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Jul. 19th, 2012 10:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellerkayTitle: Information
Fandoms: Doctor Who & BBC’s Sherlock
Rating: PG-13, maybe a light R at worst (implied sex; a bit of BDSM (heavier stuff implied only); also implied “spousal” abuse but nothing more or worse than Doctor Who itself depicted; some other implied violence/torture; and now I feel like this sounds much worse than it really is, but hey, forewarned is forearmed)
Wordcount: ~4200
Pairings: Jim Moriarty/The Master, Jim Moriarty/Sebastian Moran (implied), The Master/Lucy Saxon (implied)
Summary: Set during The Year That Wasn’t, with flashbacks to the Saxon campaign. Jim Moriarty meets the Master. As you might imagine, they get along rather well.
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
***
“He wants to see you.”
Jim looked up from his breakfast at the waifish blonde standing just inside his office doorway. The wife. He suppressed a giggle. The idea of Lucy as Saxon’s wife always struck him as hilarious.
“Did he happen to say what he wanted?”
Lucy was wearing a revealing purple evening gown today. The fresh bruise around her eye was almost the same color. Jim wondered if she’d coordinated on purpose and suppressed another laugh.
“He’s still in bed, so.” She shrugged. Jim looked carefully at her. This was the first time she’d come so close to acknowledging that aspect of his relationship with her so-called husband. Saxon didn’t flaunt it, but he didn’t exactly go to great lengths to hide it, either.
Jim tried to figure out Lucy’s expression – anger? hurt? But lately, she had started to look dead around the eyes, and not just from the injuries. It was something deeper, something inside her showing through. A sort of blankness, which made her hard to read.
Jim swallowed the last of his coffee and rang the buzzer on his desk.
“Tell him to give me fifteen minutes,” he said. “I just need to do my morning rounds.”
She nodded and turned to go, and Jim stood up quickly.
“Half a sec,” he said. She stopped, and he crossed the room to stand in front of her. When he reached towards her face she flinched, so he dropped his arm, a flicker of a smile crossing his face.
“That looks like it hurts, Mrs. Saxon,” he said.
“I fell,” she said, staring back at him. “And there is no Mrs. Saxon. You of all people should know that.” Dead eyes. Dead face.
“Of course,” he said. She left.
Sebastian came out of the bedroom, then, dressed in his usual jeans and white T-shirt, hair still damp from the shower. The maid arrived at the same time.
“You can take my tray now, Tish,” Jim said, grinning madly at her.
She nodded curtly and retrieved it from his desk.
“One of these days I’m going to get you to smile for me,” Jim said, staying a half-step behind her. “Keep frowning like that, you’ll get wrinkles. Wouldn’t want to wrinkle up that pretty face of yours.”
Tish Jones shot him a death glare as she stomped out of the room, hard enough to rattle the teacup in its saucer.
“I don’t think she likes you, boss,” Sebastian said.
“She’ll come around,” Jim replied. “Ohhh, how rude. I forgot to ask if you needed anything before I let her slip away.”
“Already had my coffee. I’m all set.”
“Well, I’m off to see the wizard,” Jim sighed.
“You need anything from me?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Then…” Sebastian’s eyes gleamed. “You don’t mind if I have some fun, do you?”
“Of course not,” Jim crooned, standing close to him. His face was level Sebastian’s chest, so he craned his neck backwards to look into his face. “I love it when you have fun. If I had my way, you’d always be having fun.”
Sebastian’s lips curled into a small smile. “I know you do your best for me, boss. You want to watch?”
“Wish I could, but I’m got that audience with His Royal Majesty, remember? But, I’ll walk you there.”
***
Sixteen months ago
Jim watched the television intently, while Sebastian shifted on the other side of the couch, tapping his finger impatiently. Seb didn’t much care for television, but Harold Saxon was debating his opponent, live. It wasn’t going well for the opponent.
“Who are you?” Jim muttered.
“Check his website,” Sebastian said.
“It’s all lies, I told you,” Jim said, glancing back at him. “Don’t you remember? It’s like he barely even tried to cover his tracks, but no one’s noticed.”
“Do you want me to kill him?”
“No. At least, not yet,” Jim said. “He’s…interesting. A new puzzle for me to work out.”
Sebastian’s tapping was getting louder. Rhythmic beats of four against the arm of the couch. Jim looked back again, annoyed.
“Would you cut that out?” he said. “You’re always doing that, lately.” Sebastian looked down at his hand, a look of faint surprise on his face, as though he hadn’t been aware the movement of his fingers. He took out a cigarette and lit it. After another couple seconds he got to his feet.
“If I don’t need to kill him, and you’re not going to watch something with gore, then I’m going to the kitchen to read,” he said. “I like Saxon, but watching you watch him is boring.”
“You like Saxon?” Jim repeated, surprised. It was a rare feeling for him, but he wasn’t sure Seb had ever said he liked anyone, at least not in Jim’s hearing.
Sebastian paused in the doorway and considered this for a moment. “Yeah,” he said. “Funny, huh?” He shrugged, and left the room. Jim returned his attention to the TV, turning up the volume a couple notches. Something was happening, that was certain. He needed access to Saxon. He could volunteer for the campaign, but what were the odds of getting anywhere near him? And if he got himself a job higher up, he might be noticed before he wanted to be…
Ah. Of course. Mycroft Holmes. He’d been thinking about working near his new pet project’s older brother, anyway. See what he could find. And Mycroft, who, Jim already knew, was much more influential than his job description would seem to indicate, would be certain to cross paths with the presumptive new Prime Minister.
Jim flipped off the TV and wandered into the kitchen, where Sebastian was sitting at the table, reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
“You want to know who dies at the end?” Jim drawled. Sebastian ignored him. “Well, first it’s one of the twins, I can’t remember which – ” Sebastian closed the book with an annoyed grunt and looked up at him.
