The Truth behind his words

"Why don't you just leave kid, I don't want anything from you," he said, angry at the kids who had come up asking who he was. "Mister, you have to tell me," the kid demanded, "you look familiar. I've seen you in my dreams, I think. But he says he forgives you and that he loves you. He doesn't want you to give up hope. He will find you...if you're the Master." "Leave me alone, kid," the Master demanded, irritated by it all, and he raised his voice. The kid turned, heading back over to a woman who appeared to be his mother. The Master reached out after a moment, and grabbed his arm. "Wait," he said, softly, then cleared his throat. "What did the man look like who told you that." The kid appeared to think for a moment. "He had a brown suit with stripes, and converses. They were white and had a bit and red and blue on them. He had spiky hair that was really tall. That's all I really remember." The Master knew he must look as shocked and scared as he was feeling. "What did you say your name was, kid," the Master asked. "I didn't," the boy replied. "But it's Max. Why?" The Master looked Max over. He looked so much like the Doctor, back when they were just boys. Back when he didn't use anything in his hair, and it was always flat, because he didn't like any of that stuff back then. The Doctor thought he might have learned to like it, because he wasn't sure it could stand like that on its own. Max had blue eyes that on a closer look had a touch of green as well. "I just did," the Master said, then shooed the boy away. He walked away, trying to plot enough trouble to bring the Doctor running. If he got him here, then maybe he would be able to talk to him. Well, by talk he meant trick and capture, so that he could demand answers about what this was all about. The drums seemed to beat louder as he thought, and he rubbed at his head, muttering in the long lost language of Gallifreyan. He decided the thing to do was try to out noise the drums, and he headed to get some headphones, and blast some music until the drums had returned to their normal volume. He hated Earth, but it hadn't been where he had intended to land. But he flipped up his hood, and headed into a shop. He wandered the aisles, until he found a pair and headed up to the counter. He dug out a wad of cash he would claim he found if it ever came up, and paid for them. Once he was outside he dug out the iPhone he also 'found' and listened to the music as loud as he could. He wandered around, really looking at where had landed. At first he had been thinking London, but now that the ache was fading he could tell it wasn't. He was in New York City. He'd have to try for London, needing to stay close to the rift, but that was for later. Right now he needed to change his look. He walked into a salon and looked the girl over. She closed her magazine, and looked up at him. "May I help you, sir?" she asked. She looked young, though he was never good at telling these days. He would guess she was in her early twenties at most. "Yes," he said. "I'd like to change my style....please." He growled at himself, hating that it was so hard for him to act nice anymore. She looked a little scared. "Yes, sir," she said. "Right this way." She led him to a chair and gave him a magazine to look at while he waited. He flipped through it and it only took about five minutes before he knew what he wanted. He called over one of the girls and pointed to the one with the black hair and the blue strip, thinking it would be a big enough change. She nodded and took the magazine, hurrying off to gather the dye and supplies. It took about an hour, but his hair was done. He knew he should thank the girl, she had chattered away, and he didn't actually hate her. But he found it too hard, and he just paid and left. He went to a clothing shop next. It was filled with kids, although even these twenty something's were kids to him. He found a shirt that said Coldplay, and he shrugged and got some jeans and some high top shoes. This time the money he paid with, had been found in a lady's purse. He changed at once, looking down with a look of disgust but threw away his old clothes. He went to find out how much a plane ticket to Cardiff might be and he huffed out a breath. It took him four hours to get it, but finally he was buying the ticket and getting on the plane. The Master slept much of the way there, only really waking when the plane landed. He shuffled off the plane and went to get a cab. He paid the guy with what was the last of the money, and took the trip to near the rift. He glanced in a mirror and smiled. If he didn't know it was him, he thought he would have a hard time recognizing himself. He got out and walked toward the rifting, stealing some money for a purse along the way. He wasn't paying attention, looking around, when he bumped into a tall, solid figure. It took a second glance to realize that it was none other than Jack Harkness. "Sorry," Jack said, giving him a smile. The Master wanted to do a lot of things, and for a brief moment he considered trying to use him as a hostage. But he didn't, there were too many witnesses anyway. Instead he cleared his throat. "It's okay," he managed to say. "Just be careful next time." He gritted his teeth. He hated Earth, but the Doctor was in love and this was where he was bound to find him. "Right," Jack said, still wearing that annoying grin. "Say, you look familiar. Have we met?" The Master shook his head. "I just have one of those faces," he said, and walked away quickly. He found and empty bench, and turned the music up as loud as he could to drown out everything else. He didn't know that that very same Jack Harkness had returned to his office and was studying him on his monitor trying to figure out where he knew that man. He sat there all night, and Jack studied him again when he returned in the morning. The Master could feel the TARDIS coming, and he turned to his music to listen to the familiar wheeze as it appeared near him. The Master grinned and headed over, knocking exactly four times on the TARDIS doors. The door opened to a confused looking Doctor. "What are you doing knocking on my police box," he asked, looking him over. The Master pushed his way in. "Yeah, some police box," he said. "I really thought you'd still recognize me, I did turn you old for a year." The Doctor made an ever more confused face. "Master?" he said. "I thought you died." "Well, I'm not," the Master said. "You know for someone who forgives me and loves me, you're not showing it." "What?" the Doctor asked. "You had some kid tell me that you forgive me and love me and that you will always find me," the Master told him. "Then he lied," the Doctor said. "Because I don't love you." The Master wasn't sure if he was lying or not. "But I do forgive you," he added. "I know that the drums caused all that. I've always wanted to help you." He took a step closer. "I know you don't love me," the Master growled. "I'm not stupid." "I wasn't trying to imply that," the Doctor said, not moving forward again. "Just help me with the drums, and drop me off somewhere before I can't resist the urge to kill you," the Master gritted. The Doctor sighed and led him down to the med bay. He nodded his heads toward a bed, and the Master went and sat on it. The Doctor went and grabbed a scanner, and scanned his head. After a long moment, he slapped the scanner and went got another one. He tried that one as well and then huffed. "They aren't working," he said. 

*author note: hey guys this is one of my first storys ihope you like it and part 2 will be up soon! comment/like it/rate/share if you want :)*