This is just my reaction to how I imagine she would be feeling- I'm not editing it.

The Doctor gasps, horror filling her throat and panic tearing at her.

She was dead.

The Doctor had seen her body, nestled in the dirt, limp, lifeless.

She had cried so many tears over her, so, so many.

She had found, in her pocket, a note, an apology- a promise she hadn't been able to fulfil.

The Mistress was dead and burned. The Doctor had seen to it- she had carried out the rights as she had deserved in the end- a farewell for her best friend.

That's what she always has been really- the person that she loves.

The person she loved.

Her hands grip at her own face as she tried to comprehend how this could be her. This can't be her. This isn't her.

The Master laughs and crows and preens and the Doctor just hurts, hurts, hurts.

Her hearts tear themselves apart again as she sees him, sees him and wants her who is gone and dead.

Gone.

She had come so far and worked so hard and tried to change and now this. Now this!

The Doctor looks up again and the plane's going down and her friends are there and they're scared and hurting and in danger but all she can think- all she can think.

Is of the woman she held in her arms.

Is of the dead woman she buried.

Is of the woman who died for her. To be better.

The Doctor looks at him, really looks.

There are things that they shared in the Vault (and oh how she regrets everything she did so much- everything she did to Missy, her oldest friend, in the name of what is good and right- a farce as much as anything).

And as she looks at him she knows that he hasn't shared them yet.

He's too young.

She sees the dead woman he will be- the dead woman he makes a mockery of.

She burns.

I'm. Angry and they better not have erased Missy's character arc, aborted as it was, for this.