tell me doctor, can you quantify? he just wants to know the reason, the reason why [closed]

[lottawork]

The days without his laptop were not pleasant or painless ones, nor was it particularly easy to make any notable progress in any work-related or personal or significant areas while deprived of that rather key resource, but since Rush's series of, for lack of a better term, decommissions, he has had very few opportunities to return to the TARDIS to obtain it.

He was extremely grateful, to say in the least, to receive an explicit request to do so, and coupled with an invitation to understand the TARDIS in a more hands-on and constructive manner; neither were opportunities he could think to refuse.

He leaves after his return from work. He leaves his apartment with its darkened spill of equations across walls and the thickening heat and the shattered head it does not represent, does not in any way represent, and locks the door firmly behind him. The confinement of the physical becomes infinitely more escapable when one habitually surrounds oneself in the theoretical, in the unquestionably conceptual, in what can only be captured in the lines and curves of numbers against an unmarked expanse.

The TARDIS defies all these conventions. Infinite potential contained in theoretically finite space, brought to a point on an axis unquantifiable.

It is an unspoken relief to vacate the contained, arid hell of his apartment, and an even greater one to at last make out the blue outline of the TARDIS between the trees, the release from the park's numberless haze. He draws even with the door and knocks, even and controlled, and shifts back one pace, unconsciously redistributing his weight in vague curiosity as to who will answer: the TARDIS, or her pilot.

He knows without question which he prefers.

Comments

[whofrownedthisface]

The Doctor is disturbed out of a manic haze of scribbling and thought, by an unusually unannounced knock at the door. Not that a knock isn't generally kind of its own announcement, just, not here, not for him. If there were a way to get even more layers of announcement between himself and people at the door, he'd definitely be on that. This is why it doesn't do to stay in one spot too long, soon there's people piling up, knocking on doors like obnoxious neighbours looking to borrow a cup of sugar. Mistakenly assuming they're entitled to his time and attention, just because they happen to know where he is.

The problem here being, of course, the interruption. Who it is that caused the interruption is irrelevant, not even worth a thought or pulling up a view outside. The damage is done, may as well find out if it's worth it now, and then get it over with when it likely turns out not to be. With a literal millenium's (at least) worth of resignation, the Doctor opens the door.

Well, it's refreshing to be wrong occasionally. This is definitely worse than just an interruption. He looks at Rush, aghast, for the briefest second, before resuming a more spirited manner. "Scruffy! What can I do for you, to get you on your way? Or have you got some equations you'd like checked over? That, I don't mind. Though I expect there'd be rather a lot of corrections to do, so probably best to come back in the morning."

[lottawork]

So. The pilot, then. Expected and anticipated, and also far less interesting. Rush does a passable job of ignoring the mounting annoyance the Doctor seems rather talented at engendering.

"You can recognize equations? I'm astonished." Still insufferably intent on asserting some superior claim to intelligence, though with an overwrought title such as 'Time Lord,' it isn't the least bit surprising. "The TARDIS," Rush informs the Doctor with honeyed meticulousness and an infinitesimally arched brow, "invited me."

[whofrownedthisface]

Now the Doctor's frown is more perplexed than outright disgusted, he has quite a range to draw from, it's really an art form. But what Rush has said just didn't really make any sense, so who could blame him for struggling with it? "What. Why?" No, don't even bother. "Has it ever worked out well for you, coming here? Are you sure you understood correctly, what she said?" The Doctor could not possibly sound any more disbelieving, but that's actually a step up from just not internalising what Rush said altogether. "Have you ever been invited somewhere, would you recognise it? Because frankly, I see a lot of potential for error here."

[lottawork]

The Doctor appears to have come to the conclusion that Rush is incapable of basic verbal comprehension. He doesn't even favor him with a low hiss of annoyance, simply fixes him with an even, uncompromising stare and compounds as much disdain as possible into the fractional tilt of his head.

"You can ask her, if you like." He could also possibly explain the reasoning behind her invitation, but it's quite apparent that the Doctor is largely bereft of any grounds for critical thinking. "Do you mind terribly getting out of my way?"

