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If the Doctor were superstitious, he might believe that there was some sort of force in the universe conspiring against him. At least that would explain why things so often seem to go against him in the most spectacular of fashions. Truly he doesn't know what he could have possibly done to deserve such a fate, it's one of those horribly unfair things that keep happening to him despite him doing nothing at all to contribute to it.
“I hope you do realise that this is entirely your fault, and I hold you personally responsible for everything that's happening,” the Master says, sitting at the opposite end of the bench and crossing both his legs and his arms, which seems to be an exaggerated way to show his displeasure with the situation, but the Master always did have a flare for the dramatic.
As the Doctor had intended to detain the Master in some way, he refuses to be reprimanded on that by the Master of all people. Of course, in his plan, in as much as he had one, he wouldn't be detained with the Master. His plan was more along the lines of grabbing the Master and taking him captive, and didn’t go beyond that, but it certainly didn't involve being captured as well. Especially since he hadn't done anything wrong.
“I hardly think that an interplanetary criminal has any right to complain. If you didn't do anything else on this planet to warrant your arrest, it's simply because I found you too early,” the Doctor says, refusing to look in his direction, although in the small cell he doesn't have many options.
He knows that he's being petty, but he can't find it in himself to care. As far as he's concerned, it's actually the Master’s fault that he was arrested as well, and now Ms Grant is all alone in the temple, although hopefully she can take good enough care of herself to stay out of trouble until he can find a way of escaping this prison, preferably with a captive Master. He doesn't have a plan for that yet, but that's hardly his fault. He wasn't expecting to find the Master there. The Master simply keeps appearing everywhere that he goes at an alarming rate.
“At least I know better than to shout in a place called the Temple of Quiet Contemplation,” the Master says, and the words hit him like a slap.
In retrospect, it should have been obvious. There were quite a lot of signs on the walls depicting crossed out soundwaves, and although the name of the temple wasn't written there, it is known throughout the neighbouring star systems, and he can't claim not to have heard of it before.
“Well, yes, you see…”
“In the city of Quietude.”
“Well, but…”
“Capital city of the kingdom of Laconious.”
“Yes, I get…”
“On the planet Shush.”
The Master's rapid attack doesn't give him a chance to defend himself, and the Doctor is starting to suspect that he doesn't actually have a defence, at least not one that would absolve him completely. At most he could go on attack, but that wouldn't exactly be productive when they are both trapped there, and might depend on one another to escape. He really hopes that this isn't the case, because as much as they might work well together, he knows better than to depend on the Master. The Master will always find a way to double-cross him.
“You've made your point,” the Doctor says, not sulking at all.
For starters, the Master absolutely doesn't know better, as evidenced by his arrest as well. It's only that the Doctor may have called him a bit too loudly, and then the Master let out a bit of a scandalised “Doctor!” when he grabbed him by the wrist and tried to pull him along, accidentally making the Master clash against his chest, making the Doctor lose balance and have to grab him by the waist with his other hand to keep both of them standing, which was a bit more contact than one should have with their enemy in polite society.
Their respective screams, or his scream and the Master’s loud gasp apparently mean that both of them are now criminals, having broken what was known to outsiders as the Law of Silence, or at least that's as much as the Doctor was able to ascertain, from a mix of his previous knowledge and what he was able to discover from the guards. It's unsurprisingly hard to get a good grasp of a legal system when all guards refuse to make a noise, and although they have a complex sign language based on facial expressions, the Doctor isn’t fluent in it at all.
Fine, technically speaking, the Doctor didn't discover anything at all beyond what he already knew. He tried, but he couldn't get anything, so he was going from what the Master told him. At least he's fairly sure that he knows the Master well enough to tell that this wasn't a lie, and it fits with all else that he knows about the planet. The Master was too eager to show how clever he is by understanding something complicated, which likely means that he hasn't thought of a plan that would involve lying to the Doctor about any of that, as it would only take away from his achievement in knowing something that the Doctor doesn’t.
“I don't suppose counting on you to have a solution would be wise,” the Master says, and when the Doctor's not sulking goes on for too long, he adds, “Oh, now he's quiet. Great impression of a Shushian. Where was that an hour ago?”
If the Doctor had been sulking, he would be offended, but he isn't. He's thinking of the situation that they are in, hopefully to get to a solution. At least they aren't exactly in danger. He has no idea of what their punishment might be, but the Shushians are known pacifists who abhor all forms of violence, if he's remembering things correctly. There's always the possibility that they'll just throw away the keys, in which case the Doctor and the Master might take care of a capital punishment by themselves for being in close quarters for too long. Either that, or, well, something disastrous would happen between them. Hopefully they would kill each other first, that might cause less damage.
