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emerald_embersTitle: Lose Control
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Simm Master/Tenth Doctor
Rating: PG
Word Count: 607
Warning: Character death
Summary: It's quite fun, this dying lark.
Author's Notes: Believe it or not, I wrote this before I saw the last episode of the third series!
He'd seen infinity, they both had. It was in the eyes. It was scarring. And the Master found it strangely comforting that even though he was the one dying, the Doctor looked broken in an altogether different way.
"Has the drumming stopped?"
"I wish." Rolling onto his stomach would have made him more comfortable, albeit also more dead. "You know, I think I could see Earth when the drums started." He tapped a finger to the Doctor's forehead. "Why humans? They're violent as anyone else we came across."
"I save who I can."
"Could've fooled me."
"No," said the Doctor, no desperation in his voice but pain enough to make the point. "You don't get to say that to me."
"I just did."
"I tried," The Doctor began, so expressive from staying in human company too long, "You tortured me, you killed Jack - what was that, seven times? You hurt Martha and her family, you ordered a tenth of the population destroyed and I let it slide to try and save you so cut me just a little slack here!"
He hadn't given the Doctor's point of view too much consideration before, but it seemed there'd be no better time for it. Had to pity him, really, even when he wasn't the one dying. "Is it that hard to be wrong? Is it easier if I'm saveable and it's my fault for not wanting it enough, or if I never was saveable so you can just put me down and get on with it?" The Doctor went quiet even though his eyes screamed a thousand replies and the Master tilted his head slightly. "You idiot. I'll always hate you. You ruin everything." The hand he had at the Doctor's neck had been left limp for a while but it was time to pull him closer, get those wonderful big eyes nearer. So expressive. So fitting. "Doesn't mean I can't like you." Lips fell open to protest and he rose to claim them.
It was a very operatic death, really, and it felt right, felt better when the Doctor's lingering composure broke on realising he was getting kissed by his own species. Handsome Jack or luscious Martha probably never got this reaction, and there was plenty of satisfaction to be taken in that.
Grips tightened and there were no pauses for what or why, their positions and the issues at hand meaning there was nothing more to do than kiss, so he was careful to put his all into it, every kiss he'd ever had from start to finish, everything new anyway courtesy of lips he only got to test on his wife a few times. Sweet girl. Pity she had to go.
The Doctor's lips were nice enough but it was the surprise that was sweeter, sweetest of all being how palpable his thoughts were through the kiss - the 'no yes please no no yes why help why'. Something too satisfying in knowing he wasn't the only little boy lost in the universe; staring into the abyss broke something but left it eight years old forever.
The Master smiled when he pulled back from the kiss, the Doctor almost following for more before catching himself, stupidly pretty tears streaking his face. Typical. Comforting, but typical. The Master licked his lips, getting the last of the Doctor's taste off them as he brushed his thumb over wet cheeks, strangely pleased that some were meant for him and not just for the Doctor's loneliness. "Bye, then!"
A crunch as he rolled onto his stomach, but he didn't feel it and he wasn't the one to hear it.
The End
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Simm Master/Tenth Doctor
Rating: PG
Word Count: 607
Warning: Character death
Summary: It's quite fun, this dying lark.
Author's Notes: Believe it or not, I wrote this before I saw the last episode of the third series!
He'd seen infinity, they both had. It was in the eyes. It was scarring. And the Master found it strangely comforting that even though he was the one dying, the Doctor looked broken in an altogether different way.
"Has the drumming stopped?"
"I wish." Rolling onto his stomach would have made him more comfortable, albeit also more dead. "You know, I think I could see Earth when the drums started." He tapped a finger to the Doctor's forehead. "Why humans? They're violent as anyone else we came across."
"I save who I can."
"Could've fooled me."
"No," said the Doctor, no desperation in his voice but pain enough to make the point. "You don't get to say that to me."
"I just did."
"I tried," The Doctor began, so expressive from staying in human company too long, "You tortured me, you killed Jack - what was that, seven times? You hurt Martha and her family, you ordered a tenth of the population destroyed and I let it slide to try and save you so cut me just a little slack here!"
He hadn't given the Doctor's point of view too much consideration before, but it seemed there'd be no better time for it. Had to pity him, really, even when he wasn't the one dying. "Is it that hard to be wrong? Is it easier if I'm saveable and it's my fault for not wanting it enough, or if I never was saveable so you can just put me down and get on with it?" The Doctor went quiet even though his eyes screamed a thousand replies and the Master tilted his head slightly. "You idiot. I'll always hate you. You ruin everything." The hand he had at the Doctor's neck had been left limp for a while but it was time to pull him closer, get those wonderful big eyes nearer. So expressive. So fitting. "Doesn't mean I can't like you." Lips fell open to protest and he rose to claim them.
It was a very operatic death, really, and it felt right, felt better when the Doctor's lingering composure broke on realising he was getting kissed by his own species. Handsome Jack or luscious Martha probably never got this reaction, and there was plenty of satisfaction to be taken in that.
Grips tightened and there were no pauses for what or why, their positions and the issues at hand meaning there was nothing more to do than kiss, so he was careful to put his all into it, every kiss he'd ever had from start to finish, everything new anyway courtesy of lips he only got to test on his wife a few times. Sweet girl. Pity she had to go.
The Doctor's lips were nice enough but it was the surprise that was sweeter, sweetest of all being how palpable his thoughts were through the kiss - the 'no yes please no no yes why help why'. Something too satisfying in knowing he wasn't the only little boy lost in the universe; staring into the abyss broke something but left it eight years old forever.
The Master smiled when he pulled back from the kiss, the Doctor almost following for more before catching himself, stupidly pretty tears streaking his face. Typical. Comforting, but typical. The Master licked his lips, getting the last of the Doctor's taste off them as he brushed his thumb over wet cheeks, strangely pleased that some were meant for him and not just for the Doctor's loneliness. "Bye, then!"
A crunch as he rolled onto his stomach, but he didn't feel it and he wasn't the one to hear it.
The End
