Hesperides
Donna steps out of the Tardis into a soft gray twilight. It is very quiet; the only sound is that of a light breeze rustling the grass and the leaves. She can't hear any insects tuning up, nor any birds singing goodnight.
"This isn't Earth, is it?" she asks as the Doctor comes up behind her.
"No. Do you like it?"
"It's beautiful." She hopes with all her heart that they won't be running for their lives in a few minutes, but for now she is willing to enjoy it. "What's that lovely smell?"
He takes her hand, but he doesn't drag her after him as he usually does. The air of this place seems to be calming him.
"Over here." His voice is low, and there is a look of contentment on his face. She wishes she saw that look more often.
They step into a garden, walled on all sides by overgrown hedges, except for a small part where the hedges have been cut away to provide an entrance.
In the garden the smell has grown much stronger; Donna stops and breathes it in, and the Doctor lets go of her hand to pull down two apples from a branch just above their heads.
"Here." He sits down and she sits beside him, and he hands her an apple, which seems to have a golden tint to it. "Try it."
She bites into it, and a taste of sweetness, unlike any she has ever experienced before, fills her mouth. This is no ordinary apple. She chews slowly, watching as the Doctor does the same. He looks up and smiles at her, and she smiles back.
"Where is this place?" she asks, taking another bite and savoring it for as long as she can.
"I found it years ago. I think I'm the only person who has ever come here, or ever will. It's always been like this, except I made the opening in the hedge. I've come several times, just to rest." He points up at the apple tree. "First time I've tried the apples, though. There are grapes, peaches, oranges, strawberries."
"But if no one ever comes, then why don't they run wild and taste sour?"
He shrugs. "One of life's mysteries. I call it the Garden of the Hesperides. Only there isn't a dragon guarding it."
When they have finished their apples, Donna feels satisfied. She knows that this is strange, because usually one piece of fruit would never fill her, but it also seems the most natural thing in the universe. Night has now fallen; the Doctor lies down on his back with his hands behind his head, and Donna follows suit. As soon as she looks up, she draws in her breath.
The sky is a net of diamonds of all colors, red and green, pink and blue, silver and gold. They burn strong and bright, without twinkling, against the black velvet of the night. Faintly, oh! so faintly, she hears a sound that she can only describe as melodious.
"Is it the stars?" she wonders aloud.
"Yes, stars made of crystal. They are in a constant state of motion, and that causes them to vibrate."
"Like bells," says Donna dreamily.
They drift into a pleasant silence, with the fragrance of heaven around them and the music of the stars above.
Finis