The night was so dark, it was almost blinding; so silent, it was almost deafening.

The streetlights had gone out, the freeway stopped moving. But the silence was not comforting or relaxing, but terrifying. Because it meant that everything was stopping, everything was ending.

It was here.

The Doctor stood at the edge of his TARDIS, his brown eyes distant and empty as he watched everything collapse and fall and burn and dissapear. This was the end of everything. The very fabric of space and time was tearing itself apart, reducing itself to nothing but animations, then a matrix, then programs, then emptiness. The screams were distant, as people tried to run from the monster that would eventually consume them all: Armeggadon, the eternal darkness.

In an isolated system, the entropy can only increase.

The Doctor shivered. He'd met Matthew Bellamy only once in his long lifetime, but the thought of him and the things that went through his mind still filled him with fear and awe. How was he, a simple musician, able to predict what took even the Timelords centuries to realize? There was something greater to him, something hidden behind his soft blue eyes... a genius. He was beyond, genius, in fact, to the point where it was almost scary. Not only did he predict the cause of Armeggadon, he'd described the air of it perfectly in song. The running, the flames... the memories resurfacing, the strange sadness and awe that filled the air.

Maybe that was his talent. To find beauty in even the most terrible of things: the end of the Universe itself.

It was slightly beautiful, the Doctor noted, even if in a strange, twisted way. The horrid realization in the humans' eyes, the sight of them running faster than bullets as the adrenaline kicked in like it never had before. The sound of silence, broken only by screams and sobbing. That even on the darkest of nights, a strange light had blossomed over the planet: the realization that there was no escape, and that this was truly the end.

He felt the wave of destruction pass over him, and stayed unmoving. He stroked the walls of the TARDIS, noting with interest the strange beauty the world took after the first stages of destruction began. It was as if the universe was a hard drive, and someone were putting flame to it, burning its contents. On the outside, there was only smoke. On the inside, there was this, the strangely beautiful sight data being corrupted and destroyed.

He wondered if there would be an afterlife.

And then he never had to wonder again.