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......No one could remember having seen the man before, but when thick smoke began boiling out into the library's reading room, they all listened to everything he had to say.
....."Everyone stop. Now."
......There was something commanding in his tone that put an immediate end to the panicked shrieks, and two-dozen terrified faces turned in the direction of the stranger. His eyes blazed with some barely-contained mania that hadn't been there moments before; he had been laconic and withdrawn until he caught the first whiff of burning paper. That was when he came alive.
......"Go outside, get buckets. We're going to need water."
......As he herded people toward the door, he turned to his right and looked down at a petite woman.
......"I will never understand how a culture invents the digital watch before running water. Doesn't make sense. I mean, I know there are streams and whatnot all over the place, but you really can't beat a nice, hot shower."
......The woman stared at him, dumbfounded. But in her confusion over his seemingly nonsensical babbling, she had momentarily forgotten her paralyzing fear. The man gave her a broad grin and beckoned her to follow before darting off to check for stragglers. She trotted along behind him as he poked his head around the large shelves of books and delegated in a conversational tone.
......"When they get back with the buckets, set up a brigade. Do you know what that is?"
......She replied in the affirmative, but there was no confidence in her voice.
......The man turned to her, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and flashed her another smile. "What's your name?"
......"Sela."
......"Hi, Sela. I'm the Doctor. I need you to go outside and put together a bucket brigade so we can save this library. I rather like some of these books, and I'd rather like to keep them from burning. Can you do that for me, Sela?"
......"Yes, I think so," she replied, more confidently this time.
......"Good girl," he called after her as she ran out the front door.
......Glancing around the room one last time before approaching the furnace that, until recently, had been a storage room, the Doctor noticed a slight movement in a particularly dense patch of shadow on the opposite side of the library.
......"Hello... Who do we have here?" he said, announcing to the shadow-dweller that he was aware of its existence. He strode across the room toward it; in the silence that answered, the Doctor could almost hear Sela's rather unimpressive attempt to organize the impromptu firefighters.
......"You've got to get out of here," he said to the shadows. "There's a great, blazing fire behind that door over there, and you're in a room full of kindling."
......There was only a faint scritching noise coming from the dark alcove.
......"Okay, fine. You have no instinct for self-preservation. How about a sense of civic duty? You're needed in the fire-fighting efforts...which really should have gotten underway by now, actually."
......The scritching continued unabated.
......"Look, I don't have time for this kind of—"
......A pale, thin hand darted out and gripped the sleeve of his coat --
......-- and a faintly blue glow revealed the shadow-dweller to be a thin-featured woman with thick black hair that framed her face like a mantle. The Doctor stared at her intently.
......"And suddenly we're in the TARDIS," he said after the slightest pause. His eyes narrowing and his brows arching, he continued, "Now the question remains, who are you?" Although the woman continued to look at him impassively, he held out a hand as if to quiet her. "No, don't tell me. You're... You're..." His eyelids shot up and his mouth split into a toothy grin. "You're the Lady! Sefkhet-Aabut, Sesheta, Seshat: Mistress of the House of Books, First Lady of Architecture, consort of Thoth... The Universal Librarian. Oh, I had heard you people were around, but I figured it was just a myth...if you'll excuse the expression. You know how Taurans are – can't believe a thing they say. Trust humans to create a belief system around common, garden-variety E.T.s... Because that's all you lot are, isn't it? Tell me something, who was it that came up with the animal heads? Was it Khnum? For some reason, I've always suspected he had a sense of humour. Do you know any of the other mythological pantheons? What's Quetzalcoatl really like? Oh dear, am I still talking?"
......The Doctor stepped back from the TARDIS controls, with which he had been fiddling discretely during his monologue.
......"The beauty of a time machine, Mistress, is that you can go back and try again. It's a bit tricky avoiding paradox, and it's much less annoying to just do it right the first time, but there's often a second chance if you do it carefully...or a third chance, in cases like this. So, if you don't mind, I'm going to give it another go. I would appreciate it if you would leave my ship before I get back."
......He took a step toward the door.
......"You are without a companion today."
......He stopped. The look he shot her should have broiled her alive.
......In a cold, unyielding tone, he said, "Today is relative. I think I'm also on the other side of the galaxy today, and I was definitely not traveling alone." He paused for a moment in thought. "Maybe that was tomorrow; it's been a long time, and it doesn’t matter. Those people, they're what matter. Their lives, their families, their history... And that's why I have to get back to help them. Meanwhile, you're just standing there, doing nothing."
......"That's what I do."
......He inhaled sharply, his jaw firmly set. "You stand by while people die? Well, that's just great, that is. 'Nero fiddles,' and all that, yeah?"
......"But I am not an emperor, Doctor. I am a historian."
......"'Heroditus fiddles,' then?"
......"He was a flutist."
......"Was he really? He never told me that. Good man, very creative. You know, he never even left Ionia? Total homebody. He was the Jules Verne of his time, and now they call him a journalist." His voice suddenly became hard once more as his eyes locked onto hers. "It's strange, the stupid, misguided things people believe, isn't it?"
......She blinked once, slowly. "We two have a great responsibility."
