Chapter Text
Rose had been having tea with Lucy Saxon when he arrived.
The conversation had been meandering—something about education reform and Lucy’s newest charity initiative—but the longer Rose sat there, the more she was convinced something was off. Lucy’s smile was brittle, her hands too still around the teacup, her pupils faintly dilated despite the afternoon light.
Rose had been on the verge of asking if she was all right when it hit her.
The pulse.
It wasn’t sound, not exactly—it was a vibration through the fabric of her mind. The unmistakable echo of another Time Lord.
Her teacup clattered against its saucer as she turned.
Standing in the doorway was the Prime Minister himself, Harold Saxon—smiling that wide, disarming politician’s smile.
And behind the smile, she felt it: the psychic pressure that could only belong to one person.
Maz.
For an instant, the world tilted. Her vision blurred, and she felt the shock of recognition ricochet through the telepathic field between them.
Arkyitor.
The name brushed her mind like a whisper from a dream she’d half forgotten.
Maz?
His response came back carefully—cool, measured, and full of the same self-assured arrogance she remembered from the Academy.
Not here. Not now.
With that, the mental link slammed shut, neat and absolute. The silence that followed was deafening.
And then, seamlessly, Harold Saxon—Maz—crossed the room with practiced charm.
“My apologies, ladies,” he said warmly. “Cabinet business ran late.”
He kissed Lucy’s cheek with a smile so polished it gleamed. Rose had to fight the instinct to recoil from it.
He slipped easily into the rhythm of their tea, discussing policy and poll numbers as though he hadn’t just sent a shockwave through the timeline by existing. Rose barely tasted her tea; her mind was spinning.
Maz was here. Alive, with a human wife? Rose had always thought that Maz hated other species that weren’t Time Lord. And how had he survived the Time War?
She had too many questions and not enough answers, and she itched to know it now. But her time at the Academy kept her still.
Lucy laughed at one of his jokes, but the sound was thin. Rose wondered if the laughter was real—or rehearsed.
When the plates were cleared and Lucy excused herself to take a call, Maz turned to Rose. “Miss Tyler,” he said with that maddening tilt of his head. “Might I borrow you for a moment? There’s something I’d like to show you in my office.”
Rose met his gaze, her hearts thudding in her chest. “Of course, Prime Minister.”
He smiled as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Splendid.”
Once inside his office, the door clicked shut behind them with a soft finality. The warmth vanished instantly.
Maz’s expression dropped like a mask slipping from an actor’s face. He swept his hand over the console on his desk, muttering under his breath. The lights flickered once—the hum of surveillance dampeners activating.
Only when he was satisfied did he look at her properly.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, at the same time—
“Maz, I can’t believe you survived the War!” Rose said.
“You can’t seriously mean to tell me you decided he was suitable for a mate?” snapped the Master.
They both froze.
Rose blinked. “I—what?”
The Master looked almost startled at himself, then irritated. “Never mind that.”
But Rose knew that look. He was deflecting. Always had been.
“My relationship with the Doctor?” she said evenly.
Maz—no, the Master now—let out a short, manic laugh. “Yes! I told you years ago, Arkyitor, he’s not suitable for you!”
Rose folded her arms. “Are you jealous?”
He sneered. “Jealous? Hardly.”
For a fleeting instant, he almost looked disgusted at the suggestion, but then his expression softened into that dangerous charm she remembered from the Academy—the kind that had fooled professors and rivals alike.
“Of course I survived,” he said casually, as though they were old friends discussing coursework. “Used a chameleon arch. Hid as a human. Ingenious, really. You did something similar, didn’t you? Convinced the Tylers you were their daughter. Manipulative telepathy. Always said you had a gift for it.”
His tone turned mocking. “I taught you, after all.”
Something cold twisted in her gut. The old Maz she remembered had been clever, arrogant, and insufferable—but not this.
Not unhinged.
He began to laugh, high and unsteady, the sound breaking into fragments that didn’t seem entirely sane.
Rose didn’t move. Didn’t blink. She simply waited.
And as suddenly as it began, the laughter stopped.
The Master straightened, smoothing his sleeves as though nothing had happened. His eyes were sharp now—dangerous.
“But of course,” he said smoothly, “you had to get involved with the Doctor. My mortal enemy.”
Rose felt the cold realization settle in. The Doctor’s rival. The one who haunted him. This was the man who had burned half a dozen worlds and called it strategy.
And once—long ago—he had been her friend.
“Maz,” she said carefully, “I am perfectly capable of choosing who I want to marry.”
He tilted his head, voice silk and poison. “Did you know who Theta was, when you attended school? When he invited you to his house? Or did you manipulate him into loving you—just to make sure the great Doctor would one day fall for you?”
