standsonhigh | There's nothing here but what here's mine.

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psl: barty

There's nothing here but what here's mine.

This wasn't, exactly, how he had planned his return. He had expected to be on home turf, a place he understood and wanted to be. Surrounded by worshippers and already plotting. Not here with some strange man using the power he gave specifically to his followers to bring him back. The books of Saxon weren't meant to be public knowledge, they were his private notes, and yet this man decided to drag him into a world he didn't want to be in.

The Master always had a funny feeling that magic wasn't something he should of ever tried to toy with because as it stood, he didn't like where this was going. It defied the logic he knew.

Voldemort was a strange creature, a very unpleasant one at that. He looked sickly and his eyes were red like an albino. Still, he didn't say much on it, he'd looked worse himself and damages were just a sign of ambition and desire. It always took everything out of you, especially with humans.

The drums were raging in his head as he followed Voldemort into this meeting he'd decided to attend. He'd only been back a few days and already he seemed to of captured the imagination of this tiny little creature who was all but eager to introduce him.

An ancient ruler from another reality must of been interesting.

He didn't walk behind Voldemort, he kept in step, not willing to seem a lesser. Hey, the dark lord brought him here. If he was going to play with this merry band of psychopaths, he wanted to seem equal.

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Establishing himself had been an easy enough task, a few months showing his intelligence and efficiency as well as a dose of charm and hypnotism had soon gotten him in among those with authority. Where Voldemort sought to separate himself and be above them, the Master dropped to their level and played along. While his magic abilities were still shaky, he held a rather impressive position that few dared to question.

Mostly because his power was steadily growing and others were constantly being purged and moved around. Soon, he had a council adoring him and thousands of workers doing as he said. Perfection.

Azkaban had not been on his list of desired places to visit but he couldn't help himself. After a recent chat with the Dark Lords army, he'd learned just a few names that had been trapped there. And one definitely took his interest.

All it took was a call and he'd gotten himself a ticket inside. And his first stop? The cell that held his best enemies lookalike. Pushing the door open, the Master strode in like he owned the place, smirking as he crouched down in front of Bartimus. He looked so much like him, it was almost impossible to understand how that even worked. "Well, well, funny seeing you here."

His eyes were unfocused at first, a far away, haunted look of pain in them, as if he didn't even notice the Master's presence. But there was warmth coming from him and slowly the words came through his mind, clouded and darkened as it was and he lifted his head enough to actually look at him.

"Master." Just the one word, name, title, whatever, as he recognized him. There hadn't been much contact between them, even if he was ever so aware of the Master watching him, or his face or whatever the meaning behind all this was. It was enough to have him be very aware of the Master in turn and it was almost no surprise that he'd see him here, when he had no hopes of anyone else coming to see him.

"Oh, good answer," the Master responded with an amused expression, reaching out to ruffle Barty's hair in a condescending manner. Probably the first touch he'd had in a very long time. It was obvious he'd literally just been left here to rot away into nothingness. He looked a horrible state, pale and deathly, and he didn't exactly smell like roses either. There was a sort of rasp to his voice, he must of been screaming rather desperately at some point. This world was so needlessly cruel, it was hilarious.

"You know, you poor bastard, I've been thinking about you," the Master started, remaining crouched, talking to the man as if he was some lost little infant. "And you're just being wasted here, aren't you? One bout of torture gone wrong and suddenly it's all over? Oh no, simply madness. Can't have you rotting in prison when we have things to do and places to be."

With an amused smirk, he leaned in closer. Oh the power he had over this one, it felt wonderful. "Ask me nicely and we can be home in time for tea."

Barty's eyes closed at the touch, a shuddering breath leaving him. He leaned into the Master's hand, but there was a part of him that steered with defiance. He'd never taken to condescending behavior, being looked down upon and ordered around the way his father did. Right now however it rose his spirit and that at least he wasn't complaining about.

He let out a cough, trying to clear his throat of the pain of screaming. Naturally he wasn't very successful. He opened his eyes again to look at the Master, the dull shine to them having faded in favor of a certain glint, despair aside. Oh, he did long for freedom, but being here was the price he had to pay for his loyalty.

"You're not my master."

The defiance was cute, it really was. Why was nothing ever simple with this one? The Master reached out and gripped Barty's hair painfully tight, yanking it back so he could get a good look. And then he backhanded him, just to make a point. "You're such a disappointment. All you had to do was say please. And I'm afraid I only ever ask once. So when you're sitting here alone, lost in agony and unable to be out there helping as your master's kingdom falls around him, just remember I offered."

