(wastedlands) Boom.

[ans99]

Characters: The Doctor, The Master's flat, and OPEN to anyone else, but PING FIRST.
Rating: R (Sorry Sam, you've exceeded the rating system's limit for use of the fucking "f"-word)
Date: Today, evening
Location: The Master's flat, Diagon Alley

The Master tapped the last few characters into his Network device, pressed "send," and leaned back for a few seconds, grinning. He felt the need to bask for a bit, although honestly he had very little time. The Doctor would not wait around after receiving a message like that, trap or not.

And yes, it was a trap. Not a clever one, not even halfway creative; the Master hadn't been able to scrape together many resources after his first narrow escape, largely due to his reluctance to roam the Alley for supplies while a certain someone roamed it also, looking for him. But it was something, at least. It would do the job. And in a perverse way he was almost proud of it.

And maybe you won't be able to save them all, this time. That would be icing on the cake.

The Master rose abruptly, his allotted gloating time having run out, and gathered up the few things he felt necessary to take in a grotesque, oversized canvas knapsack with appliqued hearts all over it. Short notice and all. After a brief hesitation he also stuffed in the yellow rain slicker.

He looked around the flat one last time. There was still a fair amount of damaged equipment strewn about the room, but let the Doctor figure it out. The explosive device and its timer (really just an old-fashioned clock with a pin at the five-minute mark and a piece of foil wrapped around the minute hand) was nestled in the center of a particularly large pile of the stuff, completely hidden. Satisfied, he unlocked the door, stepped outside, and closed it a little more than halfway.

Setting up the tripwire would prove to be the trickiest part, if there were such a thing. The Master had carefully tied one end of a sturdy string to a heavy ceramic lawn gnome inexplicably positioned inside the flat and behind the door; he now took the other end, attached to a small scrap of wood, and stretched it across the door about four inches off the ground. He'd tied a clothespin to the wooden coat rack; small pieces of foil were wrapped around its tips. The Master carefully positioned the scrap of wood between them, then nudged a wire, seemingly carelessly strewn on the floor, underneath each foil contact. With any luck, when the Doctor (or whoever) opened the door, the string would hold, pulling the wood from between the foil contacts of the clothespin, snapping it closed and triggering the clock. And when the minute hand struck the time--

He poked the string tentatively, and it thrummed lightly back and forth, indicating it was sufficiently taut. The Master nodded to himself and closed the door. He hitched his knapsack on his back, descended into the shop and out the door as casually as he could, and started walking.



The Doctor was alerted to a new post on the network with an alarmingly sharp ping. He scrambled to pick it up, throwing his glasses on midway through the process. Having previously identified The Master's presence on the network, he'd set his device to audibly alert him of any activity he made. He had been hesitant himself to try and contact The Master through the network, dismissing it harshly as an ineffective and impersonal way to communicate with him -- however

I live in Diagon Alley, in the flat above a fox shop.

The fox shop. Of course. Maybe the only building he hadn't tried. Maybe this was a trap. Clearly this was a trap.

But do I care, really?

The Doctor rushed down to the alley towards the building. Well, really his horse did much of the rushing. Nearing the building, the Doctor secured Snowflake, if this was a trap, he didn't want him injured due to his own recklessness. The sun almost set, and he scanned the darkened street best he could for anyone else who may have unfortunately gotten themselves involved in this.

The Master expected him. But who else was he hoping for?

Martha scowled at the Master's message on the network when she read it, unable to believe that he had the balls to come out and say such things. As if he wouldn't kill them all if given the chance! Though common sense told her that she should stay away, that it had to be a trap, common sense hadn't seen the things that she had. No, if she had the chance to confront the Master, she had to take it.

Though she had never actually fired her UNIT-issued handgun outside the ranges, she buckled the holster on anyway; there was no sense in being caught unprepared. Of course, if he still had his laser screwdriver...

Well, she would just have to hope that he didn't.

The wardrobe provided her with a long coat, which she pulled on over her clothes, but left unbuttoned. It wasn't the best weapon concealment ever, but medical officers didn't often find themselves in need of such skills, and it was the best she could do at such short notice.

She managed to find her way to Diagon Alley - that path, at least, she was starting to grow familiar with - and to the building with the fox shop. Her heart skipped a few beats as she saw a familiar silhouette waiting outside. She had wanted to see him again, but not like this.

Martha cleared her throat as she approached. "Doctor."

The Doctor watched the opposite end of the alley, trying to give himself some sort of comfort, an 'all clear' before he entered the building possibly damning anyone in the immediate area. Was this really enough? There were better ways to proceed, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind forced him to rush in. To try and save him despite all consequences.

He turned to the sound of his name, and managed a smile still, "Martha Jones... -- no. Doctor Jones, is it now?"

Martha restrained herself from running up and enveloping him in a hug - somehow, it didn't seem appropriate, given the situation. She had missed him, though, despite all the times she had told herself otherwise.

She allowed herself a grin. "Yeah, passed my exams a couple months after I left you. You aren't the only doctor around now."

Martha Jones. He'd missed her terribly. Found himself wishing she would have given him another chance, but deep down he knew she'd done what was best. He treated her horribly -- and he knew it. There she was now, another second chance at the most inappropriate of times. He didn't want her here now.

His grin widened, "I'm definitely not. We seem to have got them in surplus."

He paused a moment.

His smile slowly fading as he nodded off abstractly towards the building, "Guess you got his message then."

"Yeah." She scowled. "He's got to be lying." Her hand went to the slight bulge she could feel through her coat. "I just want to make sure that nobody else gets hurt." An ambiguous enough statement. She didn't know how many regenerations the Master had left, and she figured that, if worst came to worst, she didn't have enough ammo to kill him. But she could at least incapacitate him for a bit.

His eyes moved down towards her coat, "Don't suppose there's any chance I could talk you into staying right here and not moving -- 'cept maybe to run."

