Title: Unwanted Dreams
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/The Master
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 1drabble
Prompt: 21, Dream
Warnings: non-con
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor or the Master. Please do not sue.


The Doctor awoke with a start, sitting up in bed, looking around the darkened room with wide eyes. There didn't seem to be anything amiss; he let himself sink back down on to the pillows, closing his eyes in relief, feeling his heart race in his chest.

It had only been yet another unwanted dream. He was dreaming about the Master again, letting his mind go back in time, from their earliest encounters to the latest.

It wasn't something he enjoyed doing, even in his unconscious mind. Thinking about the Master would always be unpleasant for him; the days when they had been friends as children, so many centuries ago, had long since disappeared and could never return.

The Doctor doubted that they had ever really been friends.

The Master didn't know how to be a friend; he only knew how to use people and destroy them. The Doctor had thought at one time that he could be redeemed, but it had him centuries to discover that wasn't going to be possible, and to abandon the idea.

Now, he just tried to stay one step ahead of the Master -- or, preferably, a few steps ahead, if he could manage it. That was the only way to thwart the increasingly bizarre plans he concocted to upset the fabric of the universe.

But even he couldn't stay ahead of the Master all the time; this looked like one of those times when he hadn't managed to do so. The only thing he could do now was go to Jack, explain what he'd heard to him, and hope that together, they could stop those plans.

And he could also hope that he didn't have another dream like the one he'd just been through, the Doctor thought wryly, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. He hated those dreams; they brought back too much of the past into vivid life.

Dreams about the Master always had that effect on him.

He wondered if he was ill; he certainly felt as though he was. Or maybe that was only because he'd heard about the Master's newest plans for destroying Earth, and enslaving all of the humans on the planet. Plans that made him feel sick.

He wasn't going to let them happen. He would get to Torchwood, talk with Jack, and together, they would find a way to stop the Master.

He only hoped those unwanted dreams of the past wold stay away from him; it seemed that they got worse every time they attacked. With a sigh, the Doctor threw back the covers, swinging his long legs out of bed. It was obvious that there was no more sleep to be had tonight.