“If we can find a way to open the cell's door, I could use my sonic screwdriver to temporarily incapacitate the guards. Shushians are very sensitive to noise,” the Doctor says, glazing his fingers over his pocket, just to remind himself that the guards didn't find the sonic screwdriver, as they hadn’t really bothered with searching either of them for weapons.
He really hopes that it won't come to it, because it's a bit mean to aliens who aren't particularly in the wrong. He thinks that their reaction is a touch unfair, but as long as they aren't trying to hurt the two of them, he would like to avoid hurting them as well. At least it would be only a touch of temporary pain, he's sure that the locals could forgive that. Or if they couldn't, well, the Doctor can forgive himself, and just refrain from returning with this particular face. He might refrain from returning either way, he quite dislikes the idea of a planet where he’s not allowed to speak.
The Master sighs. “If we could find a way to open the door, I could kill them, that's not the issue. The bars are made from a non-resonant alloy, it would take days to cut through with anything that we have access to at the moment.”
The Doctor eyes the door, wanting to object on principle, but the Master isn't wrong. “We're not killing anyone,” he says instead, as this seems like a reasonable enough boundary.
Sure, sometimes they do work together out of necessity, but in order for them to do that, the Master has to at least pretend that he's going to follow the Doctor's morality. Or if not, at least follow his rules while they are working together.
“If you think that I'll stay in this…”
“We are not killing anyone,” the Doctor repeats, more firmly, squeezing the Master’s knee with a hand to make sure that he was listening, rather than plotting a murder.
The Master stops, looks at his knee and the Doctor's hand, looks at the Doctor, opens his mouth, closes it, and goes again in a loop a couple of times, almost in perfect sync. The befuddled expression looks rather lovely on this face. And if the Doctor is already thinking like that, they’ve been there for too long and really have to find a way out of there before a catastrophe happens.
“I…” he wets his lips. “What would you have me do?” he asks, in a way that he probably intended as exasperated, but gets out as a surprisingly earnest offer.
What the Master could do for him indeed, the possibilities are quite... The Doctor tries to remember what they're even talking about. Prison. Escaping prison. Together, and, oh, they still work so well together. It might be a matter of being forced by the circumstances, but they have a synchronicity that can't be explained by necessity.
“I don't suppose hypnotism is an option?” he asks, although he already knows the answer.
He tried on the way there, and couldn't find anything to hold on in those even more alien than usual alien minds. It's not just that they don't have a spoken language, he’s perfectly fluent in quite a few sign languages, including a few languages based on facial expressions and one that’s made entirely of changing the chemical composition of expelled air, but this particular language can't be directly translated to words or concepts, and their way of thinking is fundamentally different, leading to a misunderstanding even of directly sent instructions via telepathy. Still, although the Doctor will never admit so aloud, the Master is a better hypnotist, so he might have better luck.
Unfortunately, the Master shakes his head, and he's once again looking at the Doctor's hand. Maybe he should have stopped touching the Master by now, but even as he thinks that, he doesn't pull back his hand. There's probably a reason to keep it there, he just has to think of one. Keeping the Master’s attention, that’s a good one.
“I'm afraid that I might have to do something rather drastic,” the Master says, and wets his lips again.
The Doctor feels himself start to blush, and wonders if this is the part where the Master will reveal that the Shushians are deadly afraid of public displays of affection, or maybe do a half-hearted attempt at killing him, which he suspects also counts as a display of affection.
“Well?” he prompts, hoping that the Master will at least share his plan before execution, just in case it's something that the Doctor has to veto.
The Master puts his hand over the Doctor's, ostensibly to push it away, but the touch lingers for far too long, until it almost looks like they're holding hands. Finally, the Master gently brushes the back of his hand with a thumb and lets go.
“I would say trust me, but we both know you won't,” he says, standing up.
Still, the Doctor does nothing to stop him as the Master approaches the cell’s door, and catches the attention of one of the guards. As the Master has his back to him, and doesn’t say a word, the Doctor has no idea of what he’s trying to communicate. It didn’t even occur to him that the Master might be fluent in this language, although it should, considering that the Master understood the charges against them. It’s entirely possible that he has been there for longer, and he is so brilliant, he has always been, so given time the Doctor doesn’t doubt that he can learn the language. He should probably be more worried about whatever it is that the Master is planning to do there, but he can worry about that once they’re freed from this prison.
