Title: Sweet Victory
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/The Master
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 1drabble
Prompt: 08, Victory
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Tenth Doctor or the Master, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.


He quite enjoyed this little game of cat and mouse.

The Master smiled as he leaned back in the chair in front of the large viewscreen, watching the Tardis as it whirled through time and space. He didn't have to go searching for the Doctor; the other Time Lord was apparently going to come to him.

He wouldn't know that the Master was waiting for him, of course. But he would stumble into the trap that had been laid for him nonetheless.

He was going to Jack Harkness; the Master had no doubt of that. He'd had Jack watched, though he was sure that the immortal had no inkling of that fact. If Jack did indeed know that he was being followed and spied upon, he hadn't given any indication of it.

No, he didn't have a clue. The Master was sure of that.

He let himself relax in the chair as he watched the blue box spin through time and space, almost wishing that he could be there when the Doctor met with Jack again. Would the two of them fall back into their old habits, falling into bed together in the blink of an eye?

He didn't think so. The two of them might enjoy a friendship now, but they had left each other behind when it came to anything more intimate.

All to the good, the Master thought with a supercilious sniff. The Doctor belonged to him, no matter what others might think. Always had, and always would.

If the Doctor thought that was going to change, then he was sadly mistaken. Running to Jack Harkness, even sleeping with him, wouldn't mean that he belonged to the Master any less than he ever had. Or that the Master wouldn't claim his ultimate victory.

He'd been waiting centuries for that to happen.

If the Doctor thought that enlisting Jack Harkness' help would be of any use to him, he needed to think again, the Master told himself with a smile. He would win the ultimate victory this time. The Doctor would be his, and that would be an end to it.

Victory would taste sweet. He had been waiting for this for so long now that he could almost taste it; he licked his lips in anticipation, his smile growing.

His victory was assured. He had no doubt of that. The Doctor didn't know it, but there was a nefarious plan set in motion, a plan that would turn the world upside down, and would have the Doctor capitulating to his every wish in order to keep it from destruction.

Oh yes, victory would indeed be his. And he couldn't wait to savor its sweetness.