One of the first things Jo had discovered about the Master is that he really, really enjoyed the sound of his own voice. UNIT (with a great amount of aid from the Doctor and Jo, as usual) had just foiled his latest plan, which had apparently involved three fighter jets, an assortment of both native and exotic animals from nearby zoos, a bungee jumping cord, three rival personal trainers, and one very confused sheep. To be honest, she hadn't really been paying much attention, seeing as it was the third attempted takeover of the earth the Master had attempted in as many days, and at that point they all began to blend together.
After each failure, of course, came the customary bickering period, during which the Master would pontificate at length, only pausing his monologue to make disdainful remarks, or when the Doctor interjected with equally insulting comments aimed at the Master. Eventually, the Doctor's interruptions would become more frequent, until the Master's speech had devolved into petty sniping and name-calling between the two time lords, with the occasional jab at the rest of the UNIT team interspersed in for variety.
Right now, Benton had just dared to make a comment, though Jo remained ignorant of its topic, given that she had given up listening about a third of the way in. She did, however, tune back in to see what sort of response Benton got (and if she were being honest, she was curious to see which time lord would excoriate him first).
"I'm sorry," the Master interjected, "but I just don't understand how any of you can take the sergeant seriously, what with her being a weak and feeble woman."
Jo blinked, and opened her mouth to voice her confusion, but the Doctor had already begun talking.
"I hate to interrupt you"—his statement was at apparent odds with his smug expression—"but you appear to be labouring under a misapprehension."
The Master scowled, but raised his eyebrow in indication that the Doctor should continue and state whatever delusion he believed the Master to be harbouring.
"You see," the Doctor elaborated, "Sergeant Benton is actually a man."
Wait, so it wasn't some sort of alien thing—the Master had just made a mistake? And about something so obvious?
Just to make sure that she wasn't the only one still perplexed, Jo glanced around the room and was reassured by the bewildered expressions of the Brigadier, Captain Yates, and, of course—the apparent topic of discussion at hand—Sergeant John Benton himself.
The Master didn't look the slightest bit embarrassed at his obvious error—rather, he rolled his eyes in more elegant a manner than Jo should have thought possible and glanced disdainfully at the sergeant in question.
"Of course he is," he muttered in annoyance, before directing his attention back to the group at large. "Well, as I was saying, surely there's no way you can put your trust in a man, what with his temper and emotional outbursts. How is he supposed to be able to be objective and rational in any situation?"
"Ah, well," the Doctor interjected once more, "the thing is that, in this time period, men are actually considered to be better leaders, so I'm afraid that merely using stereotypes for his actual gender won't be sufficient to influence anyone's opinion." He shrugged apologetically in the Master's direction.
Jo had thought she was confused before, and now found herself cursing her past self's naivete. First the Master had, inexplicably, thought that Benton was a woman, and then had tried to—what? Discredit his leadership somehow based on perceived gender roles? And been mistaken again? And, perhaps even stranger, the Doctor seemed to be perfectly understanding and even commiserating if not—heaven forbid—sympathizing? What was going on?
She was once more broken out of her contemplation, however, when the Master—apparently determined to continue despite previous setbacks—continued.
"All right, fine. Forget about Benton, then—" he sneered "—what about Ms. Grant over here?"
Startled, Jo looked around to find everyone else in the room looking at her inquisitively (and likely in as much confusion as she).
"Ms. Grant?" questioned Yates.
"Yes! How can she be in a position of power if she is perceived to be weaker, then?" The Master wore a smug grin upon his face, as if he believed himself to have finally found the solution to a complex problem.
Jo kept staring at him, at this point too confused to do anything else.
The Doctor winced sympathetically, but before he could say anything, the Brigadier interjected.
"But Ms. Grant isn't in a position of command!" he yelled, looking as if he were only a few microscopic levels of irritated confusion away from tossing his hands in the air and storming out of the room. Indeed, were he not so dedicated to preserving his stubbornly unaffected exterior, he likely would have done so far before the conversation had reached this level of insanity.
"What?" the Master asked blankly, for the first time looking as confused as the rest of the room had been throughout the entire conversation (save, of course, the Doctor, who was looking on in an odd mixture of pity and glee). "She's not?" He looked at Jo as if asking her to confirm that the Brigadier was merely joking, and that of course she was a highly ranking member of UNIT.
Unfortunately for him, since Jo could claim neither of those things, she simply shook her head at him.
Despite the Master's previous misassumptions, he hadn't seemed truly frustrated until now. He, lacking the Brigadier's commitment to stoicism, and in possession of a flair for the dramatic, threw his hands up in the air.
"All right," he declared. "That's it!" Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out some sort of black device, and threw it on the ground. It began expanding in size while the Master continued his tirade
"I'm done! I don't care anymore!"
At this point the object had grown enough that it was recognizable as a glossy black inflatable chair.
"I was planning to sow discord and get you idiots to turn on each other—" at this, he turned toward Jo and reassured "not you, of course Ms. Grant. Especially since you are clearly the smartest one here!" He raised his voice during the latter part of the sentence, turning to address the group at large, clearly continuing to express his irritation.
He then turned back to Jo. "And don't think I mean anything by it; being the smartest human is sort of like being the fastest snail.
"Anyway," here, he turned once more to the rest of the room, "I was going to orchestrate a mass coup with dissent spreading amongst the ranks, but I no longer have the patience, so if one of you would please get into the chair so I can start killing you, it would be greatly appreciated."
Seeing the skeptical look the Doctor gave the chair, the Master added "yes, I know, but I left the tissue compression eliminator at home because I wasn't anticipating this, so just shut up and get in the chair!"
Jo sat back (not in the chair, obviously), watching the ensuing chaos, and smiled to herself. She knew the Master cared, deep down! And, she mused, maybe it was time to strike off on her own to see what she could accomplish. After all, the Master had a high opinion of her, which was perhaps the best endorsement (albeit from an alien war criminal) one could hope to achieve!
A/N Hello! This fic is the first in my new series of the doctor v gender but, unlike my other series, which I uploaded on here as one work with multiple chapters, I will be posting them separately. There will be one for each of the main thirteen (for now) doctors, so sorry to Shalka and Ruth fans. (And no, I didn't forget about war, but fortunately it's been long enough that we don't need to pretend to care about him anymore.)
As always, this is crossposted on Ao3 (and Teaspooon)