Buried

[electrumicity.livejournal.com]

Title: Buried
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Master/Doctor, Theta/Koschei
Rating: PG
Notes: Emo Master is emo.



There are times when he looks at the Doctor that he thinks he can almost catch a glimpse of Theta Sigma. The eyes are brown instead of blue, but they're still wide. The hair is brunet instead of a dark blond, but it's still as unruly as ever. It might just be wishful thinking. Part of the Master will always yearn for the old days back on Gallifrey. Running through the fields of red grass, laughter in the air, collapsing on the ground next to each other when they had grown exhausted. The feeling of Theta's arms wrapped around him, excitedly babbling about whatever new prank he'd just come up with, when Koschei wanted little more than to just lay there and relax. Perhaps a kiss to shut him up.

Koschei is dead. If there was even a tiniest shred of him left there, it was buried deep, behind even the drums. The Doctor had seen to that. Koschei died the day the other Time Lord left Gallifrey. Koschei ceased to exist the day he learned what it truly meant to have one's hearts shattered.

And yet, the Doctor sometimes gives him looks as if he was trying desperately to see that young, naive Academy student in there somewhere. That behind the disturbed, wild hazel eyes, there might be a hint of that old, compassionate blue. Does the Doctor want him, or does he want Koschei back? Will he ever force himself to accept that Koschei died at his own hand?

The Master had longed centuries for this, to once again be at the side of his best friend and enemy. It was pathetic. He hated himself for it. Almost a millennium, and he still was nothing but a kicked puppy following his owner around, whining and destroying things for his attention. The more he thought about this, the more he wondered if Koschei was really dead. Or maybe he had simply evolved. The desperation still haunts him, and he knows that it isn't going to go away anytime soon.

The Doctor's prisoner. Pet. Hardly an equal now, as much as the Doctor likes to preach otherwise. But the more he stays around the man once known as Theta, the more he realizes how weary he is. How weary the both of them are. They've been dancing to this song for hundreds of years across planets, galaxies, the entire universe. Nothing has changed.

Not until now.

It's odd to be in close proximity to the other Time Lord for so much now, after everything that happened. To see his smile every morning (as much "mornings" as they had aboard the TARDIS) as he offered him a cup of tea, black with two sugars, just as he'd always liked it. Watching silently as he tinkers with the TARDIS, keeping it together with nothing more than essentially chewing gum. And then there are the nights that the Master is stirred from slumber because he can sense that the Doctor is trapped in horrific nightmares, images from the Time War. Nights such as those, he gets out of bed and makes his way over to the Doctor's room, slipping silently into bed next to him. He doesn't do anything but lay there, even as the taller Time Lord scoots over and wraps an arm around his chest. By the time the Doctor is awake, the Master is gone, and they never speak of it in the morning. It's simply understood.

Things will never be the same as they used to be when they were children. There will never be that implicit trust, that innocent love. Koschei is long gone, and so is Theta Sigma.

But just for a brief moment, when the Doctor opens the TARDIS doors and extends a hand to him, he swears he can see red grass and silver trees behind him.