best_enemies | Short fic and beta request

I have a fic and a beta request.

The beta request: I've got a growing pile of half-assembled Who-fic sitting in my Google Docs (pretty much either introspective Doctor stuff or Doctor/Master), but I need a hand polishing my writing. I'm a good writer technically (perhaps a little overfond of commas), but I'm out of practice with fiction, so so if anybody is inclined to volunteer for some beta-reading/sounding-board-ism, hit me (not literally, please, I bruise easily). I'm not good at writing in a vacuum.

Likewise, on this story in particular, which is less a proper story and more a scene that popped into my head, if anyone has comments or advice on how to make this snap (or on expanding it; I'm not averse to the idea), I'd love to hear the feedback. I am never the least bit afraid of honestly-offered criticism, no matter how brutal-sounding. In fact, I rather enjoy it when people tell me I'm wrong or point out my mistakes, because a lively debate is one of my favorite things. So is improving.

I believe this fic can find a proper home here, though I'm not absolutely sure. If it doesn't fit the spirit of the comm, let me know.

(edited to take x_los's suggestions into account)
Weapon of Last Resort

"Don't bother playing coy. I know him, better than you. I know where he is." The Master pivoted his chair to face the enormous window taking up all of one wall. "He's out there," he muttered into his steepled fingers, looking out into the star-dusted blackness. "Fighting. Staining his hands with blood. He's out there, killing for Gallifrey because it's the right thing to do, even though he hates this place as much as I do."

He spun to face the room's other occupants, the Supreme Council arrayed against him as though he were on trial rather than one of their generals. "You're afraid of what I'll do to him. Trying to 'protect' him from me... He never needed protection from me; you're the ones killing him by inches! Every life he takes might as well be his own. You could say something, take the burden from his shoulders, remind him who sent him to start all this in the first place, but you won't. You're destroying him deliberately because he's your fallback plan, and you need him ready to do what must be done. It all rests on him, really, doesn't it? Doesn't it always? The Time Lords can't do anything for themselves! You're all just as useless as the day you drove us both out, and now here we are fighting your damned war for you, saving the universe from your mistakes because you're too worthless to manage it yourselves."

The woman in the centre blanched as though his words had been aimed at her. The Master lunged to his feet, leaning forward against the combined pressure of the High Council's stares. "You want victory? Give me the Doctor! Together we can win this. Together we can do anything! Set us loose, unleash us, throw open the gates of your power to us, and we can do more than win this war for you. It need never even begin. Every loss, every destruction, the Daleks' creation, we can undo them all! You know that with he and I working together, there is nothing that could stand in our way!"

"Yes," agreed the Lady President. "It's the one thing that frightens me more than the Daleks."

Oh, one more request: how should I tag this, do you think?