“How do you think I would look as Jim from I.T.?” Jim asked, now that he had Seb’s attention.
“Real good, boss.”
“I think so, too. I’m going to need you to find an opening for me.” Jim chewed his lip thoughtfully. “And it should probably look like an accident.”
***
Jim and Sebastian strolled through the hallways of the Valiant, with a general eye on the workings of the ship. Jim took casual note of what he saw, trusting that Sebastian would probably pick up on anything he happened to miss (unlikely as that might be).
It didn’t take them long to reach their destination.
“Wait here,” Jim said. Sebastian nodded and stood off to the side. The guard opened the gates and Jim went through, hands in his pockets, smiling at the man in front of him. As usual, the prisoner was standing, wrists chained so his arms were spread wide. His shirt was open, and he was filthy from the smoke around him.
“Captain Harkness,” Jim said pleasantly. Jack grinned brashly at him.
“Good morning, Jim,” he said. “How goes the life of soulless evil?”
“Oh, just great, thanks for asking,” Jim replied. “How’s selfless nobility working out for you?”
“Couldn’t be better,” Jack said.
“You’re comfortable? You want me to have the maids fetch you anything?”
“Oh, I dunno.” Jack shrugged, as best he could. “Maybe a magazine?”
Jim smiled. “I’ll do you one better,” he said. “I brought you some company.”
He glanced behind him, and Sebastian stepped quietly through the gates. The grin dropped off Jack’s face, and he swallowed.
“You know, I’m really fine on my own,” he said.
Sebastian stepped up close and touched a finger to Jack’s cheek. There was a flash of fear in Jack’s eyes, and Jim smiled wider.
“It’s been a few days, Jack,” Sebastian said. “I missed you.”
“He’s an interesting one, isn’t he, Seb?” Jim said.
“I kill him and I kill him, and he never dies,” Sebastian said fondly. He tilted his head to the side, examining Jack’s exposed torso. “You don’t even scar.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to play with your toy,” Jim said. “Have fun, kids. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
As Jim turned to go, he heard the schick of Sebastian’s favorite pocketknife opening. Jack’s first scream came just before the gates shut behind him.
***
Fifteen months ago
Hacking into Mycroft Holmes’ schedule was easy. There were other files that were harder; Jim was still working on those. But his schedule was practically public knowledge. He had to share it with his assistant, after all, so it was the work of minutes to gain access to her computer.
Thus, Jim had ample time to make sure he was loitering in the hallway after Saxon and Mycroft’s meeting. He wasn’t the only one who was aware that Saxon was in the building, and as he came into view, more than a few people were waiting to greet him.
Saxon was all smiles as he shook hands with the employees (although, Jim thought, there was something in his smile that seemed off; it was different, certainly, than other politicians – but, as with Saxon’s pretend life, no one seemed to catch on). “Do I have your vote?” he asked each person in turn, and every one replied with a resounding, “Yes!”
Jim leaned casually against the wall. Jim from I.T. could get away with khakis and an Oxford collar shirt, even as a government employee. Jim missed his Westwood, but certain sacrifices had to be made. When Harold Saxon reached him, Jim took the proffered hand with a smile.
“Can I count on your vote?” Saxon asked, baring his teeth in a manic grin.
“I’m undecided,” Jim said blandly. Saxon’s smile faltered, and anger flashed across his features. It was gone in an instant and the smile returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Jim. Jim Doyle.” It was the name he was working under.
“Well, Jim,” Saxon said, “I’d like to help you make up your mind.” He finally released Jim’s hand and pulled a card from his breast pocket. “Come see me tomorrow – say, 10? – and I’d be happy to discuss your concerns.” He clapped Jim on the shoulder, and with one last, winning smile, he walked off.
Jim popped a piece of gum in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, looking down at the card. This was interesting. Most politicians didn’t try to convert voters one by one, at least not when there weren’t any cameras watching. Maybe he’d find himself in the middle of a photo op tomorrow. But somehow, he doubted it.
***
Jim walked through the Valiant, alone now, until he came to the main control room. He flicked his fingernail hard against the tent a couple times. After a moment, there was a shuffling noise, and the old man crawled slowly out.
“Good morning, Doctor,” Jim said.
“What do you want?”
“Oh, so you’re talking, today! That’s a very positive sign. I feel like our relationship has really turned a corner.”
The Doctor regarded him silently, with his sad, old eyes. They were older, even, than his ancient face. Jim was about to say something when the Doctor, surprisingly, spoke again.
“It’s a shame,” he said.
“What’s a shame?” Jim asked, grinning a little in anticipation. This ought to be good.
“He’s told me about you. He showed me what your mind looks like.”
“Did he?”
“He wanted to scare me.”
Jim struck a pose. “Did it work?”
“No. It made me feel sorry for you.”
Jim laughed. “Of the two of us, I believe you’re the one who drinks from a doggy bowl, Doctor.”
The Doctor’s gaze was still clear and focused, despite Saxon’s reverse-Lazarus trick. “You could have been so brilliant,” he said softly, his old man’s voice unsteady.
Jim grinned. “I am brilliant,” he said.
The Doctor shook his head again.
“Anything else?” Jim asked. The Doctor was silent. “Anything? No? All right then, I’ll leave you alone. That’s the most I’ve heard you say in weeks. You must be thirsty, and you can’t be eager for anyone to watch you have a drink. Although I would, if I didn’t need to go and meet with your old friend.” And he left, with just one backwards grin. The Doctor sat unmoving on the floor, watching him.
***
Fifteen months ago
Saxon’s wife showed Jim into the office with a bright smile. She closed the door behind him, and Jim listened to her footsteps fade. Saxon was sitting behind his desk, but he rose when he saw Jim and moved towards him. His walk was predatory, his smile ferocious; nothing of the politician in him now.
