So, first fanfiction to be uploaded here for Doctor Who. Ooo, yay, when will you be completing the other ones you already have uploaded? Answer: never. At least I'm being honest with you. So...yep. This one will, however, be completed. I have the first sixish chapters planned out so yes, it will be semi long. So, yep. Not so sure how it will end though so bear with me, my darlings.

THEMES: Friendship, Angst, Romance, all that kind of stuff ooo, goody.

DISCLAIMER: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC, so obviously I don't own it. This whole thing would be an episode if I did. Also, the speaking parts of the first three paragraphs are from 'Divided Loyalties' by Gary Russell because it was a nice line. This whole 'chapter' is more of an intro so...it's relatively short. ENJOY.

Chapter 0

They lay next to one another, fingers entwined, heads and glances cast upwards towards the stars and the setting suns of Gallifrey. They were young, so, so young, and yet they were so wise, both soon to be hitting their ninetieth birthdays at some point that month. And yet neither cared, neither one paid attention to age. Instead the two Time Lords chose their attention to be directed solely at the other, caring for them, caring for the other's health more than their own, one another loving them and being there for them, no matter what happened to them; they'd always be together.

"Our loyalty to each other is what has kept us together all these years," Koschei said rather suddenly, head tilting away from the stars to look over at Theta - his Theta. His eyes rather lazily scanned over the other's face, copying it once again to memory, adjusting every detail he'd gotten wrong the last time he'd committed the sight to his mind, "Nothing can divide that," he murmured, voice almost lost in the passing wind.

"No," Theta agreed, turning also so that his gaze met Koschei's, giving his best friend a half-smile, the next word trailing off as he spoke it, the young Time Lord not even realising he'd spaced out, "Nothing..."

And as Koschei leant over and kissed his forehead, a gesture so sweet, so tender and so gentle, he was lost within the other; they'd be together, forever – they'd travel all of time and space together, look upon the miracles as stars were made, as galaxies formed, as a supernova erupted into a firework of nuclear energy and light – they would do so much and Theta was adamant that they would. And they would do it together, neither leaving the other's side.

And yet...

"Look at me now," the Master spoke, pulling himself out of the memory as he trekked up the side of a hill, paying no attention to the patches of burnt and burning red grass around him, pushing himself on to reach the top if the dirt mound, "Alone and forgotten about, a lost soul cast into the Time Lock."

The sigh that left his lips as he reached the top of the hill was strained, as though his throat was acting up as he made the noise, hoarse and grating as it left his lips. He spread his arms wide, looking down upon the burning city of Gallifrey, the cracks in the glass dome surrounding the high and once majestic home of the Lords of Time laughable in the irony of the situation. Thus, he allowed a loose chuckle leave his lips, on the verge of losing the plot as he knew it, already having accepted his fate the moment he realised the Doctor wasn't coming back. Oh, it was just like the Axon's in the other Time Lord's third regeneration – oh why don't you come travel with me, oh wait no, I'll just put you in a time loop and we won't be able to do that, what a shame, I was looking forward to that.

"Prick," the Master spat, arms dropping to his side as he fell back onto the hill, throwing the bag he had perched upon his back off, the tatty fabric binding landing on the grass of the hill with a soft 'clink' as the contents of it rattled inside.

He dropped down besides it, pulling the zip back and emptying all that he had collected on his time inside the Time Lock, during his travels around the dilapidated city infested with Daleks and screeching Time Lords, fighting for their lives. Of course, he was on neither the side of the Time Lords (especially after what he'd found out Rassilon had done to him) nor the side of the Daleks (for obvious reasons), thus he stole the lives of Time Lords, building up his own life, healing himself as he practically swam in the excess regenerations, extra power to supply to life energy he had to stream from his fingertips in order to kill the odd pesky Dalek whenever it dared to show its face...or plunger, for lack of a better word.

He didn't doubt for a second that, to anyone other than himself – and even then he had to admit that even for himself it was becoming apparent – that he maybe sounded a bit cynical in his own internal monologue – irrational and rational thoughts bouncing, jumping, crashing about in his mind. Another sigh left his lips before he ran his tongue over them, scattering the pieces from the bag out on the ground, pulling a makeshift laser screwdriver that he'd fashioned long ago from his pocket and set to work. He welded, soldered and hammered parts into place, taking care as he wired it, making sure every link was correct as he inserted the binary, the dimensional circuits, the fabric links – he made sure every part was in precisely the right place. It must have been hours since he'd started because once he'd finished the suns were way past setting, the cold, dark night air of Gallifrey making itself obvious to him only when he stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans as he surveyed his work, rather proud with the outcome that he'd achieved.

"A Quantum Rifle," he hummed, speaking to no one other than himself as he picked it up, the weight of the device fitting comfortably in his hands as he held it. As he held it, he also aimed it, taking a breath as his forefinger slid over the trigger of the gun, a grin that he hadn't felt cross his face spreading itself over his features as he pressured the trigger slightly, spreading his legs and distributing his own weight evenly between the two limbs. This device had enough power to either rip apart the Time Lock or destroy a small part of the Time Vortex.

Either way he refused to go out without a bang.

His finger pressed down on the trigger, a bolt of pure white shooting out and exploding in front of him, a torrent of air gushing over his body as a crack appeared in midair. The grin grew wider as he dropped the Quantum Rifle on the ground, taking a few steps backwards before he ran forwards, literally diving head first into the crack, preferring to take his chances rather than letting himself rot in a burnt and collapsing civilisation.