Just a little adventure set in a world where Lucy Saxon never shot the Master.

Disclaimer: I'd say I wish I own Doctor Who, but the current staff already comes up with better story ideas than I ever could. Props.

The Master was restless.

He had been a month on the TARDIS, alone with the Doctor, with nothing to break the monotony of hovering in the vortex but occasional visits to Earth to check on the Doctor's pet humans.

He did not enjoy them. He despised Jack Harkness, hated Martha Jones, and it galled him that he didn't have the power to control the rest of the Jones anymore.

Fortunately, after the first couple of visits, the Doctor hadn't required him to leave the TARDIS.

Unfortunately, that just left him alone in the TARDIS, which meant there was even less to do.

"Can't we go somewhere?" he whined, finally breaking the silence one day. "And not Earth. Just a random planet, where there will be a random crisis and I'll even help you fix it and if you want I'll hold your stupid hand the entire time so you can keep track of me. I'm sick of sitting in this stupid ship!"

The Doctor didn't even smile. "What makes you think I would trust you on any planet, even if I was there to hold your hand and keep you in line?"

The Master spent a week swimming laps in the pool and losing at chess to the Doctor before he breached the subject again. In light of his previous failure, he tried a different route.

"I could be out conquering a world right now." He said petulantly, intentionally interrupting the Doctor's concentration on whatever piece of drivel he was working on in the TARDIS study. The Master suspected it was his memoirs, because that seemed like a Doctor-ish thing to write.

Well, that or a children's book or something.

The Doctor gave a long-suffering sigh. "And that is the exact reason we never go anywhere."

Okay, maybe that wasn't the best way to start the conversation.

"But that's what I do." He protested.

The Doctor started writing again.

"Well, what if I overthrow a corrupt government? And make it better?" he demanded, leaning over the desk to force the Doctor to pay attention to him. "Would let me do that?"

The Doctor gave him a Look. "No."

The Master retreated, and only felt a little better when the TARDIS had mercy on him and let him find the room with the television on his first try.

Three days later, he tried again.

"I'm bored." He said to the Doctor's feet.

They twitched, then the rest of the Doctor appeared from under the console. "Let's play chess, then."

The Master smirked. It looked like he had finally caught the Doctor in a good mood. "I don't want to. You always win."

The Doctor grinned, obviously pleased. "Okay, let's watch the television."

The Master mocked a pout. "You never want to watch what I like."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "What do you want to do, then?"

The Master grinned. "I want to conquer a world."

To his surprise, the Doctor grinned back. "All right, then."

The Master was too startled by the Doctor's agreement to notice the calculating glint in his eyes. Later, he would regret this lack of attention.

The Doctor leapt up from under the console and started digging in his pockets. After a moment of fumbling, he produced a handkerchief. "Turn around." He ordered, and the Master felt a good deal of self-disgust when he didn't realize the Doctor was blindfolding him until the cloth covered his eyes.

Really, all this time alone with the Doctor was turning him soft.

The Doctor took him by the hand and led him through the TARDIS, making more turns and twists than the Master could keep up with. He felt slightly disgruntled—for a moment in the console room he had thought the Doctor might actually take him somewhere—but his irritation turned to curiosity as the Doctor pressed him into a chair and put a six-sided die in his hand.

"Roll!" the Doctor commanded cheerfully, and the Master obediently tossed the die away from him.

The Doctor made a delighted noise. "Oooh, six! Lucky! You go first." Then he took the blindfold off.

The Master was sitting at a table, on which a game board with a flattened map of the Earth was situated.

"What's this?" he asked cautiously. If the Doctor was setting him up for something, he wanted to be able to figure it out as soon as possible.

"It's a board game. Risk."

The Master frowned. "What am I supposed to be doing?"

The Doctor graced him with a trademark face-stretching grin. "Conquering the world." Then, with an even more manic grin, "Pick a country."

Thirty minutes later, the Master had forgotten there was a world outside the room he was sitting in.

"I'm attacking you here." He said, pointing to a space in Asia. "And you only get to roll one die, because you only have one person left."

The Doctor nodded, concentrating, and picked up a white die.

"But I've got five units." He added, wanting the Doctor to act a little concerned.

"Yes, I know." The Doctor tossed the die. It landed with six dots facing upwards.

The Master rolled three ones.

Three attacks and much cursing later, the Master finally conquered China.

The Doctor just smiled.

An hour later, the Master mumbled military strategy under his breath as he examined the board. He had all of North America, and if he shifted all of his inner units to the eastern edge of Canada, he could probably take back some of Europe, which the Doctor had been stubbornly clinging to for the entire game…

Three hours later, the Master was grumbling at the unfairness of it all.

"If I had a bitter and/or childish and easily manipulated alien species at my command, I would have finished this game victoriously hours ago. This thing is nowhere near accurate."

"Because your plan is failing even faster than usual?" the Doctor inquired innocently, counting up countries to calculate his allotted reinforcements.

"Because I don't have legions of super-powerful aliens at my command!" the Master howled indignantly. "That's practically cheating!"

"The game is cheating." The Doctor deadpanned.

"Yes!" the Master wailed, slamming his hand on the table. "The game is cheating!"

"I see." Said the Doctor, and captured three of the Master's countries.

Afterwards, the Doctor took him to the television room and even let him pick the show they watched.

The Master spent most of the evening sulking.

When his mood hadn't improved after two hours of Teletubbies, the Doctor patted him sympathetically on the back.

"Oh, don't feel bad." He soothed. "Nobody conquers the world on their first try."

The Master didn't dignify him with a response.