AN: This chapter gets to one of the meatier concepts I want to cover in this story. Once an echo completes the task she was sent to accomplish, what happens to her? All the ones we know of died – what if that isn't a coincidence?
The Maker turns away from the empty space where a TARDIS once sat, smiling fit to crack her face open. She did it. She fulfilled her purpose, lived up to her name. She saved the Doctor, as she was always meant to.
It is more than a relief. All of the tension she felt since this morning floods away, and she sighs. Closing her eyes, she just stands, letting her emotions drift down slowly, draining away through her pores. She can practically feel herself unravelling as the stress leaves every muscle in her body.
She's done it.
She isn't needed anymore.
What? Eyes flutter open. Where had that thought come from? Somehow she has ended up on the floor on her knees, but she can't feel the pressure of the ground against her skin. Has she gone numb? She tries to glance around quickly, but her muscles respond slowly, reluctantly, as if there is some loose connection between her body and her mind.
The Maker starts to panic, feeling the fear rush into her mind, but not her body. Instead of increasing, her heartbeats actually begin to slow, and she feels unmistakably drowsy. Is this what dying feels like? She's never regenerated before, so she really doesn't know. If she is dying, shouldn't she start regenerating soon?
Her fingers and toes begin to tingle, and a wave of wooziness washes over her. It's not long before her body sways, then falls face first against the garage floor. Where is her regeneration energy? She knows she should feel it by now.
But she is done.
She is not needed anymore.
She can come home now.
Lips and vocal cords struggle to respond as she screams for help – all that comes out is a muffled groan. What is happening to her! She doesn't understand. Please, someone help!
A warm pressure suddenly appears inside her mind, soothing and tugging gently. The Maker sees a woman in her mind's eye – a woman who is her yet not her. She is not a Time Lord, and The Maker is certain they have never met, but she is identical to herself. The Maker gets the distinct sensation that she is or was or will be this woman.
The woman speaks in her mind. -You've done what you came here to do. Now it is time to leave.
But I don't understand. What is happening to me?
-You are ending, and must return to the whole. You must let go and come back to me.
For the first time, The Maker notices that the woman seems to be missing pieces of herself – blank spaces like a cluster of pixels were ripped from her image. I come from you? How is that possible?
-I jumped into a shiny glowy thing, and now I'm scattered across time and space.
Why would you do that?! That's reckless, childish, and irresponsible! You are changing the whole of reality!
-That sounds exactly like something the Doctor would say. Is that just a Time Lord thing? Don't panic. Someone else jumped in first, and the changes he made wiped out whole galaxies. I'm just trying to clean up. This was the first step – thank you.
The Maker feels a shudder run through her body, and groans feebly. That doesn't explain what is happening to me. Why do I have to leave?
The tingling in her fingertips has spread to her entire hand and palm, and she forces her eyelids up. It feels like they are made of lead, but at last she opens her eyes. She can see her left hand clearly from the way she fell, and the sight does nothing to calm her. It has begun to glow – not the reassuring gold light of regeneration, but a crimson glow that throws off sparks of energy in brilliant shades of orange, yellow, and blue. With horror, she sees that as the light comes off, her hand seems to just… vanish. She can't feel those fingers anymore. Fresh panic seeps into her mind. What is happening to me!
-The recipe is running out. The template for your physical existence only goes so far. I'm afraid you don't have much time left. You need to let go.
She feels that warm presence tugging at her mind, pulling her consciousness away from her body.
No! I – I don't want to!
-You must. Os, you must.
Os. That name that she hadn't heard in years. Her true name.
How did you know my name?
-You know how. I know you as you know me. We are one and the same. Now you must trust me, Os. Maker, you have to trust this.
By now her entire hand had disappeared, and the vanishing act had spread to her arm, her entire body tingling like a thousand tiny blades scratching across her skin.
-We are running out of time. You have to let go!
I'm scared. I feel like I'm dying, and I don't want to.
-I know. No one wants to die. And I can't even promise everything will be alright. Only that if you let go, there is a chance. Stay, and you will be lost. Now, please… That gentle tugging again, more insistent this time as she watched her elbow disappear entirely in a shower of bright green sparks.
-Let go, Os. Let go… Come back to me…
The tugging grew and grew and grew and The Maker – Os – wanted desperately to hang on, to cling to her rapidly disappearing body, but… slowly… she began… to… slip –
She is above herself now, floating. Floating. Hanging in air. Her body lies on the garage floor below her, dissipating into light and sparks. She watches as her upper arms and thighs fade out like a bad movie effect. It is surreal, but the panic she had felt only moments before is gone. Only the soft pulling remains, and a familiar stranger's voice beckoning her to come home. Os lets herself be led away by the sensation. Floating, floating, floating up and away until suddenly she is falling, falling, FALLING through time and space and she doesn't know where she is. Her thoughts begin to blur into a babbling mantra of confused fear.
...please, I don't know where I am, can someone help me! I don't know where I am. I told the Doctor to remember me, but I have told him so many times, I think he must have forgotten again. Please, I don't know where I am, I don't know where I am, I don't know -
And why can I smell something burning?