The Doctor was going to die, the Master could see that now. In saving him, the other Time Lord had sacrificed himself. The President's hand rose in slow motion and for a moment the drums rose in loud agreement. Thoughts whirled through his deranged mind as he quickly stood, sliding unnoticeable on the shrapnel of the machine that moments ago housed the white point star. This was the Doctor and no one was allowed to kill this man; that right was given to him and him alone, so many years past on a planet that no longer existed.
The Master could feel his life force crackle under his skin as he stood, humming in a gentle way, much akin to a high voltage fence. He could use that, couldn't he? The Doctor was worth it, completely and wholly. The man who could have fixed him, but was never given the chance, who could have killed him so many times, but never went through, a lion who sheathed his teeth and barely used his claws; and the Master despised him for having that kind of restraint, of having the sanity to appreciate merely watching without having.
The clawed gauntlet is raised and starting to turn blue; this is the Master's chance. His energy is humming and there is so much anger waiting to be directed, just at the tip of his mind. He has his target now, the one who truely destroyed him, took away his life and then had the audacity to attempt to erase him after his pay was due. The Master can see now why the Doctor killed thier people, destroyed Gallifery and thier past; he wasn't too positive if he agreed with that at this point, but that man wasn't going to get a chance to kill his enemy, his doctor, his once friend, his love.
There was no regret, he had no chance to even form that emotion, but his resolve was formed and nothing was going to stop him, not this time. He would break this prophacy, send that manipulative bastard back to his self-made hell, and then the drums would stop. He gathered his energy and ordered the Doctor to move; the man did so with more seed then the Doctor had used earlier. He screamed at the President, shouting his hate, and reveling in the other man's pain at the leader of a people fell to his knees before him.
He couldn't see the doctor anymore, having more in front of the Time Lord. The more energy he shot out, however, the louder the drums became. As the light exploded around him, the screams of Gallifrey falling for the last time, the last of his energy spent, the drums stopped. They were silent, a glorious echoing slience that filled his head. In that moment, he wished that the Doctor could have known he was finally healed. Then, the Master knew no more.
Gosh, I hope y'all like that. I wrote it in like, half an hour waiting to be picked up from college; car pooling, always gotta wait on some one. Well, please review, or, you flame. Flames are good, they keep me warm this winter. 'Cause, global warming just ain't doing the trick, what with it being even colder then the last few years. Morons. :)