for best_served_hot | At your side I feel like a ghost

[rude_not_ginger]

Follows this.

Hours had passed. Hours. The Valeyard was now sleeping. The two weeks that the Doctor had rested left him awake, energized. There was more than an hour in him, now, though he didn't know how long.

He reached to his side table and flipped a switch. Lights flickered around the ship, and a few of the cameras turned off. The damage done would leave the Valeyard angry, but it would keep the Doctor and the Master safe. For now. It wouldn't be long until the Valeyard worked it out, and the Doctor knew it.

So hard, sharing one body. The part of him that wanted to stay the Doctor remaining safe and secure in a small section of the tyrant's mind.

He got out of bed and slipped down the corridor, avoiding the cameras he knew were still on as he made it to the infirmary. No guards. They were switching out, now. He had a window of opportunity to make sure the Master was safe. He had to make sure. He had to see that the damage the Valeyard had done wouldn't be permanent.

He pulled open the door and stepped inside.

"Master."

Comments

[best-served-hot.livejournal.com]

The Master was in the infirmary resting. The rest was via a mild sedative and not quite as he would have preferred. It left him feeling sluggish and out of sorts.

Despite this, he was awake immediately when the door was opened. He didn't yet know who he was speaking to, but he slowly pushed himself up with his good arm. His other was bound to his chest, broken, and would heal within the next week.

He managed a smile, though it was not the usual manic one he would wear. It was lacking the energy behind it.

"Come to check on me already? I told you I wouldn't be in till late. You should be able to manage tucking yourself in for one evening at least. I'm not fit to play mother tonight."

The room spun a moment as he swung his feet over the edge of the medical bed, and he pulled in a deep, slow breath. Damnit. He despised this.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Already went to bed," the Doctor replied, stepping over to the side of the medical bed. "My turn for the walkabout. How're you feeling?"

Unlike the Valeyard, who asked that question as a sole indicator of how much more the Master could take, the Doctor asking was because he truly, genuinely cared. It wasn't just because the Master was the universe's only hope right now, it was also because the Master was the Doctor's only friend. After all, the enemy of an enemy would always be a friend.

He reached out a hand to place it over where the Master's broken arm was wrapped, being nanogetically repaired overnight. He had a vague recollection of the Valeyard breaking it, as well as the ribs he jumped on.

"I couldn't stop him, I'm so sorry."

[best-served-hot.livejournal.com]

How much the ordeal had taxed him, body and mind, became readily apparent at the realization this was the Doctor and not the Valeyard. His shoulders slumped slightly, as he allowed himself a few, brief moments of weakness.

It was a testament to how this entire situation was changing him that he did not pull away from the hand on his broken arm. Hate and revulsion curled in his gut, but he stayed still. He didn't know why he did.

"As much as I would usually enjoy your self-loathing, my dear Doctor, this time the blame is solely on my own shoulders. I realized too late that I needed assistance. I paid the price for it."

He sighed, trying to banish the tired feeling from him. "Just remind me next time not to go for a swim when we're running about on one of his worlds, hm?"

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor gave him a small, wan smile. "I'll keep it on a priority list."

He moved to sit on the bed next to the Master. It was awkward, definitely, sitting here after being the one to inflict all of his present injuries upon him. He let out a small sigh. While the Master wanted to abolish all that self-loathing, the Doctor couldn't get rid of the guilt. It was his fault. He'd lost control of the situation. Lost control of everything.

"I know you've been trying. I think it's working, a bit. I'm definitely stronger, this time."

[best-served-hot.livejournal.com]

"Ooh, priority, I feel inexplicably warm inside," he said, lips turning up at the corners momentarily. He wasn't lying about the feeling though, he would blame it on the medicine given to him later if pressed.

"That's good," he said, giving a slow nod. His gut twisted as he thought about the last few moments the parasite had control of his body. "He's afraid."

He looked over to the Doctor, taking in all the differences that showed him to be who he was. Who he really was, and not the Valeyard. It was easier like this, and so much harder when it was there.

"He's terrified he missed something. I saw it in his face, but that's-I don't remember much after that. Some of the time before it is still hazy."

