My eyes dart across the Tardis console screen. Chewing nervously on my bottom lip, I read through it again and again. Between every trip, I have searched tirelessly for anything that may save the Doctor. I wait for him to be in bed or in his tinker cupboard so I can sneak back and look again. Every waking thought is consumed by worry.

Each search for information has given me nothing. Huffing, I exit the document, giving the screen a sharp push. It swings around the console, out of sight. My hands brace against the edge, my gaze drifting over to the Coin. It still sits in its little glass box by the pistons. The twin faces seem to stare at me. It's like they know something. I wish they'd give me a sign, tell me what to try next.

A pair of arms wrap around my waist from behind. I tense at first, then allow myself to smile as the Doctor hugs me and leans in to kiss my cheek. "Morning, gorgeous."

"Morning, handsome," I tease back.

His chin rests on my shoulder. When my hands rest over his, he gives me a squeeze. "Woke up and you weren't there. Is everything okay?"

I don't need to see him to know his suspicions, sensing the glare he directs towards the glass box. "Sorry."

He sways a little and I move with him, taking in the moment of blissful peace. "No need to apologise." Starting to trail kisses along my neck, he speaks again, his voice light with hope, "But... would you possibly want to, I don't know... go back to bed? I have an urge to cook you breakfast."

"You know, you don't need to keep doing that. I may not be a world-class chef, but I can operate a toaster just fine."

"Oh, I know. But I like spoiling my wife."

He makes such a simple sentence sound so perfect. Humming, I let my head fall back. "Say that again."

His lips brush against the shell of my ear and he murmurs, "Say what again? That I like spoiling my wife? Because I do. I do like spoiling my wife. Very much."

I let my eyes close. My mind drifts back to the inevitable, to thoughts of what may come next. My smile fades a little. Giving his hands a pat, I dislodge them from my waist and make my way around to the other side of the console. "I've been thinking about our next destination. And I think I know where we need to go."

"Oh?" He watches me curiously, one eyebrow arched. "And where's that?"

Already starting on the navigation, I pull the throttle.

The Tardis stops and he bounds over to the doors. When they open, his childlike excitement vanishes. Outside, everything is white. Snowy peaks rise in the distance. "Why?"

I take a deep breath. "You said Ood Sigma appeared to you. I've been wracking my brain for solutions, trying to figure out how I save you. But I think I need some help, and I think the Ood may know something." Passing him by and taking a coat from the hanger by the door, I step out onto the ice planet. My lips pull into a sympathetic smile as I glance back at him. "You can stay here if you want, but I'm getting answers."

He says nothing, simply turning and heading back into the warmth of the ship. Up ahead, Ood Sigma awaits us. He wears a black suit, just as he had the last time we met. His head bows politely as I reach him. "Greetings, Inara."

"Greetings. I believe you may know something. I'm hoping you can help me save my husband."

On cue, the Doctor sticks his head out of the Tardis, now adorned with a straw cowboy hat, sunglasses, and a garland of pink, synthetic flowers. "Ah! Now, sorry, there you are."

I roll my eyes and curse under my breath, "Oh, Minerva's sake."

"So, where were we? I was summoned, wasn't I? An Ood in the snow, calling me," he remarks, ambling towards us with his hands deep in his pockets, casual as ever. "Well, I didn't exactly come straight here. Had a bit of fun, y'know? Travelled about. Did this and that. Got into trouble, you know me. It was brilliant, wasn't it, darling?"

I clench my jaw, in no mood to entertain his deflective comedy.

"We saw the Phosphorous Carousel of the Great Magellan Gestadt, saved a planet from the Red Carnivorous Maw, named a galaxy Alison. Had a lovely spa week, too — the usual honeymoon stuff. You've met my wife," he adds, throwing an arm around my shoulders and giving me an exaggerated squeeze. His rambling comes to a stop when I send him a cold glare, shrugging him off. He clears his throat. "So, what d'you want?"

The Ood's gaze is piercing. He raises his translator ball again. "You should not have delayed."

I hum in agreement. "Tried to persuade him but, well, you know how stubborn he can be. Trust me, he did not come here willingly."

"The last time I was here, you said my song would be ending soon, and I'm in no hurry for that."