“Mr. Doyle,” he said. “Thank you for coming. Now, seeing as you’re undecided, I want to know what would make you want to vote for me. I want to know…absolutely…everything about you.”
He clapped his hands over Jim’s ears, fingers pressed hard into his temples. Before Jim could react, his vision tunneled and his mind reeled, running through memory after memory, completely out of his control. He could feel Saxon inside him, rummaging around, turning him inside out. As he started to get his bearings, he focused on Saxon’s mind and looked back - but just then, Saxon withdrew, and he was looking into his eyes again.
“Master,” Jim said. Not a name he was going to use regularly, of course, but he wanted to show off. Show what he’d seen.
Saxon (only it wasn’t Saxon, because there was no Saxon) looked surprised for an instant, and then he laughed.
“Oh, I like you,” he said. “James Moriarty. I think we’re going to be very, very good friends.” His hands were still on either side of Jim’s face, and now he leaned in and kissed him, hard, more claiming than a romantic gesture. Jim let it happen, let Saxon force him back against the door, grabbed Saxon’s hips and ground against him.
They were both panting when Saxon pulled away, keeping his face close. “You know my name,” he said in a low voice. “Did you get anything else?”
“Just one thing,” Jim replied. “Who’s the Doctor?”
Saxon grinned and licked his lips. “You saw that name, too?”
“Well, it might as well have been in red, blinking neon on your brain,” Jim said. Saxon laughed and bit Jim’s neck, hard, sucked at the delicate skin. “Who is he?”
Saxon pulled back again to give him a considering look. “I suppose I ought to tell you a few things,” he said. “If you’re going to be working for me.”
He crushed his lips against Jim’s and tightened his fingers on Jim’s head again, and again, Jim’s mind whirled, lost this time in a flood of memories and knowledge not his own. Alien worlds, alien technology, alien biology, flashes of history and science he’d never dreamed of. It was dizzying, and he clung to Saxon to keep his balance.
Saxon pulled away, and Jim gave a frustrated groan. It was a tantalizing taste, a packet of information that told him just enough about the Master and the Doctor and Gallifrey and the Archangel Network to give him a working knowledge of the situation. But he had glimpsed so much more, and he wanted it.
“Who says I’m going to be working for you?” he gasped out, aware of his pounding heart (and aware that the Master had two of them).
“I do,” said Saxon, untucking Jim’s I.T. shirt, sliding his fingers under his waistband.
“What’s in it for me?” Jim asked.
“I’ll give you a little piece of the world, once it’s mine,” Saxon promised. Jim shook his head.
“I’m going to need something more.”
Saxon pulled a cartoonish face. “And what’s that, Jim?”
“I want information.”
Saxon stared at him for a moment, and then a huge grin spread across his face. “Then hold on tight!” he nearly shouted, and leaned in for another kiss.
///
By the time they finished, they had collapsed on the couch in Saxon’s office.
“How do you feel, Jim?” Saxon asked, lazily tapping his fingers on Jim’s bare chest. Babababum. Babababum. The drums, the neverending drums. He’d heard them, inside the Master’s mind, part and parcel with the reams of new knowledge currently making him feel pleasantly dizzy.
“I’m good,” Jim said. A little distractedly. It was rare for him to lose focus, but there was so much to pore over, to integrate…it was almost overwhelming. Almost.
“And you’ll work for me?”
“Of course, if you keep giving me that,” Jim said. “And money. Lots of money.”
Saxon snickered. “I’ve got more than enough,” he said. “Of course, I can’t tell you everything. Even if I wanted to…” He shifted, reaching up to tap out the drumbeat on Jim’s forehead. Babababum. “Even your gorgeous mind is still human. Little. Limited.”
“I’ll take what I can get. Oh, but I’ll want to keep my I.T. job, part time.” Saxon raised an eyebrow, and Jim gave him a sideways smile. “Just till the election. I can’t put aside all my own interests.”
“Oh, yes…Sherlock Holmes,” Saxon murmured, running his lips along Jim’s jaw. He bit his earlobe. “Speaking of blinking red neon.”
“Everyone needs a hobby,” Jim said. “You’ve got the Doctor – ”
“And you’ve got the detective,” Saxon said. He sat up halfway, leaning on his fists, looming over Jim. “Well, this has turned out to be a very productive morning. All I wanted to do was try and figure out why you, and the other one percenters, aren’t affected by my network. And now, I find myself with a new friend.” He smiled, the unhinged smile that looked much more natural on him than the politician’s false friendliness. “I think it’s time you met my other friends.”
A door in the office – not the door he’d entered by – slid open, and a couple metal spheres flew in. Jim sat up slowly. He knew the Master hadn’t told him everything. This was it, then. The end game.
“Master!” one of the spheres burbled happily. “Who is this? Shall we play with him?”
“Play nice,” Saxon said. “He’s on our side.”
“Hooray!” shouted the spheres, and they flew near Jim’s head, bobbing and giggling.
“Why don’t you show Jim what you like to do?” Saxon asked. He sprang to his feet and ran to his desk, grabbed a heavy metal paperweight shaped like an old police call box, and flung it at Jim’s head. Jim flinched instinctively, but one of the spheres shot out a laser that decimated the paperweight before it hit him.
Jim couldn’t help goggling, just a little bit.
“What are they?” he breathed. Saxon bounded back over to him and grabbed his head again.
“That, my darling Companion, is the future of the human race,” he hissed, face inches from Jim’s. And then Jim saw. And he started to laugh.
***
Lucy was sitting at the computer in Saxon’s Valiant office. She barely looked up when Jim arrived.
“I’ll just show myself in, then, shall I?” Jim said. She nodded, eyes glued to the monitor. Jim brushed past her and into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
“Good morning, Jim,” came Saxon’s voice from the depths of the bedclothes. Jim kicked off his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket.
