Title: Stand Tall
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen, past Doctor/Master
Warnings: non-con
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 1, 50ficlets
Prompt: 47, Hurt Me
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor. Please do not sue.

***

He must have some sort of sign on his forehead that said "hurt me," the Doctor thought sourly as he dragged himself across the control room of the Tardis to sit down heavily on the couch against the wall. It was the only explanation.

First, it had just been the Master who seemed to delight in causing him pain. And, of course, some of the other species scattered throughout the universe who had always considered him their enemy. That had been bad enough.

Now, there seemed to be more and more races joining in that enmity towards him. And this time, they were working with the Master. He'd been stupid enough to trust them, and they'd delivered him into the hands of his greatest enemy.

He'd been lucky. He'd managed to escape .... but only after the Master had his way with him, in more ways than he cared to remember.

He had simply closed his eyes and endured it; there had been no other choice, though his mind had worked furiously the entire time to try and find a way out. And he'd discovered it, escaping when the Master had left for what had probably only been a short while.

The Doctor would never know how long he'd been gone; he had managed to struggle free from his bonds, retrieve his clothes, and slip out of the room where he'd been held captive. Now he was in the Tardis, safe, leaving the planet he'd been imprisoned on.

He'd have to go back at some point. He sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes. He couldn't let the Master put whatever he might be planning into action.

But for the moment, he needed to try to recuperate, to get his strength back before he could face that insidious demon again. He was in no shape, either physical or mental, for the challenge that defeating the other man would present.

When had he come to think of rape and torture as commonplace? he asked himself, shuddering both inwardly and outwardly at the thought. Not until he was in this body, really; it seemed to hold such an attraction for people bent on that sort of thing.

Especially the Master. The Doctor had turned into some sort of homing beacon for him; he hadn't been able to completely escape the other man for what seemed like a very long time.

No matter where he went, the Master always seemed to be right on his heels. He could never keep himself hidden for long, which was why he hadn't taken on another companion. He didn't want to risk anyone else's life.

Or risk having someone he cared about used against him. It had happened in the past, and he'd lost friends because of it. He wasn't going to go through that again; even loneliness was preferable to the inevitable guilt that would weigh on him for the rest of his life.

That was too high a price to pay. He'd rather have the Master's violence turned on himself than on another person, someone who had no knowledge of the long history between the two of them. It was better for him to be the only one who suffered.

Though he was reaching the point where his body wouldn't be able to take this for much longer, he thought to himself, shuddering again.

How many more times would he be able to hold out against the Master before he would inevitably have to give in? He couldn't keep running, trying to hide himself somewhere in a vast galaxy. The other man would always be able to find him.

And also to hurt him. That was the Master's main goal, after all. Pain and control. He'd always wanted to feel that he owned the Doctor, that he could be forced to capitulate to whatever the Master's ideas happened to be at any given time.

He'd managed to hold himself firm against that will for centuries -- but he couldn't help but think that there would come a day when he could no longer do so, when he wouldn't be strong enough for the fight any longer. And what then?

Then .... he would have to give in, to turn himself over to the pain, both physical and mental, that the Master was determined to mete out to him for the rest of eternity.

That "hurt me" sign seemed to become larger and larger all the time, he reflected wryly as he stood up slowly, turning towards the corridor that led to his bedroom. And there seemed to be more and more species taking advantage of it.

His body ached from the brutality that the Master had inflicted on him; it was all he could do not to cry out with each slow step. What he needed was a good long rest; he should go somewhere that he wouldn't be disturbed until he was healed.

Though he couldn't afford to do that for too long, he reflected with a sigh. He'd have to jump back into the fray sooner than he'd like, stand tall against the Master and his minions. After all, he was the only person who could hopefully thwart their plans.

At least he'd managed to escape this time. But he had no idea how long his luck would hold out. He could only hope that he would be able to keep outwitting his enemies -- and that he wouldn't be forced to make the ultimate sacrifice rather than give in to them.

***