He really couldn't believe his own stupidity. Maybe it was cosmic balance exacting its revenge on him.
He had just cleverly saved his entire planet and race from his own terrible memories of massacring them all, and where was he now?
Lost within his TARDIS.
His own TARDIS!
It was the "brilliant" idea that he had moments after saving Gallifrey that had led him to the maze that was the inner ship. "Let's correct the book," he muttered to himself, trudging (for the third time) past River's room. "Let's make a new bottle memory. Wonderful, you big idiot." A small voice in the back of his head told him that this was exactly the right thing to do, while it was still fresh in his memory. He took secret satisfaction that four hundred years after his ninth self (well, tenth if he was being technical) wrote the book he would correct it with the real information. His brain was still reeling with the fact that his memory had been wrong for four hundred years because of his own genius (he felt that he had earned that designation). The new truth had always been the truth.
He turned left, and found himself face to face with River's door again.
"Now you're just toying with me," he grumbled to the TARDIS in general. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to fix the incorrect history. If I close my eyes and count to ten will there be a library just down the hall when I open them? The right library?"
The only reply he got was a sullen hum from the engine.
"Fine," he sighed. "I'll just have to suspend the independent time stream in here so you can't move things around on me." He turned to head back to the console room but instead found the door to the library before him.
"That's my girl," he murmured, amused, stroking the wall lovingly before slipping into the room.