It was frustrating.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Time to be more careful," the Doctor agreed with a nod. "Start moving forward, before he learns too much too quickly. When he does find out---"

Because it wasn't a matter of 'if' anymore. It was only a when. The Valeyard was the Doctor, in many ways, and was just as clever, if infinitely more devious. The Doctor's only advantage was that the Valeyard didn't know he existed. And, of course, the Master.

If the Valeyard killed the Master, all hope would be gone. The Doctor put his hand back on the Master's arm for one brief moment. He didn't want the Master to die, and not just because of the crucial role he played.

"--when he does find out, I can't protect you."

[best-served-hot.livejournal.com]

The Master watched the hand on his arm for a moment, before his face set with grim determination. The game had just become far more dangerous. Too much was at stake.

"I know."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Just---"

There was only one thing to do if they were found out. Only one life would be lost that he was hoping to avoid.

"Just kill me. If that happens, Master. Just kill me. And stop everything he's set in motion."

[best-served-hot.livejournal.com]

He reeled as if struck by a blow, turning an incredulous look upon the Doctor. He could feel his hearts speeding up at the rush of a new emotion. He swallowed, taking a moment to find his voice, then his eyes narrowed in pure, unadulterated anger.

"You want it," he said. He had thought so at another, earlier time as well, but dismissed it. "You're not even fighting it. You fought me. Even with your silence you still fought, and you're giving in to this thing that you've become."

He turned slightly on the bed, reaching out with his good arm to grab the Doctor by the front of his suit, his voice a low hiss. "You aren't allowed to give him that! Do you understand me?"

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor's smile was small and tired. He was so tired of fighting the Valeyard, fighting everything. Feeling hopeless. That was how he felt right now. Utterly hopeless.

"I won't give him anything," he assured the Master. "I'll just take the one thing of mine he controls."

The Doctor didn't mean the Master, of course. Even with how much the Valeyard controlled this place, even the Doctor didn't imagine that the Master was remotely controlled by the Valeyard. It was his life. Only his life.

"And I'm not going to let him kill you. When he finds out I'm still awake, he will kill you if he thinks it will hurt me."

[best-served-hot.livejournal.com]

"You are giving him that. Right now, with all of-" He let go of his suit, and waved his hand in his general vicinity. "-This."

The foggy-headed feeling from the drugs that were administered was dissipating rapidly. He almost felt well enough to stand on his own two feet again.

Almost.

"I can look after myself," he snapped, still angry. "If he thinks I can't defend myself against him, he's wrong, and far more idiotic than I originally assumed. You worry about you. What happened with the parasite was unexpected, yes, but that shouldn't be taken as my inability to look out for my own skin."

He watched him, eyes dark. "I will never give into him, and I will not allow you the luxury of doing it either."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"I won't be giving in to him, Master," the Doctor replied, still calm in the face of the Master's dark anger. "I will be defeating him."

There was no emotion to the Doctor's voice. Nothing but pure resignation. He tilted his head a little to the side while the Master spoke, though. That passion, that purity. That was something the Master had that the Doctor wished he could hold onto. He wanted to pull it from the Master and hold it onto himself forever.

[best-served-hot.livejournal.com]

He opened his mouth to say something, but the Doctor's words made him snap it shut. His jaw clenched, a tremor going throughout his entire body; tensed like a spring wound far too tight.

He moved before he even thought about it. It wasn't anger, no, that was far too gentle a word. This was rage, hatred, desire, and so many other things he hadn't put a name to in centuries.

It wasn't his usual manic style, or something brought on by a foul mood. He cared. He cared for the Doctor, he wanted him in the universe, and he hated him completely for it.

He punched him. Hard.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

He saw the look on the Master's face for just a split second. All that rage, all that hate and desire and all of it. The Doctor wanted it. He wanted to feel that again, but he felt nothing. Not the anger of the Master or the ambition of the Valeyard. He was a failure.

