A/N I don't own BBC or DW

Book of the Update: Same Kind of Different as Me by Ron Hall and Denver Moore

P.S. Sorry this episode has been so long and also kind of rushed. It's still not over. Just….sorry.

Chapter 16

The Doctor pulled his arm up to shield his face as best he could when he smashed through the glass ceiling, but it didn't do too much. He didn't even register the pain, however, until he was lying face-down on the floor at the feet of the Time Lords, glass everywhere and pain filling his whole body. Skydiving with no parachute….not fun. Landing on a marble floor with nothing to soften the impact….even worse.

He reached out and grabbed hold of Wilf's gun, lying beside him. He picked it up a few inches but then dropped it, the weight being too much. He tried to at least sit up, but his chest felt like a stampede of elephants had had a dance party on top of it. Probably a broken rib or two. Punctured lung. But he was going to die anyway, so what did it matter.

He winced and grit his teeth as he once again tried to push himself into a sitting position. He failed.

"My Lord Doctor," came the voice of the Lord President, and the Doctor looked up to see him smirking down at him. "Lord Master," he said, addressing the man standing behind the Doctor's body. "We are gathered for the end." The Doctor looked up at him once more through heavy eyes, panting as his lungs, one or even both most likely punctured, began to ache and affect his breathing.

After a few failed attempts, he finally managed to force his broken body into a kneeling position, hunched over the floor. "Listen to me," he said, his voice ragged and hoarse, "You can't-"

"It's a fitting paradox that our salvation comes at the hand of our most infamous child," Rassilon said, cutting him off.

"Oh, he's not saving you," the Doctor spat through bloody lips, "Don't you realize what he's doing?" he slowly turned to look at the Master, who had told the Doctor not to tell because that was his. Hush.

"Look around you," he continued after that bout of childishness, "I've transplanted myself into every single human being." He spread his arms wide, gesturing to the many Masters around him, all in different clothes. "But who wants a mongrel little species like them? Because now I can transplant myself into every single Time Lord. Oh yes, Mr. President, sir," he continued when he saw the Lord President growing wary, "Standing there all noble and resplendent and decrepit. Think how much better you're gonna look as me!"

The Lord President put his hand forward, opened his fingers, and a blue light shone out of his metal glove. All of the people's heads began to shake back and forth again, like they had when they'd changed into the Master, but now they were changing back. The Master yelled for him to stop, but the Lord President paid him no heed. Soon enough, they all transformed back at exactly the same instant and they all gasped simultaneously.

"On your knees, humankind," the Lord President ordered, and they all obeyed.

The Master looked around, wildly trying to come up with a new plan, one that would keep him alive and in power. "T-that's fine…that's good! Because you said salvation! I still saved you. Don't forget that," he could feel the Doctor's eyes burning into him as he babbled his excuses.

The Lord President ignored him. "The approach begins," he said, looking at the sky with excitement in his eyes.

"Approach of what?" The Master asked, confused.

"Don't you ever listen?" the Doctor snapped, "Something is returning. That was the prophecy, something not someone."

"What is it?"

"They're not just bringing back the species," the Doctor growled, "They're bringing back the planet! It's Gallifrey! Right here, right now!"

The room – no, the entire planet – began to shake and the sky turned red. All they could see was the planet of Gallifrey, twice the size of planet earth. The humans in the room screamed and ran out of the hallway, but the Time Lords stayed put. The Lord President and his Council on the far wall, the Doctor hunched over the floor in the center of the room, and the Master on the opposite side, begging for credit.

"But I did this!" the Master cried, looking up at the Time Lords, "I'm on your side!"

"Doctor!" he looked up at the sound of her voice, and she ran to him. "Oh my god, Doctor…" she gingerly touched his face, looking like she didn't quite know what to do.

"Hello Rose," he said with a forced smile and she sort of twitched her lips in return. The Doctor looked over her shoulder,

"No, Wilf! Don't!" he cried, but it was too late. Wilf went into the radiation chamber and released the man who had been inside before, locking himself in in the process.

The Master looked up at the sky and his face fell when he saw Gallifrey descending. "B-but this is fantastic, isn't it?" he asked, though it sounded fake. "The Time Lords restored!"

The Doctor glared at him from his place on the floor, crouching underneath Rose's arm. "You weren't there," he said darkly, "In the final days of the war. You never saw what was born. But if the time-lock's broken, then everything's coming through, not just the Daleks, but the Skaro Degradations," Rose winced at the word Daleks, and the Doctor went on, listing more and more of the evils that would be released, "The Hoarde of Travesties, the Nightmare Child, the Could-Have-Been-King with his armies of meanwhiles and never-weres….The war turned into hell. And that's what you've opened, right above the earth. Hell. Hell is descending!"

"My kind of world," the Master said, though Rose could tell that he was very uneasy, at the very least.

