He doesn't feel her until he trips over her lifeless body.
For a moment he pauses and drops to her side.
"Mistress." He whispers, grief loading the word.
The Doctor takes her hand in his, feels the blood on her fingers. It's his. Not hers.
The Cybermen are coming.
He presses his lips to her fingers, colder than they have any right to be.
"Mistress."
He cries, forehead bowed to her hand.
"Please."
She lies still.
"Please." He whispers, both hands tight around hers.
"Please!" The Doctor screams.
His back is on fire and the pain does not overcome his grief. The Doctor remains bent over the body. Bent over her.
They stop firing momentarily.
The Doctor places her hand down on the floor gently.
He stands and turns.
"I will protect her body." He states.
The Doctor fires again and again. Cybermen fall around him.
He can't hear them fall.
There are too many so he runs, still firing, still fighting.
He draws them away from her body- far from her.
He runs as he always has- for her.
The Doctor doesn't feel the impact of their weapons until it's too late.
The Doctor falls.
Then.
He awakens.
He gasps in a breath of air, thoughts frantic.
Regeneration! Screams his mind, the imminent pain flaring through all his thoughts.
The Tardis is there, solid around him.
Where's Nardole? Saving humans.
Where's Bill? Gone.
The word rings heavy in the air as he remembers more and more.
"Mistress!" He shouts again, "Please!" He begs the Tardis this time, falling to his knees and shaking off his impending regeneration with the action.
The Tardis complies.
He is out of the doors as soon as she lands, kicking aside clumps of metal which would clatter against each other if he could hear it over the beating of his hearts.
He lets out a sob at the sight of her body. Her.
"Mistress." He whispers again, closing his eyes and kneeling beside her.
"Please... Regenerate." The Doctor asks quietly. He feels the ache in his limbs again and bites his lip.
He presses his fingers to her neck, already knowing from the lack of psychic projection she has passed.
The Doctor cries, letting his hand slide to cup her cheek.
Gently he lifts her head and presses a kiss to her lips.
"Please Mistress. I need my friend back." He says, smiling despite his grief.
"Please." He utters softly, bowing his head down to hers.
She does not respond and he swallows, slipping his hands beneath her and lifting her into his arms. Her head lolls against his chest.
Slowly he carries her into the Tardis.
The lights dim and the Tardis closes her doors softly, dematerialising from the ship.
The Doctor places his oldest friend back down on the grating, not moving from her side.
"I thought..." He whispers, eyes closed and hands lingering against her shoulder and her hip, "I thought you could never be good." He laughs bitterly, sniffing.
"I guess I was right." He says.
The Doctor's eyes roam over her face and he bends down again to softly kiss her lips.
He stands again, facing from her, hand over his face.
