The Doctor stood at the console, silently watching the Master from behind the center column. He was sitting on the pilot's chair, eyes closed and face twisted in a mixture of pain and concentration. The Doctor sighed, exhaling through his nostrils.

Ever since the other Time Lord had joined him on the TARDIS, the Doctor had been trying to find some way to compromise with the Master. He was still upset at having been taken prisoner after their time on the Valiant, and after nearly three months together, the Doctor still wasn't able to get through to him. The only thing he knew for sure was that the drums inside his head were getting worse. Several times, he had walked in on the Master crumpled on the floor, curled up in a ball and clutching his head tightly, barely even seeming to notice the Doctor's presence. He had learned to stay away when this happened, as the Master was extremely unstable and tended to last out. He had the concussion to prove it, actually, when he had been pushed back against a bookshelf when he tried to help once.

The Doctor looked at him, racking his brain and trying to figure out some way to fix what was wrong. Suddenly, the Master looked up, sharp, cold eyes boring into him. The Doctor looked away, staring down at the floor, ashamed for his failure. He was the Doctor – he was supposed to make people better, not watch them suffer from afar. He sighed again, ghosting his hand gently along the console.

"Quit moping," said a voice, and he looked up to see the Master sitting forward on the chair, elbows resting on his knees, looking at the floor. His eyes flicked up to the Doctor, expression unreadable.

"I'm not moping," he began defensively, taken aback.

"Yes you are," interrupted the Master before the Doctor could say more. "I can hear you thinking." He tapped the side of his head. "It's annoying."

"Sorry," the Doctor mumbled, walking around the console to tuck a stray wire into place. The Master's dark eyes followed his as he moved, his face impassable. The Doctor ignored it, but the way the Master watched him was beginning to make him uneasy. "Let's go somewhere," he suggested suddenly, wanting to distract himself for a while. The Master snorted.

"What, and be dragged around like a pet, not letting me out of your sight? No thank you." He sat back and crossed his arms, looking away.

"Oh, come on," whined the Doctor, bouncing slightly on his toes, his hands itching to fly across the controls. "Let's just go to a café, get a cup of tea and biscuits. It'll be fun." He looked at the Master hopefully. When he didn't respond immediately, the Doctor whined again. "Masterr.."

"Fine!" he shouted, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "As long as it'll make you shut up for a few minutes, fine." The Doctor grinned happily, and began setting coordinates to a planet in the future of their respected Earth timelines, since he didn't want anyone to recognize the Master as prime minister. The TARDIS shook violently as he piloted it to a planet that had been claimed by Great Britain.

After a profusion of shaking and groaning from the TARDIS, accompanied of course by a multitude of flying sparks, the Doctor was able to land them safely. He looked at the monitor, glad to find that they'd arrived at the right place.

"The New British Empire," he announced, bouncing excitedly. "In the year 3062. Wonderful place." The Master rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Doctor," he said irritably. "I know where we are. I'm not one of your stupid human companions." He pushed himself up off the seat, crossing suit-clad arms over his chest.

The Doctor ignored the comment, briefly wondering how the Master had managed to remain sitting during the shaky landing. He shook his head, quickly dismissing the thought as he walked over to the doors. Pushing them open dramatically, he stepped out into the fresh air with a grin. The Master followed, standing beside the Doctor and looking around distastefully.

"Come on," he muttered, glaring up at the light blue sky. "Let's get this over with." The Doctor smiled and held out his hand to the Master, wiggling his fingers playfully. The other Time Lord slapped it away, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and beginning to walk forward, making his way out of the narrow alleyway the TARDIS had materialized in. The Doctor's face fell slightly, but he quickly replaced it with his normal happy expression.

They stepped into a bright plaza, people walking by peacefully and not seeming to notice the two of them emerging from between two tall buildings. They were surrounded by little shops, each promoting something different, with a large, intricate fountain present in the middle of everything. It was breathtaking, really. This part of the planet was reserved for pedestrians; far from the large, advanced cities that occupied most other areas.

The Doctor began walking forward, eyeing the assortment of shops and buildings until he found a small café. The Master trailed slowly behind as they arrived at the front door. The Doctor pulled it open, holding it while the Master walked through, still as expressionless as ever. He went in after, strolling up to the counter and ordering a cup of English breakfast tea while the Master got coffee. The Doctor also ordered an assortment of pastries and biscuits on the side, and the two made their way back out and found a table.

The Doctor sipped at his tea, letting a soft breeze ruffle through his hair as they sat outside. The Master remained unmoving, staring off and unconsciously picking at a muffin, scattering crumbs all over the small table. The Doctor watched him skeptically as he took a bite out of a biscuit smothered in strawberry jam. He chewed thoughtfully, trying to figure out why the Master was acting so strangely.

Ever since the paradox had been broken and time reversed, the Master just hadn't been himself. He was always plotting some way to wreak havoc on society in any way he could, or even just be generally difficult. But he hadn't even tried to escape yet. There was no running and screaming from the locals; nothing on fire. It was just a normal, peaceful day. All the Master did was sit at the table. All he ever did was sit now, cooped up in the dark, isolated from the universe. Sometimes the Doctor would run a scan in the TARDIS, finding the Master wandering through the ship. He wasn't doing any damage or tampering with anything, as far as the Doctor could tell; just walking up and down the corridors, sometimes for hours on end. The Master was distancing himself – it almost seemed as if he were giving up. But how was that possible? The Master never just gave up – that wasn't his style at all. He knew that the other Time Lord would rather die than admit defeat – that had been clear enough on the Valiant. At least the Doctor had been lucky enough to pull the gun out of Lucy's hands before the Master could goad her on any further to shoot him.

He had a fleeting feeling that the other Time Lord was up to something sinister, just waiting for him to make a mistake. But somehow, the Doctor couldn't quite believe that. The way he was acting just seemed so genuine, and he didn't know what to make of it.

It took the Doctor a moment to notice the Master looking at him expectantly, and he realized that he'd been staring at the other Time Lord while he became lost in his thoughts.

"What?" he asked, jumping slightly. The Master sighed, shaking his head.

"Nothing," he murmured, looking away again. The Doctor wondered what he'd missed, and most importantly, why the Master was acting so different.

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" The Master's voice was quiet and distant, and he still refused to look at the Doctor. His eyes remained fixed on something very far away, and the Doctor began to really worry. Something was definitely wrong.