She shook her head, a stubborn look on her face. "If you're going in, so am I." Granted, if the Master hadn't killed the Doctor before, he probably wouldn't kill him now...but that wasn't a chance Martha was willing to take.

The Doctor frowned, shaking his head slightly, "Martha, you really --"

He reached out, placing both hands on Martha's shoulders and looked down at her, seriously, "I know I can't talk you out of this... I thought maybe, I just thought maybe he changed. That things would be different now... after what happened -- after what happened to him," he paused, lowering his hands, "I saw him earlier, and... I don't think they have. But even with that said, I don't want you going in there looking for a little target practice, okay?"

Did the Doctor really think she would fire on him without provocation? She hadn't changed that much. She met his gaze levelly. "I've never fired at a living creature, and I don't intend to start, not without cause. But I'm not going in there unarmed." She'd faced him down without any weapons once, but that had been different. She'd had the entire world on her side back then. Now it was just her and the Doctor, and Martha wasn't about to let anything happen to either of them.

"Ah so, UNIT's not gotten to you too much -- least not yet," he muttered that last part under his breath, but brushed past it, "I trust you more than anyone, Martha, I do, really, but you know how he is better than anyone ever needs to and I'm just -- "

He looked towards the building now, "Let's get in there, before anyone else shows up."

She sighed, her shoulders slumping a bit. There was so much to explain to him about, well, everything...but they didn't have time. Martha patted the gun again, just to reassure herself that it was still there, even though she wasn't going to take it out except as a last resort. "All right, Doctor."

Sam had seen the message on the network, but he let himself think about it before leaving the saloon. He dissected it, trying to figure out what it meant. It didn't really make sense to him, even if he had just met the man alien. He was so scared before.

Once Sam decided to head toward the alley, he moved quickly and didn't waste any time. He knew where he was going, too.

It didn't surprise him at all when he saw the Doctor outside of the building. It actually made him smile a little as he approached, his hands in his pockets, head cocked to the side. He didn't recognize the other person there, and he wasn't sure how to address either of them in this situation.

He just walked up to them and nodded. "Hi."

And this would be...

The Doctor half turned.

Sam.

"Hello again," he greeted him casually, not really intent on any long introductions beginning something like, 'this is martha, and' until realizing who the man resembled and what this must look like to her...

Martha started when she saw the man. He looked like the Master, but he couldn't be - something about the posture was off, and the Doctor had spoken to him far too casually, but...she still couldn't shake the feeling. She eyed him warily, but remained perfectly still.

The Doctor glanced back and forth between Sam and Martha, "Oh no, Martha, this is Sam... and that's about all I've got. No idea why he looks like the Master."

Sam sighed dramatically as he nodded. "He looks like me." He gave a small smile in Martha's direction. "Nice to meet you..."

He turned his gaze back to the fox shop as he spoke to her.

"Nice to meet you, too." Martha relaxed slightly. It was strange, but no stranger than anything else she'd encountered in Wonderland. She idly rubbed the palm of her right hand, still covered in bandages from her strange burn. "I don't suppose you had a plan, Doctor...?"
"Though I suppose if he did have a plan," a voice with a Northern English accent interjected dryly, "he might not have mentioned it yet."

The Doctor - well, his Ninth regeneration - stood about ten feet away, arms folded across his leather jacket, expression unreadable. He'd seen the Master's post and decided that he needed to find out for himself what mischief he as up to now.

"Looks like we have enough hands for Whist."

"Um," he turned his attention back to the fox shop, "not really," and then back to Martha, "just your basic, you know, go in, try not to die, that sort of thing."

He looked at Sam, realizing he was standing right there and not really appreciating that he just persecuted the Master in front of him. Even if it were a (sort of) joke. He had no apprehensions of doing so in front of Martha, but she knew what he was capable of -- he didn't need all of Wonderland beating down on his door. Where ever that door may be now.

The Doctor made a motion to move when a very familiar voice called out from behind him. He turned and faced it, visibly shaken at the sight of himself.

Like seeing a ghost...

Sam had given an awkward smile toward the tenth Doctor, and he was about to give a response when another voice spoke to the group.

He turned on his heels quickly, not recognizing it at first. He looked at the ninth Doctor, and winced just slightly. He wasn't sure he wanted to be a part of this weird, unnatural event of the Doctor meeting himself...even if Sam had tried to do it to his four-year old self.

"Well...this is kind of weird," Sam glanced back toward Ten.

Martha decided to make her own introductions. "Martha Jones," she said, offering her hand to the new arrival. Though she hadn't met him yet, something about him seemed strangely familiar. And Whist? That was just plain weird. Maybe that was what Sam was referring to.

The Doctor glanced at Sam, whom he recalled from the meeting after the first murder, and considered his next regeneration, who looked too stunned to speak. Then he focused on the young woman who had introduced herself and stepped forward to take her hand. He recognized her name from the network.

"Hullo, Martha," he said, grinning. "I'm the Doctor. Well, one of him, anyway. We've chatted over the network about UNIT and so on."

The Doctor watched them, feeling somehow cheated in his reunion with Martha -- even if he wasn't making very good use of it.

Sam glanced between the two Doctors for a couple seconds before speaking up.

"Uh, isn't this like some sort of-- Shouldn't you two not be in the same area as each other?"
It all made sense now - at least, as much as anything in Wonderland was capable of making sense. She had spoken to this Doctor over the network, though this was the first time they'd met in person.

Martha glanced at Sam. "As long as there isn't a hole in the fabric of space and time, we're probably going to be all right. They're the experts on this sort of thing, though." She jerked her head, indicating the Doctors. "I'm just...a traveller, really."

Under usual circumstances, yeah," he said to Sam. "Welcome to Wonderland, where anything is possible and half the population seems to be completely mad." He rolled his eyes. "If the universe imploded, only a few of them would even notice." He nodded to Martha. "I'm the previous model, in case you were wondering where I fit in. And we don't have the Time Lords about to draw the lines for us anymore. You know about that, right?"

