Because I said I would

[tulapeiwa]

This one is pretty much just me playing around with fanon and stretching my fic muscles I was picturing the Master here as a young Delgado!Master, but I do like the idea of exploring his younger regenerations (Though, no, blond!Schoolboy!Master will not be making an appearance.)

Title: Away
Author: tulapeiwa
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG, mostly harmless
Characters and pairings: One/Master
Disclaimer: Not mine
Summary: Set pre-series, post Academy era. In which the Doctor encounters his ex, listens to Jazz and leaves Gallifrey.
Made Legible by the lovely lindest and alex_e_smith



After a falling out as violent and public as theirs had been, it was expected that Gallifrey's second most infamous duo would be putting as much physical and temporal distance between each other as possible, while respecting the Laws of Time. That was also what the Doctor had expected. He had no qualms about losing himself in his work, further burying himself in his hobbies and withdrawing from the circles the two had frequented together. Perhaps it was a juvenile reaction, but he was young and had, he thought, earned that small scrap of immaturity.

Koschei, however, was currently sitting in the Doctor's favorite armchair, posture straight yet relaxed enough that he looked at home. He had never really bothered with what was expected. When his eyes met the Doctor's, he relaxed further into the chair, a lazy smile stretching his lips.

His physical appearance was shockingly different from the regeneration the Doctor had last seen. His former friend, who had set off the self-destruct function on their final project together, standing cold-eyed and furious amid the rubble, was almost unrecognizable. Silver hair had gone black and short. The lips that had called the Doctor a small minded idealist and the second most brilliant mind on Gallifrey, the lips that the Doctor had kissed, were now thin and smooth, beneath the beginnings of another unfortunate beard.

The Doctor had, of course, been aware of his former partner's regeneration. News traveled fast in the capitol, useless news fastest of all. Regeneration by falling off one of the higher walkways the Panopticon was the sort of thing one joked about in one's later years at the academy, right before swapping tribophysics notes or running off to play a Future-Regeneration prank on the first year students. If the rumors he had heard were accurate, it had been a messy, a rough regeneration that very nearly failed. That might explain the man's rather awkward physical appearance this time around, though there really was no excuse for the beard. The Doctor allowed himself a spark of gratitude that the current Castellan, a talented telepath and one of Koschei's cousins, had been there to pull him through. A small, bitter, voice which still identified with the symbols of his former nickname, whimpered that he should have been the one at Koschei's side.  

Koschei's eyebrows rose towards his hairline (higher, more severe and entirely unflattering when combined with his other features) and the Doctor drew himself up to his full height.

"How did you get in here, hmm?" He walked towards the man purposefully, pausing to lean on his cane and scowl. "I changed the bio-access codes."

"Indeed, you did." A small smile twisted the other man's lips and the Doctor bristled. His eyes lit on the open window across the room. Ah-ha. He did try to leave things locked, as a matter of habit, but Susan liked fresh air. Besides, in the past few months he hadn't been particularly worried about unwanted visitors scaling the walls and invading his privacy. Restraining himself from asking how, exactly, the Master had managed to make it up forty-two stories and whether his latest regeneration had taught him nothing, he proceeded calmly.

"What are you here for, then? I assure you, all of your possessions were returned," Crossing the room to his bookshelf, the Doctor pulled out a small hardback at random. It was, in fact, the most recent addition to his collection, and he started flipping through it as though Koschei weren't there.

"I would hardly make the journey for something so petty." The feeling of Koschei's eyes raking over him was enough to make the Doctor snap the book closed.

"So what is it that you want," tucking his copy of the Time Machine into his jacket pocket, the Doctor regarded his visitor coldly. "Hmm?" He added and Koschei resisted the urge to throttle him.

"Well?" He stepped forward, gesturing with his cane. "Come along, I don't have an infinite amount of time, my boy." Again, Koschei twitched in annoyance, closing his eyes.