At his words, my frustration fades a little. In my determination to fix this mess, I have had a tendency to forget that this is his life coming to an end, and the thought of that terrifies him.

"You will come with me."

He grunts, reaching into his pocket. "Hold on, better lock the Tardis." With a single point of his key in the direction of the Tardis, it beeps and the handles click. "See? Like a car." His glance back at the Ood doesn't earn him a response, causing a hesitation in his confidence. "I l-locked it, like a car. Like— It's funny. No? Little bit? Blimey, try to make an Ood laugh."

Huffing, I snatch the hat off his head and stuff it into one of his pockets. I pull his arm around my shoulders again. As we follow after Sigma, I lean up to kiss his cheek and whisper, "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. This is hardly fair."

"Oh, don't start."

"Okay," he sighs, his voice raising an octave. "Let's just both agree to not apologise. How about that?"

I only offer a slight nod in response. My hand comes up to tug lightly on the garland still hanging around his neck. "Any reason in particular for this?"

He shrugs. "Got them from that Hawaii trip, remember? Was just browsing through the wardrobe before I changed my mind." Taking my hand in his, he pokes out a finger to trace the ruffle of flowers. "Made me think of the wedding. Wish we could've kept ours."

"We can always make a replica."

White cliffs rise above us as we continue in awkward silence. The Doctor squints at our surroundings, twitching his nose in boredom. "So how old are you now, Ood Sigma?" Before we hear an answer, our attention is caught by the city that grows ahead of us. Spires of ice and rock pierce the clouds, connected by arched bridges. "Magnificent!"

Still, he gets no answer.

He nudges the Ood. "Oh, come on. That is splendid! You've achieved all this in how long?"

"One hundred years."

His smile fades. "Then we've got a problem... 'cause all of this is way too fast. Not just the city, I mean your ability to call me. Reaching all the way back to the twenty-first century. Something's accelerating your species way beyond normal."

Rather than taking offence, he continues, "And the Mind of the Ood is troubled."

"'Troubled'?" I worriedly echo.

"Why, what's happened?"

"Every night, Doctor. Every night, we have bad dreams."

—

Whispers guide us into a cave at the heart of the city, to a group sitting around a fire. They cup their tiny brains in their hands, as unviolated Ood naturally do. In their circle is a much older-looking Ood dressed in white robes. His forehead isn't smooth like the others, but isntead much bigger, marked with patterns like the surface of a brain. He wafts the incense towards himself and agitatedly mutters, "Returning. Returning. Returning. It is slowly returning. Through the dark and the fire and the blood, always returning. Returning to this world. It is returning, and he is returning, and they are returning, but too late, too late, far too late. He is come."

Ood Sigma indicates towards him. "Sit with the Elder of the Ood and share the dreaming."

We cautiously sit in the circle, cross-legged on the cold ground. The Doctor's confidence falters under the intense watchfulness of those around us, grimacing awkwardly. "So... right. Hello."

"You will join. You will join. You will join," they begin to chant. One by one, their hands join. I take the Doctor's and we share a tight squeeze. I offer my other hand to the Ood beside me.

The second the circle is connected, an image flashes into my mind. The image of a face in the darkness. His laughter fills my head, this time far more real than ever before.

Gasping, I recoil. My hands clap over my ears, desperate to block out that sound. Terror overwhelms me, pounding in my head, making my heart beat faster and faster until my chest feels like it might cave in any second.

The Doctor brings me towards himself, wrapping me up in his protective embrace. He is at a loss for words, simply staring at the Elder in horror.

"He comes to us. Every night," the Elder solemnly explains. "I think all the peoples of the universe dream of him now."

"That man is dead."

"There is yet more. Join us." Seeing them link hands again, I force myself to follow. I must understand. "Events are taking shape. So many years ago, and yet changing the now. There is a man... so scared."

The laughter chases me again. But it isn't the Master's face I see again, rather one with far more kindness and warmth towards me. Even in my state, I can hear the Doctor's urgent voice, "Wilfred. Is he all right? What about Donna, is she safe?"

"You should not have delayed, for the lines of convergence are being drawn across the Earth, even now. The king is in his counting house."

