They made rather a disjointed ensemble, Craig thought, the four of them walking through the park together. The Doctor, who for some unimaginable reason had decided to wear his tweed jacket over the top of the football gear, strolled between Craig and Sophie rather than beside his own date (supporter, supporter) – while Kaiser, hood once again raised and hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, was slouching along a few paces away on the other side of Sophie. Being obliged to talk to the Doctor, Craig had thought, might have been an excuse to try and wheedle out some more information about the pair of them – how long were they staying? Where had they come from? Did they have jobs? But the Doctor remained as casually evasive as ever, and Kaiser remained silent.

"What are you actually called?" Craig demanded. "What's your proper name?"

"Just call me the Doctor," the Doctor replied reasonably, as if it answered everything.

"I can't go up to these guys and go 'hey, this is my new flatmate, he's called "the Doctor"'."

"Yeah," Sophie agreed.

"Why not?" It was impossible to tell whether the Doctor was genuinely confused.

"'Cause it's…weird," Craig protested. There was a snort of laughter from behind Sophie – the first sound Kaiser had made since they had left the house – but the Doctor grinned amicably at him.

"I can think of a lot worse."

A shout from up ahead cut the conversation short and the group were suddenly surrounded by men in shorts and football T-shirts, slapping Craig high-fives and waving jovial greetings to Sophie. One, a tall man with close-cropped hair, reached to shake the Doctor's hand and was surprised to receive an air-kiss to each cheek.

"Hello! I'm Craig's new flatmate – I'm called the Doctor." Craig wasn't quite sure whether to be relieved that the Doctor had introduced himself, but quickly stepped forward to finish the introductions.

"Doctor, this is Sean. And this shady character," he clapped Kaiser good-naturedly on the back, "is Kaiser Stream – he's the other flatmate."

"Good t'meet you – we can use all the support we can get," said Sean, and Kaiser and the Doctor both found themselves receiving several more slaps on the shoulder from Craig's team-mates as they passed. "So, Doctor – where you strongest?"

"Arms," the Doctor answered matter-of-factly, and Sean blinked, glancing briefly at Craig.

Foreign, right, Craig reminded himself, stepping in with a lowered voice.

"No – he means what position. On the field."

"Not sure," said the Doctor; Craig was having a harder and harder time convincing himself that his flatmate was, in fact, joking. "The front? The side? Below?"

"You any good, though?" Sean appeared doubtful, and Craig could hardly blame him, but in a smooth movement that Craig had been trying to perfect in his bedroom for years, the Doctor spun the ball on the end of one finger and began to move towards the field.

"Let's find out…"

Sophie had long lost track of when she'd stopped trying to convince herself she wasn't interested in football. Really, she hardly knew any of the rules even now, and she couldn't have recalled the scores for much more than a few hours past the game – and yet somehow, it had become just as much a part of her life as the call centre, as Melina and her crises, as Craig and his flat. She wouldn't have changed it for the world, these Sunday mornings standing under the trees, blowing the cold from her fingertips and feeling her heart humming just a little whenever she saw silly old Craig in his baggy shorts and battered football boots.

Not this morning, though. This morning, she was finding her attention increasingly drawn away from Craig. If the Doctor had never played football before, then he had taken to it like a duck to water. Tackling without hesitation, he had possession of the ball more often than not, and weaved in and out of the opposing team to score a goal within the first five minutes, with a strike that would have made a professional proud. Caught up in the amazed delight of the team, she whooped and applauded, chanting his name as he – almost literally – ran circles around the other players. Trailing behind him, calling out for a pass, a clumsier figure made a rather inelegant attempt at defending the Doctor, but- wait – that had been Craig, and he was now falling behind and watching forlornly as the Doctor scored once again.

"You were brilliant," she called out to Craig, flashing a thumbs-up. "You're amazing." She couldn't help her eyes moving quickly back to the Doctor, though – until a shadow entered the corner of her vision: the hooded figure of Kaiser, stepping up beside her with his head still lowered so that his face was barely visible.

"He's pretty good," she said, raising her hands to applaud a swift tackle that knocked the ball almost straight into the opposing goal.

"Who, Craig?"

"No – the Doc- …well, yeah, Craig's good, but…" Sophie trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable as she stole a glance at Kaiser's face and caught sight of what might have been a flicker of a smile. She swallowed hard and turned back to the field, raising her voice in encouragement. "Show 'em what you've got, Craig!" She hadn't been alone in being impressed by the Doctor, it seemed – half the other spectators were now chanting his name, she noticed, "Doctor, Doctor," over and over like some frenzied mantra, and there was Craig barely more than a ball-boy now for the Doctor. Guilt began to creep over her, and she rounded on Kaiser, possibly in an attempt to distract herself from the game. "So go on then – what's his real name?" An almost imperceptible shake of the head and what could have been a faint snort of laughter, but Kaiser made no reply for some time. Then, he raised his head and turned to face Sophie.