And with that, he let go and shoved his hands into his pockets. In his hand, he grasped several little hairs he'd managed to yank. Just what he needed if he was going to pull this off. He'd asked for an hour at the most and he was very capable of pulling off what he needed to pull off.

Humans, they were so easy to brainwash. All it took was four beats and they'd dance along with him. With a mocking sigh, he moved to the door and pulled it open. "I'm going to destroy him. I just thought you'd like to cling to that when everything goes to shit."

Walking out the door, he slammed it shut behind him. He'd be back, of course he would, he's just giving him a little scare.

In the end, Barty hadn't expected anything else. But even being slapped was better than that belittling talk. Even the threats and the doom predictions he could take better than that attitude. And so he just smiled, as foreign as that expression seemed on his face these days, and straightened his hair after the Master let go, as if that made any difference in his current state.

"Have a nice day."

He even waved and, to his credit, held out for a long time after that before the screams and sobs started again.

The plan was easy enough. Get the polyjuice potion together, add the last ingredient needed and then offer it to one of the guards as something entirely different. All he had to do was look into the man's eyes and draw him in, soon he was willing to play along and downed the whole thing. Then, naturally, smashed his head into the wall a few times till he was blissfully unconscious. While waiting for him to take new form, the Master stood outside Barty's cell.

See, now, why couldn't the Doctor scream like that for him? It was like music. He may have stayed there longer than was needed but he did have a whole hour to kill.

Eventually, the Master returned, false body being dragged along with him. Heavy bastard, he really didn't appreciate this manual labour he was doing just to get an ungrateful little bastard out. "Get up and give me a hand."

The sooner they planted this idiot, the quicker they could leave. "And people say I don't understand potions."

Barty needed quite a while to reach enough calmness and presence of mind to even halfway figure out what was going on. He got up, at least, although he also stayed against the wall at first, one arm in front of his chest, staring at the Master as if he might grow a second head any moment now. Disturbed rather than scared, but still.

"What do you want?"

"To get out of this awful place, it's a dump."

Well, Barty did ask. The Master finally managed to get the guard onto the floor inside, sprawled out and unconscious, blood dripping from the side of his head. Perhaps he'd hit harder than needed but hey, he was looking for something to do. Turning to Barty, he pulled a face at him before producing another potion. Revolting stuff but affective. "Come on, drink it down. It'll be hard to get out with that face on, you'll have to borrow his."

Barty stared at the Master for another few seconds before finally shaking his head and dropping to his knees instead. He reached for the unconscious man and started to search him until he produced the stranger's man. The stranger currently wearing his face. Well, whatever.

Rolling with the punches, at the moment that was very much what he was doing, focusing on things one at a time. He stripped off his shirt, throwing it in a corner before taking the shirt off the man, not too mindful of his injured state. It was strange to see his body in front of him, half-naked and bleeding, but it was endlessly preferable to having no hope of escape. He moved on to taking the man's pants off, which was finally when even through the focus of his currently very damaged mind the suggestiveness of the situation occurred to him and he glanced at the Master again.

"You really like my face, hm?"

"No, I violently hate it."

Which was true, actually. In a way, at least, he had very conflicted feelings. He loved, loathed and feared it because of what it represented, which was the only other man of his kind. The Doctor. A man who he wanted to see suffer and who could make himself suffer. And explaining his feelings on it was far too complicated to be something that he actually wanted to do. So, instead, he stood to the side and waited, watching every step of the way. He may as well get a show out of this.

"I said I would be done about 3 minutes ago so get a move on, would you? They'll start to get worried," He played the role of look out, tilting his head to the side to make sure no one else was coming. "Don't say a single thing as we leave, walk behind me and don't act weird. You'll give us away."

"I'm stripping as fast as I can." There was the slightest hint of humour to his voice, even under the circumstances, even in this place, but he did indeed strip off everything but his underwear fast and then put the other man's clothes on. They were too big on him, naturally, but that problem would take care of itself. He got up and took the offered potion, making a face before downing it in one go.

The transformation was far from pleasant, but at least it happened fast. He shook himself and touched the strange face that was currently his, wet his lips, so different from usual. Finally he inclined his head.

"After you."

With the dread the place instilled in him dying down, he was starting to get excited.

Their way out was met with little resistance. In fact, the Master explained away the guard being with him as them being 'old friends' and rather generously tipped every man involved. Not because he felt like being friendly, just because if this did come back on him, they would be taken down with him. Always ensure there's doubt on everyone's role in a crime.

Once they were outside, the Master rolled his neck to work away the kinks and exhaled slowly, looking at Barty with a frown. He wasn't entirely sure where to go from here but he felt like his job was done, Barty was out.

