"Bugg'rit."
The old codger coughed his unhealthy cough as he patted the fat where his stomach should have been. It went 'bloing' quietly while snapping back into shape.
The old homeless man hadn't minded that the rushing man had trodden on him; after all he'd looked like he'd been really in a hurry. And since he'd been scarcely dressed he'd definitely been off to a warmer place.

The codger yawned as he leaned back in his natural beanbag called back fat. He'd read today's notice in his bound tear-off calendar attentively. He'd wondered whether it had been a warning or an announcement.
'You... better... watch... out' it had read.
He had read it again and again but he couldn't make head or scale of it, or whatever it was.
"Bugg'rit" the old codger mumbled again and meant it.
He scratched himself thoughtfully.

As he looked up he found that he was being ignored by a young welsh lady. He waggled his eyebrows at her nonetheless.
Well, you never knew your luck...

"Out of my way" Jack growled at the old man who was sitting on the pavement in front of the casino. The codger remained unmoved and, in fact, turned out to be immobile, too.
Therefore Jack shoved him aside while wedging the rear exit open.

Having left Gwen out in the street he ascended the stairs, taking two at a time. He hurried through the unreal rooms, running along corridors as he tried to detect the heart of this monstrosity, the headquarters inside.
He still had the TRR in his pocket but all it did was bleeping uncertainly as it issued a statement.

He'd pushed open furnished door after furnished door and the longer he looked the more lost he became. But he could sense it. The more he looked the more unreal it all appeared to be.
There was no centre; this place squeezed and turned and interloped into itself, changing its own reality all the time.

Therefore Jack was considerably glad as he pushed open a door which opened into what looked like an office. At least it looked like someone who'd never seen an office before would imagine an office to be like.
It was clean.
It was tidy with the stacks of paper neatly folded on the table.
It was plain with reasoned interior decoration.
It was unreal.

Jack was about to rush into the following room when the TRR's indicative bleep caused him to stop in front of the table. He looked up, his eyes scanning the plain wood in front of him.
There was something odd.
A flicker. A flash of metal. He saw silver through the metal and reached out.

Without giving it much thought Jack's hand simply passed through the table and grasped the little metal fob watch that had been locked away in a drawer.
Jack needn't take a second glance at it to identify it as the Doctor's watch; he knew the insignia by heart. He pocketed it quickly, turned on his heel and walked back where he'd come from.

Only the door wasn't there anymore.
Astounded he took a step back and turned again, noticing from the corner of his eyes that the walls twisted and took new shapes whenever his eyes tried to focus.
Jack shook off his perplexity and hurried through the next door that presented itself.

He found himself in a bathroom where the walls were still damp and the last remains of air moisture dispersed as he pushed back the door.
Steam. Gwen had mentioned the steam in the bathroom.

Jack dreaded opening the door that would lead him out of the bathroom; but it was his only lead.
His stomach had already turned into a knot and the sight that awaited him added insult to injury.

There was a man, a man whose eyes, while taking years off him, had the most penetrating and atrocious glare Jack had ever seen.
He was sitting on the edge of a large bed, enjoying a smoke in absolute silence while crossing his legs.
It wasn't until now that Jack realized that the man was naked.

At the sight of him anger and consternation bubbled up inside of Jack and he was close to smashing in the stranger's skull when the TRR announced with a 'bleep' that it had found traces of alien origin. Time Lord origin, albeit not the Doctor's.
Jack stared at the man intently. Though knowing that he'd been in touch with the Master, and knowing that he'd regret it later on, he spared his life and rushed through a small door that had appeared alongside the bed.
He stepped through, not as much pushing it open as actually walking through it.

The door vanished behind him and Jack stared down the fire escape ladder.
Too late.

The mocking words from the Master's previous notes sprang to his mind.
And while gnashing his teeth Jack had to admit that he'd been right again. He couldn't catch the Doctor by running after him; the Doctor would always be faster.
But Jack didn't have to chase him.

Because this time Jack knew he had the edge over the Master; someone had stolen the watch off him and he'd found it before the Master.
And he knew that it would lead him to the Doctor.

Peace reigned over the quiet streets once more.
There was the cold in the air; and a sharp, icy smell.
Thin grey mist curled over the frozen pavement, cloaking the deserted city.
The conversations and laughter of the revellers had died away long ago and with the creeping cold tightening its grip around the pre-Christmas city the last late-night shoppers sought the soothing warmth of their, or possibly someone else's, homes.

The traffic tapered off, the streets were veiled by a thick, engulfing soundlessness.
Only a quiet sob could be heard in a forlorn alley.

The Doctor was curled up into a tight ball, trying to expose as little surface to the cold as possible. His fingers felt as though they had frozen off long ago and the biting iciness rasped over his face.
He wept quietly with his face buried in his freezing hands.
The Doctor had nowhere to go to. He was on his own, used, abused and shattered.
To even think that he had resided with the Master, that he had called him 'friend'...

The Doctor wiped his face on his sleeve and readjusted his aching legs.
He'd sold him out; no, not even that, he'd provided him as a sex toy for his perverted partner's lust.
And the Doctor had trusted him.
He had really trusted him because the Master had felt so... familiar. So appeasingly conversant.
He'd felt safe.

The Doctor sat up and touched his cheeks; they were as cold as ice. With pricking fingers he tried massaging life back into his face.

The Master hadn't only broken his trust but his spirit.
So the Doctor sat in the dark, devastated and fractured to the core, staring into space.

And then he looked up into the dark sky as the first flakes danced gently in the air and it began to snow.

Author's Note: I wish it was snowing here! And a big thank you to all of you who left a feedback or favourite and followed this story!