Chapter Seven

There were times when the TARDIS' sheer size – knowing what the ship looked like on the outside – filled you with awe and wonder. There were also times when the TARDIS' sheer size was just frustrating. Especially if you happened to be looking for something in a hurry.

That was Amy's current feelings towards the ship, and she let her know in a long stream of colourful words as she went through her mental list of places to look for Jane. She checked Jane's temporary bedroom first, but it was empty, as were all the locations near it.

"I really hope she didn't go for a walk and wander off into someplace I never knew existed," Amy muttered.

She hurried down the hall and turned a corner – and an idea came to mind that was so obvious she couldn't help but feel idiotic for not thinking of it earlier.

"The library!" she said. "Of course."

Turning, she sprinted back the way she came and zigzagged her way through the labyrinthine passages until she reached the large, oblong doors that led into the library.

Amy had only been inside there once, early on when she had first joined the Doctor. She had found it when she went on an exploration mission to find the pool; she had been entranced by the idea of a pool inside a police box ever since the Doctor had first mentioned it, all those long years ago when she was still a little kid. Having never been particularly fond of books (unless they had something to do with Greek and Roman history and had pictures), Amy had only poked her head inside the room before she left.

Now she wished she had done a thorough explanation of the library.

It was gigantic; just as large as the console room, possibly bigger. The first thing that came to mind was that it was a golden-green Time Lord version of the library in The Beauty and the Beast. There were thousands upon thousands of books, all put away on high shelves, some of which had long, spiralling staircases to reach.

"Jane?" Amy called. "Jane? It's Amy. I know you're in here; I want to talk to you, if that's okay."

She couldn't see Jane anywhere, and she was entirely sure if she had been heard.

"Damn," Amy said and clattered down the wide steps that led to the first floor of the library. "I hope this won't take too long."

She began combing the aisles. She checked every level, peered behind every bookcase, climbed every stair, but there was still no sign of Jane. She was about to give up when suddenly she noticed a little alcove between two large bookcases. There was a large yellow chair squeezed into it; Jane was curled on the chair, book in hand, with a pile of books on the floor.

"Hi," Amy said.

Jane didn't stir.

"Um… Jane?"

Jane looked over the top of her book. Amy saw that she was reading Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone; she resisted the urge to giggle. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to see how you are, that's all," Amy said.

"Why are you smiling? Is something amusing?"

"Oh, it's nothing, I just thought of – never mind." Amy pointed at the book. "Do you like it?"

"What? Oh… yes, I suppose I do." Jane closed the cover and sat up straight in her chair. "It's a bit frivolous, and the concept of… er… magic is provocative, but I find the characters to be engaging and it really is quite bizarre. Fanciful, but bizarre. I do enjoy Hermione, however. I think she is the only character who actually has a brain in this entire story."

"Yeah, sure," Amy said. "Those books are great, I actually read them. Re-read them, too."

"Reading is not a comfort to you?" Jane asked.

Amy shrugged. "I can't really say. I spent way too much time playing dress up and seeing psychiatrists when I was a kid to learn to like books much."

Jane put the book aside. "What do you want, Amy? Are you going to attempt to console me after the beautiful horror I saw?" There was nothing in her voice to suggest that she was terrified of the universe outside the TARDIS doors.

Amy sat down on the floor, leaning her back against the wall. "No," she said. "I suppose… I guess… I just wanted to say sorry for dragging you out of your house like that."

"Apology accepted."

"It happens."

"I understand it must happen frequently to all sorts of people across the centuries."

Amy grinned. "You have no idea. You should have seen Van Gogh and the—" She stopped. "Never mind."

"What? Are you about to reveal a bit of the future for me?" Jane peered at her with a mockingly earnest expression.

"No, it just wasn't important. Just stuff. Not important."

"I see," Jane said, folding her hands in her lap.

Amy had a feeling that Jane didn't believe her. "I knew you'd come to the library," she said.

"Is it that obvious in my character?"

"Well… yes."

"Is it because I'm a novelist in the future?"

Amy looked at her. "Yeah, it is. And if you're trying to look for copies of your books, then don't."

"Why should I? They are my books after all."

"The Doctor would say you're not supposed to know," Amy said. "Time complications and all that. But I think it's more fun to find out when you're supposed to. If you know everything about yourself in advance, then there's no surprise. There's no adventure. If you knew exactly how things are supposed to go, life would be awfully boring, don't you think?"

Jane didn't answer for a long time. "I haven't pondered it that much," she said finally.

Amy smiled. "I have a friend," she said. "Her name's River. She drives the Doctor crazy – absolutely mad, it's phenomenal to watch – and she knows things that happen to him in the future. In his future, that is. She writes it all down in this blue book that she carries with her everywhere, and I keep thinking he's going to steal it and look at it, but I know he's not. He wants to – he really, really wants to – but he knows that it wouldn't be good for him. He doesn't want to spoil the surprise. Of course, that means he can annoy River as much as he wants, and every time he asks her about something that will happen, she just smiles and says 'spoilers.'" Amy paused, twisting her fingers together. "So that's what I think of. Spoilers. And spoiled things aren't very nice."

