Chapter Nineteen

Fragile: Handle with care

I poked my head into the Console room, where I'd learned the Doctor spent most of his time. I was also careful; I didn't want to deal with Michelle while caffeine had yet to hit my system. I noticed that he was working on some part of the console, obviously oblivious to his surroundings since I knew I wasn't being altogether sneaky. I walked down the stairs, going out of my way to make my steps loud without stomping. He continued working on the console without even acknowledging my presence.

"So what broke this time?" I asked once I got to the main level, seeing him jolt a little.

"What are you doing, sneaking up on me like that?" he asked, turning his head to look at me, his expression curious.

"I may as well have tap danced down the stairs," I muttered, "I was almost stomping."

"I didn't notice," he stated, turning back to what he was doing, "and nothing's broken. Nothing new, at any rate. I'm just tightening some of the controls that felt loose."

"Need any help?" I asked lightly.

"I think it's best if I do this myself."

"Oh. Is it because you're a big and mighty Time Lord or is this another instance of my being thrown a gender stereotype? Or does it have to do with the fact that I'm…different?"

"It's more along the lines of you not knowing what needs to be done to fix her," he stated before adding, "and you're a bit too clumsy for me to trust with repairing this control."

"You're one to talk. Half the time I wonder if your real name is really Butterfingers McFumbles. The other half the time, I swear it's No-plan McLuckypants."

"You really know how to lace your insults with compliments," he muttered, returning to what he was doing.

"So you're cool with the fact that I'm different?" I asked, leaning against a railing, crossing my arms in front of me, standing to his far left.

"Everyone's different, Olmstead," he stated, "and I have a habit of choosing only the best. Which is usually synonymous with 'different'."

"But were any of them… ya know… autistic?" I asked, being careful with my usage of the 'a' word.

"I'm not even close to an expert on humans," he stated, "so forgive me if I don't know what autistic means."

"Do you want the long or short explanation?" I asked.

"Preferably neither. I'm trying to concentrate here," he stated.

"Gotcha," I almost snapped at him as I pulled out my DSi XL and opened up the program on the cartridge which was inserted into the system, which held lots of "classic stories" which meant all the good stories which were no longer copyrighted.

I scanned through the list of stories and started reading 'The Time Machine'. After the first few paragraphs, I was almost certain that the Time Traveler in the story had to have been based loosely on the Doctor. It sounded almost like him to the point that I could almost hear him speak. What I didn't know at the time was that he was speaking to me to get my attention. He certainly got my attention when he waved his hand between my face and the screens.

"Yes, Doctor?" I asked, lifting my face to look at him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking at me oddly.

"Reading," I stated, showing him the screen.

"H.G. Wells' 'The Time Machine'. Nice choice," he stated with a grin, "I've finished the repairs. The girls should be back soon."

"They left? I didn't know that," I stated, feeling a bit left out.

"They wanted to go shopping. Michelle said that she asked if you wanted to go but you declined."

"She didn't even say anything to me," I stated with a frown right before the doors opened and Clara and Michelle walked in, laughing as if they just shared a joke.

Even if I had been left out and been chosen last every time people had to form groups, it didn't mean that I had gotten to the point where it didn't affect me. It stung, being left out and forgotten. I made sure that Michelle got the message by giving her as much of a glare I could muster as I closed the gaming system, crossing my arms in front of myself.

She walked closer to me, carrying large bags as she walked. She only stopped when there were only a few inches between us. If I'd been her height, I would've been intimidated. Instead, because I was a few inches taller than her, it felt more like the yapping of a small dog. I looked down at her, continuing to glare at her.

"Now don't look at me in that tone of voice," she said as if she was chewing on lemons, "who was the one who made that first shot about my not being important?"

"Who was the one who took the phrase intending to mean that I only care about the thoughts and opinions of those I care about to mean something completely different?" I asked evenly.

"No fighting in the TARDIS!" the Doctor exclaimed, trying to insert himself into the confrontation.

"Did you not use the two words 'not important'?" she asked.

"Followed by the two words 'to me', yes," I answered.

"And I thought we were friends," she stated, breaking out the water works.

I slumped, my glare changing with my mood as I felt completely uncomfortable. I became uncertain on how to handle such an emotional outburst like that. I didn't know how it was like trusting someone completely within an hour. It took me until I'd met the Doctor the second time for me to trust him.

"I…I don't…I don't trust…that easily. Or quickly," I stated, looking elsewhere in shame and guilt.

"Or rather, you don't trust at all!" she fumed.

"No. I trust people. Certain people. Certain people who have earned my trust. By treating me like a person, regardless of how unusual I am. You started down that path. And then took a U-turn once you pitched that fit over nothing. You can still earn my trust and friendship, but to do that, you need to see how horribly you're treating me," I stated.

"Melissa Olmstead!" Clara exclaimed, glaring at me as she put her hands on her hips.

"Just saying the truth from my perspective!" I exclaimed defensively.

"Apologize," the Doctor stated, his voice even.

"But I don't feel sorry for explaining my point of view," I stated.

