Goodbye

by

Belle A Lestrange

It shouldn't have been this way.

Of all the times, of all the people in all the universes why did it have to be him? Why did it have to be today?

Why was dying the lesser of two evils compared to me?

No one knows the insufferable pain that I carry inside my two hearts. I shoulder that burden wherever I go, like Atlas holding the sky up over the Earth. It is heavy and cold like the weight of a million chains, each link a poor, lonely life I was unable to save. They strangled me during the night, weighed down on my chest and choked me whenever I stopped to think. They needed to remind me of how pathetic and lowly I really was.

I was a coward.

No one else knew that about me. Perhaps my mother had some idea, locked away in Gallifrey that she is, but that's all she has. A vague idea. He was the only one who knew everything and more about me. He knew the pain I'd suffered, he could smell the fear running through my blood and he could hear the screams of the dying ringing in my ears, just like the drums had pounded inside his own. He had understood me. We had been so alike towards the end. Two sides of the same coin.

I hadn't wanted him to die. To stop his madness, yes, but I hadn't wanted him to die for the greater good. Both Martha and Jack are far too black-and-white on the matter; they believe that if you're as bad as he was, then you deserve what's coming to you. Killing him wouldn't bring back all the 'dead' from that year. Martha can't seem to wrap her head around the fact that those people are still alive. That year never existed therefore the dead had never died. Jack understands a little more but not by much; he reckons that if the Master was that bad once then -by some sheer chance that he would ever come back -he could easily be that bad again. Or worse.

As soon as the world had reset itself I'd stayed crouched on the floor, the Master's cold lifeless body cradled in my arms. My cheeks were red and raw from all the crying I'd done. As selfish as I was, I wanted him back. I'd give up one of my own regeneration's just to have him move in my arms and make a sarcastic quip about how melodramatic I always was. But he didn't move and by the time the thought was in my head, his skin was as cold as stone. It made me ache unpleasantly to grasp that cold, limp hand but I couldn't stop torturing myself. I needed to convince myself that he was dead.

There had been a blur of movement; my arms were suddenly weightless and my body was pulled upright. The Master's body was gone. I'd been frantic I remembered that much. Rushing back and forth I'd demanded to know where he'd been taken. Jack had managed to calm me down and explain that his body had been taken back down to the TARDIS. My body felt cold as I strode alongside him, my feet feeling heavy, and Martha trailing along on my other side, casting me sideways glances to see how I was coping.

I didn't look at her. I couldn't look at her.

My body went on auto-pilot as soon as I stepped through her blue painted doors. She whirred softly, almost mournfully, at me as I started flicking switches and twisting dials to and us back on Earth. Martha and Jack had hovered near the door eyeing me warily to see what I would do next. I must have disappointed them because all I did was land us in a remote street in the suburbs of London. As if I would start another adventure when the current one hadn't even ended.

Martha pushed open the doors and rejoiced at how everything was perfect and normal and brilliant again. Jack had laughed and grinned a he stepped out into the late afternoon sunlight. I hung back, clinging to the doors and the final thing I needed to do. Martha turned and saw me. Her smile dropped into a frown, "Doctor?" she asked, "What's wrong? Aren't you coming out with us?"

I'd shaken my head, chipping fragment of peeling blue paint off with my fingernails. Martha took another step closer as Jack turned to frown at me, "No, you two go ahead. There's just something I need to do."

"What's that, Doctor?" Jack asked a little too loudly.

Wincing at his tone, I half-turned in the doorway and in a low voice I replied, "I need to say 'goodbye'."

"Does he really deserve it? After all he's done!" Martha snapped disbelievingly. I sighed. She would never understand and I wasn't about to force it all on her. Not now.

I simply nodded my head and fixed her with a firm look, "Everybody deserves a proper goodbye, Martha. Friends, loved ones and enemies." Glancing over her shoulder, I saw Jack's face draw taut but he nodded all the same. I gave him the twitch of a smile before disappearing behind the blue doors once again. Releasing a great whoosh of breath, I stepped back over to the console and punched in some coordinates. The TARDIS gave another mournful groan -she wasn't daft after-all -and transported me to where I needed to go.

