I stared at him, the Master, the man who killed me over and over and over again just because he could. I glared at him with unbridled fury boiling just below the surface, but I knew I couldn't kill him. I think that almost everyone on this ship would help me throw the psychopath out into the Time Vortex, but I won't ask them to help. He's a Time Lord, which makes him the Doctor's responsibility, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't care if I have a problem with that or not.
"You're my responsibility from now on," he said to the Master, echoing my thoughts and returning me to reality. "The only Time Lords left in existance."
"Yeah, but you can't trust him," I say in a vain attempt to make him rethink his decision.
I can feel some hint of sympathy when he says he's been wandering too long. Admittedly, if I were the Doctor – well, I'd make a lousy one, but this is only an 'if' – I'd be doing exactly what he was doing now. You could always tell that he was lonely, even with companions.
When I was on the TARDIS with Rose and him, he was always smiling and laughing with her, but then she'd leave the room and I might catch a flicker of sadness in his eyes, something so brief it could have been imagined. But it was real; the pain of not having any sort of a home in far too long. I don't claim to know what happened during the Time War, but I know it was bad. Worse than any other war in history, the sheer power rippling across the Universe.
A loud crack reverberated around the room, interrupting my train of thought, and it took a moment for me to realize that it was a gunshot, and another moment to realize that the Master was awkwardly stumbling backwards and Lucy (Lucy?!) was holding a smoking gun aimed at the Master. There was no emotion on her face. I ran forward and pulled the gun out of her hand (How did I not notice?) before she could fire off another shot, since the Master was still quite alive. The Doctor crouched on the floor, cradling him in his arms.
"There you go, I've got you. I've got you."
"Always the women," the Master gasped, and I almost rolled my eyes.
"I didn't see her." None of us did.
"Dying in your arms... Happy now?" I gritted my teeth, stuck somewhere between hatred and pity. It's an odd feeling.
"You're not dying, don't be stupid. It's only a bullet. Just regenerate."
I knew what was going to happen before it did, and I think the Doctor did too. He could see everything slipping through his fingers like water, but he didn't want to believe it. But the harder he held on, the faster it all spiraled out of control.
"No." The Doctor shook his head, still refusing to admit defeat.
"Regenerate. Just regenerate. Please. Please! Just regenerate, come on."
"And spend the rest of my life imprisoned with you?"
I grudgingly admitted that he had a point, there. You can't forcibly redeem someone, and while I think that the Master and the Doctor might have known each other once apon a time, they were virtual strangers to one another now. The Master would never accept help from anyone, much less the Doctor. Never the Doctor.
"You got to. Come on. It can't end like this." But it will. "You and me, all the things we've done. Axons. Remember the Axons? And the Daleks? We're the only two left. There's no one else. Regenerate!"
He's so lonely all the time, but there isn't anything anyone can do about it. Not a single thing.
"How about that," the Master murmured. "I win." The Doctor continues to shake his head, staring down at him. The Master sighed. "The drumming. Will it stop?"
I had to turn away, because it hurt to see him crouched on the ground, tears pouring down his cheeks, crying his hearts out over the man who brought the Earth to its knees and ground it into dust.
In all the time I knew the Doctor, after everything I'd heard about him, I don't think I'd ever seen him like this. Oh, I know he's laughed, he's been hurt, he's died a few times. He's seen so much and lost so much and kept so very little. He's cried and wept and even yelled, shouted, be it in pain or anger or sorrow.
But if there was one thing that the Doctor was never, ever known to do, it was what he did now.
He'd never scream.