"Doctor!" River called, giving a little twirl as she entered the console room. "How do I look?"
He turned to face her, a smile instantly blooming on his face. "Beautiful! Magnificent! Absolutely gorgeous!"
"All right, ladykiller," she laughed. "No need to overdo it."
They met at the door and he offered her his arm. He led her towards an expensive restaurant, where a waiter greeted them by name, leading them to an intimate table on the balcony where they could feel the warm breeze blow and listen to the towers sing.
He pulled her chair out before taking a seat himself.
"So romantic! I remember a time when you would have run to the other side of the Vortex before you'd share a meal with me like this," she teased.
"Yes, well. I remember a time when I was too stupid and stubborn to admit how much you mean to me," he responded.
She opened her menu and brought it up to hide the grin his words inspired. Two hundred years with him, and she still sometimes found it hard to believe that he would actually say such things to her.
They were silent for a while, studying their menus as she cast about for something to say. She still hadn't reached the end of her loop, yet. That would happen when she met a Doctor that didn't know her face. An idea that was frankly terrifying. What would happen then? What made the cycle end? She worried that it would mean her death.
She thrust such thoughts away and searched for something to say. "I think I'm going to go back and get my doctorate, now that I'm finally out."
He peered at her from over the top of his menu. "Oh?"
"I think the TARDIS needs more than one Doctor, don't you?" she asked with a saucy wink.
He chuckled and lowered his menu. The two of them placed their orders for food and wine, sitting in comfortable silence until the waiter returned and filled their glasses.
"To us," River said, lifting the wine in a toast.
"Stuff of Legend," he finished, tapping his glass against hers.
"So, you told me about Donna and all that happened with her, but you never told me where she went."
"I didn't, did I?" He shifted in his seat, sliding into teaching mode, and she settled down to listen. "We had this one trip where she met this man. Lee. She said he was the perfect man."
"Love at first sight?"
He winked. "It takes some people that way. But Donna, being Donna, wouldn't stay with him when I offered it. Said she wouldn't leave me alone." His gaze turned fond and far away. "Couldn't ask for a better mate than Donna. She kept me in my place. Never let me go too far."
"She sounds like a wonderful woman."
"She is. The best."
"And you only take the best."
"Absolutely!" They grinned at each other like a pair of cheshire cats before he continued. "I wasn't going to let her miss out on love to be with me. I couldn't do that to her." He gave River a significant look. "I know what it is like to have loved and lost. I wouldn't let her go through the same thing."
River smiled kindly. "Quite right, too."
He grimaced lightly. She'd already forgiven him for that bit of foolishness, but the reference still stung. "So I made this habit. We would go somewhere, then I'd stop by Lee's time." He feigned enthusiasm, putting on the London accent of his former incarnation. "Oh, look! It's Lee! Let's go say hi." He widened his eyes into overblown sincerity. "I don't know why we keep ending up here, Donna. Maybe Lee has a temporal magnet on him. Perhaps you should check him out."
It was said with such sincere concern and worry that it took River several long moments to process what he'd just said. "You didn't!"
"I did." Smug. So smug.
"Tell me she didn't believe you."
"Oh, not the tiniest bit. She's far too good to fall for my innocent act." He ignored River's,"I'll be sure to tell her that" and continued on. "What was she going to do? She could hardly stop me. And she does love Lee."
River shook her head in admiration. "The Doctor: Time Lord. Stuff of Legend. Matchmaker."
He grinned.
The waiter returned with their food, and the Doctor began to regale her with tales from his time with Donna. The spent most of the meal that way until he mentioned the time he'd gone to see Donna in this body, without warning her that he could regenerate.
"...and then she slapped me!" he finished, affronted.
"Seems to happen to you a lot, Sweetie." River laughed.
"I wish it wouldn't."
Their waiter approached again and cleared their plates, replacing them with delicate viewing instruments.
"Opera glasses?" River guessed, picking one up to study.
"Basically."