"Just listen!" the Doctor growled, "'Cause even the Time Lords can't survive that!"

"We will initiate the Final Sanction," announced the Lord President, and Rose looked up. They didn't even spare her a second glance. Why would they, some tiny little human like her? "The end of time will come at my hand. The rupture will continue until it rips the Time Vortex apart."

"That's suicide!" the Master cried, looking confused.

"We will ascend to become creatures of consciousness alone, free of these bodies, free of time and cause and effect, while creation itself ceases to be."

"That's mad!" Rose cried out, astonished that anyone would even think up such a thing.

"You see," the Doctor spat, turning to the Master, "this is what they were planning in the final days of the war. I had to stop them."

The Master looked at him, unease in his eyes, but then he looked up at the Time Lords again. "Lord President, take me with you. Let me ascend into glory!"

The Lord President looked revolted. "You are diseased, albeit a disease of our own making." The Master's face fell and Rose's heart twinged with pity at the sight. He'd spent his whole life listening to the sound of drumbeats in his head until they had driven him to madness, and then he rescues his people, only to find that they were the ones who had placed the noise in his head, causing his madness, well….that's got to be rough. "No more."

The Lord President raised his metal-gloved hand and it began to glow blue again. He was going to kill the Master. Rose had just barely processed that thought when the Doctor had gently pushed her aside and stood up, holding Wilf's gun out, aimed at the Lord President. Though she knew what the Master had done, she also knew what the Time Lords had done, and was proud to see him standing between them and his childhood friend. But she knew that killing in cold blood was wrong, and she wasn't sure if her Doctor would actually do it or not. But it was his decision, and she would stand by him, no matter what.

She slowly stood up behind him, placing her hand on his other arm, to reassure him she was there. He grabbed her hand and held it tightly, fingers shaking. She squeezed it, and he seemed to relax the tiniest bit.

"Choose your enemy well. We are many," said the Lord President, "The Master is but one."

"But he's the President," the Master spat, "Kill him and Gallifrey could be yours."

Quick as anything, the Doctor turned, the gun now pointed at the Master. His hands began to shake again.

"He's to blame, not me!" the Master said in his defense, pointing at the president. "Oh…" he said after a moment, "I see. The link is inside my head. Kill me, the link gets broken, they go back."

Rose could see the Doctor's facial muscles twitch and his eyes flicked back and forth between the Master and the President.

"You never would, you coward," the Master said disdainfully and Rose felt anger surge through her whole body. They were barbaric, each one telling him to kill the other. The Doctor's jaw twitched. "Go on then," the Master encouraged, looking at the gun pointed at his own chest, "Do it."

The Doctor's finger slowly began to pull the trigger and Rose looked at the Master. He put up a brave face, but this was killing him, she could tell. Here he was, watching – no, more like daring – his best friend to shoot him. And his best friend was actually going to do it. He shook his head slightly, his fear-filled eyes round and shining with unshed tears. She looked at the Doctor. His mouth was turned down, incredibly so, almost to the point of unrealness. His jaw was twitching and his brows were pressed closely together. And his eyes. Oh, his eyes. They were just….it was….

He spun on his heel and pointed the gun at the Lord President, the Master immediately crooning behind him, "Excatly! It's not just me, it's him. He's the link, kill him!"

"The final act of your life is murder," the president said, "But which one of us?"

The Doctor looked as though he were about to crack, and Rose held his hand a little tighter, longing to reach up and take the gun, taking his pain away. But she couldn't do that. This was his choice. His eyes went wide as he looked at something behind the president – a Time Lady, one of the two who had been standing with their hands covering their faces. She had taken her hands away and was staring at the Doctor, looking right into his soul. She was crying. Rose wondered who she was, who could look at him like that. Like he was the only person in the world, and was both perfect and entirely wrong all at the same time.

Perhaps she had told him something through the mental link that Time Lords apparently had or perhaps she had just looked at him and he'd known what to do, Rose wasn't sure, but next thing she knew, the Doctor had spun around yet again, and was pointing the gun at the Master. Except he wasn't.

"Get out of the way."

The Master looked confused, but then smiled slyly and ducked out of the way just as the Doctor shot the machine behind him. It erupted into flames and Rose buried her face into the Doctor's shoulder to shield her eyes.

"The link is broken!" shouted the Doctor, "Back into the Time War, Rassilon! Back into hell!"

The Lord President looked furious as a golden light enshrouded the group of Time Lords, taking them away. "You'll die with me, Doctor," he growled.

"I know," the Doctor replied sadly, pushing Rose away as Rassilon aimed his metal glove at the Doctor, primed and ready to kill.