"No, you don't, do you?"  He stood, robes falling around his new body in a way that wasn't entirely unflattering. He was taller this time and the Doctor found his body protesting the posture he forced on it, unwilling to look up at him. "Really, Theta-- Or is it Doctor these days? -- you might as well just regenerate." Koschei circled the chair he had vacated, predatory brown eyes locked on the Doctor's. "Any day now that body of yours is going to fall to pieces "

"My physical appearance is hardly something you need concern yourself with anymore, Koschei." He saw the other man flinch slightly at that name. Good. If he was going to lash out with memories of the past, the Doctor had every intention of doing the same. "Now, if you don't mind--" Gathering his apparent age up around him, the Doctor turned back to the shelf. It didn't matter that the apparently young man before him, in reality, had the advantage there as well.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Koschei paused at the pedestal that supported a small, authentic turntable the Doctor had created only a few months ago. The silvery wood and delicately curved needle were at odds with the, admittedly bulky, Earth-originated design. "I did not come to talk you through your apparent regeneration phobia, amusing as that conversation would be. It has..." New, thin lips pressed together as Koschei searched for the right phrasing, "come to my attention that your name-- your new name-- appears in a large numbers of highly classified C.I.A. files and, recently, a severely worded indictment--" The Doctor froze.

"Impossible."

"Hardly," The dark haired man lifted the needle of the turntable curiously, not even bothering to meet the Doctor's horrified gaze. "You never were good at subtlety."

"I've done nothing to merit any such attention!" The Doctor was pacing furiously now, hand tight around his cane. He wished he could dismiss the man's statements as exaggeration or some perverse revenge. Unfortunately, Koschei's preferred forms of vengeance were never this impersonal, and allowing the C.I.A. to take credit was unlike him, any of him. More worryingly, the Doctor was far too familiar with his former friend's connections with the organization to brush his words off as idle gossip.

"I'm unsure what you've done, or failed to do, to earn yourself such a... strongly worded indictment." He continued, turning his attention to the small stack of records resting beside the turntable. "The words Off World Interference come to mind--Or, perhaps they merely wish to peruse your substantial collection of--" He picked up a large brightly colored album. "Spikejoneses."

"Spike Jones," The Doctor corrected automatically, "it's a musician's name."

"Fascinating."

"Not particularly."

Slipping the record from its cover, Koschei turned the disc over several times, studying it. He ran the pad of a gloved finger experimentally along the vinyl, looking up at the Doctor quizzically when nothing happened

"Oh no, no," The Doctor strode over to him, letting out an exasperated sigh when the other man drew back, clutching the record close as though it were going to be snatched from him. "You're doing it all wrong," He explained in exasperation, and then, when Koschei made no motion to allow him to demonstrate, retrieved another album from the stack. Abbey Lincoln, lovely. Removing it from its cover, the Doctor placed it reverently onto his turntable. "It's a relatively simple mechanism." The needle fell perfectly into place and he felt a small swell of pride.

"How delightfully primitive!" Koschei exclaimed, bending to examine the machine as the soft, alien chords filled the room.

"If you could be bothered to actually study their culture you would know that the Earth people are much more-"

"And if you bothered to at least pretend to follow proper protocol when it came to that dirtball you might not be under investigation for interference!" In an instant Koschei's wide-eyed curiosity was gone and he regarded his former schoolmate with an accusing glare. "Perhaps if you put in an appearance in the Panopticon and at least attempted to create a respectable public image--"

"When it comes to the goings on in the Panopticon I am more than happy to practice non-interference." The Doctor laughed at his own joke, turning the album cover over and perusing the few paragraphs of block-like letters that covered it.

"This is no laughing matter." Koschei was still watching him intently, and the Doctor lowered the album cover, slightly guiltily.

"No, no, quite right, of course it isn't."

"They're coming for you." He said it in such a calm, matter of fact tone that a small shiver ran down the Doctor's spine. "I can't be entirely sure when."

The record played on, dry little scratches marring the sweet, mournful chord changes. At last, Koschei broke the silence.

"Come with me." His voice was steady and commanding, with a thread of hypnotic suggestion that he himself probably wasn't aware of. Before the Doctor could speak Koschei had stepped closer, finally standing close enough to touch. It was the closest they had been since their last, disastrous disagreement and the Doctor's skin prickled with his presence. Koschei continued in a low whisper. "You're well aware that I have access to a TARDIS. We should leave now." His lips pressed together briefly when the Doctor failed to react with enthusiasm and latched onto his final strategy.

