Stories
The lighting circuits in the first library had been turned down, leaving the room a maze of towering shadows and dark canyons. The Doctor strolled between the shelves. From time to time he'd run a hand over the spine of a particularly good tome. He ought to be getting something done under the console. He'd meant to pop in here, grab a schematic and get to work. But now he was mildly curious. Why had Jenny turned the lights off in here? He had felt her presence when he stepped inside. What was she doing, alone, in the library, in the dark?
He followed his senses between the shelves. The dark wood of the library floor creaked under his trainers. It really never changed in here. Always the mahogany and squashy armchairs and the smell of books, no matter what the rest of the ship looked like.
There was light reflecting on to the shelves just to the left. The Doctor followed it, hands in his pockets. In a cubby carved out of the dark mahogany and shelves, a fire was crackling in a small fireplace. Jenny was before it, curled up on a settee, a book in her hands. The firelight cast its warm glow over the scene as the girl turned a page, silhouetted in black and gold. She turned her head.
"Hello, Father."
The Doctor walked into the little nook.
"Didn't expect to find you in here."
"I wanted to sit by the fire for a bit." She said, eyes on the page of her book. "Feels good to be warm and dry again."
"Mm." the Doctor agreed, taking a seat, "That orbiting moon was a bit…squelchy."
"More than a bit." Jenny commented dryly, turning the page.
"What have you got there?"
Jenny glanced up. "Pictures. It's a picture almanac. And the photography is really good."
"Of which planet?"
"Don't know. There isn't any writing. Just pictures. Did your coat dry out?"
"Oh yes. Tip top shape again."
Jenny nodded, her eyes on the pictures. The Doctor leaned back. The fire light did feel remarkably good on his face. He sat, content in the silence and the half-light. There was the sound of fire crackling, pages turning, and the underlying hum of the TARDIS, barely a whisper beneath his feet. The light threw shadows and highlights across the encircling shelves as the fire danced.
"Father?"
"Hmm?"
"Who's Rassilon?"
The Doctor's dark eyes shot to his daughter's face.
"Where did you get that name?" His voice was sharp in the quiet.
"From reading." She patted the little tower of books that sat on the floor, leaning against the settee for support.
"There's a couple of books where they keep saying stuff like 'by Rassilon' and 'in Rassilon's name.' Is he a god?"
The Doctor smiled wryly, his eyes dropping to his clasped hands. "No. Some people said he was. But no. Rassilon was…just a load of old history. Nothing very interesting."
"Nothing interesting?" Jenny sat up. "Why wouldn't I be interested?"
The Doctor leaned back, staring into the fire.
"It's rather boring. And not very important now. "
"Is it your history?" Jenny ventured. "From where you came from?" Her father glanced at her, his eyes dark.
"Yes."
"Then I want to learn it." Her voice was quiet in the warm stillness. The Doctor glanced away. The fire crackled, shadows cast by its flames outlining the hollows of his cheeks.
"Was Rassilon a Gallifreyan god?" Jenny asked into the silence. Her father shook his head slightly.
"No. Like I said, he wasn't a god. He was…part of a story. Part of a very long history. But really, honestly, it isn't very interesting."
Jenny set her book aside. "Tell me. If I'm bored I'll say so."
He gave her a small smile.
"You would, wouldn't you?"
"Of course."
He sighed deeply, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, there's a lot of history. Quite a lot. Ages of it, really." He watched the fire light play across the walls, his head tilting back. "There's about three shelves of books over in the north-west quadrant written by Marnal Gates." He said softly. "If you read those, they pretty much chronicle all the historical stuff, a lot of culture and ideology too. Good things, those books, though trying to sort through it all really will make your head ache, mind you. Go ahead and read them, and then you can ask me anything you want. Always nice to know your roots, I suppose. Can't see where you're going if you don't know where you've been. Nieche said that. Or was it Twain? Maybe they both did."
He glanced down, his eyes falling on the book on Jenny's lap. A book marked with the Omniscate. He moved closer to his daughter, taking the book from the crook of her elbow.
"You said you didn't know what this is?"
"No." Jenny said, her eyes quizzical. "Do you?"
"Mm-hmm." The picture on the first page showed a clear, cold morning in the seventh season, white snow tinged gold by the light of the suns. Prydos glowed beneath its glassy shell.
"This is a book showing images of historical sites. This is in here because it's-because it was one of the oldest cities. And this was the tallest mountain. Mount Cadon."
Jenny was still staring at him.
"What else?"
He glanced at her, sitting there, bright and curious and waiting. He swallowed, glancing back at the book as his long fingers flicked the pages. The Capitol. Lune Forest. He had taken his wife to the forest when they'd first been Promised. Another page. Another memory. Page upon page. Maybe he shouldn't turn them. He didn't want to run into any pictures of the Citadel or the Soonwell Valley. Too many memories there.
He stared into the fire. It all held too many memories, really. Those places were gone, and those people. A part of him was gone with them. Exhuming their pictures and tales was like irritating an amputation wound.
And yet…
Jenny's head cocked as she watched him, her face half-illumined in the ruddy light, glowing like white gold
And yet…
The Doctor drew a deep breath, and turned to face his daughter.
"Okay. Get comfortable."
Jenny adjusted her legs, and watched him expectantly. The Doctor crossed his legs in front of him, taking the book up again, flipping a few pages. He held the book between them, showing a rocky field under a clear orange sky.
"It started here." He began quietly. "Long, long ago, when humans were still funny little lemurs and the Medusa Cascade was a forming cloud of gas, before we truly understood time, before we were even really Time Lords, there was a man. His name was Rassilon. And there was a war. The First great Time War. A war the people of Gallifrey brought down on themselves. Those were the Dark Times. Many people died. Millions. And when that war was over, something new started. A new people were born. You see, the man called Rassilon… " His voice curled quietly through the room, tales mixing into the shadows and the firelight, weaving millennia of shared history, shared suffering, and eons of knowledge.