rude_not_ginger | for best_served_hot | At your side I feel like a ghost

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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."

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"Do you really think you're going to make it out of this without killing me?" the Doctor asked, his voice still light. "I've prepared for it. I've given you the TARDIS. You've got a way out of this. He just has to be stopped. And he won't. He won't, not as long as he thinks he can defeat you."

He took the glass back and took another swallow.

"And I won't let him kill you."

"Yes."

It was the only answer. The only real option. He let out something of a sigh, and refilled his glass all the way, drinking down about half of it immediately after.

"I can stop him, and his pride will give me the time I need to do it. He wants me around now, it seems, even though it might only be to keep me from you. But the question is, are you going to allow me to stop him, or are you going to take the easy way out?"

"I'm thinking...well, easy way out. That was the plan."

He stopped and looked over at the Master from his prone position on the bed, as if daring him to offer a better option.

"Was. Past tense. It isn't the plan any longer," he said, tone leaving no room for argument.

"If you kill yourself, what reason do I have to play nice and fix what has been happening in this universe? I could start out on my own. I've more than enough at my disposal."

"You wouldn't," the Doctor said, with no small amount of confidence. "I've seen you, Master. I know how much you've changed."

At least, he wanted to believe this was the case. He wanted to think that the Master had become someone he could trust, even after he was dead. All the same, he let out a sigh.

"What's your plan? No, no, nevermind. Don't tell me. I don't want him having any access to that information."

"I would," he said, giving him a sidelong glance that screamed, "Are you stupid?". "We're working together against a common enemy, we've done it before, and after things were the same. But feel free to live in your delusions for as long as you like."

He reached out, absently patting his leg, and went back to his own drink.

"I wasn't going to tell you anyways. Really, Doctor, I'm good, but I don't trust that thing as far as I could throw him. It's entirely possible I overlooked something, and I'm not going to go off at the mouth about my plans just in case."

He eyed the glass cradled against his chest, and then drained it with another gulp. Then he grabbed a biscuit out of the tin, and took a bite out of it.

"You think I trust him?" the Doctor demanded. "He's me. And I don't really trust me all that much, either."

He tipped his head to the side, just a little tipsy, and gave the Master a lopsided smile. "I like you like this," he said. "Ready to fight the evil. I always knew you could."

Oh, it was silly and juvenile of the Doctor, but they were facing a common enemy, now. He could pretend that it would last. And he would, as long as he could.

"Heh, you always did have trouble with that sort of thing. Even at the Academy. You were always questioning yourself." The Master didn't question his every move, he plotted, planned, and took what he wanted. He reworked things to suit his needs, and he was perfectly at ease with this way of living.

"Ugh," he groaned, rolling his eyes. "I'm going to need a bath after this. I'll catch something from you."

It was equally as juvenile what the Master said, but he didn't take it back. In a way, this was similar to many of the things they had spoken of doing when they were children. Changing the universe together. Fixing all the things their people would only observe happening, and do nothing about.

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