The Gallifreyan Bloodline

XXV

Foreman thought of Gallifrey, He recalled the way he felt whenever he breathed in the air. He could taste the orange skies on his tongue, remember the scent of the silver trees rustling in a soft breeze.

And he didn't miss it, not the way he was supposed to. According to the Doctor, he was supposed to be brimming with nostalgia for his past home, for that planet which he hadn't seen for ages. He was supposed to be desperate in order to get back there, to find any trace of the Time Lords and follow it all the way back.

Yes, he could understand why the Doctor cared so much. After everything that the Doctor had been through, it would make sense for someone to be desperate to get back with the planet, with the people who had vanished from the universe for so long. It would only make sense for him to care.

But Foreman hadn't shared much of his life with the Doctor. He hadn't done what the Doctor did, didn't have such an attachment to the planet. Simply put, Gallifrey wasn't a long lost home to Foreman. Really, it wasn't much of a home to him at all. Gallifrey was a memory that he no longer associated himself with.

Yes, he was a Time Lord. Yes, he did care about the people on that planet. But it was a tug which only affected him significantly when he put his mind to think about it. Most of the time, it just ended up being a distraction from the rest of his world. There was so much he had to worry about and Gallifrey simple wasn't one of those things.

However, according to the Doctor, it was supposed to be his main focus. Gallifrey was meant to be the goal. The man stood piloting the TARDIS in the center of the room, close enough that Foreman was afraid to look over and accidentally make eye contact. No, there was too much still floating between them. He didn't dare speak up.

Foreman felt as if he was on the edge of determining something vital, something that he had wished to be on the verge on for so long. He would be able to figure out everything eventually, but he didn't want to wait for such a moment. He wanted to know what he was to do immediately and not have to wait.

What was his home? It wasn't Gallifrey. It certainly wasn't like the TARDIS had provided a true home to him. He considered when he named himself I.M. Foreman and spend ages in front of a scrapyard. He hadn't minded such an existence. He would've been pleased to stay there for longer...but that didn't make it his home.

He'd been alive for quite a while, but few of the places that came to mind atually seemed like a home, a place he had stayed for long enough in order to truly feel it was a safe and kind place. No, he was as much of a wanderer as just about any person who was within the TARDIS.

For a moment, Foreman believed he didn't have a home, as if he'd never had one.

But there had been a place where he'd stayed for days and days on end - and then those days had turned to years. Perhaps it was entirely changed now that he'd been separated from it for so long, but somehow he knew that wasn't true. No, he could return to the only place that even came close to a home for him...the only place he could truly consider home.

"That's it," Foreman murmured to himself. Then he raised his voice up to a cry and said, "That's it!"

"What's it?" Susan asked, her eyebrows creasing. "Foreman - I mean, Father, is something wrong?"

Foreman was so wrapped up into his own ideas that he didn't bother to pay any attention to Susan's little slip up. Instead, his frenzied mind caused him to practically ignore her. If this wasn't a sign that something was serious weith him, then nothing could be.

"Foreman, what are you doing?" the Doctor asked, taking a step towards him. "Foreman, just tell us what you're talking about."

"I-" Foreman began, already realising he was having difficulty finding the correct words.