Lost Boys

Chapter 25

The Master’s face was elated; blissful as he stared down at the islands that lay far below them, his head tilted upwards in a superior smirk. The Doctor looked away from the windows and into his eyes, a painfully dark frown contorting his face as he read the meaning there.

                “Doctor…” Tish whispered over his shoulder. “What’s he going to do?”

                The Doctor didn’t want to answer. Answering it made it true; made the Master’s thoughts into reality. His face twisted into a look of disappointment and disgust as the other Timelord turned towards them, his lip curled. He seemed to understand the Doctor’s thoughts.

                “Tell them.”

                The words fell like gunshots inside the Doctor’s head. He stood, paralysed for a moment, his fists clenched. The Master’s eyes flashed dangerously.

                “Tell them, Doctor!”

                “I’m not your messenger!” Snapped the Doctor furiously. “Tell them yourself!”

                The Master paused at the sudden anger in the Doctor’s voice. He sniffed in irritation. After a moment he sighed and began to pull off his tie. “Right, that’s it. I’m gagging you.”

                The Doctor looked in sudden panic as the Master slid the tie off his shoulders and began to advance on him, holding the fabric threateningly between his fingers. Every instinct the Doctor had told him to run, but even as he considered the option he felt cold metal nudge into the base of his back: he hadn’t even realised he’d been moving backwards, but suddenly he was pressed up against the railings that lined the bridge. He’d cornered himself.

                “Master, just listen to me.” He breathed nervously as the other Timelord came closer, his eyes full of irritation. The Doctor shook his head, eyes wide. “You’re about to make a huge mistake. Just-“

                But the Master wasn’t listening. He moved the last few inches forwards, pressing the Doctor up against the railings roughly with his body weight. He snorted. “I don’t know why I didn’t do this a long time ago.” He growled quietly, trying to force the fabric in between the Doctor’s teeth. The taller Timelord twisted his head aside. “That mouth of yours-“ He tried again, forcing the Doctor’s head back over the railings with the force of his hands. The Doctor gasped against the material as it jammed into his mouth, his eyes wide as he felt the Master’s fingers slip behind his head, tying . “…so irritating.”

                The Doctor made a muffled noise of protest as the Master pulled the tie furiously tight across his mouth, but he could feel his tongue forced down against the bottom of his mouth. He couldn’t speak.

                The Master pulled his fingers away from the Doctor’s head, looking into his wide eyes with appreciation at his handiwork. His lip twitched in amusement at the look on the Doctor’s face. He raised an eyebrow. “It looks good on you.” He murmured, low enough for the Doctor’s ears only. The Doctor could only glare back, helplessly as the Master placed his hands back on his temples, forcing their heads close as he stared almost seriously into his eyes. “Maybe you’ll finally learn your lesson.”

                They stood there for a moment, the Doctor sensing the Master’s body warmth pressed roughly up against his; tasting the blood in his mouth where the material had torn roughly against his lips. He could sense the faint whisper to submit nagging in his ear, but he pushed it away: the image of the islands far below them was stamped into his mind. They had no idea what was about to happen to them. He had to do something.

                The Master went to back away, and the Doctor felt the pressure of the railings ease against his back. Instinctively he went to raise his hands, desperate to remove the gag; to make the Master listen to reason. It was too soon. The Master’s eyes snapped down to the reaching fingers and he grabbed them with a frustrated sigh.

                “Will someone please tie his hands?” He shouted over the Doctor’s shoulder, his eyebrows raised in exasperation. The Doctor’s arms were suddenly forced behind his back. Cold metal wrapped itself around his wrists and he felt himself struggling against the force. The Master stepped back and watched, enjoying the look of realisation as it entered the Doctor’s face. “…they do have a habit of getting in the way.”

                With a last flash of enjoyment, the Master turned away, leaving the Doctor trying to shout after him, muffled against the gag; struggling uselessly against the handcuffs that now pinned him against the railings. A rising wave of horror was washing over him, and he finally stopped struggling as the thought flushed out every other thought in his head:

                Japan was going to burn. There was nothing he could do.