The Doctor turned his gaze on his next regeneration.

"It's just... us... and the Master." He sighed, giving his Tenth a quick once-over. "The coat's not bad and we've got a lot of hair, haven't we?" He tsked, genuinely disappointed. "But still not ginger. Ah, well. Maybe next time. So, we going to find out what's going on?"

The Doctor was already moving towards the shop door. He wasn't much for standing around talking, and the appearance of his previous regeneration was almost too much. Who knows, maybe the Master was up there waiting with tea and biscuits. He smiled inwardly to himself at the prospect, but as he approached the front door his unrealistic fantasy was replaced with the slow growing feel of dread.

The Doctor sensed Martha's tension, and in return felt a pang if guilt for getting her involved with the Master again -- even if it was her own choice.

He watched her, but was decidingly acknowledging Sam, quietly still, "I wanted to give him a chance to..." he trailed off and breathed in deep, placing a hand on the door knob and turning it slowly.

The door rolled back with a sticky sounding creak and then something of a dull sound as a piece of wood hit against the floor. Confused the Doctor stepped in, just barely brushing a certain string against his jeans. His reflexes kicked in and he hopped over it quickly, reeling around the room to see what he'd just barely averted...

Sam grabbed the door as soon as the Doctor hopped into the room. He didn't enter himself as quickly, instead he peeked inside before stepping gingerly over the string.

"What the hell..." Sam couldn't really say anything else, as he glanced around critically, trying to take everything in.

Martha watched the two men enter the room; she was glad that the Master hadn't chosen to reveal himself yet - or maybe he wasn't there at all? Which meant there was a trap, and the trap had to be deadly. At the moment, she wasn't sure which outcome she would prefer.

She slid through the crack between the door and the frame, stepping carefully over the string. Definitely a trap, then, but what sort of trap?

The Doctor followed the string with his eyes towards the contact point, he winced slightly. He hadn't averted anything, he triggered it. He glanced back at Martha and Sam and talked quickly, "He's not here. He was never here. Look around. I've tripped something."

He moved through the room more, following a line of wires.

Oh this is not good.

Sam surveyed the room quickly.

"Maybe it wasn't tripped -- I mean nothing's gone off. Maybe we should..." His voice trailed off as he noticed the wire also, and hopped over something in his way to get closer to them.

"I think we should run, probably." Granted, there were probably other options available to them, but running sounded like the best one to her. "'cos if nothing's gone off yet, that doesn't mean that it's not going to." And anyway, running was what the Doctor did - she'd learnt that much in her travels with him.

"I think you may be right," his eyes were still down at the wires as he moved towards a generous pile of random equipment.

"And I have tripped it," he gave Sam a look, and continued casually, "opening the door allowed a connection to travel down through these wires..." he waved back towards the coat rack. He hadn't even looked at it, but the way he spoke you'd believe this happened to him daily.

He looked up at the Doctor, almost blankly.

Sam didn't say anything for a second, but it felt like much longer than that.

"Tripped...what...exactly?" His voice was bordering on shakey, but for the most part he was holding it together. Although the last time he had dealt with something like this, it didn't exactly go as planned. He glanced toward Martha.

"Something that is not at all good, I'd imagine," Martha said wryly, glancing at the pile of junk. Granted, the Master probably didn't have access to all the high-tech parts he would need for some bizarre Time Lord invention, but, as Earth had proven over the millennia, you didn't need advanced technology to kill people.

"Could be anything. I'm not even sure what I'm looking at here," he admitted.

He slid his glasses out of his back pocket and put them on, "Go wait outside. I've got to try and stop it -- whatever it is -- it could take out the entire block."

The Doctor placed his hand on the wire and reached under the pile, tugging on it gently and not feeling that it was connected to anything, knelt down on the floor in front of the mess. They could all have seconds to live for all he knew. He continued to remain outwardly calm, studying the collection of spare parts -- and who knows what else.

Right. Could be anything," Sam repeated. "So lets get the hell out of here. I mean all of us, you, too, Doctor..."

Sam stepped toward him, hoping to be able to urge him back to the door.

Martha watched the Doctor for a moment, debating internally. Odds were, the Doctor was right; he usually was. She didn't want to leave him, but it seemed to be the wisest course of action.

Of course, Martha hadn't gotten where she was by taking the wisest course of action.

Still, she took a step back toward the door. "Come on, Sam."

Sam glanced toward Martha quickly, and then turned back to the Doctor.

"All of us." He looked at the Doctor. "What are you going to do?...Just come on, we need to go, Doctor."

The Doctor raised a hand, "Shhhhh. Wait, wait, wait, listen."

He bowed his head down towards the assortment. A faint ticking sound just barely there.

"Don't move," he ordered, trying to pin-point the sound.

Martha froze - she couldn't quite hear whatever the Doctor did, but she knew that whatever it was, it needed to be found, and fast.

Sam froze, at least partially. He didn't move toward the Doctor any further, but he glanced toward Martha again, a sick worried look on his face.

It was obvious she trusted the Doctor, and in a situation like this, it would be nice to trust him also -- but he had no reason to.

He turned back to the Doctor slowly, swallowing hard. "What were you expecting to find up here? Did you know he'd do something like this?"

The Doctor ignored Sam, fulling concentrating on studying the assortments.

These pieces... he's got everything. I mean, this could build a --

He felt the clock tick harder and in one swift motion he reached under the pile and surfaced the source -- attached, as it should be, to the offending wires. His face would suggest he was confused, but he knew at once what it was, and how he could disarm it.

Two minutes to go.

Martha watched the Doctor retrieve the...well, whatever it was. "Sam," she hissed through clenched teeth. "We've got to go. That thing'll kill us all." Well, she didn't know if it could, but, since it had been set by the Master, she figured it was a pretty fair guess.