[theoldgirl]

Contrary to popular belief, the TARDIS is not capable of being everywhere at once. So when she's having to persuade Ianto that one of the libraries is a better place to be than the console room just now, and distract the child from trying to take a nap on her power generators again, it takes just a few moments for her to register Rush's anticipated visit, put on her body and go salvage whatever modicum of interpersonal tolerance these two can possibly muster. Of course, a few moments is more than enough time for them to derail into completely unnecessary, aggravated bickering. Which really doesn't do her mood any good, either.

She enters at the top of the stairs, intones a distinctly exasperated chime, and then walks towards this congregation of dear but vexing pilots. She'd kind of hoped the Doctor wouldn't be in the console room when Rush came by, but of course she is painfully barred from making any such predictions here. "Doctor, do let him in," she says patiently, but with an unmistakably stern look. Then she fixes her guest with a similar glance of no tolerance for argument. "Nicholas, don't antagonize him."

[whofrownedthisface]

With an answering look of utter betrayal, morphing quickly into sullen reproach, the Doctor steps away from the door, as instructed. "Yeah, Nicholas," he mutters venomously as Rush goes by. There's no hope of the TARDIS not hearing, but what can you do. "Why is he here, then? I demand an explanation, I have a right to know." He'd ask if he's being punished in some way but that's an actual possibility, so probably best not to risk bringing it up. "Better be something good, something better be chasing him, threatening to dissolve him, something." Rush hadn't seemed really urgent enough for that, but there's still hope.

[lottawork]

With a mild effort, Rush suppresses his escalating spurt of irritation and does his best to arrange his expression into something resembling cool neutrality, closing his features off with a brisk nod. "Of course."

He enters in a crisp, organized sweep, studiously ignoring the Doctor's apparent effort to convert his name into an insult by pure venom alone and concurrently cast as many poorly defined aspersions on Rush's character as one can in the three syllables.

The TARDIS he greets with a more fluid nod, one side of his mouth ticking up faintly in a look of restrained if unmistakeable fondness. "I am grateful for your interference," he says, calmly refusing to take any of the Doctor's increasingly improbable hypotheses into account. "The night previously."

[theoldgirl]

So far, Rush is definitely making a noticeably more successful effort (or any effort at all) to be respectful of her wishes than the Doctor. Distantly she wonders if Destiny knew how good she had it. But there's nothing for it, she is stuck with the more irritatingly argumentative of the two and if he is paying any attention at all, he'll notice that his rude demands aren't the least bit appreciated. Will she have to justify every single one of her strays to him? As though he ever does her that courtesy.

The door closes behind Rush with a soft click, and she returns his greeting with a faintly warm smile to match. "You're quite welcome," she replies, but that's really not her focus right now. "He is here because I like him," she informs the Doctor sharply, "Is that a good enough reason?" And that is absolutely a challenge, as indicated by a quirk of her eyebrow. But she refuses to contribute to the needless aggravation in the air and adds, "I think he ought to understand me a little better, so he may be of use manipulating the rift in the future."

[whofrownedthisface]

Hey, he let him in, didn't he? That should really count for more. And he'd thought with the party there'd been some new understanding about how he felt, about all these...guests, and living in what is apparently to be a central hub of rift refugee activity. But grudgingly, he does have to admit it might be of some use, for Rush to have a better grasp not just on what they're dealing with, but on what they'll have on their side while dealing with it. "Well, it'll do." He sheepishly declines the challenge.

Rush is a better target anyway, and he's telling a very different story. "What interference? What did you get into?" What is this vagrant getting his ship into. Can't he just get into things on his own. Now the Doctor has abandoned his offended, martyrly uninvolvement by the door and is looming fussily in Rush's direction.

[lottawork]

That's a startling lack of resistance from the Doctor, of whom Rush has formed the opinion of being something of a walking autocratic cautionary tale regarding the social dangers of excessive chironomia. The TARDIS apparently has quite an even say in these matters, an unexpected if appreciated outcome.

She likes him. Also unexpected, though equally appreciated, to have it - stated. Said aloud. Bluntly. Like a pronouncement of fact.

