I wrote on the bus going to work whilst listening to Songbird by Fleetwood Mac back in the Summer.
The Mistress shifts, hearing something over their laughter.
It's sweet against her ears, without pain or cruelty as both she and her past self seem to disappear into background noise.
What is it? It's something she should recognise- something small- simple.
Primitive and basic.
What is it? Why can't she remember?
It's to do with the Doctor- something related to him?
Her Doctor and music.
His music would keep going on without her- as it should.
And here it's gone- she can't hear the steady beating of his heart or the skipping sequence of his mind, tripping atonally in a mess which somehow sounds beautiful in its sadness.
This is where they part.
It's okay though- she's happy for him- her Doctor- he'll live.
He would be with her if he could but he can't and that's okay- she knows the Doctor and understands him despite what he might think. He has to help- to try to help anyway and that's okay- it's good- what he'd been trying to teach her the whole time- goodness.
She had almost been there as well.
But now is right- the time for her to die.
No more regeneration- no more ace's up her sleeve.
It's fitting too.
Round-face was right about that.
Without hope. Without witness. Without reward.
Fitting that those words had saved her from the executioners yet placed her in her own cross-hairs.
Or him in her cross-hairs or themself in theirs.
He'd never her her hearts despite how they are still beating in his chest. They'd been the Doctor's from the beginning and he won't even know that he doesn't have them anymore- she's broken them- her gift to him.
She glad either way to have had use of them- to have given him four hearts to have held his two for a while.
And the sound is back- almost words. She could make it words if she tried- she was brilliant with words- always had been.
She raises a heavy arm which feels too light to capture the sound in. Shadows flit above, speeding past her.
The Time Lady drops her arm which goes limp, useless by her side.
Birds.
It's birds which are making the noise.
The songbirds are singing the song of the universe- of him- her Doctor.
One dips, lands on her fingers. She can't feel them anymore.
It's beautiful though- so delicate.
If she had her strength she could have broken it easily, left it as limp as she is now. It would have been so easy.
But she's weak and it would have been so pointlessly cruel if she had done it in any case.
She thinks though- if she could just reach the small distance into the animal's mind- that it would be sad for her.
Then there's a wrenching in her chest which almost spurs her dying body into action as she gasps out against it.
It's okay- it'll be alright- it's alright- it's for him.
Her body is almost paralysed anyway by now- the nerves aren't firing any more.
She knows the other heart is struggling to keep up- it should hurt but it's alright really. It won't last long.
She won't last long.
She can't regenerate but she knows her last heart will keep beating until it breaks too.
The Time Lady hopes that the Doctor will know she loves him.
She hopes he knows that the whole universe loves him but not more than her- never more than her.
He won't know she's died for him though.
It's alright. It's fitting but still-
The Mistress can't brush the tears from her cheeks anymore.
And the songbirds above her- they keep singing.
All it sounds like is the heart in her chest going out.
All it sounds like is the roar of her song coming to an end.
All it sounds like is her crying out over and over again.
I love him. I love- him. I love- I- I love- I- I love him- I l-love him.
Her Doctor- her Theta- she loves him even though there's no sound anymore.
No more songbirds.
No more song.
Her last heart dies.