"Then let me explain my point of view as brutally as you did," Michelle stated, "you have been pushing things onto me back when we were in that life-or-death situation, expecting me to take care of everything! And then you up and made me feel like a speck! All I did was getting fed up at how you used me and then pushed me away when you had no use for me!"

"I couldn't multitask," I stated quietly.

"So that gives you a right to foist everything on me?" she demanded, "and you'd get better at multitasking if you worked at it!"

"I thought it showed you that I trusted you a bit with things by delegating less important things to you," I stated quietly as I avoided everyone's glance, "a show of faith. I didn't see it as my taking advantage of you. I apologize if I made you feel like I was taking advantage of you."

"I guess that's the best I could get from you," Michelle stated, backing off before striding out of the room.

"I…I'm…I'm just…gonna go marinate in shame," I sputtered before trudging towards my room.

Once in my room, I started to play some music on the computer while I just laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I wasn't good enough. Not yet, at any rate. Not yet perfect, I knew I needed to work on myself some more before I felt that I was even close to being a 'good person'. I had hurt others without realizing or even noticing and I hated myself for it. It wasn't what good people do.

It was five songs later when a knock was heard on my door. Well, a series of three knocks. Three very quiet and somewhat uncomfortable knocks before the door was slowly opened.

"Yeah?" I asked, staring at the ceiling.

"I did some research," he said quietly.

"Stop walking on eggshells already," I muttered, "I'm not gonna hurt anyone. Intentionally, at least. I'd prefer it if people didn't have to get hurt just so I'd learn a lesson."

"What I could find out is that it's a spectrum disorder, meaning that it affects people in different ways. It appears as though you have a very mild case of it," he stated, trying not to be too blunt with me.

"Yeah. I have no people skills at all," I admitted, "and I'm practically incapable of multitasking. Oh and no amount of TARDIS telepathy is going to give me the comprehension of body language. Of course, all of my senses are more sensitive than the baseline human's. From my own research, either it's caused by or causes the formation of a larger than average brain with an increased number of synapses. It's definitely a theory that most of the symptoms comes from crossed wires and interference."

"Do you know what causes this?"

"There is an implied causational relationship with genetics. Possibly an aberrant mutation," I said, using some of the terminology I'd picked up from my research.

"You are aware that both Clara and Michelle are rather—"

"Yeah. I have that ability of unintentionally rubbing people the wrong way," I stated before asking, "thinking about going out on a trip of our own since the estrogen patrol went on a trip by themselves?"

"You are a girl too," he said, sounding amused.

"Yeah, but a different type of girl. I'm not what you'd call a 'girly girl', in case you're completely blind. Those two would be like estrogen factories in how they act compared to me," I stated with a smirk, "or at least very bright beacons of estrogen."

"I've noticed," he stated, "I figured it's mostly because you haven't been around other girls as much."

"Mostly because they're all boring. Most of them are talking about children, shoes, shopping, and guys. Three of which doesn't interest me. Okay, all of them doesn't interest me but that's because I'm kinda…and stop grinning like that!"

"It's just funny watching you get worked up over a bloke you keep insisting isn't your boyfriend," he said with a grin, ducking out of my room as I chucked a pillow in his general direction, missing him as the door closed.

"One of these days," I muttered with a grin, contemplating how much fun it would be to pick on him once I see him flustered over some chick.

Oh, he would know how it was like picking on me. And I would enjoy every second of it.

~~Author's Note~~

Many apologies for taking so long updating this! I just got back from RadCon last night and I've been fighting ennui for a while. I had a blast just hanging out with people. The cosplayers were awesome (and so were some of the cops, who joked that they were cosplaying too!) and I saw enough people cosplaying as Stargate Teams to fill three whole teams, 2 Tenth Doctors, and an awesome Eleventh Doctor. I also watched the firedancing and I thought it was pretty awesome (I may work firedancing into a future chapter). I've also been working on other projects (I have no life) and I've been kinda postponing a rather painful part of it (why am I such a masochist?) while occasionally re-watching the modern Doctor Who series (went through Waters of Mars to The Beast Below today... and yes, I *still* tear up at the end of End of Time even though I saw it for the first time back in September or October). I've gotten to the point that I like each different incarnation of the Doctor a different way. For example, I see 11 more like the best friend you've always wanted to have and 10 like the one that you could look up to. And 9 as the one I'd avoid angering or the one I'd find myself in snark-to-snark combat with. (Yes, I'm extremely snarky irl)

One thing I could see as becoming an issue with in this chapter is the angst and the autism discussion. As for the angst, I couldn't keep that from happening the moment when Michelle entered the scene. At least, she's shown not to be a total jerk now. As for the autism discussion, I planned from the beginning that Lisa would be a very high-functioning autistic person because of several reasons, one of which is that I am an actual officially diagnosed Aspie and every time a character is shown to be autistic, that's all there is to their character. I wanted her to have a character and have autism be half rationale for her actions and half a part of who she is. I just wanted her to have a more realistic case of it and to say that someone could actually be considered "disabled" yet be able to keep up with someone like our favorite Time Lord. Now I can see hoe people could just go "author insertion", she is definitely not me. Even when I'm on caffeine, I don't become someone who becomes almost insane. I just become a talkative loon who laughs a ton.

~Gregora