......"A responsibility to help people!"
......"A responsibility not to interfere in the natural progression of other civilizations."
......"Oh, now don't go all Prime Directive on me. Even Picard got involved when he needed to."
......"Pardon?"
......"Madam, pardons are for criminals and turkeys."
......She looked back at him from beneath half-closed lids.
......The Doctor searched her face in vain for some hint of emotion. "Are you telling me you've never gotten involved?"
......"Never."
......"And you're proud of this?"
......"I have overcome temptation, something you obviously have not done."
......"The temptation to help? Oh, that should never be overcome."
......"It is an abuse of power to change the course of history and alter lives."
......"We are still part of the timeline, you and I...sort of...and it's completely immoral to stand back and allow things to happen when you know you can help."
......"You were not meant to be in these places; therefore, it is unnatural for you to interfere."
......"What's unnatural is for a person to stand by and record tragedies for posterity. And, by the way, did you just say a semicolon...?"
......"Recording history is a job that must—"
......"If you would like me to physically throw you out of my ship, please continue that statement. Look, I'm not talking about changing things I know have happened. But who's to say there wasn't someone there to save Joe Smith from an automobile accident? If he was meant to live, I was the random passerby who helped. If not, at least I tried."
......"Are you a Calvinist, Doctor?"
......"There is a way things are supposed to happen, and we should never try to change that. But you have to help where you can. I was like you once. Well, I was reluctant to get involved—I was never a female journalist. But a few centuries in, I realized that all the research in the universe wasn't going to be enough to make up for the guilt. For the blame. Because all the research in the universe has no purpose in and of itself, does it?"
......"Would you rescue a hare from the jaws of a fox?"
......"That is a flawed analogy. The fox needs the hare to survive."
......"The Racnoss were only trying to survive."
......"A fox has never depopulated a forest, much less a planet."
......"Does your meddling actually help anyone? You leave pain and destruction in your wake. People die, lives are torn asunder... You destroyed your own people, Time Lord."
......"I had to."
......"That doesn't make it better."
......He closed his eyes.
......"And what about her? You've destroyed her, as well."
......His eyes flew open. "Don't mention her again." He stormed toward the door.
......"She weeps for you," the woman continued, unimpressed. "You shared with her wonderful experiences, and then you abandoned her. She is broken, Doctor. They all are."
......He whirled around grinning, a half-crazed look in his eyes. "Where would you like to go?"
......"Pardon?"
......"Criminals and turkeys, Mistress, criminals and turkeys. I can take you anywhere you want—well, anywhere on this side of the Void."
......"I have my own means of transportation, Doctor."
......"Yeah, but we wouldn’t want you to waste the petrol. Consider it my thanks for the stimulating conversation. So, where would you like to go?"
......"Tell me about her."
......His eyes grew even larger, his grin more manic. "Oh, I know where we'll take you!"
......He began pulling levers, pressing buttons, and spinning dials with obvious glee. He knew precisely what he was doing, and his fingers danced nimbly across the controls. Even when he found it necessary to use the mallet lying conveniently on the panel, he made it look less like a game of Whack-a-Mole and more like a gentle reprimand. Finally, he came to a halt in front of a small switch and, with a self-satisfied flick, it was all over.
......He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and nodded meaningfully towards the door.
......"Goddesses first."
......The woman crossed the platform and pulled open the door with a utilitarian grace usually associated with machines in certain types of science fiction films. Smoke billowed into the TARDIS, and an eerie light flickered across her face. The Doctor walked up behind her and winced almost imperceptibly as screams mingled with the crackling of burning papyrus.
......"Welcome home, Mistress," he said, unnervingly cheerfully. "Alexandria, 274 AD."
......She stood in the entryway for a moment too long.
......"Well, I'll see you later, then!" He waved as if biding farewell to an old friend and gently but firmly nudged her forward.
......She stepped outside, her shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and the grin evaporated from the man's face. He watched her a moment, waiting for some reaction. She paused only briefly before standing straight and striding off into the shadows, stylus in hand.
......The Doctor painfully shut his eyes and began to close the door.
......A young girl stumbled blindly through the thick smoke, an elderly scholar leaning on her for support. Both were choking.
......Neither saw where the man came from; he simply swooped down, his strange cloak flying out behind him.
......"Here, take my arm."
......His accent was unfamiliar, and his skin seemed pale and sickly. But his voice was so reassuring, and he lifted some of their burden.
Extensive, babbly, self-indulgent notes that you should probably just skip over:
~ I started this story in January of 2007, and it was written over the course of the next six months. As I have a tendency to do, I sent the thing off to be beta-read, made the suggested changes, then set it aside for several more months. What this all means is that the moment in which the inspiration struck – when I had only known the Doctor for a month or so and "Doomsday" was still very fresh on my mind – is significantly different from the moment in which it was betaed – just after we here in America had seen "Smith and Jones" – and even more different from the moment in which we find ourselves now...whatever that is.
