The Doctor And The Terrible Horrible No Good Bad Day

[dreamtofbeing]

Who: The Doctor
Fandom: Doctor Who
Type: Alternate Universe
Notes: At this point in human!Doctor's canon, he's teaching physics at the University of Toronto, and pays half-yearly visits to the Master, who's also human and lives in Cardiff, as Jack Harkness' prisoner/employee/property/thing. The Doctor, on one of his visits to Cardiff, just found

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[dntfretprecious]

One version of the aforementioned Master strolls in from a door leading off from the lobby-he has a pair of night-vision goggles sitting high on his head, and wears what looks like a tactical vest over his button-up slate gray shirt. The vest reads "SUPERIOR" in large white block letters across the chest (and the back, though he has yet to turn away from the Doctor) and a number of flashing lights and gauges sprinkle both it and an armband of the same tough black tactical material strapped to his right forearm.

He looks immensely pleased with himself as he unstraps the armband and walks further into the lobby, half-singing half-mouthing Linkin Park to himself.

When he catches sight of the Doctor, he frowns. "I just texted you." God, Doctor, he has a half-hour still to go, and he just checked in with you. "You could trust my judgment occasionally."

The Doctor will notice the signs of age in this Master-his face has the lines of a man in his 50s, and his hair (and, yes, it's receded further, thanks) is silvered with gray.

[dreamtofbeing]

The Doctor has just spotted a small kiosk on the other side of the lobby where, he figures, they probably sell cigarettes, or at least something like cigarettes, when a familiar voice makes him stop in his tracks.

He looks around, eyes wide with a mixture of apprehension and anger. What do you want? Did you follow him? Then his gaze finds the man who spoke, and his expression grows wary.

"Sorry. I'm not him." He waits a couple of moments too long for his response to sound natural and not like an evasion. Also, when he finishes speaking, he doesn't look away, but keeps staring at the other man, a mixture of curiosity and tightly controlled fear on his face.

He's not your Doctor. Whose Master are you, though?

[dntfretprecious]

He sees his mistake in the moments the Doctor hesitates before responding-the face still unlined, young-still nearly identical to the unaging Time Lord he used to be. Identical enough that the Master grimaces before the Doctor responds-the last thing he needs is another Time Lord boggling at him and striking tragic poses over the extinction of the Gallifreyan race.

But the fear in the other man's eyes catches him, and the evasion in his voice. He holds the Doctor's eyes, curious, serious. You remind him of someone. Someone he had control over, someone he hurt very badly. Someone who's rarely mentioned in the household he now shares with his boss and partner. You're the old Doctor, the raw human Doctor, the Doctor broken and not yet pieced back together. His Doctor. Owned and shattered.

"Doctor." He tilts his head to the side, examining you. You must be a fobwatched version. A metacrisis. Something. He's never met anyone from his own timeline before-no one non-contemporaneous.

[dreamtofbeing]

In the Doctor, several impulses are fighting to gain recognition--not quite as simple as fight or flight, but close enough. If this man who is scrutinizing him now with a well-known, intensely focused expression is his Master--a future version; the gray hair and the lines on his face speak for this theory--the Doctor will disallow himself to run. You don't frighten him. You're merely human, just like him.

If, however, this Master isn't his Master, but is, in fact, a Time Lord who has managed to survive in this regeneration long enough to go gray, the Doctor will opt to run. Very far, and very quickly.

The internal struggle is visible on his face, especially in his eyes, as they flicker from the Master's face to the tactical vest, to the exit door, and back to meet the Master's eyes.

"Master."