Timeline: after «The End of Time».
Music: «Hurricane» by 30 Seconds To Mars.
Snatches of memories were floating before his eyes like bright stripes of blood streaming down the glass or explosions that color the starless dark with fragments. In every of them with the rhythm of four beats the agony — of the thirst for conquests, cruelty, impotent rage and deeply depressed despair — was beating.
The transparent dome turns almost invisible in the dark, especially, if one stares fixed at some point straight before oneself. In such moments it seemed to Koschei that Thete couldn't be ever more distant from him than now, when his eyes were trying to embrace all the sky above his head and his thoughts were so far away that if someone would try to talk to him, he wouldn't hear a word. Starshine reflected in his eyes as if the Universe was looking into him, like giving its consent, telling that he is the one it needs. Koschei was standing beside, feeling his hands growing cold while the chilling spite was raising in his chest — because of Thete, because of stars, because of their going so well together. Because there's no place left for him among them.
Thete has never said he doesn't need Koschei or that their friendship means little to him — on the contrary, he did absurd things involving Koschei in them all the time and Ushas or somebody else of the Deca sometimes, constantly causing annoyance and feeling of pique. And still, Thete has never looked at anything with such an unfeigned admiration except the night sky. So much hidden expectation, foretaste, faith and at the same time uncertainty, hope, doubts and — true passion that blazed somewhere in the deep of his eyes could be evoked only by stars. Nothing except stars. Each time recalling it or staying close like now while being so far, Koschei wanted to blow up all the stars, enslave all the worlds, reduce to dust entire empires — just to defeat the Universe in this losing battle. To conquer Thete, to overmaster Thete, to make him admit that he worths his attention. It was like a morbid obsession that grew stronger somewhere on the back burner of his mind, melding with the dark that seemed to soak through the time tissue.
Another flash. Another recollection. And again and again and again. The Master cried, his head taken in hands — regeneration was so much painful as never before. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four. Now stronger, now weaker, tearing his consciousness to pieces. And another flash. Memories, painful and bitter like field herbs of Gallifrey, seemed to be trying to drive him mad. The drums, grappled in his head with the image of Thete — still so young, intact of so many losses and disappointments, seemed to fight for his mind, long ago/almost lost in the boundless war against himself. Tears, offences, contempt, admiration, respect, compassion, smile... Smile of the young, non-regenerated still even once Doctor came to the forefront as though shining through his crumbling consciousness, forcing the Master to remember what was the beginning. At least, regeneration returned to its regular course, rebuilding every cell of the body that needed the renewal so desperately with an inconceivable speed.
The Master opened his eyes. No drumbeat was heard. It was gone with the last splash of the artron energy as if it had never existed. The mission imposed by Rassilon was complete, the timeline — rewritten once again. It was clear in his head as it hadn't been for so long. The agony stept back, leaving only soft embrace of the dark with a faint ray of light behind. The Master didn't know how and when, but knew exactly that there was one thing he must at least try to do. One thing he needed as never and ever at the same time. To arm himself with patience, to make one stubborn head finally look at the world with his eyes open and see a little bit more than just the Universe. A little bit more than just people. A little bit more than just someone who he would like to be. A little bit more than just the Master.
— I need my friend back.
