Disclaimer: Can't a girl dream? Alright…I don't own Doctor Who and I make no money out of my use of BBC's property. Happy now?

It wasn't a bad body to die in. Ginger hair, for a start. Much better than his twelfth; he'd had an insatiable craving for ginger, the food. By the end, the spice of the ginger had dulled his tastebuds so much that his first meal with thirteen's tastebuds had been a literal taste explosion. Exploding out of his mouth onto the opposite wall. He hated marmite, apparently.

It wasn't a bad place to die in. It did seem a bit of an anticlimax; he would have liked his final death to help someone. But if not somewhere, sometime, saving other's lives, then at the Tardis console, driving as he'd spent most of his life doing. Doing what he alone in any universe could. He'd driven the Tardis, imperfectly, for so long that it was probably imprinted on his genetic makeup.

But it was their last trip.

A mournful tolling altered him to the fact that they had reached their destination. The Tardis was well aware of what was happening; she had faded with him.

They were the only funeral bells he'd ever have.

He looked at the monitor. He could still pick out the familiar constellations; the ones he'd spent hours watching as a boy.

He gave the console a last loving stroke.

"Goodbye, old girl."

As the last Tardis in existence orbited a patch of space that was once Gallifrey, the last Time Lord died for the last time.

xxx

Somewhere outside the multiverses, two figures met.

"You took your time. Do you have any idea how long we've all been waiting?"

The other figure just laughed. Their hands fit together like they'd never been apart.

Reunited at last.

Together in death.