InsaneJournal

WHO: The Master & Death
WHAT: Life discussions
WHEN: Backdated to not long after he was turned human
WHERE: The Master's flat
RATING: PG-13
STATUS: Log; to be completed in comments.

The Master wasn’t sure what to do now. He’d tried hiding in his TARDIS, but while before he’d had a very easy time navigating the odd corridors and fiddling with the various bits and bobs to keep himself distracted, now he got lost several times when even attempting to go past the control room and was relieved when he finally stumbled back upon the main hallway, and while he could have still fiddled with the things on his TARDIS, he would have been risking screwing things up rather horribly. He didn’t understand any of it anymore.

So by the end of it, the Master had emerged from his TARDIS, locking it behind him and staying in the enclosure of the four walls of his flat. There was nothing left outside of it for him, not as a human, and the crushing silence and loneliness of his existence as a human was starting to get to him. No wonder this lot ended up depressed so easily. It was like living in a plastic bubble cut off from the meaning of everything. It was so easy to come to the conclusion that there was no point. No point to anything but to lay down and wait to die.

At least alcohol helped a lot more now than it used to.

Although Death had been attending to his duties without pause or issue thus far, he had to admit that some part of him was looking forward to the next meeting he had scheduled. Perhaps it was because it wasn't one that he had been certain he would have until very recently. Perhaps it was because it was a conversation that was taking place on the mortal coil. Perhaps it was because of who he was going to speak with rather than the whys and hows of it all. Whatever the case may be, the Horseman was in a fairly decent mood when he arrived in the Master's flat.

Of course, his expression remained as dour as ever and he was scarcely jumping up and down in glee. However he was looking forward to the conversation much more than he had with most of the others thus far. If nothing else, he had a feeling it would certainly be interesting and, when you've been alive as long as Death itself, you tended to appreciate most anything that registered as 'interesting' anymore. This, he supposed, was no exception.

Silently watching the Master for a few long moments, not visible to the eye as of yet, Death casually paced the outer walls of the room until he finally paused in front of the former Time Lord, just out of arm's reach but close enough to be seen when he chose to materialize. Which he did the moment he was in position, his tone bland as he said simply, "I hope you don't mind my saying but humanity does not appear to suit you in the slightest."

The Master should have been surprised. Someone appearing randomly in his flat was not exactly a common occurrence in most places, but he just looked up at Death with an oddly bland look. “It isn’t as though I have a choice in the matter,” He said, raising his glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to the remainder of a meaningless existence,” He said before downing the alcohol that was left before clapping the glass down on the table beside him.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, his gaze swimming slightly at the movement, he squinted at the man in front of him, a vague confusion in his eyes as he leaned forward, tilting his head to the side.

“Whatdaya want?”

Death had known this conversation would be an interesting one and thus far had yet to be disappointed. Granted it was also a bit irksome – dealing with those who didn't properly respect him always was – and it was a touch annoying – any interaction with someone inebriated tended to be, though – but it was also different. That was good enough for him, for the time being, and his good mood managed to temper his response so it wasn't quite as biting as it might have been otherwise. In fact, he didn't even move from the spot where he'd appeared. He just stood there, eying the man for a long moment, before finally replying in a very calm, casual way, "Now really, is that any way to speak to a guest?"

Making a soft tsking sound, Death stepped away from the wall and, hands grasped neatly behind his back, casually strolled toward the still-hidden TARDIS posing as the fireplace. He stopped a few paces from the door, studied it for a long moment, and then began to speak with his gaze still on the concealed ship as though it wasn't concealed at all.

"It was a woman and her child, you know." Raising his right hand – his Horseman's ring gleaming in the artificial light from overhead – he brushed his fingertips against the TARDIS' door then abruptly turned back to face the Master. "The Doctor," he elaborated with a touch of a frown. "It was a woman and her child that he was attempting to save when he was brutally slaughtered by the future of the very race he's fought so much of his existence to protect. Ironic, wouldn't you say?"

He didn't say anything more. Simply stood there, hands clasped lightly in front of him and his dark, unwavering gaze fixed on the man in front of him as he waited to see if the Master had any sort of fight left in him at all.

A woman and child, mother and daughter. Somehow, the Master wasn’t surprised. He knew that the Doctor had to have died trying to save someone. He never figured that he would be ridiculous enough to try and convince the Toclafane to stop attacking people just because. And irony, yes. The Master had relished in the irony of the Toclafane the first time, but right now, the urge to reveal in it was gone. Raising a hand to rub at his eyes, the signs of frustration tensing the muscles in his body, the Master managed a quiet, bitter laugh at the thought.

“Yeah. Ironic. Just like there’s a disgusting irony in the fact that the Doctor’s glorious race of peace and prosperity through out time and space end up turning into killers worse than even the Daleks by the end of time,” He said, lifting his gaze to meet Death’s. “The universe has a sick sense of humour. That’s nothing new.”

Ah, there it was. Very brief, just the slightest flash of something more still looming beneath the surface, if Death hadn't been watching closely he might have missed it. However he'd seen the authentic frustration and knew that the Master wasn't quite as completely bereft as most might take him to be at first glance. Death slowly shook his head.

"The universe has no sense of humour. Fate, however, does and finds great pleasure in twisting things around the instant opportunity presents itself," he explained, rather cryptically, while turning back toward the TARDIS. Fingertips once more danced across the hidden door, his expression unreadable and voice deliberately casual as he added, "Take, for a rather fitting and pointed example, your refusal to call off the Toclafane while you still stood a chance. I can personally attest to precisely how much fun Fate had in that particular instance. Granted the Doctor I had expected but I certainly didn't think your dear, sweet Lucy would draw the short end of that stick as well."

Death glanced over his shoulder at the Master, one eyebrow arched slightly as he mused, "I would so dearly love to say all of that and have it be the truth. It would make all of this much easier to simply lay it at your feet as so many others have and cast none of the blame elsewhere." Slowly he turned all the way back around so he was facing him. "However we both know you're quite right. The universe's sense of humour can be even crueler than mine at times. Fortunately though, for all involved and affected by your inaction, I possess what the universe does not." The corners of his mouth turned upward very slightly.

"I can fix it."

The Master was intrigued, looking up at Death with an raised eyebrow, his liquor soaked haze clearing ever so slightly as he peered at the man with an ounce of hope in his eyes. Fix it. The idea that someone could change what happened, return the few people that he felt he could rely on to what they once were, was almost too much to expect to be true. “How?” It was a simple enough question. A simple question, but with so much layered on top of it. “How can you fix it?”

"Quite easily," Death answered with a slight shrug of his shoulders. He thought, briefly, of leaving it at that for the time being but decided against it. He'd dragged things out just long enough to get the Master's attention. To do so for any longer would be abusing his position and that was something that never sat well with him.

Finally moving to a chair near where the Master sat, Death took a seat and, folding his hands lightly, met the man's gaze. "Of course, nothing comes without a price. So I suppose the question you should be asking isn't how I intend to fix it but rather just high of a price you're willing to pay." A brief pause and he tacked on, "Provided you're willing to involve yourself at all. Personally I have my doubts but considering how much your lot seems to enjoy keeping me on my toes, as it were, I'll at least give you the opportunity."

The Master laughed, a slightly broken laugh, as he tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling, “A price. A price? Just what do you think that I have to give up? What do you think I have left? That boy took one of the few things of value left that hadn’t already been taken. What could you possibly want?” He asked, raising his head to stare at Death, looking less than impressed. The man wouldn’t be making the offer if there wasn’t something anything that the Master could give him. He’d have to have something left to give up for this to work. “Give me a clue, and we’ll see where it goes from there.”