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Of course he was tempted, so he did what he always did, he ran. It was what he was. He chased the stars across the sky,
and raced photons. The fear never burned out. If he chose to he could grab the Master by the hand and ... And what?
He
couldn't stay in one place, not for long, he'd been stuck on Earth before, and it itched at his bones, he was driven by a
frenzy to keep moving, because if he kept moving, his past couldn't catch up with him, he couldn't catch up with himself and
all the things he'd done. He'd remain a whispered threat.
The Master couldn't cope with that. The Master had plans
for the universe, and a stolen TARDIS of his own, but all his plans featured a palace, a headquarters. You couldn't rule the
universe or any part of it if you didn't know when you'd be tomorrow.
They really were the immovable object and the
unstoppable force.
Except he was sure that the unstoppable force wasn't supposed to worry about how the immovable object
felt, trying to come up with a way of preventing his plans from coming to fruition without hurting him. Keeping the object
safe, even if that mostly meant safe from himself.
In those moments of indecision, there's hope. But it never lasts
because, and this is the terrible irony, it's the Master who starts to move, needing an answer now. So they miss each other,
no contact is made and the rules of physics stay unharmed. Things are as they are, as they were, as they have been for so
long. As Time Lords, and as children of Gallifrey, he would have thought they would understand better than most that you can't
go back, and trying to would only bring more pain for everyone.
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