I would like to think that I have kept it ambiguous enough to be relevant regardless of what is happening on the show at any given time; however, considering how powerful the events of "Doomsday" were – how much they overshadowed everything that had come before, as far as companions are concerned – and how very un-"Doomsday" Martha’s and Jack’s final scenes with the Doctor were, I worry that this will be read as a Rose/Ten shipper fic. I am not a shipper of any sort (except possibly Niles/Daphne and Kurt/Amanda, but that is hardly relevant here), and the "she" in this story is not Rose. If "she" is anyone, she is Susan, in so much as all of the Doctor’s young female companions since Vicki have been Susan.
~ As a child of the nineties and, more importantly to this conversation, an American, I was completely deprived of The Doctor until 2002 or so, and even then I only saw The Enemy Within. Obviously I've caught up a bit since then, but I’ve still only made it up to the end of the sixth season of the original series, so please forgive me if I have smegged anything up due to ignorance.
~ I'm not entirely sure where I first picked up the idea that human religion is based on racial memories of alien encounters, but I recently unearthed a story I wrote in eighth grade that "confirmed" the theory in passing, so it's obviously been in my mind for awhile. I am agnostic, which is to say that I have no concrete beliefs but am open to many varied and often bizarre suggestions, so while I do not necessarily support the E.T. As God theory, I do find it highly intriguing. Handily enough, it fits in well with some of the general ideas of the new series, most obviously those explored in "The Impossible Planet" and "The Satan Pit."
If you are interested in finding out more about paleocontact and ancient astronauts, The Discovery Channel has a few documentaries on the topic (although I cannot remember the names of any at the moment), and Erich von Däniken has written a number of books on the subject, including Chariots of the Gods and The Eyes of the Sphinx. It is not uncommon to find his works in the Fiction section.
It has recently come to my attention that there was a serial in the original series – "Pyramids of Mars" – that dealt with the issue. I have not yet seen this serial and was not aware of its existence when I wrote this story. I'm going to justify the continuity issue by pointing out that the Doctor has been known to bluff on occasion, and he was just trying to distract her and buy himself some time.
~ Seshat actually was one of the minor Egyptian goddesses. As such, she had a variety of titles and responsibilities, and those mentioned here by The Doctor only scratch the surface. I first encountered a description of her a little over seven years ago, and the character I developed based on that description has been kicking around my mind ever since. I change her characterization frequently, but so did the Egyptians... I could take this opportunity to go into a lengthy description of the goddess and of the character and the differences therein, but I really don't think it is necessary...especially considering the story is over now.
~ There is quite a bit of uncertainty as to when the Library of Alexandria actually burned (which actually happened several times in the nearly 600 years it existed). I chose a year at random from the decade or so that most likely saw the library completely destroyed. If you would like more information, Wikipedia has a nice entry on the library, and Matthew Battles' Library: An Unquiet History has a chapter entitled “Burning Alexandria” that is devoted to libraries that have been destroyed.
~ The title is, of course, from one of the Ninth Doctor's lines in Mark Gatiss' "The Unquiet Dead." The Doctor and the TARDIS and all that good stuff belong to the BBC and are used here without permission, but instead with infinite gratitude and admiration, blah, blah, blah... You know the drill by now, right? I've stolen a character and a setting, and now I'm going to request that you not steal my idea or my character...who really isn't mine at all, considering she's been around for several millennia. Thanks for your cooperation.
~ Many, many, many thanks to my absolutely amazing beta readers, Captain Chaotica!! and Draca Darkwingette (who practically deserves a writing credit for all she did). It was their conversation, as well as conversations with the wonderful Fay Weber, that (in part) inspired the story, their scrutiny that kept the Doctor from straying into dreaded OOC-land, and their ego-boosting that gave me the confidence to actually show it to other people. If you liked it, they're the ones to thank; if you hated it, they did their best with what they had, so take up your complaints with me.
~ Further thanks are also due to Mainecoon. It's been years since I last talked to her, but, there for awhile, we were fairly good friends. We did a lot of RPing together and shared art and fiction, but it was really her world and I was just along for the ride; I was her companion, in a manner of speaking. I would hardly say that I "broke" when she disappeared into the ether, but I do definitely miss her from time to time, just as I do all of my 'net buddies that I have lost contact with over the years (Angela, Athena, Cindy, Morgan, Chuck, Lauderdale, Roaming Tigress, Killjoy, pretty much everyone from AL between 2000 and 2002...)
ANYway, as I was saying before I spiraled off into Tangentland, this fic has its roots in the Tearstained Alley, which doesn't appear to exist any longer. In its web incarnation, at least. I'm sure I'm not the only one who still has a sorrow-slurping silver fox living in an alcove of my imagination.
I apologize for tangenting once again (Memory Lane is a tortuous path, iddn't it?). The point I keep trying to get to here is that this encounter - indeed, this form of dialogue-driven story - would never have occurred to me if not for the Tearstained Alley dialogues, which were short conversations between one or two fictional characters and Hazel, a morally neutral character of Mainecoon's invention who would promt the characters to discuss their fears and regrets and disappointments and all that fun emo-type stuff.
I didn't think the Doctor would respond well to that sort of thing, and so here he is, not responding well.
~ If you would like to contact me, please send email to staticcling@Megavolt.zzn.com
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