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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."
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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Though his nails bit at the Master's skin, when he leaned down to kiss him again, the kiss was slow, cautious, careful. A contradiction to the blood on his split lip and the sharp chemical smell of the infirmary. With the hand that wasn't on the Master's neck, he moved to undo the buttons on the Master's shirt, slowly sliding one through each eye.
He wanted this. Whatever it was. He wanted it.
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He kissed him back, humming his approval, and let him control the direction of the kiss for the time being. He was at something of a disadvantage though, as the Doctor began to undo his shirt. He could relinquish the hold he had secured on his neck, but it would still be rather awkward attempting to do something so simple as unbuttoning the Doctor's jacket with one hand.
Frustrating was the wrong word to describe it.
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Shirt unbuttoned, he broke the kiss and pressed his mouth to the Master's neck, tasting the sweat on his skin. It had been so long since he'd---well, since they'd---but they were. Right now. His hand lowered from the shirt to the Master's belt, carefully unlooping it.
It was strange, actually feeling in control. Especially feeling in control with the Master. The Valeyard felt in control all the time, but only the Master and the Doctor knew just how much control that was.
How in control? a voice in the back of his mind asked.
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His breath came out in a soft pant, feeling the Doctor's lips on his neck. Oh. It was different being with someone who knew all of the intimate places they could use to their advantage, being with someone who had no qualms with exploiting them.
The Master, unable to do much with one arm, decided to take another route. He shifted his hips, providing a brief amount of friction between both of their bodies.
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God, this was....it was feeling and being felt and things he wasn't allowing himself before. It made him stronger, he believed. He felt stronger. He felt like the blood was starting to move in his veins again. He was becoming the Doctor more and more.
No, that's me.
There was half a second of shock, and then the Doctor all but threw himself away from the Master, stumbling back and falling awkwardly over a chair in the room.
"He's coming."
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And now, if it were even remotely possible, he hated the Valeyard so much more. It was taking what was rightfully his. That thing did not deserve its existence, all it would ever be was a shade, an idea, and a worthless one at that. He managed to school his face into impassiveness, trying to will his body back under his own control, but it was proving a bit...difficult.
"How long?"
They needed to move this party back towards the Valeyard's sleeping quarters.
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"No time," he said, shaking his head. "If you're in here, he'll question it. If you're gone, he'll work something else out. You have to get out of here. Go!"
He wanted to save the Master. He wanted him alive. The Master wasn't the Valeyard's, and the Doctor wouldn't let the Valeyard take him.
"Go somewhere, anywhere else! Just go!"
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They weren't losing. This was not a battle won for the Valeyard, it was merely a setback.
"You haven't lost yet, Doctor," he said, in way of goodbye for the time being.
He opened the doors and ran out, only barely remembering to keep to where the power was flickering and cutting off. He managed to make it all the way back to his own quarters in what he supposed was record time, half stumbled inside, and leaned against the door as it closed.
Too close. That was far too close. He scrubbed a hand over his face, giving a groan of frustration, and allowed himself to slide into a sitting position on the floor.
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Safe. The Master was safe, for now.
He collapsed onto the floor.
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He pushed himself up from his sitting position, and rooted around in one of the drawers that held the scarce few personal items he had, procuring a device which he tucked into his trouser pocket.
This was suicide, absolute madness, but that's what he was good at, wasn't it? He was good at pushing the envelope, at being reckless and unpredictable. He opened the door to his room, peered out into the hallway, where the lights still flickered, and bolted towards the room the Doctor had told him about some weeks prior.
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He stepped in slowly, allowing his eyesight to adjust as he did. He could still barely make out a thing. He reached his hand into his pocket, hand curling around the device there as the door closed behind him.
Something was very, very wrong here.
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She especially did not like being woken up by him. The being she despised almost as much as the being that took the place of her Time Lord.
The floors around the Master's feet began to glow a light green as the familiar shape of the console room of the TARDIS surrounded him. The console room, but twisted and warped by the Valeyard experimenting with it and damaging it. She stood there, completely void of energy and near the point of dying. It was, in all probability, only her stubbornness of will that kept her alive now.
And as the Master stood there, something the Doctor had planted in his mind clicked into place. The TARDIS energy began to swirl at his feet, and the links for a symbiotic bond began to form. The TARDIS had a new, permanent pilot. And he'd just walked in.