Unless the Master is telling them to keep the Doctor arrested and escaping himself. Hopefully it won’t come to that, he doesn’t want to have to escape by himself and still have to find Ms Grant, hopefully before she is in danger. It might be easier to follow the Law of Silence if he isn't around the Master, since the Master makes him so frustrated that he can't help but want to scream, or toss him against a wall and, well, the Doctor isn't entirely sure of what he would want to do to the Master then.
It seems that it takes too long for the Master to come back, but when he does, he sits further away from the Doctor and doesn't look in his direction, clearly disliking whatever it was that he heard.
“One hour. We have to stay silent for one hour, and then they'll let us go, as long as we agree to remain quiet,” the Master says, frustrated.
The Doctor can’t understand what's wrong. One hour of quiet between the two of them, that's easy. It'll probably be the best hour of their relationship. He's looking forward to it, even. It’ll be wonderful, seeing the Master desperate to say something and having to contain himself, the Doctor is sure that this will be far worse for the Master, while of course the Doctor has nothing to say to him, so this should be easy enough.
“Well, I'm sure it'll be a torture for you not to gloat over how you can communicate with them and I can't,” the Doctor says, sideying the Master.
“If you weren't so concerned with the sound of your own voice, you might learn something,” the Master says.
“My voice? I've never met a man more in love with his own voice than you.”
An admittedly nice voice, not that the Doctor was about to say that aloud. The Master has gotten quite lucky with this regeneration, and not just in his voice. It's a shame that he uses that for evil as everything else, because he has regenerated with quite the natural charm. Beautiful eyes too, so intense, it’s unfair that a gifted hypnotist would gain an even greater advantage with such penetrating eyes, they’re mesmerising before he even opens his mouth, sadly nearly hidden by that ridiculous goatee.
“And yet I have been here for long enough to learn their language without being arrested until you appeared. You have only been here for a couple of hours, and half of those were spent in custody.”
“Oh please, don't pretend that you actually care about communicating with other people. The only reason you learned this is because you want to trick them somehow, this is surely a part of one of your scams.”
“How do you know that I'm not simply here on holiday? I might be trying to get away from your insufferable gloating.”
He almost laughs at that. As if the Master hadn't been the one to come search for him during his exile.
“You, trying to get away from me? That would be a first. You are obsessed with me, you won't leave me alone.”
“I was here first!” the Master all but yelled.
Alright, the Doctor is starting to see what the problem with one hour of silence between them might be. He's not sure that they ever spent that long in silence while both of them were still conscious.
“We both know that first means very little when we're talking about time travel,” the Doctor says, despite knowing it's a ridiculous argument, simply because he can't let the Master win.
It's entirely possible that the TARDIS might have brought him there because of the Master, but if he said that, the Master might try to argue that she's only reading his interest in the Master. In capturing him, that is. It's also not entirely unlikely that the High Council sent him there, since they seem to think that he's the best person to stop the Master for reasons that he can't possibly imagine. Surely their long since ruined friendship can’t be enough to bind them for life.
“Are you accusing me of coming to this planet months in advance all to wait for your arrival? You have truly grown paranoid, my dear Doctor, although your ego remains the same.”
“It's not paranoia if you're constantly doing everything that you can against me.”
“And you do realise that our hour of silence can't start until you start to keep quiet?”
The Doctor crosses his arms. He knows it's true, but that doesn't mean that he has to like it. Trapping him with the Master and forbidding them to talk is simply cruelty. How is he supposed to stand this?
“I don’t see you being quiet, I suppose you can’t stand to let me have the final word,” the Doctor says, since he can’t allow that attack to go unanswered.
“My dear Doctor, you’re the one who clearly can’t allow me the final word. As I’m sure you’ll prove by telling me something now,” the Master says, all smug confidence.
The Doctor opens his mouth, closes it, and huffs. That’s cheating, and the Master knows that very well, but of course a man like him would never have any qualms about cheating, why would he? He plays by his own rules and does as he pleases, galavanting around the universe and getting into trouble. He could go anywhere that he wanted to go, and still he would always be around the Doctor, for no reason other than to be a nuisance.
The Doctor stands up, pacing around the cell, which is far too short for this. He can only take three steps before having to turn around, and although he’s almost touching the opposing wall, he keeps brushing against the Master’s foot as he passes him by.
“You’re taking too much room, there’s no need to keep your legs crossed like that,” the Doctor says after nearly three minutes of silence.
That’s fairly good, actually. He’s not used to having to be quiet without having anything to do, and so is impressed with himself for being able to do so now and for so long. Now he just has to do it again, for twenty times longer. Easy enough, nothing to it.
Maybe they’ll kill each other before then, it would be considerably easier to stay quiet for an hour if they were regenerating and recovering from that.
