New Dawn Fades by omphalos (NC-17)

[innocentsmith.livejournal.com]

An epic fic for a lazy Sunday.

Fandom: DOCTOR WHO
Pairing: Doctor/Master (Ten/Simm!Master), Ten/Jack Harkness, Jack/Romana
Length: 138,666 words
Author on LJ: omphalos
Author Website: omphalos at the AO3
Why this must be read:

Set in the ever-popular AU from the end of New Who's season three, with the Master an unwilling captive aboard the TARDIS and the Doctor at his wit's end trying to keep him contained, New Dawn Fades charts a long and winding path for the two Time Lords that's plotty, smart, twisty, sometimes brutally dark, frequently devastatingly hot, full of snappy dialogue, and totally emotionally involving. Characters and plot points from classic episodes are woven together with the new series into a seamless, compelling story comprehensible even to Who newbies. It's a classic for the pairing, and the fandom, for good reason.

"Yes, Doctor, it's me." Romana frowns slightly and asks the Master, "Has he had a recent blow to the head?"

The Master sniggers. "No, it's this latest regeneration of his." He puts his hand up to the side of his mouth and stage whispers to Romana, "I think it's a bit faulty. Keeps leaking around the eyes too."

The Doctor's glare meets the Master's smirk at fifty paces, and the smirk wins the draw. It cheats, of course. Sighing, the Doctor lets go of the Master. He taps his teeth as he studies Romana. "So, ah, you were inside the Little Black Box of Rassilon?"

"Oh, what a good name for it. Well done, Doctor!" Romana grins at him, and this time, the Doctor lets his own grin free, feeling it take charge of his face on a swell of delight. She's really back! "It's just called the 'extinction control' in the protocols," she continues. "They're very dry. But it does date from Rassilon's time."

Which, the Doctor realises, he'd know himself if he'd ever taken the job of Lord President seriously. "Ah ha! And as well as the instructions for the, er, well, there was also you?" Aww, if only he could touch her. He'd hug her so hard, lift her up and swirl her around as if they were dancing.

"I downloaded my data from the Matrix and as much other useful emergency knowledge as I could fit into the control. It didn't have the spare capacity for much after my files sadly. Anyway, you'd better get me up to date on the situation quickly. Did all go to plan?"

His joy flip-flops into sorrow as the memories he can never truly banish rise yet again. "Everyone's dead, Romana, never existed. Everyone but us. Gallifrey's gone too... but not completely. We're landed on Gallifrey now, in fact, way, way back in prehistoric times. Good, eh? It is good, isn't it?"

She smiles softly in a way that seems sympathetic. "I'd hoped for as much; the protocols were not at all clear about the ultimate limits of extinction. The Daleks?"

"Oh, all gone. No worries there." The Doctor waves his hand breezily.

The Master barks with laughter and turns away, walking to the other side of the Cloister Room. The Doctor frowns at his back before continuing.

"Well, I say 'all', but what I mean is 'mostly all'. Mostly all gone. That is, the Emperor escaped the War and made thousands more. But they're all gone now too. Rose -- you'd like her; she's lovely -- she fixed all that like a wiz. So all's well that ends... wellish." He takes a breath. "There was the Cult of Skaro. Bit of a problem there. Well, several problems. All sorted now though. Well, I say sorted, but actually... There's one. One got away. Dalek Caan. Or was it Sec? Nah, definitely Caan. Not sure where he is. Looked, but... Other things got in the way. See, there was this lizard migration, and Marth- "

"Doctor!"

"Yes, Romana?"

She shakes her head slightly, black ringlets moving across her cheeks. "You could at least try to use my title when we're discussing official business."

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Right. Yes, Lady President?"

"I'm going to interface directly with your TARDIS database. It will be quicker. Presuming you've kept your logs up to date."

"Ah. About the logs..."

She sighs. "Have you ever followed standard procedure in your life, Doctor? Oh well, I'll still take a peek. Then you'll no doubt fill in the substantial gaps afterwards."

"Rather you than me, Lady P," the Master says from the other side of the relay Eye's dome. "It's like teatime on the geriatric ward trying to communicate with this old banger. You'll ask for data on the Syclofyn system and find yourself listening to a rambling account about how her favourite naughty boy once became Pharaoh of New Cairo by accident, and oh, by the way, cold out, isn't it? Not like the Vortex storms from when she was a young TARDIS. Oh no."

"Banger?" The Doctor glares. "You're asking for it, Master." And how does he know about the New Cairo incident anyway?

"Asking for what precisely, Doctor?" the Master asks, sickly sweet smile directed at the Doctor like a missile that'll kill him with sugar-shock. "Ooh, will you sulk if I do it again? Will your lower lip tremble? Oh no, tell me you won't be forced to shed a tear."

Romana gives the Master a haughty look. "She won't give me any trouble. I'll have you know that the Doctor's TARDIS and I are old friends."

"Oh, I'd heard as much," the Master replies, holding onto a strut as he leans forward towards her. "Nice of you to confirm the rumour though. Tell me, how did you find him?"

"What?" Romana sounds honestly bewildered.

The Doctor covers his eyes with a hand, pinching at his forehead. "Ignore him. Really, it's best."

"A bit passive?" the Master asks. "Lacking in initiative? Prone to moralising at exactly the wrong moments?"

"Aww, just stop it!" Striding across the room, the Doctor grabs the Master's arms and hauls him over to the side. "Stand here and stay quiet."

"Oo-ah. The fluffy rabbit of God has claws. Nasty!" The Master's over-the-top camp drops from him like a heavy sheet to the floor, revealing a face of utter fury. "No."

The Doctor realises with belated clarity that trying to dominate the Master in front of another Time Lord was a very bad idea indeed. "Sorry," he murmurs quietly, trying to meet the Master's anger with sympathy and warmth. "Didn't think. Sorry."

There's enough residual link between them for him to know that by apologising he just made matters worse.

New Dawn Fades