“Good morning, Harry,” he replied, crawling onto the bed. Saxon popped into view, making his ‘not-funny’ face.
“Still not my name,” he hissed, grabbing Jim’s tie and pulling him close.
“Still don’t care.” Jim was proud to get this out in a reasonably normal tone of voice, despite the fact that his tie was now starting to cut off his air supply.
Saxon released him and started loosening the tie instead, quickly pulling it over Jim’s head and setting to work on his buttons.
“You’re impatient this morning,” Jim said. “Is the little missus not satisfying you anymore?”
“She never did,” Saxon growled. Jim pulled off his shirt as Saxon started to undo his belt.
“Are you sure you can trust her?” Jim inquired casually.
Saxon paused and looked up with an incredulous expression.
“Who, Lucy?” he laughed. “She still thinks she’s my beloved Companion.”
“If you keep hitting her, even she might figure out the change in her status.”
“Why, James…you’re not feeling sorry for that pathetic waste of consciousness, are you?”
Jim took a moment to laugh so hard he almost asphyxiated. Saxon, grinning, finished undressing him as he let Jim get himself under control.
“No,” Jim said, when he’d recovered. “No, I don’t feel sorry for her. I just think that, if you’re going to let someone have that much access to you, you should treat them well.”
“Don’t you humans have some expression about pots and kettles?” Saxon said. He pushed Jim over and straddled his leg, pinning Jim’s wrists up over his head.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Saxon bit Jim’s throat, then his lip, and then gave him a long, openmouthed kiss. Jim’s hips rose of their own accord; Jim let them.
“You beat Sebastian black and blue, when the mood strikes,” Saxon said, when they came up for air. He tapped Jim’s temple. “I’ve seen you."
“That’s part of how I treat him well,” Jim sighed. “He likes it. I don’t think your wife feels the same.”
“She likes what I tell her to like.”
“Just scan her. Make sure she isn’t planning anything.”
Saxon rolled his eyes. “You have no idea how dull Lucy’s mind is. If she thought of a plan, it would probably bring on a stroke.” He nuzzled Jim’s forehead. “Yours, on the other hand…I could eat it.” He licked along his hairline.
“And what about the Doctor?” Jim asked. Saxon froze.
“What about him?” he asked in a low voice.
“When are you going to kill him?” Saxon remained perfectly still. Jim could feel his double heartbeats speeding up, thumping against his chest. “He’s the only one who could still stop you. Well…maybe Sherlock. But we still haven’t located him. The Doctor, on the other hand, is perfectly accessible.”
“He’s not going to stop me,” Saxon snarled.
“Then why don’t you kill him?”
“Would you kill yours?”
“Sherlock? Sure. I’d make it count, but…of course. Once I’d had my fun.”
Saxon was breathing heavily. “You’re not a Time Lord. You wouldn’t understand.” His grip on Jim’s wrists tightened, becoming painful.
Jim smiled a little. He hadn’t really expected this conversation to go any other way. “Maybe if you gave me a little more information, then.”
Saxon’s hands relaxed, and he released Jim’s wrists. “Oh…is that what you want?”
“Of course it is.” The excitement rose, bubbling up in Jim’s throat, coming out as a strangled giggle. When he spoke, he used his burning voice, the one he reserved for special threats, special occasions. “GIVE IT TO ME.”
And Saxon entered him, filling him up, and Jim breathed in hard, his spine bowing.
“Master,” he hissed, unable to stop himself.
***
One week later
“Doctor! Doctor! Doctor!” The name echoed around the world, as Jim stood above, listening.
When the Doctor started glowing, Sebastian sighed, pulled out his gun, and took a step forward. Jim grabbed his arm, and shook his head when Seb looked back at him with a questioning expression.
“Come with me,” Jim said quietly.
He pulled him into the wall, into a little chamber Saxon had showed him months ago. It was nearly invisible, but they could see everything from inside. Saxon had wanted to do some truly disgusting things in it while they watched the Doctor eating in his tent. It had been pretty fun.
The fun times, obviously, were over.
“What’s going on, boss?” Sebastian breathed, lips next to Jim’s ear, barely audible.
“He should have listened to me,” Jim said. “Time for us to abandon the sinking ship, Seb. Into the lifeboats. Kill any women or children who get in your way.”
“Should we get going, then?”
“Not yet. I want to see what happens.”
So they watched, and listened. When Jack Harkness ran off to destroy the paradox machine, and the Doctor and the Master disappeared, Sebastian spoke again.
“Now?”
Jim shook his head. Something was telling him to stay. The knowledge, everything the Master had put in his head… he knew that if they left, he’d lose it.
“Time is reversing!” the Doctor shouted. The wind rose, and the room seemed to be spinning, though Jim wasn’t entirely sure it was. Sebastian grabbed him around the waist and braced against a wall. Jim hung onto his forearm, watching in fascination.
When the shot rang out, Jim tsked. He and Sebastian watched the painfully sentimental scene play out. Finally, the Master’s eyes closed.
“All right,” Jim said, very softly. “Now, we can go.”
They left through the back door of the chamber, and strolled down the deserted aisles of the Valiant.
“So, that’s it, then,” Sebastian stated. “He’s gone.”
Jim smiled. “For now,” he replied.
***
A/N: I owe a huge debt to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nevacaruso; firstly for her amazing MasMor story. I wanted to write Jim and the Master before reading that, but it really kick-started me into doing my own take. In it she references Jim's reluctance to call the Master by his real name, which was so perfect and seemed so integral to their interaction that I had to make it a part of my own story, too (with her kind permission). She also helped me develop this, and, when it was written, gave it a very useful beta read and provided some excellent feedback. (She also brilliantly suggested Jim's fake last name.) Neva, THANK YOU! The rest of you, go read her MasMor; it's a thing of beauty.
