled and ducked under the Doctor’s arm to get inside. He faintly registered Astrid gasping when she caught a view of the ship interior. 

He beelined straight for the nearest bathroom. He almost got lost, his mind was so addled after the night he’d had. As soon as he was in he was peeling his shawl and dress off before the door had fully closed. The one thing he was grateful for was that, while he was dirty, he at least wasn’t aching anywhere. The last dregs of regeneration energy were almost gone but they’d stuck around long enough to heal him.  

For a while he just stood there under the lukewarm water, letting it rain down over him while he tumbled the night over in his mind. Processed all that had happened. 

The big, glaring thing was that he’d helped . He’d helped the Doctor, he’d helped Morvin, as vain as that had been. He’d acted just like one of the Doctor’s little companions. That had been part of his plan in getting the Doctor to trust him, and yet looking back he hadn’t been thinking of that at all at the time. He hoped with both his hearts that when this regeneration was properly over, he would be back to his normal self.  

He didn’t like whatever it was that the Doctor’s forced regeneration had done to him. However, he would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t like being with his old friend again. He didn’t even mind having the Doctor there to snap him out of it when the TARDIS couldn’t block the drums for whatever reason. 

That did lead him to another question. Why did the telepathic field stop working? The translation circuits had still worked fine and they ran from the same system. The Master looked up at the ceiling. 

“Did you shorten your range on purpose?” he asked the TARDIS. He placed his hand on the tiled wall to see if she’d hum in answer. She didn’t. He took that as all the answer he needed. “If I hadn’t managed to stay focused, the Doctor could’ve died. I saved his life at one point. Might’ve saved the Titanic. If something had gone wrong, it would’ve been your fault.” He felt a hum that was distinctly annoyed and defensive. He didn’t bother arguing with her. 

When he finally made his way back to the console room, now clad in black tracksuit pants and a black t-shirt, the Doctor was already there. He had showered too, if his dripping hair was any indication. He was right back in his suit and trench coat as if he didn’t know the meaning of the word comfortable . 

“Turns out Mister Copper had a credit card with a million pounds on it,” the Doctor said in lieu of a greeting. He didn’t look up from whatever screen he was fiddling with. “He’s going to buy himself and Astrid a house, and they’re going to support each other while they settle down on Earth. She plans to go travelling once she’s sure Mister Copper will be able to look after himself.” 

“How lovely for them.” 

The Doctor looked up. “How are you feeling?” 

Weird. Bad. Good. “Tired.” 

“Yeah, bit of a long night, wasn’t it?” The Doctor puffed up his cheeks and blew out a long breath. “I was really hoping it’d be calmer than that, though I can’t say I’m too surprised. It was the Titanic, after all.” 

The Master rolled his eyes and stepped closer. “That, and trouble follows you everywhere you go.” 

“You realise that, at least sometimes, that trouble is you, right?” The Doctor raised an eyebrow at him, then looked back down at his screen. 

“Okay, then you drag it with you. You make it your problem, because you’re a fool who doesn’t know how to mind his own business.” 

“Would you rather be dead?” 

The blunt way he asked the question made the Master pause. 

“I didn’t regenerate on my own. You can answer that question yourself. How did you do it, anyway?” There was a question that had been sitting in the back of the Master’s mind until then. “You can’t regenerate without being injured or forced, and that takes the right kind of technology to pull off.” The Doctor swallowed. 

“I don’t know. I have theories, but they don’t make much sense.” He paused. His eyes flicked up to look at the Master through his lashes. “The best I can come up with is my body registering emotional pain as physical, inducing a regeneration, but that’s never happened before. Not just to me, to any Time Lord.” 

The Master’s eyes widened a fraction. “Is this you confessing your love for me or something?” 

The Doctor’s eyes tightened like he was in pain. “No.” He looked back down. “Didn’t you say you were tired? You should go rest.” 

“You’re avoiding the topic. You never do that, avoid digging into things.” 

“I’m not avoiding it. I just don’t think my digging needs to involve you, at least not right now. Now, rest.” The Doctor pointed in the direction of the bedroom corridor. 

“Fine, but I’m picking a new room. I don’t like the one you shoved me in.” 

The Doctor hung his head and sighed. It seemed that all his energy had been sapped now that they were alone again. “Fine, just don’t try to open any that are clearly locked.” 

The Master turned without another word. He really was exhausted. He didn’t know when he’d last slept on the Valiant and the regeneration wearing off wasn’t helping.  

He eventually found a room he liked—bigger than his first one and with some more lavish décor, all black and burgundy—and collapsed into bed. Before he fell asleep on top of the covers he decided that, the next time the Doctor wanted to go for a night out, he was staying right there in the TARDIS. He might even try to reconcile with her, if only so she wouldn’t restrict the block on the drums to such a short range. 

He closed his eyes, snuggled into his pillow, and fell asleep.