Title: Lay Down Your Arms
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 1, fanfic50
Prompt: 37, Survive
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Tenth Doctor, unfortunately. Please do not sue.

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The Doctor stumbled into the Tardis, feeling as though he couldn't drag himself forward another step, but knowing that he had to. At least he was here, safe inside his ship -- his home, his sanctuary. He could get himself out of here, away from the Master.

He hadn't thought that he was going to escape this time, he thought as he made sure the door was locked and the ship impenetrable. He'd almost been sure that the renegade Time Lord was going to be able to force a regeneration, something that he wanted to avoid at all costs.

He'd managed to avoid that this time, he thought wryly as he dragged himself up the three short steps to the control room and collapsed against the console. Only a few buttons to press and .... there. The Doctor sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head on the cold metal.

The familiar displacement of time and space swept over him, the reassuring sign that the Tardis was back in the realms of space and well away from the planet that the Master was on. Yes, he was running. No, he wasn't going to look back. Not this time.

He would have to confront the Master again at some point -- and hopefully, the next time they met, he'd be better prepared. This time, he'd been taken by surprise, and unable to defend himself. He wasn't going to let that happen again, not if he could help it.

Turning away and running probably wasn't the best thing for him to do, but then, neither was being forced into a regeneration that he didn't want, or even dying at the hands of the Master. And those would have been his only two choices if he hadn't saved himself by running.

The Doctor winced as he drew himself up to his full height, wishing that he'd been more careful when he first stepped onto the soil of that planet. He hadn't realized that anything was amiss until it was too late, and he'd already been surrounded by the Master's minions.

He turned away from the console with a shudder, pushing the memories of what had been done to him over the past three days out of his mind. He'd prefer not to remember any of it, though he knew that the memories would likely be with him for a very long time.

What he most wanted to do now was to get under the warmth of a hot shower; it would hopefully ease the pain of the bruises on his body, even though those would go away much more quickly than a normal human's bruises would, due to his Time Lord resilience.

But that didn't mean that they didn't hurt now, and besides, he wanted to wash the feelings away that the Master had created in him. At the moment, he felt dirty, tainted -- unclean. He'd discovered in the past that taking a shower could at least make him feel .... well, cleaner.

Sighing, he headed for the corridor leading to the bathroom with the largest shower, knowing that he more than likely wouldn't be able to tolerate being in a smaller one. The walls would feel as though they were closing in and suffocating him.

By the time he made it down the hallway and into the bathroom, he felt weak; holding up a hand in front of his face, he realized that he was trembling. Delayed reaction, the Doctor told himself, bending to turn on the water in the shower. It had happened before.

It took the Time Lord longer than he'd thought it would to remove his clothes; the bruises were still too fresh, too painful, for him to move easily. But he was finally naked after what seemed like ages; he stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain closed, raising his face to the spray.

The warm water felt good on his abused body, as though it was washing the taint of the Master away from his skin. What was it about a shower that could make him feel refreshed and revived, even after a horrible experience like the one he'd so recently been through?

This was one of his survival techniques; it always had been. Take a shower to feel refreshed, even after he felt as though he'd been through hell and, in some cases, that he might never be clean again. He wanted to feel as though the clear, hot water was washing it all away.

That could never happen, could it? he asked himself, closing his eyes and letting the water run through his hair as he bowed his head. No matter how many showers he took, how much he tried to cleanse himself of the past, it would always be with him.

Yet he always survived. From one day to the next, one year to the next, through all the centuries -- he'd managed to survive, and to grow stronger. But even as strong as he was, the Master could always grow stronger as well -- and they were always each other's equal.

But there was one way in which the Master would never be his equal, the Doctor told himself as he raised his face to the spray, letting the warm water course over him and relax his tension. The Master would never have his sense of honor.

Maybe that was a ridiculous, archaic notion to cling to; he'd been told that centuries ago, and had heard it time and time again, right up to the present. But he was still convinced that it was what would eventually let him win out over the Master's overweening egoism.

It wouldn't be easy for him to defeat the other Time Lord. He'd known that for a very long time; even in the moments when he had known victory, it had been short-lived. The Master wasn't someone who could be kept down for long; he would always find an escape route.

Whatever the Master tried to do, he had to be there to stop that madman. He didn't want to make himself seem like some sort of hero, but often, he was all that stood between the universe and its utter destruction at the Master's hands.

He hadn't wanted that responsibility. There were times when he wished that he could believe in what had always seemed to be the Time Lords' credo -- to watch, and keep a distance; to never interfere, and let the universe take its course, even if that path led to devastation.

There was no way he could do that. He couldn't watch a world he loved, a world that he had made a vow to protect, give way to the Master's megalomania. He couldn't let the Master either enslave or destroy a world that had been destined for greater things than to fall victim to a monster.

What if there was a day when he didn't survive one of their encounters? The Doctor sighed as he bent to turn off the hot water and pulled back the shower curtain, stepping out onto the fluffy bath mat and reaching for a towel to dry himself with.

If that day ever came, then he would have no choice but to accept it, he told himself firmly. He would have to lay down his arms and give up the fight -- but he would go down fighting every step of the way. He wouldn't give in until he absolutely had to do so.

No matter how the Master abused his body -- and his spirit -- he would always survive. He'd done so this long, and even though the Master's attacks had become bolder and more concentrated now that he was in a body that the other man desired, he would keep surviving.

It would take more than the Master's attacks to finish him off for good. He'd existed for all these centuries without giving in, and he would keep on for many more. When he finally reached the end of a very long road, maybe he would be ready to lay down those arms for good.

But until then, he would keep on going, no matter what was thrown into his path. The Doctor sighed again, wrapping the towel around his waist and heading towards his bedroom. For now, maybe a long rest would rejuvenate him, and make him feel up to the task of surviving for another day.

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