Sam took a step back toward the door and kept his eyes focused on the Doctor as he spoke to Martha.

"What about the Doctor? He's bloody insane, he's going to get himself killed!" There was a short pause, before he tried to get the Doctor's attention. "Doctor! Let's go!"

The Doctor turned the clock quickly around, torn between attempting to disarm it and seeing Martha and Sam out safely. He looked back towards them, his frustration peaking at their lack of movement, "Go! Get out! Run! You've got one and half minute to get the hell out of this building! Do you understand?!"

Martha broke into a run, not wasting time to see if Sam was following her. If there was one thing she'd learned, it was that when the Doctor told you to run, you ran. She skidded down the stairs and plowed straight through the fox-filled shop, not stopping till she was across the street from the shop.

Sam stood there dumbly for what seemed like much longer than two minutes. It was probably more like two seconds.

"Jesus christ!" He yelled in frustration as he turned on his heels and ran for the door. He jumped over the trip wire string, almost forgetting it was there and landed on the landing.

He ran down the stairs quickly, glancing back at them when he made it to the door. He half expected to see the Doctor coming down after him, but there was no one. "Fucking hell..."

He opened the door and ran out. Once he made it to the street he turned around, watching the building, waiting.

The Doctor spent another few seconds fiddling with the device before rushing to his feet.

This is it. If I don't get moving now, I'm done for.

He dropped the device hard onto the table and ran out the door, as if suddenly struck by the gravity of the situation. Thankfully the stairs were cleared, and he assumed and hoped that Martha and Sam had already made it out safely. He moved through the shop, mentally counting down the seconds in his head, but something caught him near the door.

The shop keeper...

He turned, panicked towards the register and over the foxes in varying degrees of play. It was bad enough if wasn't possible to get them out, he had to at least try and save the clerk.

"Get out! Get out now!" he stepped deliberately towards a well-dressed goose.

The goose started back at him, dazed, before following his orders and waddling to the door.

The Doctor held the door for him and stepped out behind, "Come on, come on, move!"

The goose rushed onwards and into the street, as if suddenly startled by the man ushering him onward.

The Doctor ran forward in strides, knowing internally that any minute now the building would go.

And it did.

The sound of shattering glass cutting through the silent streets.

A goose hopped out the door, flapping its wings and honking in distress. Martha turned to look at it, hoping that the Doctor would be right behind it, she thought she even saw his silhouette through the door...

And then, everything exploded. Her UNIT training kicked in, and she dropped to the street, covering her head as shards of glass and bits of rubble rained down on her.

Sam was half knocked onto the middle of the street, and half lept for it. He threw his hands over his head and neck.

He tried to glance up toward the building, looking for the Doctor.

The Doctor fell to the ground, covering his head to shield the heat and glass. He was much to close to the building.

The flames reached out through the windows and unhinged door; gasping for oxygen.

Martha poked her head up once she no longer felt rubble hitting her back, only to see flames, and no sign of the Doctor. "Oh, this is bad," she muttered under her breath. Why hadn't he been able to disarm the bomb?

The Master hadn't gone far at all; he'd been watching from a very safe distance as the Doctor and his friends entered the flat, and mentally ticked off the minutes, grinning wider all the time.

The explosion was almost right on cue. The Doctor certainly still had no qualms about breaking and entering. Naughty, naughty. Still, time for the third act.

He had dumped the knapsack in a safe place for the time being. Now he picked up the two grocery bags he'd filled earlier in the day and made his way back to the flat, slowly. As he came closer to the now blazing building, he allowed his jaw to drop and the bags to fall out of his arms, tea and biscuits and boxes of sugar cubes tumbling out into the street around him. He stumbled, a shocked and pained expression on his face.

Anyone who saw him might think he looked like a man who'd lost everything.

Sam pushed himself to his feet as soon as the bits of building had stopped falling. He looked at the building for a second, but then ran toward the Doctor quickly, nearly colliding with the goose.

He skid to stop next to him, dropping down to his knees. "Doctor?!"

He grabbed the man, trying to roll him over onto his back. He glanced up, quickly and his eyes locked onto the other Time Lord in the distance.

The Doctor opened his eyes and stared up at Sam, coughing once. He mumbled something vaguely sounding like an apology and pushed himself up, sitting. He hurt everywhere, and he grimaced to move, turning his back quickly to locate Martha, to make sure she was all right. His eyes caught movement of Sam's and he followed them down to, what in his relief, he assumed would be Martha.

Martha stood up slowly, her eyes immediately drawn to the Master - and it had to be the Master this time, not Sam or someone else who looked like thim. Taking a few steps forward, she drew her gun smoothly, cocking it and aiming straight at him.

And then she turned to look at the Doctor, her concern evident on her face. She was torn; she wanted to drop the gun and rush to his side, but she knew that she needed to protect them - yes, even if the Master was unarmed.

The Master...

The Doctor stumbled to his feet, raising a hand out towards Martha briefly, trying to get the words out. He kept his eyes on the Master, and moved towards Martha slowly. He coughed a few times, breathless from the sudden movement, but determined to reach her.

The Master heard the gun cock, and for a moment froze, trying to resist the urge to run. Women and guns. Bad combination. But he had serious doubts Martha could pull the trigger. Not here, in public, on the street. He concentrated on keeping his game face, one of anger and despair, mixed with a dash of fear.

He stood his ground, clenched his fists, and screamed at the Doctor. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

Sam got to his feet quickly after the Doctor got up. He looked toward the gun as soon as he heard it and held his hand out. He stepped more frantically than the Doctor did, but instead he walked to stand between Martha and the Master, his hands outstretched and waving.

"No, no, no. Hold on, hold on!" Sam glanced back toward the Master, shooting him a look that said shut the hell up.

Martha looked back at the Master - and Sam, now - and her instincts won out. She clicked the safety on and holstered the gun, then crossed over to the Doctor in a few quick strides. She ducked under his outstretched arm, pulling it across her own shoulders to take some of his weight. "Shouldn't have stood up," she muttered under her breath. "If you wind up with a punctured lung, it's your own damn fault."