"You said you wanted this, remember?" The Doctor did remember, vividly, and dropped his gaze to where Koschei's robes were caught in a gaudy Prydonian clasp. Koschei chuckled. "Nothing's changed. We'll have the universe at our feet, just as we planned. Think of it, Theta." Temptation had always been one of Koschei's strong suits; since before he began experimenting with the power of psychic suggestion he'd had a knack for persuasion. His new voice rumbled low and pleasantly smooth, perfectly adapted to the man's usual technique. The incongruity of the nickname, however, shattered whatever temptation he might have woven.

The Doctor shook his head slowly. Nothing had changed. Their time apart had obviously had no effect on Koschei but to give him more time to slip into the Matrix unchecked, he was still speaking only of conquest and possession.

"No, no I most certainly will not." The step back he'd taken in retreat morphed into a slow stroll away, along the outer wall. The Doctor made a show of studying the familiar view, while also buying time to calm himself. "We're both far too old for such naivety." He could feel the Koschei's furious glare digging into his back but managed to keep his eyes on the skyline. "It would never work."

"Don't be a fool!" He felt himself grabbed before he even heard Koschei move. Brown eyes burned into his, and Koschei's new, strong fingers dug into his forearms painfully. "I'm not going to lose you. " It was, the Doctor realized dizzily, the first time they had touched in almost a year. "Not to something so nauseatingly avoidable." Avoidable like falling off of a Panopticonian walkway, the Doctor almost snapped but caught himself.

"I hardly think losing me is something for you to worry about." Blue eyes met brown and Koschei, trembling with anger, released him, stumbling back.

"I will not ask again, Doctor," The raw emotion he had seen in the other man's expression was gone, more quickly would have been possible for his predecessor, "You will be trapped here, you will die here." A small spike of fear shot between the Doctor's hearts, no.

"No, I think not," Both because Koschei was obviously desperate and would, undoubtedly, return the next day, and because the Doctor had no plans on being there when he did.

"Very well." A familiar look crossed his new face as he drew in a breath, clasping his hands behind his back and regarding the Doctor solemnly. "Then…this is-"

"Grandfather?" The composure he had managed slipped away in an instant and Koschei stared over the Doctor's shoulder, eyes wide. Behind him, he heard Susan draw in a gasp. "Oh--"

Koschei, the Doctor noticed, was trembling, pale as if he had stumbled upon Omega wandering around the Doctor's rooms in a dressing gown. Of course, he hadn't seen Susan in all this time, and the girl hadn't seen the man she had grown up knowing as varying degrees of family. Was it 'Your uncle Koschei' he had last used to rant about the man? Surely she had been too young to remember Koschei as 'Grandfather'.

"Ah, Susan." The Doctor turned, guiltily. Perhaps it hadn't been entirely fair to separate them. "Your Koschei and I were simply-" The sound of boots on tile had him whipping back around in time to see the man's purple robes disappearing over the windowsill. "Koschei!" By the time he made it to the open window, the Gallifreyan in question was speeding away on some sort of cobbled together hovering contraption; The way he had arrived, no doubt, the Doctor noted with a trace of amusement.  

"Susan," He started again, avoiding the unnecessary and painfully complicated explanations. "Pack your things, I'll be back before you know it!" He chuckled humorlessly to himself, "Yes, I will be back before you even know it." Koschei-- the Master, had been right in more ways than the Doctor wanted to admit and they needed to leave.

Susan started to protest. Then, when it became clear that the Doctor wouldn't be talked out of it, asked whether she should make any attempt to organize his possessions.

He thought about it, looking over his bookcases of collected off-planet manuscripts, his inventions, and Koschei's, the few he hadn't been willing to return, and shook his head. No, no he was quite ready to toss this life aside.

~~~~~

When the Master returned, this time in his TARDIS, Theta's rooms were deserted. Very little was missing, but he knew immediately that the man had fled.  Further more, he realized, he had only missed him by the narrowest of margins. The same record still spun in the turntable. It might even have been the same song.

"--away
Give your love, live your life
Each and every day
And keep your hand wide open
Let the sun shine through
'Cause you can never lose a thi-"

He flung the primitive machine off its pedestal in a single, sweeping blow.