A / N : The Master! At last! This one took the longest to write but I like it. And it's very long, but hey – the master is nine hundred years old, there's a lot to cover! Thanks to Tiff for the help with their childhood names. Also, I should probably mention that my knowledge of Doctor Who only extends to New Who – I've never seen the Classic Series, so if anything here is wrong, please tell me. It is mostly guesswork on my part. And it should become clear quite quickly, but for New Whovians like me - 'Koschei' is The Master and 'Theta' is The Doctor. Please let me know what you think, I'm a bit nervous about this one . . .

The Master

Koschei is six years old, when he befriends Theta. No-one likes Theta. He's too quiet, and he has an unnerving way of staring at people, as if he's trying to read them. Koschei doesn't know, yet, that he himself has an equally unnerving stare. All he knows is that he's lonely. He hates the Academy, hates the stupid stuffieness of it all, and he wants to run away. He will never, ever admit this later on in life, but the first time Theta talks to him, he is crying. Huddled in a corner, crying his eyes out. He hears the soft approaching footsteps, though he doesn't look up. He hopes that whoever it is will simply take the hint and go away. But the bothersome person refuses to walk away, so he looks up, glowering at the other boy. "Go away," he growls. Theta, of course, doesn't budge. Later, he will learn that appearances can be deceptive, and that Theta, for all his quiet tolerence, is really just as stubborn as himself. But he doesn't know that yet, so it annoys him all the more when Theta refuses to obey him. He simply stands there, watching him with his head tilted to one side, as though trying to puzzle him out.

"Why are you crying?" he inquires. There is no judgement in his voice. Just curiosity.

They stare at each other for a long moment. "Because," Koschei says at last, "I hate it here." This is only part of the truth, but to Koschei "I'm lonely," sounds pathetic. Theta stares at him again. Then, to his surprise, the boy sits down beside him and begins to talk.

"I hate it too," he says. "It's boring."

Koschei can't help it. Theta says this with such cheerful certainty, which contrasts so starkly with his serious brown eyes, that he laughs. Later he will think, in some small part of his brain that won't ever let him voice the thought out loud, that it was worth it, just to see Theta's dazzling answering smile.

"I'm going to run away," Theta confides. "I'm going to be an explorer."

Koschei suddenly decides he likes Theta very much.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

He is nine, the first time Theta forgives him.

Everything has changed, and he knows why. It's the drums. He tries to live with it, he really does, but . . . it's driving him mad. Because it never stops. On and on and on and on, and he would do anything to make it stop. Sometimes, he feels like the drums are a curse, because they make him want to scream and scream, even though he knows he can't. But sometimes, he wonders if they're really trying to help him. Because there are times when they focus all his attention, narrow it down to one sharp point, and show him all the possibilities sparking off around it. The drums inspire all his best ideas.

Of course, the other children in the academy disagree with this. They don't like Koschei's ideas at all, but he doesn't particularly care. They don't matter. Stupid children. What do they know? These are Koschei's thoughts as he hides in the Academy lecture hall, watching moonlight cast silver shadows across the polished floorboards. He should be in his dormitory by now, of course, but it will take the stewards forever to find him. He grins. He knows who will come to find him.

As if on cue, the door on the other side of the hall slowly opens, and a small figure steps tentatively inside. Hidden high in the observatory balcony, Koschei smothers a laugh and slides a little further forwards, relishing Theta's confusion. Theta's so stupid sometimes. It really is too easy to trick him.

The boy shivers. He obviously dislikes the cold, and the dark. He probably thinks the Toclafane are going to get him or something. Koschei rolls his eyes. The Toclafane. Yeah right. He can't help it – a laugh escapes him, and Theta jumps, staring round in confusion, as Kochei's laughter bounces off the walls.

"Kos-chei," he whines. "Where are you?"

Koschei laughs again. "The-ta . ." he calls, a perfectly pitched mimic. The echoes from Theta's name are splendid, so he repeats it, laughing fit to burst. His laughter is what gives him away of course. But once Theta has found him there's no point hiding – the game (this game, he should say) is over. So he shoots forward over the edge of the balcony, dropping neatly down in front of his friend.

"Boo!"

Theta looks suitably shocked, but his expression quickly becomes disgruntled. "You didn't have to do that," he mutters.

Koschei only shrugs. His friend can be so boring sometimes.

"I learnt something," he says, "Do you want to see?"

Theta stares at him for a long moment. "That depends on what it is," he replies, nervousness clear in his voice. "Tell me first."

Koschei scowls. "No," he says petulantly. That will spoil all his fun. He knows, however, that Theta will crumble, if he just has a little patience. Theta hates thinking anyone's smarter than him.

Sure enough, his friend gives in. "Alright," he says apprehensively. "Show me."

Koschei grins, delighted to have won. "You have to come closer," he orders. When Theta obliges, he puts his fingers carefully on his temples. "Look in my eyes," he says seriously.