The Doctor watched the Master, arm still out stretched as if that could prevent Martha from shooting him. He shook his head slightly and closed his eyes for a moment, "What," he raised his voice, "What...what are you talking about?!"

Sam eclipsed them both and began to breathe in deep with relief, coughing instead still from the accumulating smoke. He felt Martha take his arm, and he leaned on her just barely, so exhausted from everything.

He smiled a little, still watching the Master, "Yep. I take full responsibility."

The Master looked at the Doctor incredulously, as if he were an idiot. "My. FLAT. Is. GONE. I was... I got the..."

The Master gestured uselessly at the groceries about his feet. He didn't particularly know if anyone else was watching, but better to make a good show just in case Abberline's Pets came sniffing around talking to witnesses and collecting their sodding clues.

Luckily anything beyond testimony either had been ripped apart or was going up in flames.

Sam watched the Doctor and Martha just long enough to make sure the Doctor was alright. Then he turned toward the Master, and walked quickly toward him, gesturing violently.

"You fucking -- You set a trap!! You did this!" Sam screamed as he neared him. He stopped short of grabbing the Master and pummeling him into the wall. He grabbed for him, but didn't make contact. He drew his hands back to himself, trying to keep his anger under control. He pointed at him, instead.

Martha rolled her eyes a little at the melodrama, wondering if the Master ever would have been elected prime minister without the help of the Archangel Network. Hopefully he was a better liar than this the rest of the time. She slid one hand under the Doctor's suit jacket without asking, gently prodding at his ribcage. "Does anything feel like it's broken?" Not that there was much she could do if he had broken any bones, but she still had to ask.

The Doctor watched the Master with a faint look of confusion that he quickly got under control, "Oh no -- have you -- have you completely lost your mind?"

His eyes turned downwards towards his dropped sacks and the look of puzzlement returned to his face full force as Sam stepped forwards towards him. He began to speak, but abandoned his thoughts as soon as Sam dropped his hands.

When Martha reached under his jacket, he pulled his attention back to her and spoke quietly, looking her in the eyes, "I'm alright. Thank you." He offered a small smile of sincere gratitude. He had noticed her hand earlier and said nothing.

The Master backed up from Sam, and chose to slip in the pile of biscuit packets and fall. From another angle it might have even looked like Sam pushed him. He stared up at him, looking aghast and angry.

"Right-- YES. I must have done it. I often destroy my own flat and then come back to it with the makings for a bloody tea party. Because who else would have???" He glared daggers at Sam.

Sam blinked at the empty space the Master was standing before looking down on the ground at him.

He slowly lowered his hand, and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, you obviously did in this case, you fucking psycho." Sam looked disgusted at him for a second before glancing back over at Martha and the Doctor.

Martha pulled her hand back quickly and smiled back at him, looking relieved. The Master and Sam were arguing about something, but all she cared about was that the Doctor was unharmed - and that, as long as the Master was around, he remained that way.

She made no move to move out from under his arm, though, just in case he really did need the help. Besides, it kept her from lashing out at the Master herself.

The Doctor winced as the Master fell over. From over here, he couldn't quite tell whether Sam had shoved him, or he tripped on his own. He didn't really care either way, he might have deserved a shove or two.

He continued to let Martha hold him, he wasn't exactly sure why, because he was quite confident he was capable of standing on his own.

The Master continued to stare up at Sam. "Brilliant detective work. I can see you've put a lot of thought into this." He picked himself up and dusted off his suit, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "Typical gullible human."

He cast a glance over to the Doctor and Martha, keeping track of their position in case they got it in their minds to come closer. Then he returned his gaze to the flat, his face falling.

"The foxes."

Sam glanced toward the flat when the Master did. "What?..." He didn't really expect an answer.

His frustration shown on his face and he had to turn away from the Master. He glanced back at the Doctor. "What the fuck are we going to do with him?!"

The Doctor pulled away from Martha sharing his concern with the Master, he looked back towards the burning building.

He shook his head, "There's no way anything survived that," he looked back at the Master and stepped towards him, "so you killed a lot of little foxes, congratulations," he stopped near him and added with a slight tone of displeasure, "but I'm still here."

The Master quickly backed up in fear that wasn't entirely faked. "Get away from me." He raised his voice. "I trusted you! This is what you do with it?!" He gestured to the burning flat.

Sam glanced at the Doctor, furrowing his brow. He turned back to the Master as he began to speak.

"We can't just get away with this. He could have killed someone. It could have been anyone." Sam made fists as he spoke, and tugged on the edges of his jacket sleeves, nervously.

The Doctor stared at the Master, letting Sam's words roll off him. He glanced sideways in both directions, like something about his accusation made him nervous despite the overwhelming evidence suggesting otherwise.

Closing in the distance between them, he spoke lowly, "You know I didn't do this."

The Master kept backing up, his hands clamped firmly on either side of his head. "No. No! You are not going to do this again. You aren't going to blame me for this. This isn't fair." He shot Sam a disbelieving, despairing look, as if wondering why he was falling for any of this.

Sam watched the Doctor and the Master closely.

He took a step toward them both, in case he needed to step in. He quickly narrowed his eyes at the Master.

"Fair? You're talking about fair when you just tried to blow us into little bits?"

"Sam..." his voice was corrective, like he'd just talked back to the teacher. He raised a hand behind his back, hoping that would silence him. He had every right to be angry, but it wasn't helping the situation.

Just to be sure he gave him look back to further illustrate his seriousness, and using it two-fold checked on Martha as well.

The Master looked back and forth between them nervously. His feet crunched on a few stray sugar cubes that had escaped their boxes.

He addressed the Doctor as if struggling to stay calm. "Look. Maybe it was an accident, alright? We can just call it an accident."