"I… suppose not," Jane said.

The silence was very awkward.

"The clothes suit you," Amy said hopefully.

Jane eyed her. "Are you trying to make me feel better?" The accusation was clear in her voice.

"Yeah," Amy said honestly. "It was worth a try."

Jane wet her lower lip. "Mrs Pond—"

"Amy."

Jane paused. "Very well," she said. "Amy. I…" She took a breath. "I know you are not fond of me—"

Amy looked at her in surprise. "Hang on, what makes you think I don't like you?"

Jane seem legitimately astonished. "I felt certain that you did not. Your general attitude towards me has been… well, it has been unwelcoming."

"I didn't mean—"

"Quite frankly, you are loud and rambunctious and free-spirited and… and very, very different." Jane sat back in her chair. "I didn't know what to think of you."

"Oh. Thanks."

"You make me feel like I should apologize."

"Maybe you should. Or shouldn't. I don't know, whatever you want. I'll just sit here and work on not being offended."

Jane laughed. "Amy, you are a trifle ridiculous."

"Yeah, I know." Amy held her hands out in front of her; the bright red nail polish on her fingernails glinted in the warm library light. "You don't really think my nail polish is – er – 'infernal', do you?"

"No," Jane said. "I was merely accosting a physical attribute because I didn't like you very much at that moment." She paused. "They're… pretty."

"Thanks."

"I have never seen a thing like that. Is it common, where you're from?"

"Yeah, sure." Amy shrugged. "I guess… I guess it was a bit strange for me hearing that kind of thing from you."

"Oh, I see," Jane said. "From your point of view, you were insulted by the Great Jane Austen. That could be considered quite an accomplishment in days to come, I imagine."

Amy snorted. Moments later, Jane was joining her in her laughter.

"So you do have a sense of humour after all," Amy said.

"Perhaps," Jane answered with a smile. "Amy, I… have a confession to make."

"Yeah?"

"I think that my initial rudeness towards you stems from the very real fact that I am…" Jane paused, looking a bit lost as she searched for the right words to say. "I am jealous of what you have."

Amy stared at her. "What?"

"I am envious of you."

"What?" Amy repeated. She stared at Jane, hardly able to comprehend what she was hearing. "Did you really just say that?"

"Yes."

"Jane Austen is jealous of me?"

Jane frowned. "Please, don't look so excited, it's rather odd."

Amy laughed. "That is the silliest thing I have heard in a really long time. Now who's being ridiculous?"

"Amy, I am trying to be serious!"

"Yeah, well…" She shrugged. "Yeah. Why are you jealous of me?"

"You have no restraints," Jane said, sighing. "You're a free spirit, as I am trying to be. But mostly… you're my age and you are married. I feel a similar sense of envy towards other women I know who have also been fortunate enough to become engaged and to marry. I am twenty-two, and I am already becoming an old maid. I shall never find a husband if continue to write; that is a quality not searched for in women."

"That doesn't make any sense at all," Amy blurted. "Twenty-two is not old! That's really, really young—"

"Not where I am from."

"Jane," Amy said, "you still have time. Maybe you'll meet someone—"

"I can tell from your tone that I won't."

Amy fell silent, remembering the Doctor's warning about how easily Jane could process information about her future life from the simplest of words. She shook her head. "Stop that. I'm telling you now that I have no idea about your life. I tried to flush one of your books down a toilet once—"

"You what?" Jane looked scandalized. "You threw one of my novels down a privy?"

Amy shrugged. "What can I say? I'm not one for your style of writing, but don't worry about that, I'm centuries ahead of you."

Jane was still gaping at her.

"But you see my point, right?" Amy continued. "If I did that, obviously I never tried to research your life. I know nothing about you. So I can't say if you meet someone or not. And even if I did know, you shouldn't take my word for granted. Don't spend the rest of your life refusing to meet some wonderful guy just because you don't think it's supposed to happen. That's depressing."

"I'm married to my work, Amy," Jane said quietly. "To my writing. What man would want to marry that along with me?"

Amy shrugged. "I saw four psychiatrists and Rory still married me."

Jane's brow furrowed. "Why do I feel like I am having a competition with you?"

Amy laughed. "Good! Because if this is a competition, then I dare you to come back to the console room so we can find out what the blazes is going on with those creepy invisible toe-rags and what we're going to do about them."

"It was always going to come back to that, wasn't it?" Jane said, standing up. "The monsters from my house."

"You bet."

"The Doctor said they were after my voice. I didn't understand – how can something steal your voice?"

"I'm sure the Doctor will explain. He always does. Sometimes it takes him a while because he's thinking about too many things, but if you remind him enough, he'll get around to it."

"But why me? Why do those things want me?"

"Because you're Jane Austen, and you're brilliant," Amy said after a moment. "And they're called Draghs, by the way."

"That is a decidedly awful name. What are they?"

"Invisible spectres that are pretty awful, as far as I can tell."