It would have been bitingly optimistic to assume the Doctor would acquiesce so easily, however.

"A dream," he answers sedately, eyes flicking downward at the recollection, not fully confident in his ability to maintain a deceptively steady gaze in the face of that less-than-agreeable experience. "Nothing more."

[theoldgirl]

Well, this is progress. Sheepish acquiescence is better than none, and she is somewhat mollified, the console ceasing most of its irritated blinking and whirring. She hasn't forgotten about his unfortunate discomfort with her visitors either and would have very much liked to spare everyone this confrontation, without giving up her own will, of course. Simply circumventing the Doctor's awareness of most of her activities is usually a solid strategy. But failing that, they should still be able to tolerate each other's wishes. It would be so disheartening if they couldn't at least manage that.

But before she can navigate a kind of compromise, he's already redirected his fretful disapproval once again, much to Rush's unease. She doesn't see anything secret about his affliction, but it's plain he doesn't want to share it with the Doctor in any detail, so she'd better step in before he can press her guest further. "I do this sometimes, when I come upon a particularly distressed mind. Humans are capable of vicious nightmares; I calm them." She doesn't need the Doctor's approval to be assured of her own actions, but still it comes out unintentionally questioning, searching, when she adds, "That is what we do, isn't it? We help."

[whofrownedthisface]

He can't actually argue with that. However much he'd like to. "I suppose you must be getting a bit bored." Bored enough to search out human nightmares to intervene in. It's unobjectionable enough. Commendable, even. "As long as they're properly appreciative." Embarrassing, for her to remind him. Yet another small scale alienation, though she's hardly advocating he take up the task himself of getting between humans and their own fitful psyches.

If that's all it is. "Was it just a dream, or some kind of rift activity? Fear harvesting, or probing for weaknesses, you know it strikes me as a security risk," he watches Rush with new, if mostly manufactured, suspicion. Still, it's an angle he hasn't thought of, not in that precise form. And it does seem like something that could be exploited, now he's been reminded.

[lottawork]

"Dreams are a perfectly standard state of affairs." The Doctor is obviously intent on worrying that subject to an absurd degree, and Rush is quite content to sweep past it. "That particular dream was no exception."

For all his efforts, he cannot fully suppress the hardened edge to his annoyance, how desperately he wishes to navigate away from the current point. Peripherally useful the Doctor may be, an unfortunate necessity, but he has no right to access any information regarding the fractured ridges of Rush's own head, nor is he in any way entitled to interrogate him about anything pertaining to that issue.

With forced indifference and a nearly uncontrolled jerk of his chin, Rush curbs the urge to glower in response to the Doctor's breathtaking lack of tact, and reaches desperately for a less potentially distressing topic.

"I believe I made the mistake of leaving some of my personal effects here," he addresses the TARDIS, endeavoring and ultimately failing to not sound subtly strained as he does so.

[theoldgirl]

Boredom isn't quite why she travels the telepathic current and occasionally intervenes, but perhaps the Doctor isn't capable of fully understanding what drives her to offer her protection and her control of that environment to unfortunate humans. Even if the environment is little more than a convoluted, fickle imitation of space and time. But it also serves as a distraction, so boredom might be close enough. He seems more interested in stubbornly finding new reasons to fret and meddle, anyway, and to make her guest yet more uncomfortable, which she won't have.

"Ah yes," she agrees to Rush valiantly trying to ignore the Doctor, an effort she can privately sympathize with. "You will find them a short ways through there." She doesn't bother pointing, instead simply increasing the lighting in the storage alcove behind the console and down some stairs. He quite literally can't miss it, or his belongings set out on one of the trunks within.

Once Rush goes on his way, she turns back to the Doctor to address his concerns, for all the manufactured nagging that they mostly are. "I would have alerted you, had I detected any outside influence," she points out, managing to land somewhere between chiding and reassuring. But she still hasn't given up hope that he might learn to accept or at least tolerate her visitors, so she steps closer with a very faint smile, a gesture that on someone else might be entreating. "I'm curious to see how much of me he can actually grasp. Aren't you?"