Nowhere. Dull yellow sand stretches to a dull yellow sky.
A dream, Fitz hopes, but can't be sure. He waits.
Later, a dead man stands beside him, smiling. His teeth are as yellow and crumbling as the sand.
"He'll come back," Fitz says. "St. Louis, three days from now."
He'll come back. Fitz won't be left alone, unmet, unremembered. Not like the dead and withered Fitz beside him. The abandoned Fitz, who still died for the Doctor in the end.
"He'll come back."
The dead man smiles.
Fitz and Kreiner, copy and corpse. The Doctor made them both.