Who: Melody Williams & Edwin Courcey What: Mel finally gets around to checking out the library. When: Late last month? Warnings: Brief mentions of murder and imprisonment.
The Library had been an early recommendation for sights to see upon finding oneself in Vallo, but there had been other things on Melody's mind these last weeks. First, whatever they were that had invaded. A homicidal puzzle box. Her own attempts to sort out who exactly she was now. But finally feeling as though she'd made progress on that last one, and with a seeming lull in the city's…little adventures, she didn't have any more excuses.
Some part of her remembered this place, or a version of it. She'd spent time in Ancient Alexandria. Months. She remembered those days as her own.
Scrolls didn't have the same smell as modern books. She breathed it in, letting it wash over her. The archaeologist in her couldn't help marveling at the sight before her, wanting to examine every inch of the library. The time traveler in her already knew what it felt like to stand in living history, and so she stayed, still and quiet.
She glanced at the man who'd come up beside her. "It really is beautiful, isn't it?"
Edwin recognized the awe in the woman’s face. He’d felt something similar, when he’d first arrived, though he’d not stayed rooted in place his first visit. No, he’d rushed straight to the comfort of the stacks, willing himself to get lost in them, and had tried to make the awe of the library overwhelm the disorientation of finding himself in a different universe a century in the future only an hour or so earlier. It hadn’t quite done the trick, but it had done a good deal.
He thought he recognized the woman from the Network, though it could be hard to tell just from their photos sometimes. He waited a moment, letting her soak it in herself, before he approached her.
“It is,” he agreed. “Is it your first time to the Library?”
She nodded. “This particular version of it.” Which she realized probably didn’t make much sense. “It's complicated.”
Stepping forward, within reach of the nearest shelf, Mel allowed her fingers to brush over the ends of the scrolls resting there. As River, the wonder of touching the past had worn off, tarnished and dimmed. But as Melody, it was still a little bit novel, like existing in a forgotten memory.
“I used to travel through time, you know?” She didn’t look at him, her gaze slowly following the path her fingers took across the scrolls. “Seeing a place like this, I miss it.”
This was the same woman from the Network then. He tried to think of her name, came up only with Mel, and frowned. That seemed entirely too casual, given the fact that this was his first time meeting her in person.
“Yes, I believe you mentioned that. On the Network. I’m Edwin Courcey.” In case she neither recognized or remembered him. “Is this very different than the Great Library you’d seen before?”
She hadn’t. Recognized him. But that wasn’t uncommon. That was part of the reason she’d adopted the habit of calling everyone ‘sweetie.’ It was enough of a reminder, though, to draw up the memory of their conversation, and she let her fingers drop from the scrolls, turning back to him with a smile. “Of course.” She held out her hand. “Melody. Mel.”
Then she glanced back at the shelves full of scrolls. “It is, and it isn’t. The library suffered a decline. Further, much of it was lost in a fire. Even before it saw its end. I expect this was before all of that.”
Edwin nodded. He knew something of the history of Alexandria, having spent a summer as a child eagerly consuming every bit of knowledge he could on it. He knew that the library had started declining centuries before it had finally been destroyed.
“So you… Or, I suppose, the other you,” Edwin still wasn’t quite sure how the dual lives of Melody worked, “saw it during it’s decline then? I don’t know what would be more upsetting; seeing such a magnificent library falling to neglect, or its final destruction.”
Perhaps, in the end, the fire that finally ravaged it had been more of a blessing than anything.
Mel graced him with a sympathetic smile. It was all right. She still wasn't quite sure how it all worked either. But she was getting closer to figuring it out, and maybe that was all she could ask.
"Truthfully, sweetie, I had other things on my mind at the time. " As was so often the case. "I was in Alexandria weeks after Cleopatra's death." Her expression shifted, an almost sad fondness. "And for a brief time before."
In fact, Cleopatra's well-established death might not be so well-established after all. But she kept that fact to herself for the time being.
Edwin, sadly, was not as familiar with that particular aspect of history, but he could imagine what the general state of the place must have been like after Cleopatra’s death, even if he didn’t know the details himself. “Did you meet her? Cleopatra?” Edwin asked.
"Yes." And there, a genuine smile. "The first time when her son was very young. And again, many years later. For her."