“You are the one who can’t sit still for five minutes, I don’t know how you’ll survive the hour,” the Master says, refusing to move. “And you just made us reset that clock, again.”
He knows that the Master is right, which only makes things worse. He really hates this. It’s an entire planet seemingly made to torture him, and adding the Master to the equation only makes this worse, although the Doctor isn’t entirely sure that he would be able to remain silent even if he were alone in this cell. He wonders why the Shushians are such fans of silence, as much as he tries not to judge other people for their customs, well, unless they are terrible, or stupid, or make no sense, in this case he has to say that this is a terrible set of customs.
“You reset the clock too, just now, and you’re one to talk, you can’t spend an hour without trying to make my life worse. We have to work together to get out of here, and still you want to be a menace and get in my way,” the Doctor says without looking at him, still pacing.
It’s not entirely fair. They have worked together a couple of times since their falling out, usually because the Master is a terrible judge of character and will be betrayed by the suspicious elements that he allies himself with and need the Doctor to come to his rescue, which of course he does because won’t allow someone to be killed by evildoers, not even someone who might deserve it. And he feels a bit responsible for the Master, even if he isn’t his responsibility. They’re the same kind, they were friends, he knows the Master better than anyone else does, and he’s not one to be tricked by him, so it feels like he should do something to stop him when he can. Or save him, as it were. Well, save him from himself and others like him.
“You are the one who’s always getting in my way. All I want is to conquer the universe, and not only will you not agree to take it with me, you won’t even let me have that. Even when I’m conducting my business with people who have nothing to do with you, you just have to come and interfere,” the Master says, which is something so ridiculous that only he could think that it’s true.
Of course, the Master has no concept of doing the right thing just because it’s right. The Doctor will grant him this, even in their society the idea of interfering with anything just to do the right thing and help people is extremely frowned upon, so it’s not as if he’s a complete outlier. Except for how what the Master does is also interfering and also forbidden, but it’s also bad. It’s very close to being somewhat alike, while being complete opposites. The difference being that what the Doctor does is right and what the Master does is wrong.
“I won’t let any would be despote take over the universe or even a single planet. As long as I can help people, I will, not that you would understand that, you never cared about anyone other than yourself.”
“I wasn’t the one who left everyone behind and never even cared to look for them,” the Master says, a knife straight across both his hearts.
The Doctor stops walking, staring at the wall rather than at him. The Master is being unfair, because both of them left. Not at the same time, and maybe not quite in the same way, but both of them ran away, and it’s not as if either was really trying to find the other. Was it?
The Doctor couldn’t have even if he wanted to, of course. He thought about it, at least, a couple of times over the first few decades, but he didn’t know how to navigate, and his TARDIS is particularly strong willed, so it wasn’t an option. It was easier to just not think about what, or who, he had left behind. And by then they already weren’t exactly in speaking terms, even if things weren’t quite as bad as they were now. But the Master clearly wasn’t looking for him either, as evidenced by how they hadn’t met before the incident with the Autons. Although the Doctor never stayed in a place for long, and he was trying to disguise his TARDIS’ signature, and hide his identity as much as possible, at least when it came to his connection to Gallifrey.
And then he was stranded on Earth, convicted and exiled, forced to stay in a single place and a single time, and shortly after the Master appeared back in his life, doing everything that he could to make the Doctor’s exile even worse than it already was. More interesting, sure, but worse. He didn’t come back with an offer of friendship, or trying to make things right between them. No, the Master would never do that, he already came with an invading force, trying to destroy the planet for no other reason than the Doctor liking it there, and trying to kill him before they could even talk, burning a bridge that the Doctor didn’t even know was there.
“Don’t pretend that you were looking for me,” the Doctor says without turning.
He refuses to take the blame for this alone. Neither of them tried to see if there was anything between them that could still be salvaged. If the Doctor is to blame for this, then so is the Master.
“Don’t presume to know what I’ve done with my life after I left. Of course I wasn’t chasing after you, but I… It doesn’t matter, will you just stay quiet so we can leave this place?” the Master says.
When the Doctor turns to him, he’s staring at the opposite wall. The Doctor feels a knot in his stomach, that definitely felt a bit… It could be a trick, something that the Master is saying simply to get under his skin, but if it isn’t… No, the Master is right, it doesn’t matter if he tried to find the Doctor or not, too long had passed, and too much had happened between them. All that matters is the relationship that they have now, and this couldn’t possibly be worse.
“I’ll stay quiet once you stay quiet,” the Doctor says, and he almost hopes that the Master will fight him on this.
