Title: The Criminal Kind
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: Buffet 1, fc_smorgasbord
Prompt: 22, Criminal
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor. Please do not sue.

***

The Doctor lifted his head slightly, looking up cautiously to see if there were any surveillance cameras in the bookshop he'd just entered. There didn't seem to be any, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

He hated feeling like this; there was nothing more uncomfortable than having to skulk around London like a criminal. But ever since he'd encountered one of the Master's minions earlier and had been forced to fight for his life, he was on the lookout.

That man had probably been told not to reveal himself to the Doctor, but he apparently hadn't been able to restrain his eagerness. He was probably trying to curry favor with the Master, the Doctor thought, a scowl settling onto his features.

Moving to the back of the bookshop, he absently picked up a book from a nearby table and settled into a chair, trying to look unobtrusive. He wasn't wearing his usual pinstriped suit, or the long coat; maybe he would blend into the crowd more without them.

Jeans and a t-shirt weren't his usual style of clothing when he was away from the Tardis; when he was on his ship, in a place where he felt comfortable, he wore them all the time. But here on Earth, he felt more at home in what he'd almost come to think of as his uniform.

Especially when he was battling the Master, he thought grimly. Their cat-and-mouse game had only just begun this time; he had been the one chasing the other man at first, but it seemed that the Master had managed to turn the tables on him.

At least this time, he didn't have the power he'd had when he'd styled himself Harold Saxon. No, this time, he merely had overeager minions at his beck and call -- and that was probably even more dangerous that the previous situation.

There was no telling what the Master's followers might have been told about him. He could be some sort of dangerous alien, a madman, a criminal -- or merely someone that the Master wanted to get rid of. A megalomaniac like him didn't need a reason.

Certainly not when he had the charisma that the Master possessed, the Doctor thought with a soft sigh. He had to admit, there was something about the other man that drew people to him -- but then, there had been people like that throughout history.

Most of those people had boded no good for the human race -- or for other races on other planets, as well. The Master seemed somehow to have absorbed the bad traits of all those people through history, channeling them into one very dangerous mind.

The Master had the upper hand at the moment, as much as he hated to admit it. He hadn't been able to get in touch with Jack, for some reason -- and making his way back to the Tardis was slow going. He was halfway across the city from her at this point.

If he could get back to the Tardis and get to Cardiff, talk to Jack and the other Torchwood members at the Hub, then he would stand a fighting chance of defeating the Master. But getting to Jack was only the first part of his problem.

The main problem was, of course, the fact that he had no idea what the Master intended to do. With no clue as to what was going through the renegade Time Lord's mind, he and Jack wouldn't be able to formulate a plan to stop him.

The Doctor's frown intensified as thoughts crowded into his mind; he had to take a deep breath and close his eyes for a moment, opening them to glance around the shop and make sure that he wasn't being covertly watched.

No one seemed to be paying any attention to him; he released a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding, flipping a few pages of the book in his lap. It was probably quite obvious that he wasn't really reading; at any moment, he'd probably be asked to leave.

Out on the street, he was a target. At least here, he'd be able to relax a bit, to make some kind of plan other than running in any direction that seemed logical to get back to the Tardis. That wasn't a plan at all; desperation had driven him to it.

Would the Master and whoever was working with him know what the Doctor was wearing? He considered the possibility with a sinking feeling; since that man he'd left unconscious in the alley had recognized him, he had to assume that others would, as well.

All right, so wearing clothes that weren't what the Master was used to seeing him in might not have been the perfect way to disguise himself. But at least it might throw his pursuers off a bit; there was the possibility that they were looking for the suit, or the coat.

If they weren't, that gave him an advantage. That was one point in his favor. Of course, there were other points that went directly to the Master. Such as the fact that the Doctor had been chased around the city to the point that he didn't know where the Tardis was.

He could feel the pull of his ship, of course. That bond was unbreakable; he would always be guided towards her, no matter where she might happen to be. But knowing what direction she was in and knowing just how to find her were two entirely different things.

The Doctor rested his head against the back of the plush chair he was sitting in, his eyes roaming around the bookshop again. He wasn't sure just how long he would have to sit here and rest, but he knew that it wouldn't be long.

He would have to be on the move again before long -- though he really didn't want to go out into the street where it would be easier for any of the Master's minions to spot him, he had no choice, not if he wanted to get back to the Tardis.

It wasn't as though he hadn't been hunted down like a criminal before, he told himself with an inward sigh. That had happened to him more times than he cared to count -- and ironically enough, it usually happened on this particular planet.

But of course, it wasn't always the Master who was doing the hunting. At one time, it had been the Torchwood team -- though that had been long ago, and in another life. It wasn't something he wanted to think about now, though. That was in the past.

No, at the moment he had to think about the present, and try to make a plan of attack, just in case he needed one. He'd already been surprised once today, and if it hadn't been for the sonic screwdriver, he might well have been taken captive already.

Judging by the fact that the man who had jumped him hadn't tried to kill him then and there, he could only assume that their orders from the Master were to capture him and keep him alive. But how long would that last once the Master had him in those steely clutches?

He didn't want to contemplate that. The Master could always think of things to do to him that were less than pleasant, and thinking about those things at the moment wasn't going to do him any good. He had to concentrate on how to avoid them.

For the time being, he had to take on a criminal's state of mind, and do what he could to avoid being caught. It wasn't an easy type of mindset to put himself into, but he could do it; he'd managed it before, though he'd had Jack along for the ride at the time.

The Doctor sighed, putting the book aside and taking a deep breath. Being one of the criminal kind wasn't something that appealed to him, but until he could make his way back to the Tardis, that was exactly what he felt he was.

Standing up, the Doctor took one last look around his temporary refuge before making his way to the door. He couldn't keep hiding in here; he had to make his way back to his ship, even if that might prove to be increasingly difficult for him to do.

***