Next, we see flashes of new faces. Unfamiliar. A man and girl, both dressed expensively in an elegant room.

This time when the vision shatters, he does not let go of my hand. "I don't know who they are," he says, staring ahead as if still seeing them.

"And there is another. The most lonely of all, lost and forgotten."

The shadowed bars of a prison greet us in another burst of light. A woman sits inside, sobbing quietly to herself. The rich clothes she used to wear have been replaced by grey casuals, her blonde hair pulled back in an unkempt ponytail.

He frowns. "The Master's wife."

"Lucy," I whisper under my breath. "Her name is Lucy."

From right behind us, Sigma speaks up. "We see so much. But understand so little. The woman in the cage, who is she?"

I think this is the first time he truly sees her, that his view of that awful year isn't focused solely on his oldest rival and friend. I can still picture every new bruise that marked her skin each time I was brought out of my torture chamber. I can remember how the life faded gradually from her eyes. She was a prisoner just as much as I was, abused for his pleasure every single day for a year. If given the chance, I would have killed him, too. I might still, I can't be sure.

"She was— It w-wasn't her fault, she was..." he stammers. "The Master, he's a Time Lord, like me." Realising that it means nothing to them, he tries another way. "I can show you."

A vision comes to me. I can see him dancing around, laughing, spinning Lucy around. She is limp, allowing him to push her around like she is nothing more than a puppet. I recognise the red silk dress she wears, and her black eye. This is the last day. The day he died. More images pop up, storming in my head — images of Toclafane swarms and terrible massacres.

"The Master took the name of Saxon. He married a human, a woman called Lucy. And he corrupted her. She stood at his side while he conquered the Earth. I reversed everything he'd done so it never even happened. But Lucy Saxon remembered."

The gunshot echoes in my memories. At the sight of his body and the flames consuming him, my lips curl into a faint smile. Until I see the figure that lights the pyre. The Doctor. A pang of dislike hits me at the thought of my husband ever considering such a monster his friend.

"I held him in my arms. I burnt his body. The Master is dead!"

The Elder's gaze bores into him, unrelenting. "And yet, you did not see."

A new vision. A ring falls into the ashes, simple silver and a green stone etched with Gallifreyan text. It is picked up, taken between red-varnished fingers.

"Part of him survived," he realises. "I have to go!" His attempt to leave is stopped, as the hands still connected with ours pull us back down.

"But something more is happening, Doctor. The Master is part of a greater design. Because a shadow is falling over creation. Something vast is stirring in the dark." The Elder looks up from the flames with bright red eyes. "The Ood have gained this power to see through time because time is bleeding. Shapes of things once lost are moving through the veil, and these events from years ago threaten to destroy this future and the present and the past."

He struggles again but there is no use. The grip on my hand is crushing. "What do you mean?"

"This is what we have seen, Doctor. The darkness heralds only one thing."

Their voices join in one chilling hiss, "The end of time itself."

They let go. Pulling me up, the Doctor races out of the cave, all the way through the icy city, through the snow banks, into the safety of the Tardis. I collapse against the doors, clutching at my head.

The ship spins around us, wilder and wilder, the Vortex dragging us down. Then it stops. He runs outside. I force myself to follow, staggering out into the ruins of a large building. A charred sign at the Doctor's feet identifies it — Broadfell Prison. It's just ash now. Ash and debris. I approach, step by shaky step. Over the piles of rubble. My hand rests against the crumbled walls and I know in an instant that he's back, he's free.

Rage shocks through me like electricity. A guttural scream rings in my ears. I don't even recognise it as mine at first. It's inhuman, the cry of a wounded animal, pure agony. My fists beat against the walls and I kick at the debris, grabbing the fallen sign and hurling it through the remains of a shattered window just to hear something break.

My rampage is only stopped by a weight around me, as the Doctor envelops me, pulling me into him. Still unable to curb the anger inside me, I pummel weakly at his chest until my body grows tired and I fall into him. He rocks me gently and rubs circles against my back. "Shh, shh. I'm here. It's all— I'm here."

"You p-promised me. You said he was dead. You promised."

