All the graves on planet earth are about to give birth.

The coordinates always turned in the back of his mind, waiting to be punched into the console to take him there. To see his friends one last time. He never wanted to go like this, never like this. But he ran without a second thought in his mind.

And now the dirt envelopes him.

The upturned soil coats his knees when he collapses to the ground, his left hand clenching the earth and the right hovering over the tombstone that stood haphazardly ahead of him. The Doctor presses his fingertips into the etching of each curve in the namesake written in stone. Their names in stone, where they didn't belong.

"Please." He says it to no one. Pleading to the empty grave and yet, ultimately, pleading to her.

Soon he feels her presence – she is the seizing in his chest that causes his breathing to strain. It was a familiar enough sensation but it never failed to arrest his being.

"Rage, rage against the dying of the light," she sings through her fanged smile as she surveys the graveyard. "Oh I quite like that one." She takes a step further, her umbrella digging into the soft ground.

"I wish gravestones were a tradition on Gallifrey. I wonder what you'd write on mine."

A metallic creaking echoes in her steps, remaining in tune with her stride until she seizes the Doctor's shoulders into her hands.

"Mind you, I quite liked the funeral pyre you did for me." She waves a manicured hand at the gravestone in disgust. "Much better than what you've left for your friends."

"Please," he repeats in an anguished growl, eyes closed and fists clenched. He focuses on steadying his trembling, catching his breath.

"I'd like you to meet some of my friends now, Doctor. They've been dying to see you."

Missy pulls the Doctor toward her grasp and he gives in. The hollowed eyes lower to meet his gaze. He doesn't know if he has the strength to stand.

Missy runs her fingers down the chest of the Cyberman to her right as she laughs quietly to herself in a fit of pride. "I think this was the feisty one," she emits joyfully. "Let's find out." She turns a heel toward the metal creature, pushing her face dangerously close to its jaw.

"State your pre-conversion designation," Missy barks dutifully before throwing the Doctor a grin. He digs his nails into his hands.

"Amelia Williams."

It's a cold and emotionless answer, but the timelord swears he can hear the humanity in its voice – in her voice - and it hurts that much more. The Master drinks in his reaction, tapping her fingers on her chin.

"Amelia. A name, just like a fairytale," Missy quips as she pushes the two Cybermen forward. "It was an easy fault to fix."

The vivid blues of current glow from the Cybermen as they proceed toward the Doctor. His friends turned into weapons yet again. It was always going to end like this, for him. He pushes himself up to face them on equal ground.

"Now, now Doctor," The Master states with false concern. "I won't waste much more of your time. It will all be over soon."

She presses a hand between his shoulder blades.

"Say something nice."