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Occasionally, the Doctor wandered off into the depths of the TARDIS, and Yaz found herself all alone. She often claimed there were things that needed fixing and checking somewhere, but the young woman suspected that really all she wanted was to be alone. Yaz could understand the necessity - after growing up in a home that always seemed to be a little too full of people for her own liking, she felt the need for solitude as well, and the mental and emotional space it seemed to give her. She and the Doctor had been on much better terms lately, the best they had ever been, really, and the tension in between them seemed to have dissipated almost completely after their long awaited talk back at the beach. It hadn’t been perfect, of course, and Yaz could imagine a few different ways things could’ve gone that would’ve made her much happier, but for now it seemed like enough. She was still with the Doctor, after all, though not exactly in all the ways she wanted to, although sometimes it felt different somehow - a gaze held for too long, a lingering touch, holding each other’s hands even after they had stopped running and were out of danger already, the Doctor watching her from across the TARDIS console with eyes that were a little too soft or a smile a little too tender, them saying the same things simultaneously and the way it made her grin, admiring and proud.
In other words, Yaz realized that things had never been better, and yet something incomprehensible within her chest tightened still, as if bracing for impact. The Doctor had always been secretive, of course, and that had never been something Yaz could easily deal with - even after she told her so much about her past and the things she discovered within the Matrix because of the Master, there still seemed to be something haunting her wherever they went, whatever they did. Yaz didn’t dare to ask, she had already asked for so much and she knew how difficult it was for the Doctor to be open about the things that frightened her, no matter how much she desired to help her and to be there for her - some things, Yaz reminded herself often, a person has to face alone. As long as we’re together, it’s all gonna be okay. She knew she had no right to overstep her boundaries, no matter how much the look in the Doctor’s eyes unsettled her sometimes, or the way she would lose herself within the depths of the ship for hours on end, going to places where Yaz could never find her. Deep down, it frightened her more than she cared to admit - after all, if anything could disturb the Doctor so profoundly, then certainly it warranted a lot of preoccupation.
While she was gone, Yaz took the time to wander around, entering areas she hadn’t visited before in the seemingly infinite interior of the TARDIS. After a few hours mostly spent in a library and a deliciously warm indoor garden, Yaz found herself entering a room unlike anything she had encountered until then: a mix between a professor’s office and a laboratory, with a curious selection of paintings and sculptures spread on the walls and corners of the dimly-lit chamber - Yaz didn’t need to examine it too thoroughly to realize that this room was a private place of the Doctor’s. The centerpiece of the room was a large wooden desk, with all sorts of papers, maps and books spread about, as well as a couple of framed photos of two women she didn’t know - one short-haired and young with an unearthly look in her wide, curious eyes, and the other an adult woman with curly dark blonde hair and a pair of dreamy green eyes. She stopped for a moment to wonder about them and who they might have been in the Doctor’s life, and why she had never mentioned either of them before - too painful to talk about, maybe. Yaz wondered if one day, after her own mortal self was long gone, the Doctor would have a framed photo of her too, if she would mention their adventures to her future friends or how she would talk about her, how she might refer to what they had been to each other. The thought made her sad - the Doctor was bound to be part of Yaz’s entire life, but she could only be a small part of hers.
Atop the wooden desk, amidst the mess of papers, Yaz couldn’t help noticing her own name appearing at the beginning of an unfinished letter of some sort, written in the Doctor’s handwriting. The sight made her freeze for a moment, realizing that she definitely shouldn’t have been here in the first place, snooping around the Doctor’s private things. And yet, how could she stop herself when the words so clearly read “My dear Yasmin Khan,” and the paper was right there, removed from its envelope and unfolded? Yaz averted her gaze - she shouldn’t. And yet… wasn’t knowing how the Doctor felt about her all she’d ever wanted? They’d been getting on so well lately, so how could it be anything bad? How many more issues could they possibly have to solve? Besides, if it was addressed to her, then surely she was the one person who was meant to read it? Yaz argued with herself back and forth, staring at the ceiling. It was addressed to her, but she knew that didn’t mean it should be read by her right now - it was unfinished, after all, only half a page written. The young woman bit her lower lip until it stung, trying to focus on anything other than the piece of paper on the desk, reminding herself that it wasn’t her place to decide when the letter was supposed to be read. Yaz knew she shouldn’t read it, but she couldn’t ignore how badly she wanted to.