"Get out of the way," the Master said softly from behind him, and the Doctor turned, stunned. The Master shot a ball of energy out of his hand and into Rassilon's body, a furious look in his eyes. "You did this to me!" he shouted, "All of my life!" he switched hands, and the energy – his life energy – kept surging out, blasting into the president with untameable force. "YOU MADE ME!" his skull flashed onto his skin, like it had before. "ONE!" more life energy, "TWO!" more. "THREE!" his skin was translucent now. "FOUR!" even more energy, it seemed like it was all that was left in his body, came pouring out and Rassilon fell to the ground under the force of it. Everything faded to a golden white as the Time Lords were pulled back into the Time War and Gallifrey returned to its own orbit. When Rose's vision had returned to her, she saw the Doctor lying on the floor once more, groaning in pain. She gasped and crouched down next to him.

"I'm alive." He looked at her, really, truly looked at her. She looked awful, bags under her eyes, makeup running down her face, blood and dirt everywhere, hair matted and filthy…..he looked worse. But he was alive. "I've….what…..Rose…..I'm alive! I'm still alive!" he laughed shakily and sat up, his breath coming out in short, puffing exhales and wheezing inhales. He reached out and gently wrapped his arms around her, slowly pulling her to him, still laughing that shaky, dumbstruck little laugh.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Rose froze, not breathing, as she counted the knocks. Four. The Doctor let go of her and she watched his face fall.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Four times," he whispered and she shook her head, mumbling "no" over and over.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

He stood, his stance defeated, and looked at Wilf. Poor old Wilfred Motts, who was unknowingly fulfilling a prophecy. He will knock four times. The Doctor was going to die. Right here. Right now.

Rose stayed crumpled on the floor, curled around her knees, covering her mouth with her hands, silent tears running down her face.

Wilf waved awkwardly. "They gone then?" the Doctor didn't respond. "Good-o. If you could, uh, let me out…"

The Doctor swallowed. "Yeah." Rose had to bite her fist to choke back a loud sob.

"Only this thing…seems to be making a bit of noise," Wilf said, gesturing to the machine surrounding him.

"The Master left the nuclear bolt running," the Doctor told him, in that 'dumbed-down-but-not-really explanation' way he always used. Rose couldn't help but wonder if the next him would do the same thing, and that thought very nearly sent her into hysterics. The Doctor continued, not looking at her, "It's gone into overload."

"And that's bad, is it?" Wilf asked, tugging on his jacket awkwardly, like he wasn't quite sure what was wrong, but he felt bad.

"Nah," he said dismissively, "'cause all the excess radiation gets vented inside there. Vinvocci glass contains it," his voice broke here and Rose stood up, walking over to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. His hands found hers. "All 500,000 rads about to flood that thing," he explained now that his strength had returned in the form of Rose.

"Oh." Wilf laughed. "Well, you'd better let me out then, eh?"

"Except it's gone critical," the Doctor said sadly, "Touch one control and that thing floods." He pulled out his sonic and twirled it with one hand, still holding tightly to Rose with the other. "Even this would set it off."

"I'm sorry."

There was silence and the Doctor put away the sonic.

"Look, just leave me," Wilf said, waving his hand, "I'm old, lived my life. Not worth it."

The Doctor looked at him, tears in his eyes. "No. I can't. Because you're Wilfred Motts, and this is what you do. What you were always meant to do, all this time," he roared the last part, losing his temper and pushing Rose away to go and fume in the center of the room.

"It's not fair!" he yelled in anger, lashing out and knocking over a table, sending papers flying into the air. "Is this my reward?" he screamed at air, "Is this what I deserve?" He stopped where he was and put his hands to his face. After a few moments, he lowered his hands. His eyes were red and his cheeks were wet. "Suppose I've lived too long."

He began to walk over to the chamber, and Wilf shook his head. "No. No, stop, Doctor…..don't."

Rose put her hand on his chest. "I could….instead of…." But she trailed off when she saw the look in his eyes.

"No, Rose. Not you. It's time." He pulled her close and kissed her forehead, ignoring the shouts from Wilf to stop as he let her go and grabbed the handle of the glass door, looking right into Wilf's eyes. "Wilfred. It's my honor. Better be quick," he finished in a quiet, sort of strangled voice. He swung open the door and slammed it shut, hitting the button and ushering Wilf out all in the count of three.

As soon as Wilf opened his door, the Doctor groaned in pain and closed his eyes, throwing his head back. Rose walked closer to the glass, her hands covering the lower half of her face.

When he fell to the ground, she crumbled next to him. When he cried out in pain, she was there, crying with him through the glass. When his face pressed against the glass in agony, her hand was there, as if she were holding him up. And when he curled up in a ball, pulling on his hair, she was there, curled on the floor facing the glass, her forehead pressed against the glass, her eyes leaving smudges of teary wet mascara on the shiny clear barrier.

And then it was over.

The lights shut off.

The radiation had gone.

And the Doctor was still.