DISCLAIMER: I don't own Doctor Who or Life on Mars shows. They are property of BBC. But I wish I did. Sometimes I dream that I do own them but then I wake up. And I need to stop listening to the evil Master voice in my head that is promising me to give me the rights to these two shows.

A/N: I finally found beta reader, so now I'll start repost the chapters that I have already posted with the edited ones. A huge thank you to Elfinium for offering to be my beta, and the time she is sacrificing to do this work for me.

I'm editing all the chapters now to make the Master's character more real. A huge thank you is due to Brownbug and Elfinium for their help with the characters and all their work.

I welcome any and all reviews. Bad, good, even flames, because there is always something to learn from every critic not only the good ones. So please fire away and let me know what you think, since this is my first posted fiction and I don't know if I'm good or bad.


The first thing he knew when he resurfaced from the darkness was a bright light and the outline of a woman standing over him.

Bright light? That wasn't right. The last thing The Master remembered was standing on the bridge of the Valiant, then dying in the Doctor's arms. Or was it being hit by a speeding car? No, he was sure Lucy had shot him.

"Sam, Sam? Can you hear me Sam?" The woman's voice came to him, penetrating through the fog in his mind.

"Sam it's Annieā€¦" God how stupid was this woman? Why did she insist on calling him Sam?

He blinked repeatedly to clear his vision, and looked around. He was lying on the ground of some dirty paved Earth- probably English- street surrounded by brick walls. Now that he could see the woman better he noticed that she looked young and quite attractive, with slightly curly copper coloured hair and police uniform. She seemed worried as she tried to study his face and eyes, probably for damage.

Behind her stood two men. One middle aged, dressed in an old fashioned suit and light camel overcoat that had definitely seen better days. The man had amused expression on his face and a cigarette hanging loosely between his lips. He looked to be in charge of the small group. The other man was hanging slightly back. He was of about the same age- maybe a few years younger. He had a moustache and wore grey trousers, shirt and velvet brown jacket.

'Again old fashioned' The Master thought.

"Cartwright! If you can't make Sammy-boy talk just give 'im good shove in the balls. It might wake him up," the man with the camel coat snapped at the girl.

"I think he maybe has a concussion Guv. He needs medical attention," the girl, Annie, answered with concern.

"What he needs is a stronger whack on his head." The 'Guv' said grumpily. "Oi, Dorothy, get up we already lost 'em. I don't particularly care if they spilled yer brain on the street, it won't make much difference anyway. But flash knickers here insisted on wakin' you up from your nap first. So now you have to make up for your idiocy and find 'em again." DCI Gene Hunt took a hipflask from the inside pocket of his overcoat and with a grateful sigh, took a sip.

On unsteady legs The Master got up with one hand grasping the wall to support himself and the other pressed against his throbbing head.

"Now hold on a minute! What are you talking about, and who the hell is Sam?" He almost yelled. He was becoming quite irritated now. No, scratch that, he was furious. And when the Master was furious it wasn't good for the people around him.

The man with the moustache let out a snort." They must 'ave whacked him on the head a bit too hard Guv. And I thought 'e was crazy before."

"Don't make me beat the shit outta yer again Tyler," the Guv said. "I had enough of your spaced out crazy bullshit to last me for life."

"Yeah? Really, Guv?" He spat the last word forcefully. He didn't know why but this bloke was getting on his nerves from the moment he opened his mouth.

The Guv stepped towards him ready to cause him some bodily damage by the look on his face, but Annie put her hand out to halt him.

"Guv please, he has a head trauma. I thought it was concussion, but it may be more serious than it looks. Let me talk to him and explain."

"Ok, Cartwright," the Guv said suddenly ignoring the WPC. "She reckons you have a head trauma, but I'm warning you, don't you ever try to play games with me Sam. I'm your DCI Gene Hunt, you better not forget that again."

"I don't care who you are," the Master growled clenching his hands into fists. "Where and when am I?"

Hunt gave his DI an incredulous look up and down. He spat out his fag then suddenly grabbed The Master roughly by the lapels and threw him against the wall.

"Did you drop your brain on the ground when you fell Sammy? Or do I look like my name is Coco?" Hunts' nose was inches away.

"Huh?"

"Are you trying to make me look like a bleeding clown you crazy, stupid Manchester United supporting POOF?" Gene demanded, lowering him to the ground. "Let's go to the pub. I need a drink." He turned on the balls of his feet and started up the street.

"I don't think he should drink alcohol if he had a head trauma Guv. Let's take you to the hospital Sam." Annie took his hand and tried to lead him away from the wall.

With the movement his vision dimmed again and he swayed gripping the wall harder. He could hear the drums starting to beat their never ceasing tempo inside his skull. However this time instead of them gradually reaching a crescendo the sound was steady. No, this wasn't the drums. The sound was all wrong. This was beeping, like the electrical beeping of a hospital life support machine.

"Sam, Sam? Can you hear me Sam?" There was a gentle voice calling him from a distance. "Please, Sam don't leave us. You need to fight. The doctors said that if you are strong, you will wake up."

Wait, Sam? Was he really called Sam? But then why did he remember being the Master? An alien? Oh Gene would have a field day if he knew what he was thinking.

Suddenly the name of Gene Hunt didn't seem so foreign. There were flashes of memory. A car speeding towards him and hitting him, throwing him on the ground. There was this music playing in the back ground. What was the song? Oh yes David Bowie's Life on Mars.

Then more flashes. Waking up in 1973. The same song playing from a car.

"Sam, Sam? Come on Sam!"

He shook his head and opened his eyes to see a concerned Annie hovering above him. Was he on the ground again?

He looked down at himself. The suit was gone, replaced by dark jeans, pinstriped shirt and leather jacket. He felt he was going to hyperventilate. Just moments ago he was so sure that he was the Master, and that the last memory was dying in the Doctor's arms after being shot by his own wife Lucy Saxon, not hit by a car. Now he wasn't so sure anymore. He didn't know who he was, and that terrified him.

"Oi, Tyler don't be such a sissy-nanny and snap out of it. We need a drink." Gene's voice snapped him back to the reality, and made him want to punch the bastard hard in the face. What right had this overweighed overweight, stinking human to order him around? He was going to show him who the one giving the orders was, the Master promised himself. Just you wait. He was the Master, his race was possibly the oldest and most powerful in the Universe. He was a Time Lord, one of the last...wasn't he? Another wave of confusion overwhelmed him. He /was/ going to show them...but not now. Now he felt too weak, too sick.

Meanwhile, Annie was trying to be the voice of reason again.

"He shouldn't drink Guv."

"Nonsense, if he can stand on his own legs, he can hold his drink. Can't you Sammy-boy?"

The Master stared blankly at the man in front of him. He could feel the strength of the man's will, weighing down on his tired and confused mind. Better to go along with whatever the humans wanted from him right at that moment. He was feeling too tired to argue, suddenly it felt like too much trouble right now. Later maybe he could work what was going on.

"Yeah," he agreed in a surly tone.

He shook his head to clear it, but as it turned out it wasn't the wisest move, because the ground began to spin and he had to take hold of the brick wall once more to steady himself. Who was he, and what was he doing here?

"Let me take you home Sam."

A gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. Annie's hand. That's right, the girl was Annie Cartwright, and he was Sam Tyler. More precisely DI Sam Tyler, how could he have forgotten that? For the first time since he opened his eyes in that dirty road he give her a dazed smile.

"Yeah better go home. Sorry Guv."

"'S alright Tyler, as long as it means I don't have to call the men wiv white coats." With that Hunt turned to the other man and said. "Pub?"

"Pub." Ray nodded.