She only glances at the fire going out, barely notices it among all the other fires raging in her, and certainly doesn't associate it with Gabriel. Instead, she watches his lost look at the console and almost wishes he was here, if wishing was a thing TARDISes did.

"You aren't," she insists sadly, shaking her head. "I'm bleeding time. You are an echo from when you used to be here. A long time ago." She can't quite remember how long it's been since the other universe; time is spilling at an alarming rate and flowing together, hard to tell apart.

But he asked her something that made sense. What was it that happened? She tries to find the beginning of all this, and when she does, her expression darkens with hatred. "It was that girl, she's to blame. The Doctor should have never brought her here. I should have let her burn." The viciousness of her emotions overtakes her, stirs a far away memory and the console room shudders, expands impossibly into something that looks like a cross between a cathedral and a library. There's now furniture and a row of clocks and wrought iron beams reaching high into the ceiling around an entirely different console. The destruction, though, remains the same, and there's something like a sick discordant heartbeat in the air. The TARDIS snarls, thinking of another girl now without noticing the difference. "She was supposed to burn."