PROLOGUE

The Master couldn't sleep. He couldn't waste the few hours of peace he had before he was abandoned to the drums again, lying in bed with his ear pressed against the pale flesh of his companion's chest he concentrated on the continuous thump of his lover's double heartbeat. Louder than the drums which haunted him and stronger than the pain which had become part of his daily life the organic rhythm filed his mind. It was the only thing he ever wanted to hear and knowing that it would be over in a few short hours once would have been enough to bring tears to his tired eyes. At the edge of his consciousness he could feel the man dreaming beside him, but he didn't intrude, half afraid and half hoping that he would see himself there. Besides, he didn't want to risk upsetting the Doctor and being left alone again.

For the few hours a day that the Doctor lay with him here the Master felt like himself, not the version of himself who would kill a man just to hear him scream or to push away the urge to scream he was forced to live with because for the constant pounding in his skull but the man who the Doctor had wanted to save when he took him off the Valiant after he almost managed to die. The man he had known when they grew up together. The Master had tried so hard to be that man in the last few weeks but it was so hard to go back. Living a slave to the drums for almost a millennium he was left with scars and guilt and he spent most of his time trying to think clearly leaving little time for self improvement. He had his good days and on those days he would talk to the Doctor as they piloted the TARDIS together - unless of course the Doctor had one of his human companions on board, on those days it didn't matter how 'well behaved' he had been or how long he had gone without an 'episode', he was locked in his rooms and left at the mercy of the drums.

This was what the Doctor did. He allowed the Master a few hours of peace then left him alone and unable to cope again. The Master may have tortured and killed people to satisfy his blood-lust but he thought that it was the Doctor who was truly cruel, keeping a single man in his own personal hell but giving him a taste of heaven each day. But maybe he deserved to suffer like this, or maybe it was self inflicted and it was time for him to stand on his own two feet again. There's a saying that when you can't run you crawl, and when you can't crawl you find someone to carry you. But sometimes the person who carries you doesn't want to let go, and then your legs can't get strong again. Soon the Master would have to be stronger than ever because one day the Doctor would wake up and decide he didn't want him, or that he was better and didn't need to be taken care of anymore. One day he would find himself alone, so he reasoned that it was better to leave than to be the one who was left. Pressing a final kiss to his sleeping partner's lips he swung his legs off the side of the bed and making a quick stop at the wardrobe made his way through the console room and off the TARDIS.

"Take care of him old girl, make sure to get him where he needs to be, and not to where he wants to be" because I'm not strong enough to stay away if he finds me too soon.

Repost in the big crazy procrastination rewrite 30/12/13