The Doctor tapped gently against the Tardis console, expression weary and heavy with a sense of eternal exhaustion. There was a replying tinker of metal caressing metal as his old dear responded, equally morbid and without her usual fiery temperament.
An orchestra played in the background, a deep guttural yet wispy sounding musical. It was deep and angry and full of roaring rage but it slowed down and grew quiet, becoming a mere flicker of dread and sorrow in replacement. It echoed within the Doctor's mind. An always present reminder.
He gently caressed the metal beneath him, wrinkled old fingers gingerly tracing the faint marks of abuse that'd carried over with each regeneration.
"My girl…" the old man spoke quietly, his voice a murmur, "…my sexy, gorgeous, girl…"
She hummed beneath his fingers, quiet and softly, but not without love.
"I believe," the Doctor smiled a horribly crooked smile, "that it is time we say goodbye, wouldn't you agree?"
A hum and a trill answered him, a sense of acceptance and sorrow entering his mind through the telepathic link he shared with her.
The old man smiled again.
"You, my sexy thing, have always known me so well, haven't you?"
There was no answer. Only deafening, heart wrenching silence.
A smaller smile, one that reflected pain, regret, and grief, stretched thin wrinkled lips.
"Goodnight, my dear."
And as he faded from the universe, he heard her one last time.
"Goodnight, my timelord."