"Fair warning, I didn't brew it very long so it'll only last around another 10 minutes," the Master confessed. He'd been in a rush and he never did lack patiences when he seriously wanted something done swiftly. "You're definitely going to need better clothes."

"M-hm," Barty made by way of agreeing, although he also lifted his shoulders, "I'm fairly sure my father cut me off, so between that and being an escaped convict, getting new clothes might be a challenge."

To be honest he had no idea how anything would go from here. What plan did the master have, what was the purpose of freeing him? But nothing seemed to matter as much as that he was free. He frowned and licked the strange lips once more. "I suppose I could get some clothes from my parents' place, if I broke in." He hoped his father would catch him. Oh, yes, he hoped that very much.

"But what is it I need better clothes for?" There had to be a reason behind all this.

"The grand finale," the Master said simply, a cunning smile on his face. He had waited this long to free Barty for a reason and that reason was that he wanted a better excuse than the one he knew he had deep down. And he thought the timing was right, Voldemort was about to come into some very new and very important 'power'. "No spoilers but I do think I have the perfect way to make your master invincible and immortal."

And surely Barty would want a front row seat for that one. To happily watch when the Master finally does his stuff. But, of course, he wasn't even going to hint at his plans. Because Barty would tell, he'd always tell. So he decided not to so much as look amused but more vaguely annoyed and disinterested.

"How far is it? Your house, I mean. Could we walk?"

The grand finale. Now, that was something he did want to witness.

"Yes, precisely. My father, who you must know by now, decided to choose residence near Azkaban, probably to enjoy the screams of the people he put there." Barty sneered and shook his head, unable to see much humour in most things surrounding his father. "London, of course. Close to the Ministry. Like your residence, I'd suspect."

He took a step closer, vaguely recalling what his Lord had said about the Master before. A different world, different power, complex... "We could apparate." He smiled, while he felt how his body was starting to change again. "I'll even take you by the hand."

"Crouch Sr? We've gotten to know each other fairly well. Isn't he just a very pompous bastard? Can't say I'm fond," the Master remarked playfully as he came to a halt, raising an eyebrow at Barty. He didn't actually know how to apparate himself but he knew what it was and the side effects. They didn't sound fun but he once travelled through a black hole into oblivion so complaining about travel sickness seemed so pointless.

With a nod, he turned to Barty, watching in amusement as his face started to change, his body slowly sinking in and his skin almost buzzing and morphing. It was entirely fascinating. The things humans do to themselves.

"Well, don't leave a man waiting," the Master teased, holding out his hand and wriggling his fingers. "The quicker the better."

"Mostly, yes." But of course, unfortunately, his father was far more to him. So much more. He shook his head of the idea and reached for the Master's hand, looking down at it as he threaded their fingers together. It had been a while since he'd touched someone, quite a while. It felt longer still.

He shook his head of that notion and without another word, they apparated, the world vanishing around them and the familiar feeling still enough to make him feel sick, empty stomach and all that. It was his room they appeared in and it had obviously been searched, which wasn't surprising. It still made his skin crawl to see the open drawers, the books pulled from the shelves and ripped. Invasive, that's how it felt, which didn't help with the sickness.

He withdrew his hand from the Master and pressed his lips together, stepping closer to his wardrobe. At least his clothes were still there.

"What do you expect me to do? Hide until it's time?"

Now that was unpleasant. With a groan, the Master pulled a face and shook his head, travelling by magic was much worse than a vortex manipulator. Taking his mind off the unpleasant feeling rolling around in his gut, he decided to look around and pry himself. It was most all the same old crap people had in their bedrooms, besides the books. They were different. He picked up one of the fallen books off the floor and dropped onto his bed, flipping through it in interest. A spell book, from the looks. Wizards seemed to only read about this sort of thing, didn't they have other interests?

Looking up from a passage he was reading to give Barty his attention, he shrugged his shoulders with a distinct lack of interest. Seemed as good a place as any.

"Why not? You've lived here before, haven't you? Just take care of daddy and hang about till it's all set, it won't be long now," the Master said in such a casual tone, assuming the plan was always going to be that he'd kill his dad. That's what he'd do if he was in Barty's shoes. It didn't even seem like a difficult or morally challenging idea to him, the Master crushed anyone who got in his way. Family or otherwise. "I can give you a hand, if you need it."

He wasn't sure if he wanted Barty in his home after all, he didn't want to risk being caught with him in public. Might ruin all he was building up and he couldn't afford that.

"My father vanishing might be noticed by people. Everyone, mostly." But even as he spoke, Barty was already taking the clothes off he hadn't really wanted to wear in the first place, searching for something more fitting. Fitting for killing his father. The thought alone was exhilarating, but also made his heart beat up to his throat. Barty wasn't used to fear, but he was no stranger to it, either. Kill his father? Just like that?

