rude_not_ginger | roleplay for alainn

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roleplay for alainn_aislinn

At least Byron wouldn't be on the ship long enough to try to shag Rose. Just the idea of that irritated the Doctor in new and interesting ways.

Why was this Byron fellow getting under his skin? Maybe because he was the sort of capable, charming type that could take Rose away from the Doctor if he tried hard enough. Maybe it was because the Doctor had more than a few of Byron's poetry books, and therefore couldn't call the man anything but a genius in the literary sense.

So frustrating.

Not as frustrating, of course, as the TARDIS was being. It kept registering a non-human lifeform within the console room. At first the Doctor figured it was reading Rose (after the Time Vortex incident, she never did show up as fully human according to the TARDIS scanners), but she'd been gone for a good fifteen minutes, now, and the scanner shouldn't have been continually reading her.

Unless...

He looked up and around the console room. Nothing was there...or was it?

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"Not...it always hurts. It doesn't stop..." She studied the floor, voice soft. "He hurts so much. All the time. Never-ending. How can he not hurt me with it?"

She wanted to go back to magic and tea and playing with his hair.

That wasn't something the Doctor had thought. Her empathy. Byron was, if his research was right, drug-addicted and self-destructive, and that must've hurt her to feel that all of the time.

"It's all right," he said. How could he know that, though? His empathy was mild in comparison to hers. "It will be all right," he promised, instead. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was make things all right.

She curled into him a little, wanting to believe that. "He hurt so much he died. I couldn't stop him. And then it was better, and things were good, and then they weren't and it happened again and he was gone, but he's back and I don't..." She wrapped her arms around him. "I don't want it to happen again. It hurts so much..."

"Shh, it's all right," he glanced behind him, then back at the door. Oh, Rose and Byron were a bit off, yet. He had some time to calm the girl before they got back.

"Come on," he gave her a gentle direction down the TARDIS corridor to a grey-doored room at the end. The Zero Room. Complete non-interference, even cut out empathic waves, meant to completely calm the mind during regeneration. The Doctor found himself using it entirely too much as of late, especially after a particuarly bad row with Rose. The smell of roses drifted into his nostrils as he led her inside.

She'd never been anywhere empathic waves were cut out before, and she clutched at his arm tightly just for a minute, almost dizzy without them, at the silence. It wasn't...unpleasant. Just terribly disorienting, and she looked around the room, focusing on the soft glow, then looked back at him.

"What is this place?"

"It's called the Zero Room," the Doctor replied, shutting the door behind them, "Timelords, beings like me, we're a bit empathic ourselves. When we're in weakened states they become disorienting, confusing. The Zero Room cuts out all interference, helps our dendrites heal, our synapses reevaluate."

A pause. "I like to read here. It's quite peaceful."

She kept a hold of his while she adjusted, trying to stretch beyond herself and finding only her own fear, her own greif, her own hope that maybe he could help.

Maybe.

"I've never..." Her free hand brushed over her temples and she gave him a confused look. "It's so quiet."

"Might be a bit disorienting at first, if you're not used to it," he said. He turned to face her, putting a hand on her shoulder, "But there's no one's hurt inside of you but your own, now. Just you."

"I've never had just me," she said, wondering.

A grin.

"It's interesting, isn't it?"

She smiled a little up at him with a nod. "It is. Very."

"Nothing to worry about, we'll stay in here a bit 'til you're feeling more yourself, then we'll pop back out. Plenty of time in a TARDIS and all that."

She nodded, mustering another smile.

"Thank you."

He nodded, relieved that she wasn't upset or crying. He was so very bad with dealing with upset women. He wasn't very good with it back when he dealt with Tegan who seemed to be crying all the time, or even with Rose, who did it only on occasion.

"If I'm going to show you around the TARDIS, I should show you the useful places at least, am I right?" he offered up a cheeky smile.

She beamed. "Yes, you're very right." Her voice was admiring, eyes lighting up again with the idea that he probably often was.

"See, that's what I like to see," he said, giving her an equal beam and a nod, "The TARDIS likes you, I think she'd prefer it if you were happy while you were in her. She's a bit empathic like me, too."

"She likes me?" Her eyes widened and she beamed more, if that was possible.

"She'd be kicking up a bit of a storm at having you in here if she didn't," the Doctor replied, "Zero Room's a fairly private place, she'll make the door disappear if she doesn't think the person deserves to go in."

A pause, "Which can be a bit frustrating when she takes Rose's side in an arguement, ruins my whole 'storming off and slamming the door' exit."

She brushed her fingers over his cheek again.

"Surely she would never keep you out...?"

"Oh, only when she's a bit annoyed, not when I truly need it," the Doctor smiled down at the girl, "Tends to know when things are a bit more important than that."

"And she wants to do what's best for you," Aislinn concluded with a smile.

"Exactly," he nodded, "TARDIS and I have a symbiotic relationship. I take care of her when she needs repairs, needs tuning...she doesn't lock me out of the Zero Room when I need it. More of an I-work-hard-and-she-gets-the-benefits."

A tease, naturally, one that if the TARDIS could hear his words, she would probably groan a bit at. They worked equally hard, and the Doctor knew it.

Aislinn half-giggled, just at his tone, even if she didn't know it all. She'd felt how the TARDIS cared. How he cared.

"It's supposed to be that way between muse and artist. Symbiotic, I mean." It was easier to focus in here, to think and explain things without everything else flying around at her.

"It would seem that way. Muse and the artist feed off each other, use each other to grow." He tilted his head a bit to the side, "What keeps it from being like that?"

"It does. With others. Perhaps..." She shrugged, grief in her eyes as she looked away. "Perhaps something of such intensity and intimacy is not meant to last two centuries."

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