Song of Eternity
Across the land, a red glow heralded the coming dawn. The first tentative light slowly crept over the clouds, as if afraid to intrude after the long night; soon it would illuminate the rocky landscape as well. A bird stirred in its crevice and took flight, chirping a bright melody, a wake-up call. Soon the air was filled with fluttering wings, the creatures they belonged to only shadows in the darkness. For a while, it was the only sound to be heard. And then, like the small whisper of a dream, a song carried over the plain.
The Doctor stood on the balcony and listened to the music. It was beautiful as always; always the same basic melody, yet different each time. Against the horizon, the outlines of the singers appeared: two great towers, twin stone columns, exactly as far apart as they had to be, exactly on this very spot, they sang. The song was sadder than usual, but quite possibly that was just him. It sounded like ending.
With a ruffle of wings, a bird landed on the railing. It wore a shroud of dark blue feathers- it might have been sky-blue in the gloom- and its large red eyes looked at him curiously. It chirped a little melody, in unison with the towers. The Doctor waved him away: "What do you mean 'food'? Look at the sun; it's not even breakfast time yet." Technically, it hadn't been breakfast time for 24 years now, but the point still stood. The bird had definitely become spoiled over the years, the Doctor thought. You'd think it would be thankful enough for the enormous supply of food that was this restaurant- which after all in part stood here because of him. But no, when there was a quiet-loving Doctor to pester, a bird would pester.
Something stirred in the room behind him. "Who are you talking to, sweetie?" a sleepy voice wanted to know.
Hearing it made him strangely sad. He half turned around: "Just a little winged annoyance. I speak Bird."
He thought he could see her smile in the darkness. "Of course you do. Is it the blue one again?"
The bird had not even budged from its spot. The Doctor frowned at it and got an unimpressed chirp in return: "Of course it is, what do you think? I imagine we have been too lenient with him. He's beginning to think he's got a right to our attention."
"Whatever do you mean 'we'? It's you with the soft hearts here, not me." The Doctor didn't need to see her face to hear the mirth in her voice: "You know, sometimes I wonder whether you're just pretending to understand every animal, baby and rock under the sun as part of your wise-old-time lord impression."
"Impression?" he repeated indignantly. "Old, wise, time lord." he counted down on three fingers. "Last I checked I fit all the criteria."
"Well, two out of three is not that bad." There was movement by the bed, and moments later a yawning River Song emerged from the gloom, wearing a ruffled sleeping gown. As always, her hair was all over the place- though he would never dare say that out loud. A few weeks ago, she had finally conceded that he could tell differences in her appearance now, and he was in no hurry to forfeit that esteem. After all, as she had repeatedly pointed out, in terms of appearance he had no right to criticize.
"I've had a funny dream." she said. "You were a woman, and you were fussing about your appearance in front of a mirror. A mirror! I think I laughed so much I actually woke up."
The Doctor's eyebrows had wandered almost to his hairline: "And why did you think that dream was about me, exactly?"
River grinned: "Because the only thing you kept complaining about was your not-ginger hair."
Ah. He gave a self-conscious smile and shrugged: "What can I say? I just think gingers are massively under-represented when you look at the whole picture."
The long silence that followed was enough to tell him that she had spied the red glow on the horizon. Finally, she leant her head against his shoulder: "It's time?"
"Not yet. Dawn takes a while on Darillium."
"We can't put it off forever."
As per usual, she was right. Which didn't mean they had to rush things. "Does time always pass this quickly?"
"Only when you don't want it to." River Song detached herself and moved over to the railing, watching the towers as they continued their sad song. After a while, she took out her diary and began to write. When she was done, there were still two pages left; the last two, still empty. Upon noticing his glance, she explained: "I'm saving those for something important." She gave a sly grin: "I've thought about tearing out the last page, so that my story can never end, but that would be childish, wouldn't it?"
He frowned: "Yes, very childish. Who would ruin a book so stupidly?"
"Who indeed?"
She hugged him. And he hugged back. He didn't know when he had become so accustomed to that, but he supposed in 24 years there were inevitably some changes one just couldn't avoid. And in truth, he didn't particularly mind this one.
River gazed across the rocky land to the towers and smiled: "What do you reckon, love? Are they more beautiful by dawn?"
He met her eyes: "Do they have to be more or less beautiful now than they were then? That's such a human thought. Why can't they just be beautiful right now?"
River chuckled. "Old romantic. Just what will you do without me?" In that moment, the first ray of sunlight shot over the horizon and basked the towers in golden light. The woman the Doctor had called companion for so long now drank in the image; didn't want the moment to end.
It was a beautiful sight. And it was sad.