~0~

Being suspended in space had always had a calming effect on me, especially during my younger years. I wished I knew if it would have calmed him. It had taken me two weeks to finally force myself to go down into the sick-bay where his body was resting on a metal table covered only by a thin white sheet. I'd sat and stared at it for hours on end, deluding myself into believing that he was breathing again, before I finally plucked up the courage and ripped it away from him. The hollowness that had emptied my chest seemed to grow and pulse steadily where my hearts should have been as I gazed down at his pale skin, glowing eerily in the bright lights, those down-turned dark lashes and that little quirk at the corner of his mouth.

He'd died having the last laugh over me.

A part of me loathed him for it as it reminded me of hi stubbornness, his unwillingness to change. However, there was another part of me that loved it too, because it meant he was still himself, even in death.

My fingers had quaked when I lifted them to gingerly stroke through his hair. He had always preferred the darker hair. It suited him quite well, in all his incarnations. He'd once told me as children how he'd always wanted to try being 'blonde'. I'd had the same aspirations with being 'ginger', but apparently those dreams were too wild for us Time Lords.

I spent hours embalming his body.

That's what no one seems to understand when I tell them I cannot possibly convey my grief. Did they think someone else had wrapped his body up? If they did then they were beyond stupid. As if I would let anyone else do a horrendous job in wrapping him. No, I needed to be the one to do it. And I did.

Embalming his body was a lengthy process in itself. There's a special blend that the Old Ones used on Gallifrey. It make his body glow gold for an hour after I'd applied the smooth gel over his body. He was so cold and limp, almost like putty in my hands and it made my stomach flip in a sick manner. I'd dimmed the lights of the sick-bay and watched as the golden glow hummed around him softly. If I squinted behind my glasses, I was almost able to delude myself into believing he was simply regenerating.

Only this time he didn't wake up.

Then there came the wrapping.

Back when we were children at the academy, the Master had always complained about the standard bed-sheets we had to sleep on. He'd had to get his ones from home brought back. They had been soft and almost like satin, only much finer. His skin had stopped itching after that. I'd take a set of those sheets for myself, not to sleep in, but merely to stash away. They'd smell of him, even now his old scent still lingered a little. I'd cut each of those sheets into long, wide strips and slowly -feet first -started to wrap his body up almost like a mummy.

As I wrapped his body up, I engraved every inch of his body into my mind; every dark hair on his leg, the narrow ankles, the once-firm shins. Bony knees that led up to strong, lithe thighs and sharp hipbones. The dark trail of hair that wove from his stomach down to his navel. The innie belly-button that had been an outie during his childhood. I bound each of his arm separately, pressing kisses to his knuckles before doing so, my lips lingering on the cool skin.

I left his ring on. He would have wanted to keep it with him.

I didn't want to wrap his head. For as long as I stood there, the rest of his body bound, I couldn't bring myself to wrap his head. My hands trembled against my stomach and the strips had fallen to the edge of the table. Tears cascaded silently down my cheeks. How could I let him go? Everything inside me ached with a burning intensity. I would never get him back. He was gone. It was over.

Of all the billions of people in all the billions of solar systems why did it have to be him? If I were a vengeful man I would track down Lucy Saxon and hold her by her neck over the void. I'd squeeze the life out of her. It wouldn't bring him back but I could avenge him. I could if I wanted to, it was after all within my power. However, deep down I knew that I wouldn't. I didn't want that. He was the one I wanted.

As soon as I had wrapped him completely, I went back to the doors of the TARDIS, threw them open and stared out through the galaxy we were orbiting. There was nothing comforting in the vastness. Knowing that he had been alive, out there somewhere, it had comforted me to know that there had been someone who knew me as well as I knew myself. He had been out there and he had been mine. Like a distant beacon calling out to me. Two ships passing in the night.