Fandoms: Doctor Who & BBC’s Sherlock
Rating: PG-13, maybe a light R at worst (implied sex; a bit of BDSM (heavier stuff implied only); also implied “spousal” abuse but nothing more or worse than Doctor Who itself depicted; some other implied violence/torture; and now I feel like this sounds much worse than it really is, but hey, forewarned is forearmed)
Wordcount: ~4200
Pairings: Jim Moriarty/The Master, Jim Moriarty/Sebastian Moran (implied), The Master/Lucy Saxon (implied)
Summary: Set during The Year That Wasn’t, with flashbacks to the Saxon campaign. Jim Moriarty meets the Master. As you might imagine, they get along rather well.
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
***
“He wants to see you.”
Jim looked up from his breakfast at the waifish blonde standing just inside his office doorway. The wife. He suppressed a giggle. The idea of Lucy as Saxon’s wife always struck him as hilarious.
“Did he happen to say what he wanted?”
Lucy was wearing a revealing purple evening gown today. The fresh bruise around her eye was almost the same color. Jim wondered if she’d coordinated on purpose and suppressed another laugh.
“He’s still in bed, so.” She shrugged. Jim looked carefully at her. This was the first time she’d come so close to acknowledging that aspect of his relationship with her so-called husband. Saxon didn’t flaunt it, but he didn’t exactly go to great lengths to hide it, either.
Jim tried to figure out Lucy’s expression – anger? hurt? But lately, she had started to look dead around the eyes, and not just from the injuries. It was something deeper, something inside her showing through. A sort of blankness, which made her hard to read.
Jim swallowed the last of his coffee and rang the buzzer on his desk.
“Tell him to give me fifteen minutes,” he said. “I just need to do my morning rounds.”
She nodded and turned to go, and Jim stood up quickly.
“Half a sec,” he said. She stopped, and he crossed the room to stand in front of her. When he reached towards her face she flinched, so he dropped his arm, a flicker of a smile crossing his face.
“That looks like it hurts, Mrs. Saxon,” he said.
“I fell,” she said, staring back at him. “And there is no Mrs. Saxon. You of all people should know that.” Dead eyes. Dead face.
“Of course,” he said. She left.
Sebastian came out of the bedroom, then, dressed in his usual jeans and white T-shirt, hair still damp from the shower. The maid arrived at the same time.
“You can take my tray now, Tish,” Jim said, grinning madly at her.
She nodded curtly and retrieved it from his desk.
“One of these days I’m going to get you to smile for me,” Jim said, staying a half-step behind her. “Keep frowning like that, you’ll get wrinkles. Wouldn’t want to wrinkle up that pretty face of yours.”
Tish Jones shot him a death glare as she stomped out of the room, hard enough to rattle the teacup in its saucer.
“I don’t think she likes you, boss,” Sebastian said.
“She’ll come around,” Jim replied. “Ohhh, how rude. I forgot to ask if you needed anything before I let her slip away.”
“Already had my coffee. I’m all set.”
“Well, I’m off to see the wizard,” Jim sighed.
“You need anything from me?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Then…” Sebastian’s eyes gleamed. “You don’t mind if I have some fun, do you?”
“Of course not,” Jim crooned, standing close to him. His face was level Sebastian’s chest, so he craned his neck backwards to look into his face. “I love it when you have fun. If I had my way, you’d always be having fun.”
Sebastian’s lips curled into a small smile. “I know you do your best for me, boss. You want to watch?”
“Wish I could, but I’m got that audience with His Royal Majesty, remember? But, I’ll walk you there.”
***
Sixteen months ago
Jim watched the television intently, while Sebastian shifted on the other side of the couch, tapping his finger impatiently. Seb didn’t much care for television, but Harold Saxon was debating his opponent, live. It wasn’t going well for the opponent.
“Who are you?” Jim muttered.
“Check his website,” Sebastian said.
“It’s all lies, I told you,” Jim said, glancing back at him. “Don’t you remember? It’s like he barely even tried to cover his tracks, but no one’s noticed.”
“Do you want me to kill him?”
“No. At least, not yet,” Jim said. “He’s…interesting. A new puzzle for me to work out.”
Sebastian’s tapping was getting louder. Rhythmic beats of four against the arm of the couch. Jim looked back again, annoyed.
“Would you cut that out?” he said. “You’re always doing that, lately.” Sebastian looked down at his hand, a look of faint surprise on his face, as though he hadn’t been aware the movement of his fingers. He took out a cigarette and lit it. After another couple seconds he got to his feet.
“If I don’t need to kill him, and you’re not going to watch something with gore, then I’m going to the kitchen to read,” he said. “I like Saxon, but watching you watch him is boring.”
“You like Saxon?” Jim repeated, surprised. It was a rare feeling for him, but he wasn’t sure Seb had ever said he liked anyone, at least not in Jim’s hearing.
Sebastian paused in the doorway and considered this for a moment. “Yeah,” he said. “Funny, huh?” He shrugged, and left the room. Jim returned his attention to the TV, turning up the volume a couple notches. Something was happening, that was certain. He needed access to Saxon. He could volunteer for the campaign, but what were the odds of getting anywhere near him? And if he got himself a job higher up, he might be noticed before he wanted to be…
Ah. Of course. Mycroft Holmes. He’d been thinking about working near his new pet project’s older brother, anyway. See what he could find. And Mycroft, who, Jim already knew, was much more influential than his job description would seem to indicate, would be certain to cross paths with the presumptive new Prime Minister.
Jim flipped off the TV and wandered into the kitchen, where Sebastian was sitting at the table, reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
“You want to know who dies at the end?” Jim drawled. Sebastian ignored him. “Well, first it’s one of the twins, I can’t remember which – ” Sebastian closed the book with an annoyed grunt and looked up at him.
