Archive of Our Own

For once, the Master hadn't kidnapped the Doctor. Instead, this was the prelude to a kidnapping, the Doctor backed against the cold stone wall, the Master pressing cool fingertips to the Doctor's temples.

The Doctor could feel the edges of his mind peeling back and the Master's consciousness edging its way inside. He bit back a gasp, his fingers digging into the Master's wrists through the thin fabric of the Master's shirt.

The Master smiled, but his gaze was unfocused. He was too deeply concentrated on moving inside the Doctor's mind, even though the Doctor could feel him wanting to make a remark. He could feel all of the thoughts at the surface of the Master's mind, just as surely as he could feel the Master's fingers at his temples, pushing steady, insistent waves of thought inside the Doctor's head.

"Please," the Doctor muttered, because he could feel the Master's desire to hear it.

"Yes," the Master hissed. "Say my name."

The Doctor shook his head slightly, feeling the Master's fingers pressing harder into his skin. Not yet. He wasn't going to give in yet.

"Mm," the Master muttered. "Lucky me. Your head isn't too much of a mess this time."

The Doctor very carefully did not flinch. Instead, he shut his eyes and leaned into the Master's careful fingers. Truth be told, he felt like more of a mess than usual, but he wasn't about to tell the Master that.

After a second, though, he could feel the Master deeper inside his head, in the parts that were concerned and very much not all right, and he opened his eyes long enough to see that the Master wasn't smiling. That was something, anyway.

There were probably safer forms of therapy, but the Doctor had never been one for letting strangers into his head. It still came as a shock sometimes that he trusted the Master enough to do it. The Master, though, would never have taken no for an answer, and the Doctor tried to relax and let his mind push in deeper.

He tentatively raised his own hands from the Master's wrists to rest at his temples. When he breached the edge of the Master's mind, he opened his eyes at the same time the Master shut his with a little sigh. Now the Doctor could see feel hear the Master's mind inside his, and his inside the Master's, and they were not quite one, but they were close enough to count.

The Doctor tapped out the drumbeat on the Master's temples, quick and slightly off-tempo, and the Master bit his lip hard. "Doctor," he said, and he shoved his way deeper in the Doctor's mind without warning, creating a sensation somewhere between pain and the elation of sudden knowledge. Despite his torn shirt, the Doctor had not felt truly naked until now, with the tendrils of the Master's mind buried in his. He tried to remind himself that this wasn't safe.

"Let your guard down, go on," the Master whispered, and the Doctor tried to snap himself out of it, to remind himself that he was vulnerable, but he couldn't. It had been too long since someone had been this deep inside his head.

"All right," he whispered back, and he let the last wall of defenses in his head slip away, all the tension and anger and pain, leaving only raw, exposed nerves in their place. He winced. The Master was not known for being careful, and his thoughts caught at the edges of the Doctor's, tearing them and caressing them with equal force. "Master," he said, unable to stop himself.

"Yes," the Master said, and his thoughts were like a bruise in the Doctor's mind, pulsing and shifting into the most private places of the Doctor's thoughts. The Doctor clutched at the Master's head, attempting to penetrate his mind as deeply, but he was too far gone. "It's all right," the Master said. "Just relax, for once in your life." And suddenly everything in the Doctor's head was on fire. No, not fire, because he was terrified of fire, and this was frightening in a completely different way.

And just for once in his life, forgetting all of the terrible possibilities if the Master gained control of his mind, he relaxed.