"I didn't know. I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Sniffling, I withdraw from him. My gaze darkens, my jaw clenching painfully. I glare at the ruined prison. "If it's true, if he's really back, if I see him again," I seethe, "I'll make sure he stays dead this time. I'll destroy him. No remains, nothing left. Not even ash."

His gaze snaps up to meet mine. It's like he sees someone else for a moment, a stranger. Like it's something he never expected to hear coming out of my mouth. Perhaps he doesn't know me as well as he thought. Though I'm quite surprised myself at the realisation that I might just do it. "Don't say that," he pleads. "Please, just... don't say that. You don't mean it."

"Oh, I think I do."

Before I can head back towards the ruins, he takes me by the shoulders. "Inara, listen to me. What he did to you was... evil, but you can't fix it by killing him. Revenge is never the answer."

That pang of dislike hits me again. I shrug him off. "You don't understand."

He tries to soften my anger, trying to reach for me again. His hand falters before him as he sees me take another step back. Hurt flashes across his eyes. "Don't I?" he tries, hoping I may recognise some sympathy in his answer.

I scoff bitterly, "How could you? Everything he does is to get your attention, to make you notice him. But it's never been you. He'll make you watch while he mutilates and murders the rest of us."

A part of me knows that I should stop before I go too far but the words keep flowing out of my control. In truth, I realise, I don't want to control myself. Not now. Not after everything. Because after the hell I went through with the Master, it is my body and my mind to lose control of.

Starting to pace, I agitatedly run a hand through my hair and stop again, turning on him. "Lucy was only complicit until the first attack, then she realised. Realised that she was nothing. Just a plaything. We're all toys to him. But not you. You're like him, you're bigger than us. That's why you can play devil's advocate, sympathise with him, decide to be the better person and forgive him."

He doesn't know what to say. He just stares. I continue, my temper well over the precipice. I dig a finger into my chest for emphasis as I shout, tears burning down my face. "Well, I can't. I don't have the luxury to sympathise with the man who stripped me of my dignity, of my self. Do you even know what he did when he first opened that prison?"

Still stunned into silence, he waits for my response, not with anticipation but with dread. He knows the possibilities, he has guided me through countless attacks of my memories on me.

At this reminder, the breath catches in my throat, my voice cracking. I can feel it as I describe, even now. "He held me," I choke. "I cried and he held me. And that was it. He broke me. He made me cry in front of him and then he offered me kindnesses. And for a moment, I was grateful that he freed me from the torment that he inflicted upon me. When I remember, when the memories come for me, I become him. I hear those drums, over and over. Those never-ending drums. Like he's in my brain."

My voice breaks again. I have to stop to catch my breath, a fist pressed against my lips to stop my sobs. "That's why I can't forgive him. Because I'm below him, because I'm not one of the Time Lord giants that get to walk over every ugly truth. You can't understand Lucy and you can't understand me. So don't lecture me about forgiveness, Doctor. Don't act like you have a clue what it's like. I will kill him if I can, because nobody deserves what I went through. It ends with me."

My tirade comes to an end. Breathless and wrecked, I wait for his reply. His nose twitches as he holds back his own emotions. With a slight nod, confirming what I'm not so sure, he digs his hands into his pockets and walks off into the destruction. I have no energy to question him and simply follow.

Just beyond the site of the prison is a landfill. We reach the summit of a hill made up of abandoned dirt and sand, overlooking the fields of piled up rubbish. Seagulls cry overhead and machinery whirrs from a nearby plant.

A dull noise rings out, a hollow clanging of metal on metal. It sounds again and again, faster and faster. It's as if I have developed a sixth sense. I can feel him in the wind, sense the rushing of his blood and the beating of his hearts. The Doctor knows, too. We set off towards the sound. Suddenly, it becomes a race. Him and me, two different intentions.

Skidding down the slopes, we come to the docks, where corroded planks litter our path. He is running up ahead, still out of sight. I urge myself on, faster.

And he's there. We've circled back around and he stands on the same hill where we had been just moments ago, overlooking the prison. He's just a silhouette, a black shape framed by grey skies. Arms open wide, he lets out a roaring scream. The sound of it chills me. His body rises into the air with an impossibly high jump and he vanishes behind the hill.

I race up after him. He circles back, taking the exact same path as last time. This is a game to him. He's toying