He swallowed. "You didn't have to go this far. We could have just talked. I was willing to... I mean, look," he giggled a little and looked down, "Tea and biscuits."

"Yeah. We can call it that," the Doctor said darkly, "but we both know what it is."

He watched him, making no motion to move towards him, deciding to call his bluff instead, "You want to talk? Then, talk. We can both just talk."

Alright, alright," the Master murmured, as if soothing a panicky horse. He might as well use this opportunity to ask the question he was dying to know.

"Did anyone else... get hurt?" His brow furrowed.

The Doctor sighed deeply, "I don't know?" he ventured a step closer, he almost considered grabbing him, but then what? He'd push him away, or worse.

"Maybe? But I think I'm going to have to chalk this up with another one of your thinly veiled failures," he glared slightly, fighting to get his anger under control.

The Master gave the Doctor an even stare, speaking just loudly enough to be overheard. "Why'd you do it?" He gestured to the flat. "Were you just trying to hurt me? Or maybe you want to paint me as the villain so you can 'rescue' me, squirrel me away somewhere so you could keep me all to yourself?"

His Tenth regeneration had seemed intent on avoiding him - an element he recognized from previous encounters with himself - and Martha and the chap he knew to be Sam seemed quite capable, so Nine had decided to let them go inside and find out what mischief the Master was up to now. He stood in the street, pacing a bit, keeping an eye out for anyone else who might try to enter, prepared to dissuade them.

Nothing happened for a long time, or at least, it seemed like a long time. It was almost a suspicious amount of Nothing that warranted further investigation. He was approaching the side of the building when he heard something, a sound he recognized, a sound he knew too well.

Running.

Martha and Sam burst out the front door - but not his Tenth self.

Bloody hell.

The Ninth regeneration of the Doctor darted for the side door, intent on assisting himself as the day had obviously gone pear-shaped, and was just in time to witness the man with the big hair and the long coat shoo a goose out the front door. The Doctor quickly glanced around - and saw the foxes darting about, uncertain as to what was going on.

"Right then, you lot, follow me!" And he gave a sharp whistle and flung open the side door. The foxes bounded out and he herded them as far as he could to the wall of a nearby shed, spreading his body and shielding the little lives as best he could.

The building behind him exploded, quite spectacularly. Wood and glass and all manner of things showered around him, but he was far enough away to be safe. He waited, to be sure it was done, that there wasn't a second explosion imminent, then he gathered the frightened foxes, carrying the two smallest and led the remaining five around the burning remains of their home.

He spotted the trio and approached, covered in blackened smoke and a fine dust.

"Hullo," he said, brightly, taking in that the trio, plus the Master, seemed alive if not on good terms, and grinned. "Look! Everybody lives!" And he petted the two foxes in his arms while the others bounced around his legs.

Sam got distracted from the others for a moment. He pulled out his network notepad quickly, and jotted something to the network. He wrote it frantically, and though the post seemed rather calm anyone who could see him could tell he was anything but.

"Ohhhh! Well. Now you've just found me out!" the Doctor smiled bitterly, wiping away a spat of blood that ran from his lip. Then suddenly he leaned in close to him, rocking forward on his shoes and whispering low into his ear, "Get out of here before you're blamed for this." He lingered there for a moment allowing his words to be the only change between them.

And then.

Something red, and then black trotted past the Doctor's side, and he turned on his shoes to face the furry escapist. He stared in confusion, and then allowed himself a small smile at a familiar voice in the distance. He looked back -- despite his best efforts not to -- and saw his former self emerged in a living bouncing fur coat of foxes. He took a deep breath of relief, turning back to face the Master with a strong look of insolence.

The Master could only stare at the Doctor, confused, still inwardly shrinking from the tickle of breath on his ear.

He was... letting him go?

The foxes brought a welcome distraction, although the Master honestly couldn't have cared less if they were safe or not. Cute, perhaps, but not likely useful to him.

"Awfully convenient, managing to get them out in time." His eyebrows arched.

Sam looked up from his network device. He glanced toward the Ninth Doctor, noting the foxes, who for the most part seemed utterly oblivious. Sam smiled a little at the furballs.

"I've posted on the network, asking for help with the fire," he said to no one in particular. But then he made a point to address the Tenth Doctor. "What are we going to do with him, now?" He stuffed his notepad back into his pocket.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow back at him, "I hope I get my picture in the town newspaper."

He nodded a bit back at Sam concerning his motion to have this fire put out. Sounded like a good idea. At least there was no wind. He looked back at him, "It was an accident," he said bluntly.

The Master just stood there dumbly, unable to decide whether it was a better idea to stay or to go. Sam and Martha were not going to play the Doctor's games, he was sure of it. And if he left... it rather felt like he would be giving the Doctor some sort of advantage over him. As if he now owed him something. The Master didn't relish the thought.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the little foxes do a backflip.

The Doctor wasn't planning on letting the Master off that easy, but he was more worried about Wonderland's unique brand of justice than he was about anything else. He was confident he could convince Sam and Martha to help him pass this incident off as an accident -- and if they wouldn't, well, they were going to anyway, and that was it. The Master was not getting thrown to the wolves. Regular wolves or telepathic wolves.

He watched the Master right back, the same insolent expression.

Sam glanced back toward the building, and then looked at the Doctor. He just wanted to make sure they were still talking about the same incident, because that incident was clearly deliberate.

"Wait, what? An accident? What? You've got to be fucking kidding me..." Sam shook his head after he spoke, he couldn't believe anyone would even say that. He knew the Doctor knew it was a lie.

The Doctor stared back at Sam, his face leaving no room for discussion, "Yes. If you've got a problem with it," he paused, "you haven't. Cause there's not one." He gave Sam a quick smile and looked back at the Master.

I already regret this, so, why don't you make it worse.

The Master, too, smiled tightly at Sam, only taking his eyes off the Doctor for a quick second to do so. "That's right. Only the Doctor decides what's important. Or what's true, for that matter."