“My dear Yasmin Khan,
Yaz, it pains me to write this, and I regret not having a better way with words now, because you deserved someone who did. But I guess that’s life, isn’t it? We keep looking for these adventures but ultimately it’s the adventures that find us, same way you found me back then when I wasn’t even looking for anything except for a decent place to land while free falling from the sky… But now I’m digressing. I do that a lot, I know - circling around topics instead of getting right to them, because often I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do when I get there. At this point in my life, I thought I’d be better at this but, well… This letter isn’t supposed to be about my regrets. Actually, it’s supposed to be about us. So, without further ado, here we go again:
My dearest, Yaz, if you’re reading this, it means that I left. I have probably said it before, but let me say it again: I’m sorry, more than I can possibly say, but I am also out of time. The place where I’m headed now and the things I need to do, Yaz, they must be done on my own, and I can’t have you with me from this point on. Resent me for this choice if you must, but “
The letter ended abruptly, nothing but a small smudge of ink at the corner of the page. By the time Yaz reached the sudden ending, she felt sick and wounded, like something had been grabbed and pulled violently from within her chest, left gaping open and hollowed out. This was, without question, the Doctor’s final goodbye to her. Yaz stared at the ceiling again, blinking back the stubborn tears and unable to tell yet if it made her angry or sad, betrayed or abandoned. Was this what the Doctor had been doing, then? Spending all that time with her because she was getting ready to leave, just looking for ways to let her down gently? Yaz felt suddenly warm and breathless, struggling to wrap her mind around just how wrong this was, how wronged it made her feel. The fact that she would even consider doing this, after all they had been through during so many years together made her feel sick. Sensing her stomach twisting in knots, Yaz realized that she would be profoundly sad about this later, maybe for many years to come, but she also understood that there was an anger here which demanded to be felt first - this was, in other words, an ending.
“Hey! What are you doing here?” Yaz could practically hear the Doctor’s warm smile in her voice as she walked into the room, though she couldn’t bring herself to turn around to face her yet. She sensed the Doctor slow down, probably watching her curiously.
“Is everything alright, Yaz?” She tried again, and Yaz silently cursed her own heart for still fluttering helplessly whenever she heard the Doctor mention her name. She breathed in deeply before turning around – bracing for impact.
“Not really, Doctor…” Yaz struggled to get the words out through the tightness of her throat and that hollow feeling in her chest. The Doctor watched her attentively. “I found your letter.” She smiled bitterly, showing her the piece of paper. “I didn’t mean to read it but now that I have… I don’t think I can apologize, Doctor. It was open and I read it… And I can’t believe you would do this to me.” Yaz’s voice shook uncontrollably, but she held the Doctor’s gaze.
“Yaz…” The Doctor reached a hand towards her, only to let it fall on second thought. It wasn’t often she found herself at a loss for words. “Yaz, I…”
“What, Doctor?” At the back of her mind, Yaz noticed how cold she sounded - the first time she ever spoke to the Doctor like that, certainly. And probably the last.
“I was just getting my thoughts in order, Yaz, I didn’t actually intend on giving it to you…” She explained, though her tone sounded somewhat like begging. Yaz gave no indication of believing it or of calming down.
“So what were you going to do, then? Just leave without saying anything, disappear one day and leave me waiting for the rest of my life for you to change your mind?” She spat the words out bitterly. “I’ve done enough of that, Doctor. You’ve left me twice already, I’m not taking a third one.” She stormed out of the room, leaving the unfinished letter where she’d found it. In the back of her mind, she knew she wasn’t being fair, but the Doctor abandoning her like this felt much more unfair. She followed her through the corridors.
“That’s not fair, Yaz, and you know it.” Unlike Yaz, she kept her voice steady. Yaz felt angrier at this, as if being caught in a lie.
“Well, now we’re even, then.” She argued bitterly, only to storm off again.
“Yaz, I know you’re hurt and angry but you don’t have to be, hey-” She touched Yaz’s shoulder, which jerked away from her. “You read that without any context, Yaz, you don’t understand.”
“I understand that all this time, you were just preparing to leave me, Doctor. You were only spending all this time with me because you didn’t intend to stay. That doesn’t require any context.” She raised her voice though she never liked to, walking down the steps which led to the TARDIS’ main console room.
“Yes it does, Yaz! I won’t deny that I have to leave, that something’s happened and I’ve been avoiding dealing with it because I know it’ll be dangerous and I can’t take you with me. I can’t be that reckless with you again, Yaz, and you shouldn’t ask me to.” The Doctor argued earnestly, and the sudden confession startled Yaz, though she couldn’t bring herself to admit it now.
“Yeah, because you’d rather see me safe and miserable than to realize that I might actually have something to offer, that I might actually be able to help and to take care of myself every once in a while, isn’t that right? I didn’t realize I was such an inconvenience to you, Doctor, but don’t you worry.” She paused halfway through the small path towards the door of the ship. “You won’t have to worry about leaving me anymore now.” Yaz felt the tears she’d been holding start to roll down her flushed cheeks, but struggled to keep her tone cold and bitter nonetheless; she’d be sad later, but sadness was a silent thing and right now she needed to speak, to yell even - anything to distract her from the gaping wound in her chest. She took one last look at the TARDIS, glowing gorgeously golden all around her, noticing the faint noises it made, the silence it kept and how safe she’d felt from the outside world within these walls. Yaz stopped to notice, too, how the light touched the Doctor’s features ever so fondly, illuminating her blonde hair with a golden hue - the most beautiful person she would ever encounter, the saddest love story she would ever live. Biting down on her lower lip as if it could stop her from crying, Yaz accepted intimately that knowing and loving that woman had been the greatest privilege of her life - and that she was ending it now, on her own free will.
“I knew you were too good to be true.” Yaz admitted weakly, allowing her voice to break. She yanked the TARDIS door open and ran before the Doctor could finish another word.