Author's Note: I'm so sorry it's been so long, everyone! I couldn't actually believe it when I looked and saw I hadn't updated this in so long. I didn't forget you guys though and how awesome you've been. I really hope you enjoy this chapter. :)

Martha slowed the car to a stop in front of a set of traffic lights, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel as the light stoically remained red despite no other traffic or pedestrians being out this time of night.

It was early morning - around 4am she'd wager - and she was winding her way through a small set of streets, looking for a place where she could park and rest for a while. Ever since the 'year', she hadn't been sleeping well and her eyes were drooping with tiredness.

Pulling into a cul-de-sac, she was surprised as another car pulled in behind her. Though she felt oddly comforted that she was alone on the roads; she didn't like being alone much now.

The feeling vanished however when the car came to a halt when she did, lights becoming brighter in the early morning air, blinding her so she couldn't see who was behind the wheel. Everything was still for a few moments before the car started to roll forwards again, picking up speed and heading straight for her.

She didn't allow herself time to think – if travelling with the Doctor had taught her one thing it was that thinking could get you killed – before slamming her car into gear and shooting forwards. She missed a low brick wall by inches and felt the bumper of the second car scrape the rear end of hers.

Wrenching the wheel to the right, she spun the car back the way she'd come, hoping that it would take the other too long to turn fully and she could lose them in the maze of streets. Maybe if there had been more cars, she could have, but as she made a fourth turn in an attempt to get away, she saw the headlights of her attacker appear in the rear view mirror.

"Damn it!" This sort of thing did take her mind off everything else, but it wouldn't be much consolation if she ended up splattered across her windscreen.

Glancing behind her, she found that she couldn't see her pursuer any longer and grinned slightly. An open stretch of road opened up ahead of her and she floored the accelerator, feeling the engine of her car groan with the strain. It was at that speed, which must have been approaching 80mph, that the car reappeared to her left, barrelling out of a side road and continuing on, travelling straight through the side of her car and smashing the driver's side into a lamppost.

A few seconds later, both car alarms began to blare loudly, waking the people living on that street almost immediately. Stumbling from their homes, the complaints of several of the more verbal humans died as they saw the wreckage. Parents ushered their children back inside, pulling out phones to dial 999, while several other adults approached the crash site.

It is human nature to be curious in the face of devastation, but no one on that long street didn't have hope that there would be movement from one, if not both, of the cars before the ambulances arrived.

There was none.

The signal continued to resonate through the Master's mind, pulsing in time with the drums. Danger, danger, danger, danger! It put him on edge, wishing he could turn it off and return to the steady beats he knew so well.

He had to get back to Earth, had to do something about this before it was too late. He was disgusted with himself. He shouldn't care, he shouldn't give a damn about anyone but himself. He'd lived too long and died too many times because of other people's mistakes to justify caring about anyone. But he wasn't trying to justify this, he reminded himself. He'd given up on trying to justify himself a long time ago, when everyone who could possibly understand him either ran away or were left behind. Damn the world and damn the Universe.

But to get back to Earth, he'd have to get to the TARDIS. To fly the TARDIS without a week's worth of coaxing, he would need the Doctor. He'd have the find the Doctor, which would be no easy feat, seeing as the floor had swallowed him. But regardless, could he tell the Doctor? Could he admit that he actually cared without the Doctor either getting all soppy, which he could probably take, hopeful of his redemption, which would annoy him but not do much else, and... it would show the Doctor a weakness. Could he trust the Doctor to not take advantage of that? Did he care enough to do it even though the Doctor might use it against him?

The Master groaned and thumped his head against the wall. This was not the way things are meant to go, he thought. I shouldn't care.

He pushed himself away from the wall and started to work on latching onto the Doctor's psychic signal. "Bloody humans," he muttered.

The Doctor struggled hard. He seemed to be held down by what looked like a thick jelly-like substance, which he couldn't quite identify. If he could just taste it, he knew he'd be able to manage it just fine.

Lights swirled around him, all seemingly going about their daily business – whatever a pulsing light's daily business was – and completely ignoring him. He took this as a good sign as it would allow him time to come up with a plan and possible escape. But not being able to move at all posed something of a problem.

At least now he knew that the Master wasn't just going to run off and leave him. Whether it was actual concern on his part or simply not wanting to be stuck with a TARDIS who wouldn't obey his commands, at this stage of the day the Doctor really didn't care. He was just thankful that there was even a slight hope of being rescued, a feeling that he hadn't had at all while stuck on the Valliant and one which was rather welcome back.

One of the many lights suddenly changed direction, wrapping itself around his right arm and tugging him through the mush that supported him. Since tugging his arm away didn't seem to do much, the Doctor relaxed, taking in as much of his surroundings as possible before being unceremoniously dumped on what looked like a hard marble floor.

Looking up, he found himself face to face with another wolf, fangs glittering slightly, reflecting the light still wrapped around the Doctor's arm.

The wolf looked uncertain and the Doctor felt sorry for it, despite what it had put him through. "Look, I didn't mean to hurt you like that. You just..." He winced. "Dug a little too deep, that's all."

The wolf shifted from paw to paw, looking away.

"Are you all right?" The Doctor reached out his free hand, softly petting the wolf's shoulder. "Is there anything I can do?"

The wolf returned his gaze, head hanging dejectedly. "I'm sorry," it said. "I'm afraid they're going to have to absorb you now."