He returned the Doctor's insolent stare. "I suppose I should go find somewhere else to live now," he announced. "Assuming, that is, you give me permission."

Sam took a second to say anything.

"I have got a problem, I've got a big problem. It's one thing to say nothing is going to happen to him, its another to say this was a fucking accident!" Sam pointed at the Doctor. "Someone could have died! Would it still be an accident then?"

He glanced toward the Master quickly.

"Yeah," he ran a hand through his hair, folding his arms down after, "considering you blew your flat up -- oh sorry -- accidentally blew your flat up."

He considered Sam a moment, and bothered only with giving him a quick look, "It'd always be an accident, Sam. Cause it is."

The Master narrowed his eyes. "Don't pretend you're doing me any sort of favor." Honestly, he couldn't stand it.

He looked at Sam. "Aren't you supposed to believe in... oh, what is it? Innocence until guilt is proven? Or is that just on the telly? To tell you the truth I'm not sure I paid too much attention."

Sam looked at the Doctor blankly. He felt disappointed, and angry.

He turned slowly to the Master when he addressed Sam.

"I'm a cop, not a fucking lawyer. If I believed that I'd never arrest anyone."

He glanced back at the Doctor, hoping he'd suddenly change his mind. Sam folded his arms over his chest.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes back, "Oh, should we not pretend then? Want me to leave you alone? Forever? Cause I can do that. They'll kill you, but I can do that. I did it once."

The words left a little sting in his chest. "Yes, you did," the Master agreed softly. "But could you bear to do it again?" He looked at the Doctor with an almost detached curiosity. "After sentencing every other of your kind to death, what's one more?"

Sam felt like he was witnessing something extremely private. Instead of stepping away, or letting them have their privacy, Sam interrupted.

"Uh, yeah, that's great and everything -- There is a fire behind us if neither of you have noticed?!"

The Doctor's arms felt weak, and he relaxed them to his side without realizing it. He tried to run through some kind of a reply, but everything went back to the Master's words echoing in his mind. He was far away from here now, reliving thin threads of memory. Now he hadn't spoken in entirely too long, and the numbness he felt was stark. He pulled himself back together to the sound of Sam's voice, grateful for the distraction.

Watching the Master a beat longer, he tore himself a way and focused on Sam, "Quite right, Sam," he exaggerated a lean over the man staring back at the fire, "might take out the whole alley from the looks of it."

After witnessing The Great Fire of London these things tended not to phase one much -- and this wasn't even his fault.

There was a triumphant glitter in the Master's eyes as the words seemed to hit home.

He merely shrugged at the mention of the fire. So? Personally he was under the impression this place looked better, burning. And it wasn't as if any of them had access to a fire engine.

Sam watched the Doctor's face while he spoke, concerned. He glanced back at the fire. He didn't bother looking at the Master, he wasn't sure he wanted to see what exactly he was feeling about this.

"What are we going to do? We can't just let it burn. It could kill someone." He wasn't sure the Doctor even had an answer, but he seemed like the sort of guy who usually did.

"Not much we can do, really," the Doctor gave the fire another glance back, "it's not spreading too quickly -- I mean anyone's got a big enough warning to get out."

"You could check though," he suggested, "go door to door, make sure the occupants are aware."

The Master had sincerely hoped that putting out the fire might have been a sufficient imperative to distract the Doctor's attention. Apparently not. A little disappointed and disturbed, he cleared his throat.

"What he's trying to say," he declared to Sam, without taking his eyes off the Doctor, "Is that he simply doesn't care."

"That is not what I'm trying to say," he gave the Master a look and turned back to the fire, "but really... " he trailed off, thinking it obvious that a bucket of water was not going to put this out.

The Master quickly cut him off, still addressing Sam. "He's done this to a whole planet, you think he cares about one row of rickety old buildings?"

Sam stood there, watching both of them, disgusted and shocked. He started to speak, but was cut off by the Master. He swallowed hard, and clenched his fists at his side.

His eyes narrowed at the Doctor, but he glanced toward the Master, as well, making sure it was obvious he was addressing both of them. "I know. I don't know what I expected from either of you. You don't even care...you're just going to stand there and let it burn."

"Okay! You want me to put this fire out? Would that make you happy, Master? Clean up another one of your little messes?" he watched the fire a moment and then turned to Sam.

"And you care so much, don't you? You care so much about a little section of building in a little part of this miserable place that's trapped you away from everything you've ever known. There's no one in it, Sam, in case you missed that part, sorry I can't sum up the kind of emotion you feel that allows you to care oh so very deeply," he stepped forward towards him, "good thing there's Sam Tyler around to fix everything for us. Because you know... I wasn't up there trying to stop this 'till the very last second or anything."

Sam started to say something back, but there were too many words. He had a response for every word of the Doctor's, swirling around in his head. He felt his breath and pulse quicken.

He wanted to scream back at the Doctor, at both of them. Instead, he swung his right arm back, pulling himself back on his heels and swung forward. When he punched, his fist connected somewhere along the Doctor's jaw.

The Doctor stumbled back on his feet, lifting a hand to his jaw.

The Master took a step back, involuntarily, when Sam hit the Doctor, and lifted his own hand to his mouth in mock horror.

Sam looked a little surprised himself at what he'd just done. He rubbed his fist with his other hand. He glanced toward the fire, then looked back at the Doctor -- as if it were an excuse for what he just did.

He righted himself quickly, pointing back at the fire and then at both of the Time Lords.

"If no one else is going to help us, then we're going to at least try ourselves! All of us!!" Sam's tone suggested he wasn't about to let them argue the case. And if they did, he was going to somehow kill both of them.

The Doctor rubbed a hand on his jaw, and looked over at the Master.

You go first.

The Master sneered. "Don't look at me. If I'm crazy enough to set fire to my own flat, it seems a stretch to expect me to put it out."

