“Could I help you?“ Ryan asked, kneeling next to the Doctor as she worked on the console, buried in wires, “M’good at this sort of thing, I was trainin’ to be a mechanic. Promise not to touch anything unless you’ve said so.“

“Ryan Sinclair, I thought you’d never ask.” The Doctor grinned, scooting out from underneath the console & sitting up with a grin on her face. Her coat had been tossed aside & her sleeves rolled up, face covered in grease that had avoided her eyes only through the use of goggles. Even her hair was coated in the sticky liquid.

“S’not as glamorous as it looks sometimes - someone’s over-used the custard cream machine & they’ve gotten stuck, messin’ with the hydraulics.”

Ryan tried to hide his amusement as the Doctor shimmied out from under the console, looking a bit like she’d been dunked head first in yellowish oil. “You’re literally the only person I’ve ever seen get into the custard creams. Personally, I prefer chocolate chip, but that’s just me.“

He knelt next to her, rolling up her sleeves, then putting a hand against the side of the console for balance. The inside of the console was slick with mashed cookies and some sort of oil, the same yellow tone, that didn’t look or smell like anything he’d ever encountered before. It was almost planty, like something alive. Was this ship a little bit alive? “Maybe it’s still got creams in the queue. So if more are comin’ it will just keep making a mess ‘til we cancel the order. Sort of like a paper jam, yeah? Where do they come from? Those food machines in the kitchen?”

“Err- Ryan, we don’t point fingers,” the Doctor said, scoffing as he pointed out she was the only one that had the custard creams. It was true, of course, but that didn’t mean he needed to point it out.

The Doctor glanced to Ryan as he mentioned cancelling the order. The lever only brought up one custard cream at a time, & having him help hercancel the order would only show him just how much of a sweet tooth she had… how many times had she pressed that lever & had nothing come out? Was she really ready to share that with Ryan?

“Nah, she’s delicate - can’t just compare her to a printer & go around cancellin’ orders. She made each ‘n every one of the custard creamslovin’ly, ‘n you just wanna cancel ‘em?” the Doctor scoffed, shaking her head as if it would offend the ship more than her. “What we need t’do is jus’… talk t’her. ‘N maybe get a bucket for ‘em to all pour out into.”

Ryan opened his mouth to say that it might be more of an insult to the Doctor’s temperamental ship to have a load of biscuit mash leaking out of her, but instead he just shrugged and slapped his knees as he stood - “Right then. Findin’ a bucket.” He stepped away, moving to one of the rooms that hedged the console room, tucked away, where he’d seen the Doctor emerge from with an assortment of oddities.

"I'm sorry Ryan, but y'need to go home. It's for your own good so don't argue with me, don't ask questions. Jus' do as you're told."

It felt like a slap in the face. It felt like being a kid again, left on his Nan’s doorstep with a couple of suitcases. “I don’t understand,” he finally managed. “Did I do somethin’ wrong?” that was a question, he realized. No, the answer would make it worse, either answer. He looked down at his shoes, taking a step back and pushing down confusion and heartbreak and anger, until he could look up at her without shouting or crying. “Sorry, you said no questions. That was… I’ll just… um… go get m’stuff, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, I mean – no, that’s fine. Take all the time y’need.” The Doctor said, shoving her hands in her pockets sheepishly. She hated saying goodbye to her friends, but it was better than the alternative. The incident with the Dalek & Aaron had made it clear just how far she was willing to go in this new face… & in Ryan’s desperation to save his father, they’d almost both flown out the door.

Ryan would’ve died, & it would have been her fault. Saying goodbye was painful, but it was better than him dying.

“Right,“ Ryan said, feeling like a kicked dog limping away with his tail between his legs. He started for the stairs to the rest of the TARDIS’s expanse, then stopped and turned back. He wasn’t going to be left on a doorstop, not again. “No. No, m’sorry, but all we been through, y’can ‘least tell me why. And what ‘bout the others, what have I done different?“

❝I’m gonna tell them the same thing, Ryan. You’ve done nothin’ different, nothing wrong…❞ she trailed off, standing at the console & looking at the controls as opposed to her friend. He didn’t want to leave & it broke her hearts - just as much as telling Yaz & Graham to go would. ❝The longer you’re with me, the more danger you’re in. I’m not the woman y’think I am. I’m a monster, you’ll all be safer without me in your lives.❞

“You’re not a monster,” Ryan said, the insecurity that being asked to leave had brought vanishing in a moment - if there was anything in this crazy universe that he was certain of, and that list was getting shorter with every trip in the TARDIS, it was that she was the furthest thing to a monster imaginable. “You’re right daft though, to think so. Like, full on crazy.”

He crossed back over to the console, hesitantly putting a hand on her shoulder like Graham used to try to when he’d fall off his bike. “We all knew what we were signin’ up for, remember? But travelin’ with you is the most amazin’ thing I’ve done, ever. And yeah, people die…” he paused, a crack of emotion in his voice, “like Nan, and maybe one day that will be one of us, but people also die all the time and no one cares. No one stops. But you do. Like with the witch trials, yeah? A monster wouldn’t’ve dove into icy water to save that lady. And a monster would’ve killed m’dad or Lin straight out instead of tryin’ to work out a way t’save them. You’re not a monster ‘cos y’can’t save everyone, the monsters are them that don’t even care. Or worse, are the ones causin’ it.