They turned to face the towers, bringing their chairs close together and raising their glasses to view the tall edifices in the distance. From this far away, and without the glasses, the singing towers looked like nothing so much as an unusual grouping of rock formations, spaced about on either side of a large chasm. But with the glasses, it was possible to tell that the towers were actually the outside of massive burrows, the sides riddled with holes. As the sun set, movement could be detected, and the lower the sun, the more the things moved until the first of them crept slowly out into the diminishing light. Ugly, gangly things with oversized jaws and heads, they shuffled awkwardly out to sit, hunched over, in little clumps on stone ledges.
The last sliver of the sun sank below the horizon and a hush settled over their fellow diners. Then, from one of the groups in the middle of a tower on the right, a low warble rose. It fluttered on the wind, weak and ephemeral as the breeze that brought it to the listener's ears. It struggled valiantly to rise above the oppressive silence, but it faded away in the end. It seemed like the whole world was holding its breath.
Then, from a tower on the left, came the answer. This one was higher, thinner, more confident. It danced across the gap between the towers and River could see the occupants stirring under its sound.
The low warble returned, twining in and around the high note. The two braided together into a lovely melody, each sound distinctly distinguishable, even as the union swelled in strength and power. From the left and right, figures detached themselves from their towers; hurling themselves into the open air between their respective roosts, they sang even as they fell.
River gasped and reached out, tightly grasping the Doctor's fingers. She turned to grin brilliantly at him, but the smile faded when she saw that he was silently crying. "Doctor?" She asked in concern. "Are you all right?"
He hummed at her, but otherwise only returned the gesture.
She stared at him for a moment longer, understanding that he wasn't willing to talk about it, then turned her attention to the singers again.
The two figures fell, singing rapturously, until at some invisible signal, they twisted in midair; leathery flaps of skin emerged and caught the wind, altering their descent into a graceful curve in flight together.
As if that was what they had all been waiting for, each of the creatures on the far off towers tilted their heads back, raising their voices in song. Despite distance and the myriad of voices, it seemed to River that all she had to do was concentrate, and she was able to hear individual voices, even as she retained the ability to appreciate the whole.
She looked over at him, eyes wide with wonder. He smiled and leaned over; she met him halfway so he could whisper in her ear. "The veniersee female lays eggs at the top of the towers. When they hatch, they are genderless and weak. They make their way down into the interior of the towers. Each one is like a little ecosystem with a fully developed food chain, life cycles, diseases, you name it. The live and grow inside this ecosystem, never going out onto the ledges or seeing the sun. Diet determines gender, and since the towers are self-contained..."
"Each one only has one gender. Male tower, female tower."
"Exactly. They never see a member of the opposite sex. Until, all at once, their instincts send them out onto the ledges to sing for their mates."
"They fly," River said in a hushed whisper. "They spend the first part of their lives in the darkness. Never seeing the sun, never flying, never knowing what their wings are for. Then they come out of the darkness into the setting sun and sing. And they are lonely and scared and they don't know what they are doing or why, but they sing anyway."
"And then," the Doctor said, picking up the story, "from across the chasm, someone answers. Someone who is just as lost and confused and lonely as they are. The sing together, comforting each other, and for a little while it is enough. But soon they have to meet this other being, have to see the one that holds the loneliness at bay."
"And they fall," River said, no longer talking about the singers.
"And they fall," the Doctor agreed quietly. "How could they not? They've finally met someone who helped make sense of the madness their world had become. And, together..." he trailed off, gesturing at the sky which was now filled with pairs of veniersee, kiting gracefully. The ledges were empty and the heavens were full of song.
"They fly." River's voice was thick with emotion and her eyes shone.
"Mmm. Individually, they lack the courage. But together, they can do it."
They sat in silence, listening and watching as the darkness slowly descended over the world. Eventually, it became too dark for River to be able to see them, though from his eyes, she could tell that the Doctor still could.
He glanced over at her, his smile full of love, and leaned over to whisper in her ear again. "The veniersee mate for life, you know?"
She had her eyes closed, reveling in the music, and answered with a half-minded, "Oh?"
"Yes." Quietly emphatic. Then, "River Song, will you marry me?"