"Oh, fucking grow up! No one here even questions who did it, you fucking idiot. If you're going to plant a bomb, would you make it a little less obvious when you invite someone over to trip it?!" Sam was nearly shrieking. Maybe it was because they were aliens, but it was extremely frustrating trying to get the point across to them. Fire = needs to be put out.

The Doctor winced slightly. Obviously Sam being human, he had a primitive fear of fire. He wasn't sure anything he could say could actually console him -- especially while standing so close to the source of his unhinging, but he gave it a go anyway.

"Sam. Look at me. It's all right. It's not going to hurt us, we're safe. Everyone in the building is safe. Even the foxes are safe. It's not spread yet, maybe it'll taper off on it's own, okay?" he tried to smile, but it sort of made his jaw ache, so he settled on something of a grimace.

The Master looked like he was just getting it. "Ohhhh.... oh. You think I was planning to drink tea with your reanimated corpses, I expect? Or maybe just... pour it all over your flaming remains? Perhaps while laughing in a mad, diabolical fashion?"

He spared a glance at the Doctor. "Don't bother trying to explain the fire bit to him, Doctor. It's about time he discovered its many uses anyway."

"Stop it," he corrected the Master sharply.

Sam grimaced in return to the Doctor. He wasn't sure if it was an attempt at a smile back or not, it was more of a split second reaction.

"What if it spreads, though?...It's going to spread." Sam wasn't very optimistic.

He glanced toward the Master, furrowing his brow. "Yeah, that's real cute. Thanks." Sam rolled his eyes.

The Master rankled at the Doctor's reprimand. He was also, in truth, getting bored. He made a show of looking overly worried. "Gosh, then why don't you two brain trusts go check about that spreading... thing, while I just busy myself with picking up the pieces of my meager existence." He indicated the hunks of charred metal and wood scattered around the blast site. "Which I destroyed, of course." He shot a look at Sam, then moved off as if to scout around the perimeter.

"If you think it'll spread -- it might be a good idea to alert the adjoining residents... which would be, you know -- all of them," and with that the Doctor followed the Master, not very close, but still very obviously trailing after.

"I already posted on the network," Sam said, matter-of-factly.

He watched as they both stepped away. It took him a second, but he quickly followed the Doctor, staying close.

"And I think anyone who lived here would have heard the blast. Unless they were in a coma, or something." He added the last part bitterly, it was obviously personal -- but not obvious as to why.

The Master made a great show of stopping every few feet and squatting down to examine some indistinguishable smoking lump, pulling on his gloves to pick it up and turn it over and over.

He intended to make what he was doing look as mind-numbingly boring as possible, silently willing the Doctor away. As if that ever worked.

The Doctor stayed behind with Sam. The Master's mock display of grief was frustrating to the say the least, though he wished someone was around to see it -- at least that would mean there might be enough to people to drench the fire out.

"I know, I remember," he said in reference to Sam's plea for help on the network. The Doctor reached into his pocket, taking out his network device and looking it over. He wasn't really doubting that Sam 'did it wrong', but in a situation like this, it wouldn't hurt to check himself.

Sam glanced toward the Doctor and his network device, after watching the Master for a second.

"Has anyone responded? I don't think anyone is going to come to help," he said to the Doctor. He looked back at the Master, and Sam shook his head slightly. He wasn't fooled by his theatrics. Sam would have found it amusing in another situation.

"Nothing useful, no," he gave him a glance, "you know it's only useful if they actually show up." He lowered the device, taking his glasses off.

"This land's made up of foreigners, mostly. If they don't care a part of it's burning, there's not much we can do ourselves," he slid the PDA back into his pocket, "I'm really not surprised. From what I've seen so far, the only things the people here care about our... themselves, and -- murder."

He folded his glasses in his pocket and watched the Master sort around in the rubble, "And yes... murdering murderers is still murder."

The Doctor sighed deeply, growing more anxious as the fire burned. His original intentions of playing the incident down for the Master's own safety, was becoming more and more difficult with each second. Harmless, however, as he was able to make it sound, the Doctor knew it wasn't. The Master would have destroyed it all, if he could. He had no idea what to do with him.

"I care," Sam glanced toward the Doctor as he spoke, but didn't look directly at him or make eye contact.

"I've been stuck somewhere without being able to go home, and I still cared then, too. This is where we are now...it's not home, but..." Sam shrugged, taking a second to find his words.

"But that doesn't mean lighting it on fire is going to make it any easier to live here." Sam pushed his hands into his pockets.

"You care? Ohhh. I'm counting on someone caring that can actually do something," the Doctor muttered.

Sam stopped and looked at the Doctor.

"I don't see you doing anything. What am I supposed to do? What do you want me to do?"

The Doctor kept walking, not really noticing that the man ever stopped.

"Like I just said. I'm counting on someone caring that can help. Obviously neither of us have the resources or the means to deal with a fire on this sort of scale. Course I thought that went without saying," he kicked a little at the dirt, glancing again towards the Master.

Sam sighed deeply and followed the Doctor again, catching up to him.

"You make it sound like I'm not willing to do something. I'm not a fire fighter...I'd help if I knew how." Sam shook his head. "It doesn't matter, hopefully it goes out on its own. No one got hurt, that we know about. What is he going to blow up next?"

"I'm not making it sound like anything, that's all in your head, Sam. You're taking my general statement, and somehow making it an attack against you, personally," the Doctor sighed, he'd really had enough right now, and inter-personal communication had never been his strong suit.

He decided to focus on something more positive, "There's still a chance someone out there who knows what they're doing will care enough to assist. And I think there is," he glanced at him, hopeful, "course you're idea of helping is hitting people."

The Doctor ignored the bit about the Master entirely. When he first learned of his survival he thought maybe things could be different -- the bombed flat was a wake up call.

Sam glanced at him again, walking along side him.

"You deserved it," Sam said simply. And then he sighed dramatically, "I'm sorry."



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