Look back in silence,
The cradle of your whole life.
There in the distance,
Losing its greatest prize.
The gunshot fell heavily on the ears of everyone in the room, and The Master felt a white-hot pain in his side. Lucy had the gun, and she had shot him in revenge for corrupting her. The Doctor rushed forward to grab his falling friend, though in the back of his mind, he knew it was hopeless. The drums kept pounding on inside the darkness of The Master's mind; tap tap tap tap.
Nothing is easy, nothing is sacred,
Why?
Where did the bough break?
It happened before your time.
And there were people there,
Lovely as you've ever cared.
The Master could remember everything that had ever happened to him; all the adventures he'd had on Gallifrey before the drums started, and everything after the rhythmic insanity took over. Even now, as he faced death, the drums kept tapping. Never losing their consistency, or their pounding little rhythm. Tap tap tap tap.
Tonight,
Maybe you can start again.
Laughing in the open air,
Have yourself another dream.
The Doctor was begging for The Master to regenerate; he didn't want to be alone again. The Master's very existence gave him hope. But, The Master didn't want to spend eternity trapped with his old friend in the TARDIS, and trapped with the slow drumming in his head. He could feel the regeneration energy flowing warm through his veins, but he tried his hardest to ignore it. The Doctor needed to leave him alone; let him die and be free from the drumming. Go off on his own and continue his life. The Doctor, the loneliest Time Lord that ever existed. He always had people when he was little, but preferring the humans caused him to be separate from everyone else. Now he was losing The Master, too. And the drums kept going: tap tap tap tap.
Tonight,
Maybe we can start again.
But what if he did regenerate? What if he didn't give up on finding a cure for his drum problem? What would happen if he just stayed with The Doctor and flew through the stars with him, just like they'd always dreamed about when they were kids? What if they both started again? Tap tap tap tap.
Only the young can break away, break away.
Lost when the wind blows;
On your own.
But The Master saw too much of what he'd become. He knew that ever since he'd looked into the very whole of time itself as a kid, he had been doomed to be haunted by the drums. Never being able to escape and never being able to be fully good. The drums had ruined his chances of being good. Tap tap tap tap.
Mother it's cold here,
Father thy will be done.
Thunder and lightning
Are crashing down;
They got me on the run,
Direct me to the sun.
If he regenerated, as The Doctor kept telling him to do, then he would lose. He would lose his battle with the drums, and his battle with The Doctor; the one that they had playfully started as kids, and kept through adulthood. Death was the only way to win for losing. And to relieve himself of the tapping. Tap tap tap tap.
Redemption keep my covers clean, tonight.
Maybe we can start again.
There is no fresh start for The Master. And he recognized that. Too bad The Doctor refused to see it. Tap tap tap tap.
Only the Young can break away, break away.
Lost when the wind blows;
On your own.
Two of the loneliest Time Lords sit on the floor of a spaceship; remembering. Remembering everything that they had done together. From learning about time and space, to welding the door to The Master's horrible neighbor's house shut; causing her to chase them through the streets of Gallifrey when she finally got free. But neither would speak their reminiscences; afraid that the other wouldn't find them as memorable. The Master couldn't hold back death or the regeneration energy much longer. It was time to chose. Life or death? Drums or peace? And the tapping continued; making his choice clear. Tap tap tap tap.
And the sun will shine again.
And the sun will shine again.
Are you looking for the sun?
Or are you caught up in the light?
The last thing The Master saw was the familiar face of his old friend; staring at him through teary eyes and begging him not to go. But nothing, not even The Doctor, could make The Master chose the drums. And the rhythm stopped. Forever.
Only the young can…
Lost when the wind blows…