The Master screamed. A raw, ugly, ungraceful thing that echoed in the far reaches of the universe. He clutched his head, shrieking as each mental presence severed itself from his brain, one by one. They didn't even have the time to scream. But oh, the Master could well enough do that for the lot of them.
His hands unfurled from his temples and he reached his TARDIS (the last of its kind, they're dead, he did it, did it, did it-), wincing at every step. He gripped the console like a lifeline. A simple flick of the lever, and he would be gone, whirling into the Vortex.
The Master didn't, couldn't, fool himself. He had a choice. He made a decision. The screaming silence torturing his brain was his own fault. He of all creatures should know how closely evil and good were intertwined, how useless it was to delude himself with empty promises of I had no choice.
Another wave of pain. He staggered, fingers flying back to his temples. He should leave. He should leave now, carry on, move forward, move on. He should push the screams away, block them out forever. He didn't care, it was just another damned burnt planet, only good for dust and ashes and memories. Underneath him.
But he waited. His mind was bracing for the strongest blow, the one he knew would break his barriers and scream, scream, scream in betrayal and suffering.
Theta had always been the only one to scream as loud as him.
He couldn't hear it. He couldn't. He scrambled up from the curled-up position he'd adopted, hands whizzing above the control in preparation for flight. He had to go, he had to stop, he couldn't hear the Doctor die.
The engines roared, and he wanted to drown himself in the noise. Anything to quell the inevitable –
There it was. There he was. The Doctor's unmistakeable, omnipresent psychic pattern flickering in and out, clinging to any mind in a frenzied attempt to save itself. The Master hated how his stomach clenched. How his heart sank when the light finally sputtered out with a sigh that sang of unfulfilled dreams and betrayed faith. A hope that the Master could never extinguish, no matter how hard he had tried.
At least until now.
His own mind was still groping at the void, trying to mend the severed connection like a lizard without a tail. A stupid, Doctor-like desire for a peer, a fellow survivor. Someone to share the blinding pain that pounded inside his brain. Faintly, he heard the guttural shrieks of the Daleks as Skaro disintegrated, their bodies turning to dust under the shuddering ripples of the Moment.
No good, no evil. There was just need, and balance. And himself, alone, towering above it all. As always. The Alpha and Omega.
Run away, like Theta did so well.
As the TARDIS dematerialised, the Master listened to his only friend's dying whispers, ragged breaths pacing the silence of Gallifrey's fall.
This story is a long boi, so buckle up! Hope you've enjoyed, and if you did, please don't hesitate to leave a comment! They really fill me with joy 3 Hope you'll like what's to come! Oh, and I promise future chapters will be longer than this x)