Clearly, she'd liked her. Oh, Cleopatra wasn't the sort of woman you called a friend, but when she thought about her, and thought about that little boy she'd played with who struggled to pronounce her name, she knew she'd cared for her as one.
"I was with her on the day she…died."
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Edwin said, and he meant that genuinely. It was only recently before he’d come to Vallo that death had come knocking on the door; he hadn’t know Mrs. Sutton very well – only a few minutes, really – but she’d died the afternoon he met her and he didn’t think he was likely to ever forget that, even if he hadn’t been with her the moment she’d died. “I hope it wasn’t too difficult for you.”
She shook her head. "I've seen a lot of death, sweetie." And, in this particular instance, she had found a way around it, for Cleopatra and for her son. She couldn't be certain they made it safely out of the city, but she'd given them a chance.
"I was on a quest for her tomb at the time. I thought a friend may have hidden something in it for safekeeping, something I needed to find."
Edwin rather thought that seeing a lot of death was worse, rather than better, but he kept his mouth shut on the matter. Maybe things did get easier with a lot of death, but he thought he’d had his fill of it during the days when he’d been helping Robin with his curse He’d have been happy to go a long, long time without seeing more of it.
“Did you find it?” Edwin asked, curious despite himself.
"I did. It wasn't easy." She still regretted the lives she'd inadvertently sacrificed in the process, without even realizing. "I think he'd rather listened too closely to my stories about coming and going from Stormcage."
Did it matter, she wondered, if she told people here that River had been in prison? She'd told Stephen that she was a killer. Although, at the time, she'd felt she was putting him in a dangerous position, and it was only fair to warn him. But she didn't remember ever being especially ashamed of her time in Stormcage, either.
“The Stormcage?” Edwin asked, eyebrows furrowing. He wasn’t a historian, so it was possible it was some sort of historic event or place, but if it was, he didn’t know it.
"It was a prison, sweetie." And there it was, but she didn’t feel altogether uneasy admitting it, so she smiled. "Some say the most secure in the universe. I wouldn’t quite go that far."
They’d had a hard enough time holding onto her, anyway.
“A prison? What were you sent to prison for?” Edwin asked, and it wasn’t until after he asked that he realized a more tactful man might not have. Or, at least, would have thought of a gentler way to put the question out. But Edwin would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious; Melody didn’t seem the sort of woman he’d imagine in prison.
Of course he would ask. She'd invited the question. Mel only had herself to blame. And so she shrugged, the gesture more relaxed than she suddenly felt. "Depends on the day. Depends on who you ask."
It was an evasive answer, but not an outright lie. River's criminal offenses were too numerous to count. "But Stormcage, particularly, I was sent to for murder. I was pardoned, some time later, but by then, I'd already spent a number of years there."
Edwin started a little, and murmured a quick “Ah.” That was a line of questioning he wouldn’t pursue further. He’d killed someone himself, not long before he’d wound up here. Sometimes, when he least expected it, he could still smell charred flesh, the strangely ionic smell of electrified hair. Perhaps he should have gone to prison for murder, too.
No, that was not a line of questioning he would want to pursue; he doubted Melody would much like any further questions about it either, even if it had happened, apparently, in another life.
“Sorry, I’m afraid I’m sometimes too curious for my own good,” Edwin asked, forcing himself back to the present. “Were you looking for any book in particular, or did you just come to browse?”
She tried not to look too relieved when he didn't question her further, didn't pry as the Doctor had when he'd first learned of her sentence, before he'd known enough to trust her. Mel wasn't as good at masking her emotions as River yet, but she was getting nearer all the time. His apology, she brushed off with a shake of her head and a warm, "Think nothing of it, sweetie."
Nevertheless, she was glad to be moving on from the subject. "Nothing particular. The library was suggested as something I should see when I arrived here. I thought I might finally take the opportunity."
Edwin smiled at that, at least. He was relatively certain that he’d been one of those who’d recommended the library to her in the first place. “I’m glad you have. Do let me know if you have any questions about it? And I hope you’ll let me know how it compares to the library you know.”
Mel expected she’d find plenty of similarities but at least twice as many differences. She glanced back toward the shelves, rows upon rows of scrolls to lose herself in. “I will. Thank you.”