Chapter 37

The General and Pess were discussing peace while the others got some food. Anthony wanted to get a message to the Kinnomes back at the enemy base, let them know things would be alright. Pride also got roped into healing people again. Well, not that he objected very hard. What did he care?

"So, you are still here."

Pride paused, turning around. Briar was in the medical bay. She looked fine, but of course she would. She was dead. Her body had reversed any damage.

"Being helpful," Briar continued. Her tone was derisive, more so than Pride had heard from her before. "Suppose that was too much to ask before."

"I did try to help," Pride said, insulted. Such a typical response to ignore successes and act insulted, not over other failures, only ones that affected you personally. "You're being irrational."

"Yes, I'm sure you did the best you could," Briar said.

Pride opened his mouth, and then closed it, feeling himself deflate a little. Because either he said he hadn't, or he said he had and implied his best wasn't good enough. And neither were an appealing option. The last time he'd failed . . . well the last time that came to mind he'd lost all his souls but one and fallen further and further from a will to do anything until the Doctor somewhat forcefully pulled him back out. Not something he cared to repeat.

The Doctor came into the bay, behind Briar. "Pride? We're leaving now."

"Right."

He got up, lightly brushing his hands on his pajama pants, and focusing his gaze on only the Doctor. One thing was for certain, he was ready to leave this place. He could hear voices behind them, but he tuned them out. This was no longer his problem, and he didn't care about their opinions.

They were out of the medical bay, down the hall, and almost out when someone came running up behind them.

"Pride! It is Pride right?"

The Doctor stopped, jerking her head back, signally for Pride to turn around.

"Yes?" Pride said, only making minimal effort to hide how uninterested he was.

There was a man who'd run down the hall after them. He looked familiar, but Pride hadn't placed him yet.

"You're the one who fixed my lungs. After I breathed in the gas. I was unconscious at the time, but people said it was you. They all seemed really appreciative."

So that was where he was from. Pride slowly nodded. The man grabbed his hand, and shook it.

"Thank you."

Then he was walking back down the tunnel. Pride looked at his hands, moving his fingers slightly. That had been . . . strange.

Wordlessly, he followed the Doctor back to the TARDIS. Lilly was already there. Once she knew the Doctor was okay, she went down the hall, back towards her room. But strangely, the Doctor also left the counsel room, going down a different hall.

Pride frowned. This room was the Doctor's favorite, easily. And even if she left it sometimes, the TARDIS was big after all, she usually at least moved them away from their latest misadventure first.

Well this was odd, and he had something to bring up with her, so he went after her.

"Doctor? Why didn't you take me with you?"

"I think you'll find I did take you with me. Something I didn't want to do if you'll remember."

That wasn't what he was talking about, and he got the feeling she knew that. He pressed on. "For this trip. You went outside with Lilly. Neither of you were around when I woke up. Why weren't you?"

The Doctor turned and entered a room. Pride followed, catching the door.

"I was giving you a break." Pride frowned. They stood in silence for a moment. "I should keep going, shouldn't I?" Pride nodded. It would help. "It's not about you specifically. Everyone else I travel with goes home sometimes, at least recently. Do . . . whatever it is people do with their lives. They have that option. You don't. I was giving you a break."

Oh. He did, in fact, get tired. He always on the move, and always in life threatening situations. It was nice to just wander the TARDIS sometimes. (And even then, it wasn't really his home, because it was the Doctor's home, and also always on the move. This always felt like something that should be temporary.)

"Are you going to tell me I was wrong to?" the Doctor asked.

"No," Pride admitted. And she'd known he'd answer like that. "But you should've said. I wouldn't have gone out if I knew." They could've spared themselves this entire ordeal.

"And you wouldn't have argued with me at all? I say that you need a break like all my ordinary companions, and your pride would've just accepted that?"

Pride opened his mouth. From the way the Doctor looked at him, he should probably think of his answer a bit longer before denying it. It was true he didn't like being told what to do, especially something that implied he was weak, or like other people. When he took rests in the TARDIS before they were his idea, not someone else's.

"Maybe I would've objected a little," Pride admitted, with even more reluctance than before. "Just tell me next time. I know now."

"I'll leave a post-it. I like post-its."

"I noticed."

She liked to stick so many different colored ones in the same spot Pride thought it was a sort of code at first.

Pride's gaze flicked around the room. He'd never been in this one before. It was dimly lit, and very minimalist. It had a few of those crystals that lit the TARDIS, a bed, a cabinet (that seemed to have more post-its), and that was about it.

"Are you okay?" the Doctor asked. "Today has been trying."

Well, he had been quiet for a while. He couldn't be too annoyed with her. "Believe me, I'm fine. I'm more annoyed that I failed than that someone died."

"I see." Was that disapproval or skepticism?

It was time to change the subject. "What is this room?"

"My room."

Out of literally anything she could have said, he doubted any answer would've been more surprising. "You have a room?"

"I do sleep sometimes, you know?"

Pride opened his mouth and closed it again. "I thought maybe you put a sleeping bag in the counsel room."

"Oh I do, sometimes. Or an inflatable mattress. Or a hammock. That might be my favorite. But I do have a room for sleeping." She dropped onto the bed. Her voice took that sleepy tone as she continued. "That's a good idea now, actually. But there's a phone in here if you'd like it. I assume you'd like to call your mom."

Yes actually, he did want to do that. He looked at the cabinet again. Oh, it was one of those small portable ones like the Doctor carried around. He usually called Mrs. Bradley on the phone attached to the TARDIS. It was familiar, resembled the ones at home. But after traveling with the Doctor for over six months (hard to keep track of the exacts), he could see the value in a portable one. He picked it up and left the room as the Doctor lay down.

[I think all the Doctors do have a room, they just seldom use it. And I assume each regeneration the room ends up looking different.]