A/N: I wrote this as a way of understanding my sudden attack of sympathy for the Master. It will probably be a two-shot because I really can't start another long story with so many still in progress. Please leave a review so I know what you think. I do rather like how badass Martha is here, though.

)O(

"Explode those ships, you kill yourself. That's the one thing you can never do."

- The Doctor to the Master, Last of The Time Lords

This wasn't how Martha Jones-Smith had expected to spend her evening. She'd only meant to help an unconscious man lying in the street. As a doctor, Martha couldn't just let someone freeze to death. But then she noticed the familiar watch, broken with beautiful inscriptions of a dead language, that he was clutching in his hand.

Even worse, she knew this couldn't be the Doctor, because there had been so many days when he was still hiding from the Family of Blood, disguised as a human and leaving her alone, Martha took comfort in the presence of that old watch. She would hold it, tracing every spiraling line of Gallifreyan and imagining the day stupid John Smith became her Doctor again.

His fob watch was long gone. The one held by this unconscious man belonged to another Time Lord: the Master.

And it was empty. Sure enough, Martha felt his two hearts beating, albeit not as strongly as they should have been. She was a doctor. How could she possibly walk away now? Trying to remain calm and rational, Martha called UNIT headquarters.

"This is Dr. Martha Smith and I've got a Code Four here," she explained. "He's unconscious and doesn't appear to be an immediate threat but I need transport. Listen, I don't care who your authority is, I'm telling you we have to get this man someplace safe, for the sake of Earth. After that, we wait."

Then she called the Doctor, telling him to come back to Earth fast.

Finally, Martha called Mickey to say she would be late getting home.

)O(

So far they had been unable to determine exactly why the Master hadn't woken up yet, or if it was even safe to attempt waking him. They couldn't risk introducing any medications into his body since they didn't know how it would react. Essentially, the experts found themselves at a loss.

"I want to see him," Martha demanded. "Let me examine him."

"Dr. Jones, I can't authorize..."

"It's Dr. Smith, and I traveled with the Doctor; I know more about Time Lord physiology than anyone else here. That man is my patient. I found him; he is my responsibility. Or would you rather be the one explaining to the Doctor that he died because you can't authorize a simple examination?"

"With all due respect, ma'am, you called us."

"With all due respect," she replied evenly, "I called you because Torchwood doesn't exist anymore."

A now speechless soldier escorted Martha to this small room that looked suspiciously like a cell where she saw the Master lying motionless in bed. Although he did not look at all like the fearsome Time Lord she remembered, known to most of Earth as Herold Saxon. His appearance had quite literally changed. Martha knew she hadn't made a mistake. This was definitely him. Why else would he have the watch and two hearts? The rapidly beeping machine confirmed both were very much present and beating.

"Why is he strapped down like that?"

"As a precaution," the soldier answered. "If he is who you claim, ma'am, then he may be a danger to others."

"Do you honestly think it'd be enough to restrain him if he wanted to escape? Never underestimate a Time Lord. He's asleep because he chooses to be, and he'll stay here only as long as he chooses. Got that?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well if it isn't Dr. Martha Jones, or perhaps I should say Smith," came an unfamiliar voice behind her. She turned and saw a strange man wearing a bow-tie. "The woman who walked the Earth. Hello again, Martha."

"Have we met?"

"Oh, right, the new face! Sorry, I forget sometimes." He gave her a smile. "I'm the Doctor."

"You've regenerated?" This wasn't really a question. From a medical standpoint, this concept always seemed particularly remarkable. Imagine becoming a whole different person in a matter of seconds. When he'd explained the process all those years ago, she never quite got over how impossible it sounded. She wondered if it hurt as much as the Chameleon Arch.

Martha handed him the Master's fob watch.

"Yes, I did...and so did he," the Doctor replied, studying the object closely. He scanned the other Time Lord with his sonic screwdriver, which she noticed had changed a lot, too. "That's why he put himself in this comatose state; he's gone through a traumatic regeneration quite recently and needs sleep in order to recover. I had a similar experience when I regenerated after absorbing the energy of the time vortex. The Master had only just come back to himself before regenerating, if this is any indication." He obviously meant the watch.

She admitted it must be awful to discover you're not you at all, then endure a great deal of pain and become someone else again. She'd thought the Master was dead for good this time. Where had he been?

"Doctor, what are we going to do about him? I mean, I know he's the only one left apart from you, but he's completely mad. You and I know what he is capable of."

"Martha, the last time he took control of the world I thought he was going to kill me, but he ended up saving both the world he tried to rule and my life all at once." The Doctor wasn't looking at her now. "It's not his fault. They manipulated his mind from across time and space, used him for their own survival, and caused him so much suffering..."

"You don't see it, do you?" Martha asked in disbelief. "You really think he can change, and you'll just keep forgiving him no matter how many people he might hurt or how many times he hurts you." She knew why; the Doctor just couldn't bear to be the last.

"Go home, Martha, before your supper gets cold," the Doctor said after a while. "Say hello to Mickey for me."

She did leave, unsure if she liked this new version of him. There wasn't much more to be done here anyway. It had been a very long night.

)O(

"How can you be here?" he murmured to his sleeping former friend. "How did you manage it?"

The Doctor knew in his hearts that Martha was right. Sometimes he did have far too much mercy. He also knew that if it were a Dalek instead of his old friend and the circumstances were the same, he may not be so kind. But could one fairly blame the Master for what Rassilon and his insanity made him do?

When the Master finally awoke, panicked and confused, he began to struggle against his bindings. Still half in a nightmare, the damaged Time Lord cried out nonsense and pleaded for help in Gallifreyan while the Doctor did everything he could think of to calm him down. The monitor beeped wildly as his double pulse started racing.

The last resort was direct telepathic communication. It might be the only way anyone could get through to him in this state. He concentrated on the broken Master's mind while attempting to keep him from flailing about too much. The Doctor had to believe somewhere in this jumbled mess of dark memories (...one, two, three, four...onetwothreefour...) and fragmented thoughts was a person who could be reasoned with..

You're safe. Everything is okay now. You're not there anymore. It's all over. No one is going to hurt you here. You are safe. Trust me, I'm a friend, and I'm here to help.

He went on sending thoughts like this until the Master became still again. Eventually, he was somewhat more lucid, too. He recognized the Doctor despite his different appearance. Time Lords always knew. He'd known immediately that this was the Master. Who else could it have been, after all?

"How did you escape the Time Lock?"

"I don't know," he admitted, voice weak and raspy. Tears filled his new eyes. "I...can't remember. It felt like a terrible dream, a nightmare. I thought the drumming would stop. Make it stop, Doctor, it hurts! You're the man who makes people better. So loud! Please make it stop!"

"I will do everything I can, I promise." It pained him to see the Master like this. "And when you're better, we'll travel time and space. You and me, yeah? If you want to, of course, you won't be my prisoner. It could be amazing, eh? Like I said before, you don't have to own the universe; it's enough just to look."

"Doctor..."

"Yes?"

"If you can't do it, if you can't stop the drums, if you can't stop me..." The Master was absently tapping out a rhythm of four. "Please kill me."