"Now . . . I'm cleverer than you." He says this placidly. It isn't a question.

Theta frowns. "You're not . . ." he says obstinately, but the words emerge more slowly than usual, and require obvious effort.

Koshcei takes a deep breath, and listens to the drums. They tell him to be calm. They tell him to push the connection. So he does.

"I am," he says. His voices throbs slightly, a faint humming-bird flicker, and only a Time-Lord would detect it. "You know I'm cleverer than you . . ." he insists.

Theta struggles for an instant, and then . . . he goes under. "If you say so," he says dully. Obediently. Total obedience . . .. Koschei lets out a triumphant burst of laughter, and breaks the connection.

Theta gasps. He stares at his friend in horror, as though he has never really seen him before. And then he does something which shocks Koschei – he pushes him. He is red-faced and his eyes are shining with tears, but he doesn't look upset. He looks angry.

Koschei laughs uneasily. He has the horrible feeling he may have pushed Theta too far, and he doesn't like it.

"I was only joking," he says, even though they both know he wasn't.

"Well it wasn't funny," Theta says shortly. And then, just like that, he turns to leave.

Somehow – he doesn't know why, exactly – Koschei hates the sight of him walking away. So he breaks his own cardinal rule, and says something he knows is pathetic.

"You can't walk away!" he blurts out. "That's not fair!"

Theta freezes. "What?" He turns around slowly, but Koschei is no longer watching him. He is staring at his shoes.

"It's not fair," he mutters, fighting tears. It's not fair of Theta, to say that he's his friend, and then walk away. Just like it's not fair that the drums chose him. It's all not fair . . .

Suddenly, he feels a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay," Theta whispers. "I forgive you."

And that Koschei cannot stand.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Theta betrays him twice over, in the space of a year. Years have passed since the hypnotism incident but he remembers wondering if this is Theta's revenge.

Theta's first betrayal comes at their naming. The Doctor. The man who makes people better. How sanctimonius is that? And then he has the gall to stare at Koschei, when he chooses the name The Master. There's nothing wrong with that, he thinks defensively. It's a good name. An assertive name. But he doesn't like the way Theta stares at him, after that. There is judgement in it. And pity.

Theta's second betrayal comes a few days later. He runs away.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Years pass. Half of them, he spends running away from the Doctor. The other half . . . well. As much as he hates to admit it – he is, after all, The Master. One day, he will be master of all, and the Doctor will be no-one - is no-one, he reminds himself - however. He has to admit, he expends far too much brainpower on scheming. He will do anything to draw the Doctor in, he delights in setting him traps. And when he has him . . . . it's ironic really. As soon as he has the Doctor at his mercy, he wishes he could send him away again. Not that he ever actually would, of course. He's not stupid, after all. You don't catch someone just to let them go again. That's not the point.

He swirls scotch in a glass, thinking about it. He has the Doctor now. At his mercy . . . and that's the problem. He should feel pleased. He has captured his greatest adversary, has aged him – he smirks – degraded him, diminished him . . . he has broken his hearts, and it still isn't enough. A year has passed, and The Master is starting to learn that the Doctor, curse him, is right. He has everything he ever wanted. And it means nothing.

He has triumphed over his worst enemy, but his paranoia won't let him relax. He surveys his dominion on earth, and finds it . . . lonely. He seems drawn to the Doctor like a magnet, unable to leave him alone. Every minute spent out of his presence is a minute he might spend plotting, after all.

He murders Jack Harkness, over and over again, but the novelty wears off quickly, leaving just the infuriating fact of the man's immortality, a secret neither he nor the Doctor will fully explain.

And then there is Lucy. He has broken her, too. Once again, the Doctor is right. Hypnotism – utter control – comes at a price. He has made Lucy his safeguard, and he has destroyed her in the process. He finds he can no longer stand how blank and empty she seems. But at the same time . . . her occasional moments of clarity terrify him. He can always overwhelm her, of course, but he no longer feels pleased about it. She shivers, thin and oddly fragile in his arms. She reminds him of a bird with broken wings. Irony, again. Flight, after all, was his last great gift to humanity (and the Doctor says he isn't good to them). So it is ironic, isn't it, that flight should be what he takes away from the only human he has ever really . . . . No! He freezes, appalled. That's not right. That's absurd. He doesn't even -

There is a sound, a cry of pain, and he doesn't need to look at her to know what he has done.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Dying in the arms of the Doctor.

How about that? It seems appropriate, somehow. Of course, he isn't really dying – well, he bloody well hopes not – but still. The Doctor doesn't know that. The Doctor – the only Time Lord left, now. He thinks he's won. Well, he hasn't. He's just got the upper hand, for now. It's not over. Not by a long shot.

His last conscious thought is how ironic it is.

The first time he really saw Theta, he was crying.

The last time Theta sees him . . . .

Look at that. I made you cry.

"Look at that. I win."