“How do you think I would look as Jim from I.T.?” Jim asked, now that he had Seb’s attention.
“Real good, boss.”
“I think so, too. I’m going to need you to find an opening for me.” Jim chewed his lip thoughtfully. “And it should probably look like an accident.”
***
Jim and Sebastian strolled through the hallways of the Valiant, with a general eye on the workings of the ship. Jim took casual note of what he saw, trusting that Sebastian would probably pick up on anything he happened to miss (unlikely as that might be).
It didn’t take them long to reach their destination.
“Wait here,” Jim said. Sebastian nodded and stood off to the side. The guard opened the gates and Jim went through, hands in his pockets, smiling at the man in front of him. As usual, the prisoner was standing, wrists chained so his arms were spread wide. His shirt was open, and he was filthy from the smoke around him.
“Captain Harkness,” Jim said pleasantly. Jack grinned brashly at him.
“Good morning, Jim,” he said. “How goes the life of soulless evil?”
“Oh, just great, thanks for asking,” Jim replied. “How’s selfless nobility working out for you?”
“Couldn’t be better,” Jack said.
“You’re comfortable? You want me to have the maids fetch you anything?”
“Oh, I dunno.” Jack shrugged, as best he could. “Maybe a magazine?”
Jim smiled. “I’ll do you one better,” he said. “I brought you some company.”
He glanced behind him, and Sebastian stepped quietly through the gates. The grin dropped off Jack’s face, and he swallowed.
“You know, I’m really fine on my own,” he said.
Sebastian stepped up close and touched a finger to Jack’s cheek. There was a flash of fear in Jack’s eyes, and Jim smiled wider.
“It’s been a few days, Jack,” Sebastian said. “I missed you.”
“He’s an interesting one, isn’t he, Seb?” Jim said.
“I kill him and I kill him, and he never dies,” Sebastian said fondly. He tilted his head to the side, examining Jack’s exposed torso. “You don’t even scar.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to play with your toy,” Jim said. “Have fun, kids. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
As Jim turned to go, he heard the schick of Sebastian’s favorite pocketknife opening. Jack’s first scream came just before the gates shut behind him.
***
Fifteen months ago
Hacking into Mycroft Holmes’ schedule was easy. There were other files that were harder; Jim was still working on those. But his schedule was practically public knowledge. He had to share it with his assistant, after all, so it was the work of minutes to gain access to her computer.
Thus, Jim had ample time to make sure he was loitering in the hallway after Saxon and Mycroft’s meeting. He wasn’t the only one who was aware that Saxon was in the building, and as he came into view, more than a few people were waiting to greet him.
Saxon was all smiles as he shook hands with the employees (although, Jim thought, there was something in his smile that seemed off; it was different, certainly, than other politicians – but, as with Saxon’s pretend life, no one seemed to catch on). “Do I have your vote?” he asked each person in turn, and every one replied with a resounding, “Yes!”
Jim leaned casually against the wall. Jim from I.T. could get away with khakis and an Oxford collar shirt, even as a government employee. Jim missed his Westwood, but certain sacrifices had to be made. When Harold Saxon reached him, Jim took the proffered hand with a smile.
“Can I count on your vote?” Saxon asked, baring his teeth in a manic grin.
“I’m undecided,” Jim said blandly. Saxon’s smile faltered, and anger flashed across his features. It was gone in an instant and the smile returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Jim. Jim Doyle.” It was the name he was working under.
“Well, Jim,” Saxon said, “I’d like to help you make up your mind.” He finally released Jim’s hand and pulled a card from his breast pocket. “Come see me tomorrow – say, 10? – and I’d be happy to discuss your concerns.” He clapped Jim on the shoulder, and with one last, winning smile, he walked off.
Jim popped a piece of gum in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, looking down at the card. This was interesting. Most politicians didn’t try to convert voters one by one, at least not when there weren’t any cameras watching. Maybe he’d find himself in the middle of a photo op tomorrow. But somehow, he doubted it.
***
Jim walked through the Valiant, alone now, until he came to the main control room. He flicked his fingernail hard against the tent a couple times. After a moment, there was a shuffling noise, and the old man crawled slowly out.
“Good morning, Doctor,” Jim said.
“What do you want?”
“Oh, so you’re talking, today! That’s a very positive sign. I feel like our relationship has really turned a corner.”
The Doctor regarded him silently, with his sad, old eyes. They were older, even, than his ancient face. Jim was about to say something when the Doctor, surprisingly, spoke again.
“It’s a shame,” he said.
“What’s a shame?” Jim asked, grinning a little in anticipation. This ought to be good.
“He’s told me about you. He showed me what your mind looks like.”
“Did he?”
“He wanted to scare me.”
Jim struck a pose. “Did it work?”
“No. It made me feel sorry for you.”
Jim laughed. “Of the two of us, I believe you’re the one who drinks from a doggy bowl, Doctor.”
The Doctor’s gaze was still clear and focused, despite Saxon’s reverse-Lazarus trick. “You could have been so brilliant,” he said softly, his old man’s voice unsteady.
Jim grinned. “I am brilliant,” he said.
The Doctor shook his head again.
“Anything else?” Jim asked. The Doctor was silent. “Anything? No? All right then, I’ll leave you alone. That’s the most I’ve heard you say in weeks. You must be thirsty, and you can’t be eager for anyone to watch you have a drink. Although I would, if I didn’t need to go and meet with your old friend.” And he left, with just one backwards grin. The Doctor sat unmoving on the floor, watching him.
***
Fifteen months ago
Saxon’s wife showed Jim into the office with a bright smile. She closed the door behind him, and Jim listened to her footsteps fade. Saxon was sitting behind his desk, but he rose when he saw Jim and moved towards him. His walk was predatory, his smile ferocious; nothing of the politician in him now.
