A/N: So here's chapter two! Hope you enjoy it!
Chapter Two- The Library
"Martha?" the Doctor called, looking into the library. The vast, wonderful library filled with almost every single novel, magazine, newspaper, collection, biography, novella, or any other possible types of literature that had ever been seen in any civilization ever (Jack had once found a complete version of the Rosetta Stone in the Egyptian section). Whenever he and Martha weren't busy saving planets or galaxies or puppies, she'd taken to spending a lot of time here.
"Yes?" Martha's voice was distant. The library was, after all, the largest area in the TARDIS (with the possible exceptions of the bowling alley, the Zero-Gravity room, the laboratory, and the planetarium). Unlike Rose, who'd preferred to do her reading in the main Reading Room, Martha, who devoured books at an amazing rate, usually stayed in whatever subsection she was in at the time. Just to be sure, he checked the Reading Room, but, sure enough, it was Jones-free.
"Where are you?" he called, sighing. He knew that Martha really needed a rest after the Weeping Angels had sent them back to 1969, but he was bored.
"Earth, 21rst century," called his companion.
"Ah," he said, heading towards that room. When he pushed open the door, he found Martha curled up in an armchair with an anniversary edition of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. "Love that book," he commented, closing the door behind him.
"It's great," she said, looking up at the Time Lord with a smile as he sat down in the armchair across from her.
"Great series. Most popular children's books of all time," he said with a smile. "Jo is a wonderful woman too."
"Martha shook her head in mock exasperation. "Have you met every famous author?"
"Almost..." he paused thoughtfully. "I haven't met Agatha Christie. Or Herman Melville. Or..."
"I get the idea," said Martha with a smile. "Did you ever meet Jane Austin?"
"Long time ago," he said with a smile, remembering fondly. "Wonderful woman. Superb even. Once she'd gotten over Ace's outfit anyways."
"Who's Ace?"
"Old friend of mine. Before the Time War. She wasn't exactly dressed for the period..." he trailed off, laughing at the memory.
"Why not?"
"I'd been aiming for 2001," he admitted sheepishly. "She didn't believe me when I told her about the London Eye. You should have seen the looks we got... but when the Cybermen started attacking, Jane forgot about Ace's trousers. She was a good aim with Nitro 9, Jane was.
Martha laughed. "Of course." She tried to think of another famous author. "What about Stephenie Meyer?"
"Who?"
"The Twilight lady?" He looked blank. "Those books with sparkling vegetarian vampires and werewolves?"
"Those?" he looked horrified. "I haven't read those for over a century. I've only just managed to be able to read a vampire book without flinching! I couldn't even look Anne Rice in the eye when I met her!"
"My mum loves Anne Rice," said Martha, laughing when the Doctor rubbed his face where her mother had slapped him. "I prefer Buffy though."
"Oh, Buffy's brilliant! I just love that series! It's been ages since I've seen them though."
"We need to do a marathon one of these days," suggested his friend, idly returning her attention to her book.
"Sounds like a good idea."
"So what happened when you met JK Rowling? What aliens invaded?"
"You just assume that I can't go anywhere without aliens invading!" he cried indignantly. He spotted her raised eyebrows. "Okay, so the Sontarans happened to attack that day, but it had nothing to do with me!" an idea struck him. "Do you want to meet her? She'd tell it much better than I can!"
"I'd love to!" Martha said eagerly, marking her place.
"Come along, then Martha Jones. Allons-y!"
Rose stared at a book. "Doctor?" she called, her voice echoing throughout the library.
"Yes?" the Northern sounding man said, looking up from his perusal of So Long and Thanks for All the Fish.
"What's this?" she said, showing him a book that was filled with squiggles. "I thought the TARDIS translated everything!"
"That books from 2009, Rose," he said, as if that explained everything.
"So?"
He looked up at her. "The TARDIS censors all books from your future. Prevents spoilers."
"Oh," said Rose with a sigh, putting it back on the shelf.
"Try this. It's from your past, so it's legible," offered Jack.
Rose took the book he offered, and then glared at him as the 51rst century ex-con artist started reading the book that she couldn't read.
"What are you reading?" Amy demanded, looking at Rory.
"This book the Doctor lent me about parallel dimensions and the travel between them."
"Seriously?" she demanded. "You've got to be kidding me!"
Rory flushed a little. "What's wrong with that?"
"You are such a nerd!" she laughed. Rory's ears went very red.
"What's so wrong with being a nerd?" asked the Doctor, walking up on the engaged couple.
Amy started laughing.
"Why is she laughing?" the Doctor asked Rory.
"No clue."
