Someone had once asked him how he could stand living for as long as he did, as though perhaps the universe got less interesting the longer he existed in it. He hadn’t thought much about it at the time, but now the question returned to him.

Rose slept, as she always did. Humans were like that, and tired out easily. He had over a thousand years worth of information running through his head. There wasn’t room or time to sleep. Instead, he wandered the halls of the TARDIS. They stretched on impossibly long in all directions, and he easily got lost in them. All the knowledge in the world couldn’t help him remember exactly how he got from one place to another. Many of the rooms he hadn’t been in or used in ages, either. There was an elaborate bathroom, an old weight room, the wardrobe that stretched up and beyond in every direction. There was a kitchen he seldom used (why bother when one could just stop anywhere for a fresh meal somewhere?), and a media room. He opened the door to the library and paused, tilting his head.

All the books in the universe couldn’t fit in the TARDIS, but he certainly had tried. He’d once had an affinity for books. The smell of them had enticed him, excited him, and he’d collected them and stored them here. Then he’d changed and the books had lost their appeal, and although he hadn’t forgotten about them, they’d lost some of their magic.

He stepped into the room, smiling at the sight. Closing his eyes, he let himself inhale deeply, finding the scent of the books headying, like they once had been. He pulled his reading glasses out of his coat pocket and slipped them on as he approached the nearest aisle. He stuck his hands in his pockets, smiling to himself, and gleefully got lost for hours, reading titles and fondly reliving the memories of his past lives.