"Would you like to know my real name, Sophie?"

"Go on, then," she laughed, and it didn't strike her until the words had emerged that his tone was perfectly level, dead serious.

"I," he said calmly, meeting her eyes, "am the Master." Sophie no longer felt the desire to laugh – in fact, the words didn't even sound absurd – they made complete logical sense. He had moved closer, eye-to-eye with her as he held her gaze. In her mind's eye, she could see her first impression of him that morning – bursting out into the hall with that dishevelled, almost panicked look to him and nothing but a towel and a single sock to cover himself – but somehow, that memory now seemed irrelevant. It couldn't have been this man in front of her, this self-possessed, authoritative, trustworthy man with those mesmerizing eyes…

Out on the field, Craig noticed immediately when Sophie's reliable shouts of encouragement ceased – and then again when they even stopped ringing out for the Doctor. He scanned the sidelines, hoping to catch her eye even for a moment – and felt a stab of irritation when he spotted her, apparently deep in conversation with Kaiser, who was standing far too close to her. That was going too far… As the Doctor came bounding past, ball in hand, ready to take yet another penalty kick, Craig shouted out before he could stop himself.

"Hey Doctor – that your boyfriend skulking around with Sophie over there?"

Captivating and enticing, the Master's voice wormed its way into Sophie's brain, tunnelling around, chewing through her every thought, searching…

"Now, Sophie," he said softly. "I want you to tell me everything you know about the upstai-" Suddenly, as if from nowhere, a shape – a blur of black and white – slammed into the side of his head, knocking him to the ground, and Sophie briefly felt a stomach-churning falling sensation, as though she were suspended from a rope that had been cut. Before she could register it, it was gone, and she was blinking in the sunlight and the sound of a disappointed roar of spectators filled her ringing ears. Her eyes widened at the sight of the Ma- …Kaiser on the grass before her, a football rolling away from him.

"Oh my God – are you all right?" she gasped, kneeling hastily beside him and supporting him as he tried to push himself up into a sitting position. There was a blast on the referee's whistle and several players came jogging over.

"You 'K, man?" Sean asked, bending over them. "That was quite a wallop you took. Blimey – never even seen Craig miss a penalty shot by that much before!" Sophie glanced up anxiously to see Craig's shoulders visibly sagging, his crestfallen expression like a kicked puppy. Before she could catch his eye, he had looked away and she turned back to Kaiser, who was blinking dazedly up at Sean. "How you feelin'?"

"Mmmpeaky…" Kaiser mumbled.

"Hey, Doctor," came Craig's voice. "Maybe you should take Kaiser home – he might have concussion or something. Go on – we can play without you."

"Let's have a look at him," the Doctor called, nudging his way through the players. "Excuse me – I'm a doctor…" He crouched down beside the two and lifted Kaiser's wrist, feeling for a pulse; Kaiser nearly lost his balance and Sophie put an arm across his thin shoulders. With a few clicks of his tongue and thoughtful hums, the Doctor peered into Kaiser's slightly unfocused eyes, felt his forehead and prodded the side of his head.

"Oww…"

"Nope, he's fine," the Doctor announced. "Just needs to sit still for fifteen minutes or so – might as well finish the game. Put your head between your knees," he added. Apparently satisfied, he stood up, and this must have been good enough for the rest of the team as they headed back to the field with barely a backwards glance. A minute later, the referee's piercing whistle shrilled out and Kaiser winced, raising a hand to his head. He looked vaguely green, and Sophie rubbed his back soothingly.

Honestly, she thought crossly. Men and their football!

...

The day was brightening, the sky a clear cerulean with barely a cloud in sight by late morning. Walking briskly home from the supermarket, handbag over her shoulder, one lone woman was wondering if perhaps spring was on its way at last; her overcoat and cardigan were just that little bit too warm. She knew she should have made the most of the winter to seize the excuse to get away. Then again, she supposed it was never too late – the Mediterranean, perhaps, or Florida – they would be lovely this time of the year…

Thoughts drifting across golden beaches and sapphire seas, the last thing she expected to hear was the high-pitched voice of a child from the direction of an otherwise silent house.

"Please can you help me? Can you help me? Please?" The woman stopped and squinted at the door – the voice seemed to be coming from a speaker just beside the doorbell, and it had a vaguely tinny quality to it. "Can you help me?" She moved closer, but the door remained closed and there was no sign of movement from any of the windows.

"Hello?" she called. As she reached the red-painted door, there was a click; when she pushed, it creaked open easily and she stepped through into a darkened hallway with a steep flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs, silhouetted against a dim glow from an ajar door, a little girl stood with one hand on the banister.

"I've lost my mum and I don't know where she is," the voice continued. "Please can you help me?"

"Help you?" The woman stepped forward quickly, concern gripping her. "You poor thing – what's happened?"

