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The Doctor steps out of the TARDIS, his hands in his pockets. He looks around and straightens his bowtie slowly. People going in every direction walk past him without a glance his way. He's content to keep it this way, as he did not come to this planet on the matter of alarm, nor business or pleasure. In fact, he is still not entirely sure why he had decided to come here at all. He had walked this path once before, though then it was with other people in tow. It has been a very long time since he had seen the large moon hanging in the blue sky of this cursedly beautiful world. The last time his TARDIS had brought him to the Library, Donna was with him, as well as… as… He pictures her face. He stops himself, closing the TARDIS door, hoping to leave his plaguing thoughts inside as he begins to wander away.

He was centuries younger then, though only in understanding. So naïve. Untrusting. On high alert. Much too bloody curious as well. He wished he could have valued that time as much as he valued every time after it that their timelines crossed... However, physically, even he knew that he looked like a giant, disproportionate child about the age of eight. His more youthful self had no idea the importance of the events that occurred on this planet. Couldn't have known the impact they would have on his life and future. Realized too slowly, too late that he would regret his impatience.

The TARDIS had parked herself outside one particularly large building. The Library, in all its vastness, is all around him, and he gazes at the high towers that cover the planet. There are catwalks and overhangs, cantilevers and balconies above him, as well as many silver structural supports. He is outside, yet hundreds of people mill about everywhere, all with books stacked high, heavy bags with papers and ideas in progress slung over their shoulders, and even computer-brain data transfer devices stacked high in their arms. There are Nodes in many places, helping people. Always helping. All with the face of CAL and her benefactors, they teach the people about whatever they want to know: conflicts, conspiracies, plots throughout time and space, the geography of faraway planets, the Library itself, the universe… The Doctor smiles and stands a moment longer before heading towards a long staircase with a few sets of glass double-doors at the top.

He begins to ascend, staying near the edge and running his hand along the railing. At the peak, he steps into the building. The room he enters is paired with a memory of many years ago. He can see the TARDIS parked on his right. There is a desk in front of him; a CAL Node stands in near it, trying to help him. He questions it with Donna Noble at his side. Presently, he is shocked at the emotions that rage within him. He is sorry, filled with remorse. While many people sit at crowded wooden tables reading or lounging with wires running out of their ears contentedly, focused on their selected material, he stands with his mind buzzing. He closes his eyes tightly, then opens them, blinking. There is a computer kiosk in the corner of the room. 4022 saved, he remembers, No survivors.

He sighs and turns away, going through some delicately decorated doors into another room. It is larger than the former, and bowl-shaped. It is a lecture hall. No one is speaking currently, and it is widely used for quiet writing and reading, like the room before. The hall contains hundreds of rows of seats, some occupied by people seeking solitude, but most empty. At the base of the bowl that is the room are some chairs and tables. His eye is caught by one chair in particularly, vacant. It looms taller than the others and ominous, like an electric chair or a throne. He winces, remembering. The room is dim; a skeleton wearing the shredded remains of a spacesuit sits in the chair. The scared voice of a lost acquaintance echoes through a green light on the collar of the suit. There is no consciousness behind the voice; it's a fading memory. Miss Evangelista. The Doctor closes his eyes again, hoping to rid himself of the memories. He shakes his head and walks along the top row of chairs, the perimeter of the room, and exits through the first door he finds, aimless in his wandering. He glances regretfully as the door closes behind him.

He wishes to disappear. He strolls through the hallways of the large building, his mind in a state of uneasiness. There is an itch in his mind, not to be satisfied with him pushing it away again and again. Persistent. It is a painful reminder of the significance of the Library in his life. It guides him to the next room, the sharpest reminder of yet.

The ceiling is glass, high above him; the floor has patterns and designs. He remembers the circular platform beneath the large moon in the sky, this side of the planet turning to face the night, its occupants turning to face the… the…

The Doctor shivers. The Vashta Nerada are incredible creatures. Piranhas of darkness, they melt flesh and strip their prey down to the bone. In addition, they are intelligent and even reasonable at times. However, they were not the biggest threat to his existence that night. No people are in this room, he knows, but he glances around anyway. He then turns to the circular platform in the floor beneath the glass ceiling. He pulls his sonic out of his tweed jacket, hesitates. Thinks a moment. He looks at his screwdriver, holding it up. He had not yet been to Delirium with her, not yet given her his sonic. For now, he can think with hope and confidence that he will see her again.

On impulse, he bends down and sonics the platform (the sound it emits makes him shiver). He stands in the center as it begins to descend.

Is he ready for this? The main computer is just below him… He is not sure. He cannot predict his reaction. He is a man of self-reliance and buoyancy. Not always a dignified one, mind you, but obscenely confident in his own plans, especially lack thereof. But he doesn't know what to feel currently… He is terrified, to be honest. He is descending into his lover's grave, his wife's tomb. River Song… The Woman Who Killed the Doctor. He smiles despite himself. Cringes, shakes his head. He is afraid of what he will feel at the bottom of this unnerving descent.

The platform halts. The Doctor is grave as he walks stiffly towards the place where he was first handcuffed to a pole by River Song. He pauses here, smiling as he remembers the second time he was handcuffed to a pole by the knowledgeable Doctor Song… He sits, feeling oddly more at ease in this… coffin than he thinks he should. He looks around still somewhat solemnly despite his reminiscing, and his gaze rests on the main computer. He stares at it, thinking. Remembering. Hurting, mourning, lamenting.

After a time, he stands and walks to the large computer. He lifts his sonic to it and overrides the security, gaining access to the Library's personal records. He sifts through the information until he finds what he now knows he came for. The screen reads:

6,142 human beings present

7 saved

Seven saved.

Seven saved.

Seven saved…

He begins to count the people he lost that night. Proper Dave. Other Dave. Anita. Miss Evangelista. Charlotte, who is CAL… and River. But that makes only six. Who is the seventh? Did something happen between now and the last time he was here? It had been the first time, then… he was a different man. Literally. Somehow, less… him. What was different? River. He didn't know her then. She was a stranger to him, and he had broken her hearts. Not intentionally, of course. He wouldn't do that, not to anyone. Of course, she had known him quite well. Dreadfully well. His only crime had been his ignorance. Or innocence. He laughs to himself. Yes, he was a much different man now that he had spent some time in the TARDIS with Doctor Song…

But where had the seventh life form come from? There were seven… How could there be seven?

He needed to know.