He turned around to look at the Master, half-dressed but all focused, eyes searching his face, mind trying to reach his. "What do you need me for?"

"You'd think, wouldn't you? The man never misses a day, not once. But he's supposed to go off for an inspection shortly and he isn't expected in till after the weekend. People won't even think to check for a few days at least. That's enough time, isn't it? To think of our next move," the Master said simply, grinning at Barty. Oh yes, he already planned for this. He'd made sure that this little stunt of theirs merged well with Crouch Sr's scheduling. He too knew what a pitfall it was to take this sort of risk but he had plans and back up plans for their next act. "By the time they notice he didn't turn up for his destination, we'll of done the deed and moved on."

The Master pulled at his tie, loosening it slightly so he was more at ease and ready for what was going to happen. He could see the determination in Barty's eyes, the temptation. He loved it. "Company. I'm bored and this seems fun. But, of course, if there's anything else you want to offer, I'm all ears."

For a moment, Barty just raised his eyebrows. Then he let out a quiet chuckle, still looking at the Master, suddenly quite struck by the hilarity of it. There he was, that strange man that he hardly knew and understood even less, lying on his bed, in his room, offering an opportunity to kill the man he despised more than anything, the man who had thrown him into prison although he was his only son, who had nothing but contempt for him and... Yes, he wanted to kill him.

He wasn't stupid, nor naive. He could fill in the blanks well enough. But even so, he just finished getting dressed, calmly, then ran his fingers through his hair before approaching the bed. There wasn't really any warning before he bent down and wrapped the Master's tie around his hand twice, using it to pull him up so he was still hovering above him, inches from touching and staring straight into his eyes.

None of it made sense and it felt wrong, but yet he was so excited he was almost giddy. He kissed him, finally, not caring that his lips were torn and dry, he had too many emotions warring inside him not to find an outlet. His voice was breathless as he pulled back, forehead pressed against the Masters. "Onetwothreefour, onetwothreefour,... Your mind, Master." He could hear it, now, and suddenly it was hard to hear anything but. "It doesn't stop."

The book was set aside when Barty approached, interest in his eyes to see what the man did. When he reached for the tie, the Master's first assumption was that he was going to try and choke him to death. A dumb thing to do as he could hold his breath for nearly an hour, it's just give him a sore neck at best. But the closer he got, the more the signals became obvious.

And the kiss? Well, that was expected but a nice little add on. He kissed differently from Lucy, his lips were rougher and harsher. It was refreshing, something new and not at all like he would of thought the Doctor would kiss. With a smirk, he licked the corner of his lips.

"Well now," he drawled slowly, elbows supporting him now so his head was tilted up, a smile on his face. It was a good moment, at first, then Barty brought up a topic he didn't want to discuss. There's a faint twitch as the human mentioned his drums and the Master's face changed to something very serious, a hand reaching out to grip Barty's shirt and hold onto it, fingers twisting into the fabric. He didn't know how to take this moment, so he simply when on the offence. "No, they don't. They never ever stop."

Then he pushed himself up, shoving Barty back as he did so. "Don't ever go into my head again, you dull ape. What's in there is not for you."

Oh, interesting. There was a definite change in Barty, too, at the strong reaction. He didn't quite let it show, didn't quite smile, but he did keep his eyes on the Master, even as he let himself fall back on the bed. "I'll try."

He kept watching him, now the one on his back, now the one leaning on his elbows, consciously or unconsciously mimicking the Master's position from before. He spread his legs, but it was a subtle enough thing, mostly just getting more comfortable. It was his bed, after all.

"And you won't tell me who I look like, either." A statement, not a question. "But you gave me a chance to get rid of my father. I won't forget that." His lips twitched in a smile. "Master."

The Master sat upright on the bed, back against the headboard as he watched the other man sprawl in front of him. It was like an invitation and if he wasn't so determined to keep his head on his shoulders, he might of tried to take some advantage of the situation. He used to do that with Lucy, whenever she gave so much as a slight hint, he took it. Time Lords were always so funny about such things, it always felt so delightfully rebellious.

With a sigh, he shook his head in disbelief. He could throw the guy a bone, he supposed. "You look like an old friend and a great enemy. "

With a smirk, he tilted his head back, willing to pass over the mental intrusion this time. But he may not be so happy in the future. Letting out a bark of laughter, he looked Barty directly in the eyes, unable to help himself. Oh he did love that title. "Just remember that it's your show, Barty. You do the deed, I just watch. And help, if you feel like sharing."

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