"Girls. Even the human ones never make sense," muttered the Time Lord.
"Even? So yours were worse?"
"Oh yes," the Doctor said. "There was this one Time Lady called the Rani..."
"Do all your names start with 'the'?" asked Amy, recovered from her laughing fit.
"No, well," he straightened his bow time. "Just... some of us."
"Do tell," said Rory.
"Well there was the Master, the Rani, the Monk..."
"And the Doctor," Amy said with a grin.
"Yes, well, at least my name makes sense!" said the Doctor, a bit indignant.
Amy and Rory just grinned at him.
Donna Noble ran her fingers over the spines of the books. "Now where is that book?" she muttered. Gramps had told her about this book of his, and he thought that it might interest her.
Little Known Saints of the Catholic Church was the title. Why Gramps had thought that she'd be interested in that book was beyond her, but she might as well check it out.
She found the book, a hug, leather-bound thing. "Page 121," she muttered, turning pages quickly.
Saint John of Tardes read the page. Donna blinked twice. Then she started reading.
The Saint called St. John of Tardes (alternatively spelled Tardis, Tardez, or Tardees) is a little known man whose story begins in the small village called Clemsworth in 1624. According to local tradition, the man was a peddler, or a wanderer, with many skills in medicine. He arrived at the same time as a horrible disease, referred to by the locals as Peelers Plague (So called because one of the symptoms of this horrid disease included huge amounts of one's skin peeling off). St. John, who was referred to by his grateful patients as 'The Doctor' set about curing the disease. It was in his honour that the famous Saint John's Hospice Centre was founded in 1837 in Clemsworth.
Many historians argue the man's existence, mostly because there is no record of any such man, before or after he left Clemsworth. No one has been able to locate a place called Tardes, (or Tardis, or Tardez, or Tardees) which further points towards the man never having existed outside of children's stories. However, to this day, 'The Doctor' as he is often called, remains a popular children's hero, and is often depicted in local art work. Below is one of the earliest known images of St. John. It is unknown what the building behind him is, as no such building has been found in Clemsworth today.
Donna looked down at the picture. A young man, probably in his twenties could be seen, with a wild mop of hair. He grinned cheekily at the artist, and his face sang of mischief. He wore a tweed jacket, and a bow tie was visible as well. In once pocked, almost invisible, Donna spotted a strange metal thing. A sonic screwdriver, perhaps? But it was the eyes that convinced her. Intelligent, eyes, eyes that had seen too much. Eyes far too old for a man that young.
"Oye! Spaceman!" Donna called.
"Yes?" replied the Doctor, looking up from his persuit of Murder on the Orient Express.
"What's this?" she demanded, showing him the book. He scanned it quickly, then stopped.
"Haven't done that yet," he said, closing the book. "Not yet, anyway."
"But the drawing... you look younger. How does that work?"
"It's very complicated. I'll explain later," said the Doctor, putting the book on the small table next to him. "Now, I found this lovely place called Midnight. There's a waterfall made of sapphires..."
"Can't we just go to a spa?" suggested Donna.
"I can take you anywhere in time and space, any time period of any civilization, and you want to go to a spa?" he sounded indignant.
"All this running can't be very good for me," Donna pointed out. "I could use a rest."
"Humans, honestly."
He slouched down in the chair, head in his hands. The millions upon millions of books that surrounding him was not comforting. There was no escape from the emptiness, that hollow feeling. His mind still hadn't accepted the fact, even if his hearts had. His brain kept calling out for other Time Lords, seeking out their presence, but he only found ringing silence.
He sighed. How ironic it was, that once the Time Lords were gone, he wanted them back. How often, in previous regenerations, would he have loved to be free of their rules and regulations? Free of their meddling in his life, free to interfere.
He stared down at the ridiculous outfit of his predecessor, picking at the sleeves. What had he been thinking when he'd chosen this outfit? It no longer even fit him, so why was he still wearing it? He ran his hand over his closely shaved head. Had he regenerated like this, or had he done that to his hair? He couldn't remember.
The Doctor didn't even know how long he'd been dwelling in his TARDIS, moping. A year, a decade, or even a century? He had no idea.
He knew he ought to do something. Now that the Time Lords were gone, he alone could travel through time. He alone could stop the Cybermen, the Sontarans, the Ice Warriors, and the Zygons... all of those creatures. It was his job to stop them.
Because now, no one else could.
A/N: I actually really enjoyed writing this. Sorry if you're found of Stephenie Meyer and Twilight, but I seriously doubt that the Doctor is a Twilight fan.
Anyways, please review!
Hinn-Raven, the not-quite companion of the Doctor