Now I was alone and there was no going back for either of us.

The TARDIS whirred softly, coaxing me back inside. Inhaling deeply, I closed the door to the twinkling stars and nodded silently. "I know ... It's time to go."

Building a pyre was something I never hoped to do again. I tried to imagine it being anyone else's body on top of all that wood. I'd cut the logs myself, using an old axe I'd found under my console. Jack would later argue and tell me I could have shortened the work load and just used a saw or something. He wouldn't understand my need for absolution. It wouldn't make up for his depth my far, but it made a few tendrils of guilt trickle away. The physical strain and agony that ripped through my muscles was almost a blessing because at least I was feeling something other than the hollowness. His death could not be done poorly. He needed to be buried properly and only seen by me. He never let anyone but me see his vulnerabilities and just because he was dead didn't mean that I wasn't going to honour his wishes.

I needed to do it all myself. I HAD to do it, because if I didn't ... It just didn't bear thinking about. On that pyre was a man who I loved and loathed in equal measure. No one could understand and in a way, they wouldn't want to; not Jack, not Martha and definitely no one else. I loved that man so fiercely that my own blood would spark that fire up. I loved him in a way that only I could understand. No one else could. No one else would.

The fire crackled warmly through the cold dark evening, but I barely felt the heat as I moved slowly over the loose gravel towards the pyre. My bottom lip trembled between my teeth as I steeled myself. Raising the torch aloft, I slowly let the dry grass around the base catch alight. The smoke filled my lungs and burned my nostrils. Slowly each one of the logs started to blacken and crack. The flames licked through the cracks and leaped up to claw at the loose strand of the satin sheets that was drifting in a lazy breeze.

It caught light and shot up towards his body.

A part of me wanted to jump over and shove his body off of the pile, to keep his body from burning to ash but my feet were rooted to the ground. I was powerless. All I could do in that moment was stand and watch. Soon the flames were upon him, the smoke billowing up into the air.

I don't know how long I stood there exactly. All I know is that I didn't turn to leave until the entire pile of wood and his body had vanished, leaving a low fire and white ash in its wake. Finally I could do it. I was finally able to turn my back to him. Regardless, I couldn't watch anymore as there was nothing else to watch.

It was done. It was over.

I'd made my goodbye to the last person in all the cosmos who would ever know the real me, who would ever love the real me. My fingernails dug into my palms as I clenched them into fists as I drifted through the dried grass towards my TARDIS. She whirred gently as I stepped inside her doors and leaned back against them, locking the outside world.

I needed to be getting back to Martha and Jack but I felt stuck, as though I wanted to be stuck in that moment forever, clinging to the last fiber of him. The TARDIS jittered again and I read her message loud and clear, 'It's time to go, Doctor!' She was right of course. There would be time to mourn later on. For now I simply needed to let go and accept that my goodbye to the Master had been said and done.

Altering the details into the console I pulled some levers and started the engine. Bowing my head to my chest I couldn't deny the darkness flooding my heart. I'd just said goodbye to the one man who I'd literally move planets and suns for. The one man who I'd held hands with during the night because we were both simultaneously scared of the monsters; the ones under the bed for me and the ones in the cupboards for him. We'd tormented one another and riled one another up -but I know that deep down neither one of us had wanted the other to die.

Not really.

I was leaving behind the one man I loved more than my lives. I finally had to say goodbye to him.

Goodbye to the boy who hid under the blankets with me.

Goodbye to my first schoolboy crush and kiss.

Goodbye to my first love.

Goodbye to a life-long friend.

Goodbye to the best enemy in all the universe and beyond.

Goodbye to my Master ...

"Goodbye ... Koschei."

THE END.

A/N: I was feeling quite dark today and then I thought about the suffering the Doctor goes through after the Master died. No one really seemed to realise that the Doctor took it upon himself to embalm his body and wrap him up as well as set the pyre to burn him on. The Doctor did it all himself because that's how much he loved the Master. He loved him in a way no one else could understand.