Inspired by the song, "Things We Lost In The Fire" by Bastille.
There was always that old book. A journal bound by old leather, that Amy had always wondered about. An old journal, older than probably all of time and space. Yet, she never touched it, never dared opening the pages. She could feel it, all the secrets the book held, like whispers that could never be heard. There was something almost dangerous about the book, like if she opened it, she might just fall apart. She might just break…
"You know what, Doctor? I've had just about enough of you!" The Doctor flinched as Amy yelled at him, her eyes flashing angrily. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.
"I've seen you show mercy to the Daleks! The Daleks for crying out loud! But no, I guess today you just felt like playing God! You just killed an entire race of people down there! Why?" He remained quiet for a few moments, avoiding meeting her furious eyes.
"They would have killed you and Rory," he said quietly, his voice shaking slightly. Images flashed through his mind. He shook them away quickly, not wanting to remember their pale faces, twisted in agony.
"Doctor, you killed them… All of them, just… gone. Whole families… All of them," she bit her lip, her clenched fists shaking. Suddenly she turned away, disappearing down the hall in a flash of orange. He sighed as he watched her go. He didn't go after her. His legs felt weak and he slumped to the ground, leaning against the TARDIS console as he stared off into space. He choked back a sob as he drew his knees up to his chest and buried his face into them. He'd killed them. He'd killed them all. Amy was right.
Amy didn't know where she was going. Her legs were leading her, walking as if by their own volition. And really, she didn't mind too much. She didn't want to go back to the room she shared with Rory, where he was probably waiting for her, and she most certainly did not want to go back to the Doctor. She just wanted to be alone with her own thoughts for a while, in peace. Before she knew it, she was standing outside the library. She rested her hand upon the shining brass handle, twisting it and gently pushing the solid oak door open. It was quiet, the only sound being the clicking of her heels on the hardwood floor. She walked by the oddly placed pool without a second glance. She breathed in deeply, the scent of old print and leather covers. She found a chair that she sunk into gratefully. She sighed, thinking of the Doctor. She glanced up.
"Old girl, how have you put up with him for so long," she asked the air, addressing the TARDIS. She chuckled softly as the old machine seemed to hum in response. She looked around the musty, dimly lit room sadly. She suddenly felt guilty, regretting her yelling at him. He probably felt just as bad, if not worse about the whole thing. She shook her head and snorted. 'It's his own fault that he's feeling bad,' she thought stubbornly. Still, as she gazed around the room, she didn't quite believe her own words.
She tried not to dwell on it, instead busying herself with exploring the many bookshelves in the room, skimming her hands over the spines of the books. She stopped as she found an old journal. She hesitated, before slowly drawing it off the shelf. She sat down with it, staring at it in her lap. She ran her fingers delicately over the smooth surface, reveling at its almost silky texture. She traced the strange symbols carved into the soft cover, which she could only assume was the language of Gallifrey.
She could recall the few stories the Doctor had told her of his own planet, of his own people. A planet of burning orange skies, and a race as old as time itself. It was the beautiful planet that he'd been forced to burn. He'd destroyed his only home, his family, and his friends. He'd destroyed his old life, in the hopes that the rest of the universe wouldn't have to. Again, she realized how very alone the Doctor was.
She sighed sadly as she opened the book. On the first page, she recognized the Doctor's slanted handwriting. In the back of her head she wondered which of his many incarnations had been the one to write these seven simple words. The things we lost in the fire…
She flipped the pages carefully, reading every word, every name that had been handwritten on the pages. A list of the dead. A list of the lost. The further she went, the more the names blurred as tears filled her eyes.
She didn't know how long she sat there reading before the doors to the library opened, letting in the outside light. Amy blinked her eyes a few times as she looked up. She swiped a hand across her tear-streaked cheeks. She hadn't even gotten halfway through the book.
"There were 2.47 billion children on Gallifrey that day… and I killed them." The Doctor walked towards her slowly, his voice thick with emotion as he spoke. His eyes were misty, but he wouldn't let a single tear drop.
"2.47 children will never have futures. You know the worst part? For a while, I didn't want to remember. I had completely forgotten about them. I had to be told by another self." Amy remained quiet. He stopped in front of her and kneeled down, coming eye-level with her.
"Now, I could tell you every one of their names. I could tell you about John and Cassidy. Oh, those two! They were always arguing over something, but you could see it plain as day. You could see the love they had for each other, in their eyes. Then of course there was Kasey. The little rascal!" And so, they sat there together. She listened silently as he spoke of the children. He spoke with such joy, and yet, there was so much sadness. A smile was plastered onto his face, and tears threatened to leak from his eyes as he remembered.
They cried together, remembering those who'd died. Those who'd been lost in the fire.
Ok... So there was that... I'm not sure how much I liked it, but oh well. I hope you guys enjoyed it! And also check out the song mentioned at the top! It's great! The nightcore version is really really good too!