“Mr. Doyle,” he said. “Thank you for coming. Now, seeing as you’re undecided, I want to know what would make you want to vote for me. I want to know…absolutely…everything about you.”
He clapped his hands over Jim’s ears, fingers pressed hard into his temples. Before Jim could react, his vision tunneled and his mind reeled, running through memory after memory, completely out of his control. He could feel Saxon inside him, rummaging around, turning him inside out. As he started to get his bearings, he focused on Saxon’s mind and looked back - but just then, Saxon withdrew, and he was looking into his eyes again.
“Master,” Jim said. Not a name he was going to use regularly, of course, but he wanted to show off. Show what he’d seen.
Saxon (only it wasn’t Saxon, because there was no Saxon) looked surprised for an instant, and then he laughed.
“Oh, I like you,” he said. “James Moriarty. I think we’re going to be very, very good friends.” His hands were still on either side of Jim’s face, and now he leaned in and kissed him, hard, more claiming than a romantic gesture. Jim let it happen, let Saxon force him back against the door, grabbed Saxon’s hips and ground against him.
They were both panting when Saxon pulled away, keeping his face close. “You know my name,” he said in a low voice. “Did you get anything else?”
“Just one thing,” Jim replied. “Who’s the Doctor?”
Saxon grinned and licked his lips. “You saw that name, too?”
“Well, it might as well have been in red, blinking neon on your brain,” Jim said. Saxon laughed and bit Jim’s neck, hard, sucked at the delicate skin. “Who is he?”
Saxon pulled back again to give him a considering look. “I suppose I ought to tell you a few things,” he said. “If you’re going to be working for me.”
He crushed his lips against Jim’s and tightened his fingers on Jim’s head again, and again, Jim’s mind whirled, lost this time in a flood of memories and knowledge not his own. Alien worlds, alien technology, alien biology, flashes of history and science he’d never dreamed of. It was dizzying, and he clung to Saxon to keep his balance.
Saxon pulled away, and Jim gave a frustrated groan. It was a tantalizing taste, a packet of information that told him just enough about the Master and the Doctor and Gallifrey and the Archangel Network to give him a working knowledge of the situation. But he had glimpsed so much more, and he wanted it.
“Who says I’m going to be working for you?” he gasped out, aware of his pounding heart (and aware that the Master had two of them).
“I do,” said Saxon, untucking Jim’s I.T. shirt, sliding his fingers under his waistband.
“What’s in it for me?” Jim asked.
“I’ll give you a little piece of the world, once it’s mine,” Saxon promised. Jim shook his head.
“I’m going to need something more.”
Saxon pulled a cartoonish face. “And what’s that, Jim?”
“I want information.”
Saxon stared at him for a moment, and then a huge grin spread across his face. “Then hold on tight!” he nearly shouted, and leaned in for another kiss.
///
By the time they finished, they had collapsed on the couch in Saxon’s office.
“How do you feel, Jim?” Saxon asked, lazily tapping his fingers on Jim’s bare chest. Babababum. Babababum. The drums, the neverending drums. He’d heard them, inside the Master’s mind, part and parcel with the reams of new knowledge currently making him feel pleasantly dizzy.
“I’m good,” Jim said. A little distractedly. It was rare for him to lose focus, but there was so much to pore over, to integrate…it was almost overwhelming. Almost.
“And you’ll work for me?”
“Of course, if you keep giving me that,” Jim said. “And money. Lots of money.”
Saxon snickered. “I’ve got more than enough,” he said. “Of course, I can’t tell you everything. Even if I wanted to…” He shifted, reaching up to tap out the drumbeat on Jim’s forehead. Babababum. “Even your gorgeous mind is still human. Little. Limited.”
“I’ll take what I can get. Oh, but I’ll want to keep my I.T. job, part time.” Saxon raised an eyebrow, and Jim gave him a sideways smile. “Just till the election. I can’t put aside all my own interests.”
“Oh, yes…Sherlock Holmes,” Saxon murmured, running his lips along Jim’s jaw. He bit his earlobe. “Speaking of blinking red neon.”
“Everyone needs a hobby,” Jim said. “You’ve got the Doctor – ”
“And you’ve got the detective,” Saxon said. He sat up halfway, leaning on his fists, looming over Jim. “Well, this has turned out to be a very productive morning. All I wanted to do was try and figure out why you, and the other one percenters, aren’t affected by my network. And now, I find myself with a new friend.” He smiled, the unhinged smile that looked much more natural on him than the politician’s false friendliness. “I think it’s time you met my other friends.”
A door in the office – not the door he’d entered by – slid open, and a couple metal spheres flew in. Jim sat up slowly. He knew the Master hadn’t told him everything. This was it, then. The end game.
“Master!” one of the spheres burbled happily. “Who is this? Shall we play with him?”
“Play nice,” Saxon said. “He’s on our side.”
“Hooray!” shouted the spheres, and they flew near Jim’s head, bobbing and giggling.
“Why don’t you show Jim what you like to do?” Saxon asked. He sprang to his feet and ran to his desk, grabbed a heavy metal paperweight shaped like an old police call box, and flung it at Jim’s head. Jim flinched instinctively, but one of the spheres shot out a laser that decimated the paperweight before it hit him.
Jim couldn’t help goggling, just a little bit.
“What are they?” he breathed. Saxon bounded back over to him and grabbed his head again.
“That, my darling Companion, is the future of the human race,” he hissed, face inches from Jim’s. And then Jim saw. And he started to laugh.
***
Lucy was sitting at the computer in Saxon’s Valiant office. She barely looked up when Jim arrived.
“I’ll just show myself in, then, shall I?” Jim said. She nodded, eyes glued to the monitor. Jim brushed past her and into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
“Good morning, Jim,” came Saxon’s voice from the depths of the bedclothes. Jim kicked off his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket.