Rose bit back a laugh. “Not until he told me the name he chose for himself, at the very end.”
“Ah,” said the Master softly. “So it’s true. You’re engaged.”
Rose sighed, suddenly exhausted. “Yes, we’re engaged. I don’t see how your approval changes anything.”
The Master tilted his head, eyes glinting with something between curiosity and madness. For a heartbeat, he seemed to listen to a rhythm only he could hear. Then, with an impatient flick of his hand, he dismissed it.
“Oh, never mind that.” He waved vaguely toward the ceiling, pacing. “You’re not bonded, so you’ll do perfectly as bait for the Doctor.”
“Bait?” Rose’s tone sharpened, but he barely heard her—already in motion, talking to himself as though she were a particularly interesting prop.
“Yes, yes—plans will need revising, of course. She’ll have to be convinced to drop him first, poor thing.”
“Drop him?” Rose snapped, bristling. “Maz, I hardly—”
He turned on her so fast she flinched. “We’ll find you a better match,” he declared brightly, “when we rebuild Gallifrey!”
The gleam in his eyes was pure, dangerous delight. For a heartbeat, Rose could almost see the boy he had once been—the brilliant, erratic mind that had once rivaled hers—but there was madness where genius had once lived.
Her danger sense screamed at her, showing her visions of exactly what he was capable of. Worlds rising up, fully grown Time Lords emerging from looms. She suddenly felt very human again, regretting being locked in a room with a man who was clearly more unfamiliar than she’d thought.
She flexed her hands beneath the table, testing her control, wondering if the headache was worth the Bad Wolf energy she could use to keep herself safe.
No. She would not show him that card.
“I will not be rebuilding anything with you,” she said, voice low.
His expression curdled. “Not with me, you stupid girl,” he snapped. “Why would you think—” He stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing. Something cold and calculating passed behind his gaze.
He stared at her for a long, silent moment. His telepathy pressed against her shields—relentless, probing, far too familiar.
Then his voice dropped to a hiss. “No. They didn’t tell you, did they?”
Rose fought to keep her barriers firm. “Who didn’t tell me what?”
“Your parents.” The word came out venomous, as though it burned his tongue. “Pity they didn’t survive the War. So many things they might’ve told you…” His smile sharpened. “…about me.”
Rose went very still. Her hearts stuttered once, then steadied. She had definitely made the right choice never mentioning her family.
“Oh, my dear Arkyitor,” he purred, stepping closer, voice silk over steel. “You really never told the Mechanist and the Weaver about me, did you?”
Rose rolled her eyes, forcing nonchalance. “Why is it always about them with you, Maz? You’re obsessed.”
He laughed, delighted. “Of course you didn’t tell them. Otherwise—well—you’d have known, wouldn’t you?”
Her patience snapped. “Known what? Why would my parents have anything to do with you?”
“Oh, this is perfect!” The Master threw his arms wide, ecstatic. “You’ll cooperate beautifully, and I can finally knock that ridiculous romanticism out of your skull. The Doctor, honestly! You always did love a lost cause.”
“I am not cooperating in any of your twisted plans to lure him here,” Rose hissed, her eyes flashing gold for the briefest second.
He leaned in, close enough that she could feel the hum of his timeline thrumming against hers—chaotic, fractured, ancient. His voice softened, almost tender.
“Oh, yes, you will,” he murmured. “Because there’s rather a lot your parents never told you about me.”
And then he whispered it—low, deliberate, a secret that twisted the air itself.
For a moment, time stopped. The words reverberated through her skull like the echo of a regeneration gone wrong.
“You—” Rose’s throat went dry. “You’re lying.”
The Master’s grin widened, delighted. “Am I? There’s no way for you to know, is there? But even if you could leave, you won’t. You never could resist unfinished business.”
Rose glared at him, furious and shaken. “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”
He tsked softly, almost fond. “Oh, Rose Tyler. You made a terrible mistake revealing yourself to me under that name.”
With a flick of his wrist, the screen behind him shimmered to life. Her family’s faces appeared in a photo they had taken earlier in the year, after she’d recovered from being shot—Jackie, Pete, and Tony—laughing in the Powell Estate kitchen.
“And Rose Tyler,” the Master purred, “is nothing if not loyal to her family.”
Rose stared at the image, her hearts twisting. It wasn’t her parents she feared for.
It was Tony.
Because if there was any truth in what Maz had whispered, then her brother—sweet, ordinary Tony—was in more danger than any of them realized.
And as she looked into the Master’s too-bright eyes, Rose knew one thing with perfect clarity:
Maz was a dangerous enemy to have. And he had certainly gone completely and utterly insane.