This feels too fragile, too vulnerable, he doesn’t like having things between them hang in this way. It’s easier when they’re fighting, when the Master is trying to kill him, at least then the Doctor knows how to deal with him. This is something new, something different, and he doesn’t know how to deal with the idea of talking to the Master so openly. They don’t talk, they argue and fight and go their separate ways, and that’s the only way that he knows how to be.
“Very well,” the Master says, no pushback, nothing.
That doesn’t sit right with him. He can’t stand the thought of the Master simply accepting this, because that might mean that his feelings are hurt. Not that the Doctor is worried about the Master’s feelings, he can feel whatever he wants, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter at all.
“That easy? I can’t believe that,” the Doctor says, almost urging the Master to say something, do something.
“Nothing is ever easy between us, is it? But at least I know how to stay quiet. There are some things that are better left unsaid,” the Master says, and there’s genuine hurt in his voice.
The Doctor did this. He knew it was a terrible idea for them to be locked together like this, of course something back would happen, and now the Master will come out of this angrier and even more willing to hurt innocents to get to him, and somehow the Master will still believe that he’s in the right, even though the Doctor did nothing but point out the truth.
“Now you say that. It would probably be better for your plans if you weren’t always gloating about them,” the Doctor teases, hoping to bring some levity back into this.
The Master stands. “Can’t you just stay quiet?” he says, his voice dipping with anger although he didn’t raise it at all.
“Make me,” the Doctor says, impulsively, just to get under his skin, because he needs a reaction.
The Master grabs him by the jacket and tosses him against the wall, his hands shaking and a furious expression on his face. Maybe they will end up killing each other there after all. At least this would be more in line with how their interactions have been.
“I hate you,” the Master says, and then kisses him.
The Doctor is so shocked that for a moment he just freezes, eyes wide, hands bracing against the wall, unsure as to what to do. He’s starting to think that they might have been having two very different conversations, but he has no idea of what the Master is thinking, and why he’s doing this now.
He closes his eyes and puts his arms around the Master, pulling him closer, and kisses him back. Whatever else this might mean, and he’s not sure that it even means anything, at least it’s a way of keeping their mouths occupied, and if they aren’t arguing, it’s easier to keep quiet.
The Master lets go of his jacket and slides his hands up to his neck, sending a shiver down his spine at the contact with the warm leather. It’s a good thing that the Master is wearing gloves, it would be too dangerous to let him near the Doctor’s contact points otherwise, and even without the telepathic touch this already feels too intimate. The Master could strangle him now if he wanted to, but his touch is gentle, his thumbs caressing the sides of his face.
The Master breaks away to breathe, and the Doctor doesn’t let himself catch his breath before he’s following him, kissing him again. He swallows every noise that the Master makes, needing to pull him closer, to hold him, to keep him. He might not know how to talk about the problems between them, but he knows this, there’s nothing that he wants more right now than to kiss the Master as much as he can, neither of them getting more than a couple of seconds to try to catch their breath before they’re kissing again and again.
The Doctor is startled by the cell door opening, nearly entirely silent, but bringing in quite the draft, as well as the brighter lights from the corridor. The Master steps away from him, escaping from his arms, and places a gloved finger over the Doctor’s lips before he can protest.
He stares at him, betrayed for only a moment before remembering. They would be released on the condition that they stay quiet, and if he says anything now, their one hour of confinement will start again. As tempting as it is to spend another hour kissing the Master, he knows that anything that he says now will only start yet another fight, and that’s the last thing that they need when trapped in a cell in an alien world.
If they are to talk about this, it can’t be here, and he’s not so naive as to think that the Master won’t try to escape now before the Doctor can capture him, which in all likelihood means that they’ll never talk about this. The Master will escape, they’ll go their separate ways, and when next they meet, they’ll be fighting again.
The Doctor nods, and the Master pulls back his hand and turns to leave. As soon as he walks out that door, it’s over. The Doctor grabs his hand and he stops, looking back. He doesn’t know what he means to do, he just doesn’t want it to end this way, like that kiss and the ones that followed were simply a practical matter, a way to make sure that both of them could be in the same room without arguing. Even if it changes nothing, he wants it to have meant something, even if it was a moment of weakness.
He pulls the Master’s hand to him, and the movement exposes a sliver of skin on his wrist. He turns the Master’s hand and kisses his inner wrist, lips brushing against his contact point, a hint of a telepathic transmission of all that he can’t say now. The Master shivers, and they lock eyes.
Centuries of unsaid things between them, and they won’t be said now. Nothing ever changes between them, unless it changes for the worse.
The Doctor lets go of his hand, and they walk out of the cell. Before they reach the end of the corridor, the Master has already found a way to escape him and disappear.