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He felt the connection, and there wasn't much to be done to stop it. His earlier words that he'd said to him about giving up came to the forefront of this mind as the bond began to form, and he let out a literal roar of frustration. He had been giving up! He should have dug deeper. but he let himself trust, if only just a little bit, and that was his first mistake.
He knew better. How many centuries gone by and he knew better.
The connection threw him, he hadn't been connected to a TARDIS since the War, and that one had died just as his own had before her. He was shaking with anger, all self control he had possessed moments earlier gone with the realizations of what had been done.
He was going to kill the Valeyard, and then he was going to make the Doctor suffer.
He tried to reign himself back under control, and took a step towards the console. He needed to work out how bad the damage was. The Valeyard would surely be on his heels, and he didn't need to be locked inside a mostly dead time ship with that thing ready to barrel in and no escape.
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She didn't speak, as some TARDISes did. She only moved. She moved emotions around in his mind, shifting him towards places on the console that hurt, towards places on her monitors that glowed. She was helping him. She was helping him, because she wanted the Doctor back. And that was the only reason.
"All personell to the infirmary," the Valeyard's voice rang out over the intercom. He sounded a bit off, as he was trying to speak with a nano-sealed tongue and a whole hell of a lot of confusion running through him.
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It wasn't as if he had much else to be doing.
He brushed a bit of dust off of the console, a small gesture that could be mistaken for kindness, and turned to leave. He had to get out of there before he was found out.
He went to the door, opening it, and peering out before making his way back down the corridor. Once to the infirmary, he wandered in, appearing for all the world as if he were, quite simply, bored. He took in the state of the Valeyard, the dead guard on the floor, and the boy that had come to some time ago.
"I must have missed all the fun."
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"Where the hell have you been?" he snapped, his voice slightly slurring from the injury to his tongue. He raised his hand. No, he didn't care. "Which one of you didn't notice he'd gotten out?"
Two of the guards looked at each other, and the rest of the staff looked shamed and scared. He picked one of them, pulled their gun from the holster, and shot them in the head. The staff didn't even flinch. No one could feel anything but fear for the Valeyard, and that was how he liked it.
"He's not getting away this time. Someone detain him." A guard promptly took the Master by the arms.
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"Oh, really now," said the Master, not trying to get loose from the grip the guard had on him. "Getting away? I was in my quarters."
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He was a ball of fury now. He wanted to destroy something. He wanted to kill something. He stepped past the Master towards the door, and then stopped. He stepped back and inhaled.
One eyebrow raised as he looked at the Master. Interesting.
With that, he stalked back for the door. A small smile touched the edges of his lips. Interesting indeed.
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It wasn't enough.
His arm was healed now, and he'd settled himself back into a routine of sorts. He mucked about in the labs where the Valeyard hated him spending time, and focused on the faint mental bond he now had with the TARDIS deep within the Valeyard's ship. Grudgingly, after a few days of obnoxious rants and tirades, he had allowed him to go back to his own quarters, since he'd been unable to find any evidence that the Master had done anything wrong.
When the Valeyard was busy, and he could manage to get a guard alone, he had begun to weave his own, rather intricate web of instructions into their minds. If it came down to his having to leave rather quickly, he wasn't intending on fighting off an entire crew loyal out of fear. He made certain that his machinations were subtle, and well hidden, then sent them on their way.
At the present moment he was still within a lab that wasn't too far away from his quarters. He hadn't realized just how badly his exhaustion was starting to show until he reached for a vial, only succeeded in knocking it over, and stared at the spot, not quite comprehending how that had actually happened.
He shook himself momentarily, turned to get something to clean up the chemical, and collapsed, exhaustion having finally won.
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When the Master would wake up, he'd find himself changed into a set of silk jim-jams, and placed in his quarters, tucked in. The lights would be out, and the Master would be alone, given his privacy. The lights outside would flicker, with the electricity cut in strategic locations.
A gentle knock would touch the door, just a brief rap.
"Are you awake?" The voice was quiet, the tongue now healed.
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He reached out for the bedside lamp, and turned it on, eyeing the door with no small amount of suspicion.
"I am."
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"I-I woke up," he said. "During one of his dreams."
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He would after that last encounter.
"What are you talking about?" He pulled the door open, only enough so that he could see him, and eyed him darkly.
Even well-rested, changed into proper sleep wear, and in his own room he was incredibly angry at the Doctor. He could hardly be blamed for his near constant state of testiness.
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He put his hand up to the door handle, let it brush the mechanism, but didn't open it. He stayed on the other end.
"I turned the cameras off," he said.
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