The Gallifreyan Bloodline

XXI

A gentle hum filled the TARDIS control room, just loud enough to cover up the negative thoughts from their previous escapade. No one had figured out why the TARDIS landed in the Library to begin with, and Foreman's distress over the situation forced them to leave before they could investigate.

Ever since that point, every inhabitant of the TARDIS had more or less pretended that the experience never actually happened, that it was all just a dream sequence which may have occurred. But in moments of pure silence, their true thoughts projected through the air.

Perhaps it was the echo of soft sobs coming from Susan's room as she wept over the fate of her mother and grandmother. Other times it was when the Doctor raised his hands to his mouth, attempting to think through the situations they were in. But most of all, it was when Foreman stared off into the air, looking at absolutely nothing as his thoughts wandered away.

But, of course, not a soul in the TARDIS would ever say anything that they thought over the subject out loud. It would only cause conflict, and they'd felt enough of that for quite a long while.

Conflict seemed to stick among this strange family as easily as anything else, something which they'd all learned to loathe after everything. But, of course, loathing only led to loathing of another type in another time. While Susan typically didn't involve herself in the matters, she was often a subject of the debates.

Foreman, in hopes he might be able to avoid such an issue, closed his eyes and started to think through what he could do...and instead came up with what he didn't want to do. He didn't want to speak unless someone else started a conversation with him - at least he would have that proof that it wasn't his fault that anything had started.

The fact that he had to resort to such an intense measure was more or less displeasing to him - but it didn't seem like there was much of any other way to make it work out. It was either waiting for someone to invite him into a conversation, or managing to tear an entire conversation apart. When it came down to it, he would much rather do the latter.

When Susan stepped into the room, Foreman knew he would be capable of getting at least one word in on this particular day. His daughter tended to like speaking to him far more than the Doctor did, most likely because Susan could gain information from him and the Doctor already knew so much more.

But this wasn't Susan's typical cheery entrance - she was collapsing into herself, holding one of her arms at her elbow as it hung down. She was closing herself off from the others within the room, trying to keep herself isolated from it all, hoping she could do such a thing.

"I have something rather important to tell the two of you," Susan said, looking down at her hands as she twittled her thumbs about. This shyness of sorts was irregular for her except for when she had something difficult to say, of course.

Even though Susan claimed her topic was simply important, her body language added the idea that she wasn't quite sure how to articulate it. Foreman felt as if this particular trait had been brought down from his side of the family - he ended up acting in almost the exact same manner time and time again.

"What is it, Susan?" the Doctor asked, the hint of a sigh entering his voice. She hadn't even began her explanation of what she needed to say, and she was already beginning to bother the Doctor with it. This alone was enough to bring a ruddiness to Foreman's cheeks as he felt a need to protect Susan and give her validation. But he'd promised himself not to say anything.

"Oh, dear...I don't know how I'm supposed to say it. I don't know how I can say this out loud, properly...I don't know what to say."

"Well, Susan, we don't have hours to pause everything else we're doing while we wait for you to figure it out 'how you're supposed to say it.' How about you take some time to think through about what you're going to say?"