[Dhawan!Master for @timetreatment 's Third Doctor]
The years have dragged on. The first ten or so, the forties and early fifties, were the worst. It's steadied out since. Little indignities, every fucking day, but the big events are few and far between. The fact that he hasn't been forced to regenerate yet is a miracle in and of itself. (Though, maybe this would all be easier if he did.) If he could survive the 40's, he can survive anything.
But, mostly, what he's learned is that humans are animals. He knew, of course; even in the 2020's they're cruel, uneducated, lesser life forms. But, it's worse here, and worse more so to be at the center of it. It's one thing to watch them tear each other apart, it's another to be chewed up and spit out by the system himself. The infighting alone is almost too much to wrap his head around.
There's a million things in the universe just dying to crush mankind. They could be invaded by the daleks tomorrow. There's things on Earth that could wipe them out and they don't even notice; he's been watching pregnant humans smoke cigarettes for the past few decades.
They barely have the technology to keep their society afloat, and yet, instead of banding together, they nitpick. They form their tiny, superficial, groups and try to assert dominance over anyone outside of their group. They turn on themselves. They can't begin to grasp how unimportant they all are in the eyes of the universe.
It's infuriating. Any life lesson he learned as Missy is gone, any sympathy he once felt for humans unearned. They're monsters, all of them. He knows there's only one person he can trust, one person who would ever treat him with the proper respect, especially now. The 60's roll into the 70's. He knows exactly when the Doctor gets cozy on Earth. He's been planning for this, anticipating it.
The first few decades, all he thought about was the Doctor. About revenge. All the ways he could make her pay for this in another 80, 70, 60 years. He's never hated her as much as he does then; the source of all his problems, his suffering. He's consumed by it, by the thought of making her suffer the way he has. Oh, but, the loneliness sets in. It always does. There's other versions of the Doctor between now and then, between the best friend he had on Gallifrey and the raging cunt she turns into despite everything he did as Missy.
He knows the Doctor's history like it's his own; he knows about the Doctor's time spent at UNIT in the 70's, about how those years are creeping up on them now. He spends a decade telling himself that he'll only watch, not interfere, all the while coming up with dozens of plans just incase. He promises himself that it's only harmless fantasy but, really, what would it hurt to just speak to him? Just once? He pulled off a human disguise for years with the current Doctor. A few white lies wouldn't change a thing, so long as the Doctor that exists here in the 1970's never finds out who he really is.
The Doctor comes to Earth and he watches. He studies. Admires. Memorizes his schedule, allows him to fall into a comfortable routine, allows the freshness of the situation to decay into boredom. The humans fawn over the beautiful mystery man suddenly in their midst; they always do. He can't say that he blames them.
He isn't sure when his idle fantasies become reality. One day he's watching, the next he's clutching a stack of books, all topics the Doctor is interested in, all topics that present the image of the Master as an intelligent, open minded, young man. Not necessary if he's only going to watch. Some nervous part of him hopes he'll miss the Doctor entirely; that he'll have left early today, that they won't cross paths, that he can spend another day rethinking this. Then he sees him.
It's all instinct from there, rounding the corner in a hurry, just a flustered human running late for an appointment. The Doctor doesn't see him until it's too late. He bumps into the older man with expert precision, just the right angle to send his own books and the Doctor's paperwork crashing to the ground. Then he's on his knees, frantically gathering up his belongings. "I-I'm so sorry..! I should've been paying more attention, I-"
He glances up at the Doctor with big brown eyes, enormous retro glasses askew, then quickly looks away, tapping the edge of a stack of papers on the ground to align them. Is he endeared by the disheveled human act yet? "I'm so sorry. Are you alright..?"