“Good morning, Harry,” he replied, crawling onto the bed. Saxon popped into view, making his ‘not-funny’ face.
“Still not my name,” he hissed, grabbing Jim’s tie and pulling him close.
“Still don’t care.” Jim was proud to get this out in a reasonably normal tone of voice, despite the fact that his tie was now starting to cut off his air supply.
Saxon released him and started loosening the tie instead, quickly pulling it over Jim’s head and setting to work on his buttons.
“You’re impatient this morning,” Jim said. “Is the little missus not satisfying you anymore?”
“She never did,” Saxon growled. Jim pulled off his shirt as Saxon started to undo his belt.
“Are you sure you can trust her?” Jim inquired casually.
Saxon paused and looked up with an incredulous expression.
“Who, Lucy?” he laughed. “She still thinks she’s my beloved Companion.”
“If you keep hitting her, even she might figure out the change in her status.”
“Why, James…you’re not feeling sorry for that pathetic waste of consciousness, are you?”
Jim took a moment to laugh so hard he almost asphyxiated. Saxon, grinning, finished undressing him as he let Jim get himself under control.
“No,” Jim said, when he’d recovered. “No, I don’t feel sorry for her. I just think that, if you’re going to let someone have that much access to you, you should treat them well.”
“Don’t you humans have some expression about pots and kettles?” Saxon said. He pushed Jim over and straddled his leg, pinning Jim’s wrists up over his head.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Saxon bit Jim’s throat, then his lip, and then gave him a long, openmouthed kiss. Jim’s hips rose of their own accord; Jim let them.
“You beat Sebastian black and blue, when the mood strikes,” Saxon said, when they came up for air. He tapped Jim’s temple. “I’ve seen you."
“That’s part of how I treat him well,” Jim sighed. “He likes it. I don’t think your wife feels the same.”
“She likes what I tell her to like.”
“Just scan her. Make sure she isn’t planning anything.”
Saxon rolled his eyes. “You have no idea how dull Lucy’s mind is. If she thought of a plan, it would probably bring on a stroke.” He nuzzled Jim’s forehead. “Yours, on the other hand…I could eat it.” He licked along his hairline.
“And what about the Doctor?” Jim asked. Saxon froze.
“What about him?” he asked in a low voice.
“When are you going to kill him?” Saxon remained perfectly still. Jim could feel his double heartbeats speeding up, thumping against his chest. “He’s the only one who could still stop you. Well…maybe Sherlock. But we still haven’t located him. The Doctor, on the other hand, is perfectly accessible.”
“He’s not going to stop me,” Saxon snarled.
“Then why don’t you kill him?”
“Would you kill yours?”
“Sherlock? Sure. I’d make it count, but…of course. Once I’d had my fun.”
Saxon was breathing heavily. “You’re not a Time Lord. You wouldn’t understand.” His grip on Jim’s wrists tightened, becoming painful.
Jim smiled a little. He hadn’t really expected this conversation to go any other way. “Maybe if you gave me a little more information, then.”
Saxon’s hands relaxed, and he released Jim’s wrists. “Oh…is that what you want?”
“Of course it is.” The excitement rose, bubbling up in Jim’s throat, coming out as a strangled giggle. When he spoke, he used his burning voice, the one he reserved for special threats, special occasions. “GIVE IT TO ME.”
And Saxon entered him, filling him up, and Jim breathed in hard, his spine bowing.
“Master,” he hissed, unable to stop himself.
***
One week later
“Doctor! Doctor! Doctor!” The name echoed around the world, as Jim stood above, listening.
When the Doctor started glowing, Sebastian sighed, pulled out his gun, and took a step forward. Jim grabbed his arm, and shook his head when Seb looked back at him with a questioning expression.
“Come with me,” Jim said quietly.
He pulled him into the wall, into a little chamber Saxon had showed him months ago. It was nearly invisible, but they could see everything from inside. Saxon had wanted to do some truly disgusting things in it while they watched the Doctor eating in his tent. It had been pretty fun.
The fun times, obviously, were over.
“What’s going on, boss?” Sebastian breathed, lips next to Jim’s ear, barely audible.
“He should have listened to me,” Jim said. “Time for us to abandon the sinking ship, Seb. Into the lifeboats. Kill any women or children who get in your way.”
“Should we get going, then?”
“Not yet. I want to see what happens.”
So they watched, and listened. When Jack Harkness ran off to destroy the paradox machine, and the Doctor and the Master disappeared, Sebastian spoke again.
“Now?”
Jim shook his head. Something was telling him to stay. The knowledge, everything the Master had put in his head… he knew that if they left, he’d lose it.
“Time is reversing!” the Doctor shouted. The wind rose, and the room seemed to be spinning, though Jim wasn’t entirely sure it was. Sebastian grabbed him around the waist and braced against a wall. Jim hung onto his forearm, watching in fascination.
When the shot rang out, Jim tsked. He and Sebastian watched the painfully sentimental scene play out. Finally, the Master’s eyes closed.
“All right,” Jim said, very softly. “Now, we can go.”
They left through the back door of the chamber, and strolled down the deserted aisles of the Valiant.
“So, that’s it, then,” Sebastian stated. “He’s gone.”
Jim smiled. “For now,” he replied.
***
A/N: I owe a huge debt to
nevacaruso; firstly for her amazing MasMor story. I wanted to write Jim and the Master before reading that, but it really kick-started me into doing my own take. In it she references Jim's reluctance to call the Master by his real name, which was so perfect and seemed so integral to their interaction that I had to make it a part of my own story, too (with her kind permission). She also helped me develop this, and, when it was written, gave it a very useful beta read and provided some excellent feedback. (She also brilliantly suggested Jim's fake last name.) Neva, THANK YOU! The rest of you, go read her MasMor; it's a thing of beauty.
