pawnofrassilon | For Eileen <3<3

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For Eileen <3<3

On a cold spring evening in Wiltshire, in the year 2011, a man falls to Earth.

Some children look up and think they see a shooting star that night. Adults, knowing that whatever it is is far too large, think it might be a comet or meteor. Or else they assume it's a trick of the eyes, an afterimage of a headlamp on the road. Some, oddly enough, think of angels. News reports are non-definitive.

Much like the film, the man isn't quite a 'man' at all-- not by the twenty-first century Earth definition, anyhow. He's alien, though it's only by the doubling of his pulses and the nature of his abrupt appearance in the first place that any human could tell.

Unlike the film, he isn't particularly concerned with saving his home world. Not anymore.

The Master lies very still for a long time, heedless of the fact he's crumpled up in the middle of an open field. He's fallen quite a distance, even for a Time Lord. And many of his injuries are much, much older than that. His clothes are little more than rags, torn to shreds and singed to the point of near purposelessness. If it's even possible, he's dirtier than ever. Exhausted. Parched. Hungry. So hungry.

Eventually it's the hunger that gets him up and keeps him moving. Feeling the click and slide of bones that are likely dislocated if not broken, the Master struggles to his feet, heaving and wincing in pain, his skin becoming momentarily translucent with the effort. He's in trouble, his energy stores dangerously low and his body in real danger of being ripped apart. But it's nothing a little snack won't fix. Taking a great whiff of the night air, he cracks a grin just short of sanity... and lets his nose lead him staggering through the darkness.

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The Master puts on an innocent face, though there is mischief dancing in his eyes.

"Hurt you? What sort of monster do you think I am?"

"I don't know what you are," she said as she held another sandwich to his lips. "I need some sort of assurance that you'll not hurt me, or any of my team."

He devours the next sandwich in the blink of an eye, smacking his lips in satisfaction before speaking.

"You know I'm a Time Lord. Like the Doctor." The Master smiles.

"You trust the Doctor, don't you?"

He decides not to bring up the member of her team he's already 'hurt'-- wouldn't do to remind her of that. Yet.

Sh thinks about it for a moment, then approaches and releases one of the straps binding his hands.

"That will do for now," she says, offering him another sandwich.

The Master snatches it out of her hand, watching her with wary eyes.

"You're going to have to do a lot better than these," he comments, and then tears into the next sandwich.

"I can see that," Rose said, holding out the next (and next to last) sandwich. "What do you have in mind?"

"What do you think?" he counters after finishing it off, not exactly answering the right question. "You're the one who insists on keeping me. Bad move, really-- but what else could one expect from Torchwood?"

"There's something going on here that isn't normal Time Lord physiology," Rose protests. "I should know...I know a thing or two about Time Lords. So how about this... either you tell me whhat you need, or you die for the lack of it?"

She steps back and crosses her arms.

Under normal circumstances he'd be able to wait her out, perhaps even taunt her about how disappointed the Doctor would be to discover her killing-- and a fellow Time Lord, at that. But instead, all the Master can do is stare at that last sandwich fixedly. And after a few minutes pass, he breaks the silence.

"Give that to me," he says, his voice harsh and desperate.

She nods and steps forward to hand him the last sandwich.

"I can get more, if you give me a little time. I'll have one of my agents get them."

The Master doesn't answer, not right away, busy finishing off the final sandwich. He can feel his strength returning, knows it will take many more sandwiches at this rate before he'll have enough to break free.

"What is it you want?" he asks, sucking the last of the crumbs off his fingers. Perhaps if he can bargain with her...

She stepped back, watched him warily.

"I want to know who you are. Why you're here. What you want. How you know my name."

"Is that all?" The Master smiles widely. "Aren't you forgetting the more important things?"

"The Doctor," she said quietly. "Where is he?"

Ah, there's the meat of the matter. "Where he's always been. In the other universe." He tilts his head a little, watching her closely as he speaks.

"You asked me why I'm here. Don't you want to know how? And aren't you just dying to find out if I can do it again? Reunite you with your precious Doctor?"

"We have the means..." Rose began, about to tell him of the interdimensional cannon that was carrying her between worlds. But she stopped, unwilling to give him all the information on what they were working on.

"I saw how you came into this universe," she began again. "It wasn't pretty. And it wasn't something I'd want to try myself."

And if he felt like sharing anything today, he'd ask her if she could do better given the circumstances. Crossing universes is one thing-- ripping universes apart is one thing-- but escaping a Time Lock? Not such an easy matter.

Instead he keeps smiling.

"Oh? You have the means and yet you choose to stay here, and not with him? How noble of you." The Master gives her a look that clearly communicates he isn't buying it.

"I've been looking for him," she protested. "He's got all of space and time to travel through... he's not exactly easy to find."

It was frustrating, though, and that twinge of frustration made its way into her voice.

He doesn't miss that twinge. "Maybe you need more help," the Master muses, casually examining the nails of his free hand. There's dirt caked there, bits of grass and dried blood... and several unidentifiable substances besides.

"We can sniff each other out, you know. Time Lord thing."

She watches him warily. Of course he's right...she knows the Doctor was able to sense the presence of other Time Lords, so this one must be able to as well. But he still won't tell her his name, and that bothers her.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

He stares evenly back at her. "Because the alternative is this: you'll keep me in one of your wretched little cells and continue to fling yourself between universes at random, wasting your life on the off chance you'll run into him. Tell me, Rose Tyler," the Master raises an eyebrow, "Do you think he'll still want you around when you're old and wrinkled?"

"Yes," she says, just as evenly, remembering Sarah Jane. "Yes, he would. Maybe it will take me the rest of my life to find him. Maybe I won't find him at all. But I have more chance if I'm alive than I would if you killed me with your bioelectric thing."

The Master gives her a curt little smile, his temper getting the better of him. "I was hoping you'd be bright enough to know a bargain when one was presented. Forgive me; I should have been more clear. You'll keep me as long as you can. And after that, well. It won't be a matter of 'if' I kill you so much as 'when'."

She eyes him.

"I let you go," she says, "and I have your word no harm will come to me or my team, and you'll help me find the Doctor?"

She's trying to keep a tone of disbelief out of her voice, and succeeding for the most part.

His smile widens into something... not that much more pleasant, but it's a start.

"I give you my word," the Master agrees.

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