A crunching rumbles through the rocks behind the Doctor.
But he is watching the spot where Jack used to be, wondering and wandering and wondering at how the man managed to… not see it for so long. Or maybe it was… well of course it was -him-, not -him-. Obviously.
He looks up, but not behind, to find a woman’s shadow picking its way along the curves and corners of his stony perch, pleased with itself.
“…-her-self, my love,” River says softly, draping her arms around him.
My god, she’s wearing a sundress.
And faded jeans.
One of his old ties, slightly burnt.
A photograph, he thinks, in red stiletto heels.
“Which one are you, anyway and how can you walk in those?”