The Doctor saw the punch coming and didn't even move to block it. It hit him hard across the side, dislocating his jaw and throwing him off the bed. He fell backwards with a crash, landing hard on his backside. He straightened and relocated his jaw with a loud crack before trying to move to his feet.

[best-served-hot.livejournal.com]

He slid off after the Doctor, not giving him time enough to get to his feet. He wasn't done, not by a long shot. He kicked him viciously in the side, and knelt, aiming to pin him with a well placed knee on his chest.

He grabbed him roughly by the face, too far gone to even care that the Valeyard would wonder about the damage later when he woke. That he would know something was wrong about the pain he'd be in. A part of him perhaps noted this would happen, and relished the idea. Inflicting even a fleeting amount of agony on that creature was worth the risk. He wanted, so badly, to tear it apart with his bare hands, but he couldn't.

He couldn't because, deep down, it was the Doctor. He was the Doctor.

"A year on the Valiant," he began, voice low. "And all you ever offered was silence and forgiveness. Then you're left with this thing that tears apart the universe you love, and all you can do is lie here and take it? That isn't the Doctor I know. Do I have to remind you? What will it take to bring him out of you again? Because this isn't it."

His grip tightened, and he moved to slam the Doctor's head back against the floor from where he held his chin in his hand. "You are not the Doctor. You're not even his shadow."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

Not even his shadow. The Doctor wanted to sneer at that, but he also wanted to accept it. He didn't deserve the title of 'the Doctor'. He was nothing. He was---

But he wanted to be the Doctor. He wanted to stop this all himself. He wanted to be the man that armies fell to without having to raise a single weapon. But he had none of it. He had none of it without the drive. He had none of it without the anger. He looked up at the Master, all anger and drive and fury and---he was beautiful, in his own way. Like that. A mass of burning rage. It was good, seeing him like this. It was engaging. He could see everything he wanted to have back, and it was right there.

He didn't even think before he acted. He blocked the arm that was gripping his head, and then raised his other arm up to lock around the Master's neck. He pulled him down and crushed his mouth to the Master's. It wasn't really a kiss. Not really. It was almost like the Doctor was desperately trying to pull some of that rage into himself. To pull back in the emotions he needed. Just a little bit. Just for a moment.

[best-served-hot.livejournal.com]

There wasn't any surprise to the Doctor's next move, it was the same as a dance, or simply breathing. They fought each other, tore apart each other's worlds, and left the marks to prove it.

This was simply another fight for dominance, for control. He bit sharply at his bottom lip, any care he might have had to the mark it would leave gone from his mind, and he kissed like this were any other fight they might have had. He was in control of this, at least so he thought, and he gave over that rage willingly. Anything to get that fire back that was the Doctor he knew.

Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice chided him for desperation, but he didn't deny it. He was angry, passionate, and desperate for anything familiar. This, here, was familiar. It was a battleground he knew well.

If it helped, then it was a victory.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Master kissed back viciously, and that made the Doctor's breath catch. There was nothing romantic in the Master's kiss, and that was what the Doctor wanted. He wanted to pull the anger in, he wanted to feel the rage. The fight for dominance was something the Doctor knew well, and it was something he'd become too compliant in. He'd given up fighting with the Valeyard, but this fight, this was something part of him wanted to win.

He released his grip on the Master's head and took his wrists instead, struggling to flip them both over so the Doctor would be on top, controlling this kiss. Controlling whatever the hell it was they were doing right now. Kissing, fighting, taking, sharing, it was everything they were. He could taste blood from where the Master bit down on his lip and that was good, too. Nothing nice, everything that was a fight.

[best-served-hot.livejournal.com]

He broke the kiss momentarily, giving a low hiss of pain at one of the Doctor's hands finding his injured arm, and pressed down with more of his weight with the knee that rested on his chest. He didn't intend for the Doctor to end up in control of this, and if he wanted to win, he would have to work for it.

"Funny, someone might think you were fighting," he mocked, voice a sneer from where he knelt over him. "I thought you didn't do that any more."

He moved to shift his good arm out of the Doctor's hand, and pin his wrist to the floor. He leaned back down, crushing their lips together again, kissing him harshly, and staking his claim like he would have any other time. He owned the Doctor. He was his, not the Valeyard's.