"Can you help me find her?" The little girl turned and headed through the door at her back, and the woman followed without hesitation. Behind her, the door swung slowly shut.

...

The whole team was buzzing by the end of the match, slapping the Doctor on the back and ruffling his hair, waving tauntingly to the other team who slunk off the pitch, thoroughly defeated.

"You are so on the team!" Sean exclaimed, grabbing a plastic bag from beside his gear and tossing out cans of beer to his team-mates. Kaiser, still wobbly on his feet, had been helped to the park bench by Sophie and now sat beside her, looking if possible just about as sorry for himself as the captain of the opposing team. The only person quieter than him was Craig, who caught a beer rather half-heartedly and looked around for Sophie. Even now as they gathered around the bench and began fishing out snacks from their kit bags, the team, it seemed, couldn't stop enthusing about their new dark horse.

"Next week, we've got the Crown an' Anchor," Sean was still raving. "We're gonna annihilate them!"

"Let's decimate them…" Kaiser grinned weakly, his eyes flickering towards the Doctor with a glint of malice.

"I like your thinkin', man!" Sean went to clap Kaiser enthusiastically on the back, but caught himself and settled for a pat on the shoulder instead. "Eh Doctor – just make sure you take out the other team's support next time, 'stead of your own!"

"So sorry," said the Doctor, although Sophie privately thought he didn't look it. "Tried for a curveball, but the wind was…blowing. Got anything to eat?"

"Yeah – got a few packets o' crisps over here somewhere – an' Sophie usually brings them doughnuts-

"-Sophie usually brings them-

"-Sophie usually-

"-Soph-

"-Soph-"

Caught unawares this time when the localized time loop hit, the Doctor jumped back and sent an urgent look towards the Master. The other Time Lord had evidently felt the lurching of the timeline, as he had put his head back between his knees, so the Doctor reached for his earpiece.

"Amy? What's happening at your end?" It took a few moments – or rather, looped not-moments – for the human girl to answer, and when she did, the Doctor was relieved to hear that she, at least, didn't sound too worried.

"Doctor! How'd the big game go?"

"Is it happening again?" He was shifting from foot to foot with nervousness, and a slap at his hand told him that he had begun absent-mindedly patting the Master on the back.

"Ooh, changing the subject, are we? Not so good, I take it…"

"Amy, just tell me what the scanner says." The Doctor was unable to keep the urgency from his voice, but Amy seemed to take an infuriatingly long time to reply – he could hear her heels on the TARDIS deck strolling around the edge of the console.

"Mmm…mostly nines. Ni-"

"Mostly? What are the other numbers?"

"All right, all right, keep your bow tie on… Nine, nine, eight, seven, eight, nine. Happy?"

"Yeah…yeah…" Awash with relief, the Doctor leaned against the back of the park bench and exhaled slowly. "Just keep that sawtooth plotter on like the Master told you." Beside him, the Master had straightened up and was eyeing and was watching Sophie, who sat on his other side on the bench, still looping back and forth on the unsettling time eddy. He pushed himself to his feet and began walking slightly unsteadily away from the group, and the Doctor followed.

"What's he up to, then?" Amy asked.

"Oh, he's fine. Minor concussion – nothing too serious…"

"Minor concussion? What have you two been doing to each oth- ah!" Cut off by an alarming groan from the TARDIS, Amy cried out and for one hearts-stopping moment, the line went dead.

"Amy?" The Doctor stopped short and tapped urgently on the earpiece, while the Master raised his eyebrows and tilted his head questioningly. "Amy?"

"Whew…" Amy's shaky sigh crackled through just as they felt the flow of time settle. "Bit of a bump there…"

"Oh dear!" Folding his arms, the Master elevated his voice. "Has she been flung out into the time vortex, Doctor?"

"What?" Amy's voice also rose, in pitch as well as volume. "What did he say? Doctor?"

"Nothing," the Doctor reassured her hurriedly. "Nothing – you're fine, Amy. Everything's going to be just fine."

"He said something about-"

"Minor concussion, I told you. We," he gripped the grinning Time Lord by the elbow and began steering him in the direction of the flat, "have some rewiring to do…"

...

It was mid-afternoon by the time Craig found a chance to knock on his flatmates' door. From inside, he could hear lowered voices; footsteps approached and the door swung open just wide enough to admit the head and shoulders of the Doctor.

"Hello, flatmate!"

"Uh…hey, man," Craig replied hesitantly. "Look – uh, Sophie's coming round tonight, and…I wondered if you two could…uh…you know, give us some space?"

"Oh, don't mind us," the Doctor breezed. "You won't even know we're here." A rumbling crash from overhead distracted Craig for a moment and he glanced upwards; when he turned back to the door, it had been closed in his face and he could hear Kaiser's voice instructing the Doctor.

"…then it'll need a carbon-based core – buckminsterfullerene, ideally, or get me some refined lignin, or…"

"How about a broom handle?"