#dhawan

The Master had always been brilliant. Unhinged, electric, impossible... but brilliant. And to you, that brilliance outshone the stars. He was a break from the mundane life you'd led before. Since he whisked you away, you’d followed him across lifetimes, across broken timelines and scorched civilizations. You’d seen the madness at its worst, and the softness he never meant to show. You’d helped him stitch together weapons, plans, traps, delusions. Watched his hands tremble after battles. Watched his heart tremble, silently, whenever she was mentioned.

And you'd been by his side through it all.

Just… never in his sights.

Not really.

You’d been with him for years, but the first time it cracked, really cracked, was on a rusted space freighter orbiting a dead star. You had just barely escaped with your life after setting the charges yourself, dragging your half-burned coat behind you as you limped back to his TARDIS, bleeding from your shoulder.

You’d expected some kind of reaction. Gratitude, maybe. A half-smile. A joke. A sliver of attention.

But instead, the Master stood at the console, utterly still, a bloodied message in his hands.

Not yours. Not even close.

The handwriting on the crumpled paper was painfully familiar.

“From her,” he whispered, like a prayer. “She left this.”

He didn’t even look up.

Not when you coughed, not when your legs gave out, not when you finally sank to the floor, body shaking from blood loss.

He only noticed you when you muttered, “She’s not here, Master.”

He turned to you slowly, as if emerging from a dream.

“She was.”

And that was the only thing he said before walking past you.

After that, it became easier to spot the patterns.

You were the tether. The anchor. The one who kept things running, who made sure he didn’t starve or detonate himself by accident or forget to sleep. You were the one he trusted to set the coordinates, fix his suit when it tore, clean the scorch marks off his gloves. You were the one he allowed to stay.

But you were never the one he chased. That was always the Doctor. Always her.

One night... or morning, or whatever time meant inside the TARDIS, you finally spoke it aloud.

“She’s never going to love you back.”

The words came quieter than you expected. It was cruel, you knew it, but he didn’t react at first. Just turned a page in his notebook, eyes unreadable.

“I don't know what you're referring to." The Time Lord muttered underneath his breath, and you swallowed visibly before continuing.

"You know."

"And what do you know about love?”

“Enough to know when it’s killing someone.” You answered, not thinking before you spoke. That made him pause. Just for a second. But when he spoke again, his voice was cool.

“You don't get to talk to me about love, darling,” he said. “Not when you confuse devotion with it.”

And that should have absolutely shattered you. But you didn’t let it. You only looked at him. Really looked. The way his hands curled into fists. The way his eyes flicked back to the notebook, though they didn’t read it. The way he refused to meet your gaze.

“You don’t see me,” you said, so quietly it barely reached him. “Not really.”

“I see everything,” he snapped, finally looking at you, and for a second, you thought maybe, maybe... But no. His eyes were empty of recognition. Of understanding. Of you.

“Then why do I feel like a shadow every time she’s mentioned?” you asked, stepping forward.

He didn’t answer, so you turned on your heel and left the room, shutting sliding door behind you and running until you reached the furthest point in the TARDIS you could think off, sliding down against the wall and taking out your anger on the world around you.

Days passed. Maybe weeks... but the two of you barely spoke. Then there a planet. A trap. The Doctor was screaming in pain somewhere nearby.

Of course he’d gone straight to her.

You watched from a rooftop as he cornered her, brilliant and wild, coat whipping behind him like a dark comet. His voice rang out like thunder, accusations layered over madness, desperation just beneath the rage. He needed her to see him. To understand. To choose him... or at least acknowledge the storm he had become.

And she looked at him with pity. With that same look she always gave him. The look that said you used to be better.

And you watched the moment he broke. Nothing big... no, that would’ve been too dramatic for the Doctor. Just the tiniest tremor. A barely-there falter in his voice, in his posture. The Master prided himself in the way he could keep himself together.

The Doctor turned to leave a few moments later. Back towards her TARDIS and her own companion. But when the Master turned around, you were already gone.

end