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She was warm.
The Doctor was warm.
The waking sun kissed her skin and soaked into the clothes she had chosen for herself, all those years ago.
She liked these clothes. They had lots of pockets that fit lots of spectacular things. What would the next one think of everything she’d crammed into them? The Doctor wished she could ask.
Then, she smiled, realizing she was about to find out.
Her feet were still, but she was moving.
Oh, was she moving.
Wind swirled through her hair, making the yellow strands dance. She’d miss this color. She’d thought that last time she’d had it, too. But those things always managed to find a way back, somehow. The endless years had taught her that much.
She could feel the voices buzzing through her veins. Old particles singing in harmony with the new. It tickled.
Well, the Doctor thought, that’s new.
It almost made her laugh. How could anything manage to be new? But it was. She was about to be. Again.
And for once, that didn’t feel like a curse.
The Doctor stood on the rocks, marveling at the glowing horizon. Part of her thought about sitting – maybe criss-cross, or kicking her feet over the edge. But she liked the view from right here too much.
It was a nice place to say goodbye.
It was a nice place to say hello.
There were no calculations fizzing through her mind. There was only the quiet, oscillating rhythm of blue stretched out before her. The departure, and the returning. Equal parts vast, chilling, and remarkable.
What a universe, she thought. What an existence. Just when you think you’ve had enough . . .
She felt centered.
She could sense the TARDIS standing watch behind her. Her beautiful Ghost Monument.
What would it look like? One day from now? One year from now?
The questions burned inside of her, roaring and aching. And they didn’t matter at all.
It would be okay, in the end. It already was.
That was the thing. Somewhere in the universe, in a distant time and a far-flung space, everything was already okay.
They were close now, the Next One. Ready to branch out from her and bound in a direction that hadn’t been decided yet. But whichever way they went, she knew it’d be brilliant. Because she was brilliant, and so were all the other ones that came before.
There were birds in the distance, little silhouettes making their journey toward her. Against the blazing gold, they reminded her of Phoenixes.
Funny things, Phoenixes.
There were many theories about where they came from. A regenerating creature of many origins, forged in fire. Just when you think they’re about to die, they’re born.
But they had to come from somewhere, at some point, surely.
What an awfully big adventure, she thought, and she could hear someone inside of her laugh.
Her long coat flapped in the air’s current as she breathed the world in. Everything was salt and soil and rich and sweet and her lungs had never seemed quite so full.
The Doctor felt young. She felt whole.
She grinned her best grin, the kind that scrunched her face like an accordion playing her favorite song. And for the first time in a long time, she could see all the colors in the tune. She recognized them, she remembered them.
The birds were bigger now. The star before her was as bright and brilliant as ever. There was new breath on her skin, and all she could think as it neared was how much she wanted a head start.
With one last glance at the horizon, the Doctor closed her eyes, spread her arms, and leapt.