Nothing changed that. Not the shape of things now, or what it might have been had things gone differently. They were the constants, a binary pair caught up in the other's gravity, and screaming back at entropy in a dying universe.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Master asserted dominance again, and the Doctor struggled back. This was how things were supposed to be, he thought. They were supposed to fight like this, they were supposed to be two who fought against each other. The Master with one wrist in his grip, the Doctor with the other. They were the Ouroboros, each swallowing the others' tail.

He kissed back with his own form of dominance, and let his tongue sweep across the Master's mouth, dueling in his own way. A burst of something hit the Doctor in the chest. The Valeyard wanted this. He wanted to connect to the Master, maybe even wanted him physically, but he couldn't have him. The Master and the Doctor were the only ones to fight each other so completely.

[best-served-hot.livejournal.com]

There was a soft growl in the back of his throat, he knew what the Doctor was playing at, and if he didn't want this as much as he did, he might have waited; teased in his own way. As things were, the only time they had was in these few moments, however long they lasted. Soon, it wouldn't be the Master and the Doctor as they should have been.

They would once again have to contend with that thing, and each would be left to their own devices.

He opened up, only to thrust his tongue against the Doctor's, letting it slide against his with all the possessiveness he could pour into it from that action alone. He wanted to carve who owned the Doctor into his flesh. He wanted to burn it into the stars for the universe to see. He wished the Valeyard was separate, somehow, so that he could sear it into his mind just how wrong he was to think he could take this from him.

Before this was over, he would find a way. He would make it a lesson the Valeyard wouldn't forget for what short amount of time he still existed.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor couldn't move to make this go any farther, even if he wanted it to. To move one hand was to release the Master's, and the other was in the Master's grip. They were trapped in their own need to control the other. It was intoxicating and, in a way, extremely arousing. He let his hips move upwards and let out a groan against the Master's growl.

The Doctor was aroused. That was really inappropriate. Hell, considering what was happening with them, it probably wasn't even tasteful. But he wanted---he wanted to just feel. Maybe it was the human side of him. Maybe it was something else. It didn't matter.

"Master." He growled his name into the Master's mouth. The way the Doctor said the Master's name wasn't like the way the Valeyard said his name. There was anger and hatred and desire in there, all the things the Valeyard only thought he understood but didn't. The Master made the Doctor hungry for something. Something that was more than just physical. It was more than the Valeyard could understand.

[best-served-hot.livejournal.com]

He swallowed the groan with an harder, more insistent kiss and slide of his tongue as it came from the Doctor. He responded in kind, pure instinct and desire as he pressed his hips down to meet his.

There was nothing appropriate about any part of their shared situation. A shudder went through his entire body at hearing his name come from the Doctor's lips, and he pulled back, eyeing him like a hungry wolf.

"Say it again."

He wanted to hear it again. His name and all the implications that came from it when the Doctor said it. He wanted everything it meant, and then more. This, here and now, was proof that perhaps even the universe would never be enough.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor should've fought back, he figured. He should've made the Master say his own name, but there was some amount of ego behind him, some knowledge that the Master would return the name in kind. That ego, that was something that he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

"Master." It came out again, this time his voice going just a little high-pitched as the Master's hips pressed against his own. He wanted something from the Master, he thought, as he captured his mouth again. He wasn't even sure if it was just a physical connection. They needed, no, no, he needed---

"Sir?" It was the voice of someone else. A guard, no doubt alerted by the sounds of fighting within the room.

[best-served-hot.livejournal.com]

That hungry gleam never left his eyes, and he gave a low chuckle. He pulled back momentarily, just enough to give him space to whisper himself.

"Doctor," he said, and allowed him to pull him into another kiss. Only to have it interrupted by one of the Valeyard's idiotic little pawns. He broke the contact, body still thrumming with desire and, now, anger. He tensed, his eyes narrowing on the intruder, a multitude of dark, agonizing things coming to mind as to what he could do to the man for walking in on this.

He couldn't be allowed to live. Too much was at stake.